Page 46 of Her Wild Coast Refuge

He climbs the stairs and carries me through the double doors of a master bedroom suite that makes my jaw drop—a giant, fluffy bed heaped with plush pillows, a delicate, pearly orchid on the modern dresser, blown glass fixtures, and I just catch a glimpse of the spacious adjoining bathroom before Dawson whisks me to the deck.

Ahead of us, Quinn is down to his briefs, having shucked his soggy layers by the sliding glass door. He lifts the cover from a deep cedar tub and climbs the circular steps to where the water level is flush with a wrap-around bench.

Dawson lowers me and starts peeling off his layers, a playful spark in his eyes. I strip down to the pair of stretchy boy shorts I always wear on fishing days and my sports bra while trying not to stare at Dawson’s firm pecs and strong thighs, his athletic body honed to perfection. But Dawson isn’t shy, his eyes drinking me in as I expose more and more skin. Desire pulses through me, turning what could be an awkward moment into something sensual. Feeling bold, I saunter toward the tub in my skivvies, hunching against the hard rain.

The clear blue water looks serene and inviting, the steady rain stippling the surface. It’s weirdly decadent to be sliding into hot, hot water while cold rain soaks my hair and patters my shoulders. Dawson slips into the water after me, sending a little wave sloshing over the tub’s rim.

Nervous energy spikes my bloodstream. “So, um. This isn’t something I’ve ever done.”

“It’s all about you, sweetheart,” Dawson says, bringing my fingertips to his lips. “We’ll take it slow, okay?”

“Not too slow, I hope.” I bite my lip.

Quinn grabs me by the waist and pulls me gently onto his lap, his thick erection firm against where I’m beginning to ache. “Sounds like we have some exploring to do.”

ChapterTwelve

DAWSON

Lexie and Quinn kiss,the sound of their lips pressing together making my pulse thump lower, harder. Quinn focuses totally on her, and I’m glad, because if he tried to catch my eye, I’d snap.

How the fuck we got here—at thisarrangement—isn’t fully logical, yet turning back isn’t an option.

Watching Lexie and my best friend is torture, or it’s the best thing to ever happen to me. Maybe both. This is surely a kink for some people—observing. Not that I’m joining any club, but I’m painfully hard and Quinn’s just getting started.

“How do you like to be touched, princess?” Quinn asks, kissing down to the crook of her shoulder.

She smiles. “You’re doing pretty good so far.”

He laughs, then gently tugs off her sport top, revealing her pale breasts. He caresses her while kissing behind her ear.

“So perfect,” Quinn says.

Lexie releases a needy sigh.

She’s gorgeous, her skin pale against the water, but tanned on her forearms and face, and there’s a faint tan line of a bikini top outlining her breasts. I wonder where she sunbathes, and who she’s been with.

I shut that thinking down before it runs wild. Before I come unglued. Because it’s none of my business. And I don’t know how much more of this I can take. Quinn murmurs little praises while he touches her. Lexie’s breathing faster, her face tense with desire.

Quinn dips into her shorts, the ones I wanted to peel from her body with my teeth.

“So soft,” he says in her ear.

Lexie turns to kiss him.

I can’t look away, but inside, I’m shattering into a thousand little pieces.

Quinn kisses her back, his tongue flicking with hers while she surrenders to his caress. She pulls away as she starts to come, and her eyes lock on mine.

“Dawson!” she says with a groan. "Please."

I push off my perch. “What do you need, sweetheart?”

“Kiss me,” Lexie breathes between gasps.

I slide my fingers into her hair. She whimpers as I press my lips to hers.

“Fuck, yes,” Quinn says in her ear, his tone firm, ragged.

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