Page 44 of Hot Saltwater Kisses

I glanced at him just as he glanced at me, and somehow, it cut through the moment of heaviness. It seemed he felt it too because his grin looked genuine and just a hint relieved.

“So,” he said. “What can I offer you—wine, beer? Champagne?” The last one came with a teasing lilt, and I lightly kicked the side of his foot in retaliation.

“Beer, please.”

We grabbed two bottles from the fridge and took them for a dip in the pool. It wasn’t until a few sips in that Logan grabbed my wrist,eyes gone dark and hungry as he watched my throat move. Oh. I placed my bottle on the edge of the pool and opened my stance.

Breaths mingling, Logan’s face blue-hued from underwater lights, their glow shimmering along his cheekbones. The first brush of our lips was soft, a refresher of last night’s memories, before his mouth opened to mine. I tangled my fingers in the silky-wet strands of his hair.

Minutes, slipping away.

Reality returned with the doorbell. We separated, blinking, his sudden smile a secret that I wanted to keep.

He went to the door while I wrapped myself in a towel and scrambled upstairs, leaving damp footprints on the wooden floor that I hoped would fade in a matter of seconds. Tiptoeing through the shadows like a kid skirting bedtime might not be my most dignified moment, but… fucking worth it.Loganwas.

I perched at the top of the stairs, hot skin cooled by a gentle evening breeze that blew through the open windows. Logan’s voice drifted up, warm and welcoming. “Hey, how’s it going? Thanks so much.”

“Good evening, Mr.—”

“Logan, please,” Logan cut in smoothly. “Thought we agreed to skip the formalities?”

“Of course, Logan. As you wish.” Des’s tone held a hint of fondness that was uncommon in guest interactions, but as the longest-standing member of the resort’s staff, he embodied the island’s easy, friendly warmth. “Where would you like this?”

“Out on the terrace is great,” Logan said. “Let me help.”

“Oh, no. I’ve got it, sir. Logan.”

My beer was still sitting on the edge of the pool.

I realized it with a sharp burst of unease. Butlers were trained in discretion, though—Des wouldn’t chat. And anyway, it might be Tom’s from earlier, or Logan could have helped himself to a double serving. I caught the clink of cutlery, the rich, savory smell of barbecued meat wafting up to me just as Des asked, “Sir Tom is out for a night dive?”

“Yeah. He might be hungry later, though.” It came out a little too quickly. Logan seemed to notice because he slowed down his voice when he added, “Hence the double order.”

“Ah.” Des paused just long enough to convey a deliberate decision to buy what Logan was selling. “That makes sense.”

I shifted on the stairs, adjusting the towel I’d wrapped around myself. Footsteps implied that Logan and Des were moving back to the front door. Just as I expected Des to slip out, Logan asked, “How’s your brother?”

Huh. Nia had mentioned that Des’s brother had limped away from a minor car accident with a broken leg and a couple of bruised ribs—no surprise when many island cars were held together by rust and a prayer. The surprise was that Logan knew, that he cared to know.

“Much better,” Des said. “Thank you for checking.”

“Did you get a chance to see him?”

“It’s high season.” Des’s tone was careful, and yeah, that was roughly what Richard had told Nia when she’d asked for a week off to visit her sister once the baby was born.

Logan was silent for a moment before he said, a tinge of frustration coloring his words, “Just seems like maybe it doesn’t have to be like this.”

Neither of them spoke for a second.

“Anyway,” Logan continued then, his tone lightening. “Thank you, Des. No need to come back later for the dishes—we’ll just leave them till the morning.”

“Thank you, Logan,” Des replied. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

The front door clicked shut, followed by the receding crunch of gravel outside. I gave it another minute before I rose from my perch on the stairs and moved back down to where Logan was waiting for me.

Water slidcool along my back, a contrast to Logan’s firm warmth pressed against my front. He was seated on a swim-out bench, his thighs bracketing me in and his fingers digging into the muscles of my shoulders. Each shift of our hips sent delicious sparks down my spine.

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