Page 42 of Jett

My heart pounds as I turn my back to him, and I’m aware that it’s just the two of us alone. I wish Brooke would come running back. My breath catches as Jett’s fingers touch my skin—cool lotion meeting warm flesh. He rubs the sunscreen in slow, deliberate circles, one hand steadying my shoulder as the other works its way down my spine. My senses go into overdrive. I’m as conscious of his hand resting on my shoulder, as I am of his other hand slathering lotion on my back. I bite my lip to suppress a shiver as the space between my legs begins to throb, and my nipples harden even more.

My breasts feel full and heavy as he rubs the lotion into my skin, his touch firm but careful as his hands move over my neck and shoulders gently before skating all over my upper back, then lower, and lower still.

This is exquisite. Jett’s hand on my body feels intimate. It's what I dreamed of for months. Years. And now my body betrays me. Heat pools low in my stomach, as I squeeze my eyes shut, praying I don't let out a moan.

“There,” he says, “All set.”

“Found it!” Brooke yells, running into the room with her tattered toy in tow.

“Great!” I manage to say. I don't want to turn around. I dare not. Jett will see my nipples through my tiny bikini.

His hand reaches over my shoulder, as if he somehow senses my dilemma and gives me the bottle. I wonder if he’s packing some wood, too. “You need to put it over the rest of you.”

“Th-thank you, Mr. Knight,” I stammer, grabbing the bottle and slipping away before I can embarrass myself further. I close my bedroom door and press my back against it, struggling to catch my breath.

What just happened?

“Won't be long Brooke,” I yell out.

My body hums with arousal, every nerve ending alight. My heart races, my mind reeling with the memory of Jett’s touch. I debate whether to swap the bikini for the safer, nun-level one. But Brooke’s voice pulls me from my thoughts.

“Cari, come on! Daddy says we can only go for an hour!”

That settles it. I throw on the sheer cover-up, hoping it’s enough to tone things down, and I pray that Jett will have had the decency to have left.

But when I step into Brooke’s room, he's still there, almost like he was waiting for me. His gaze traces over me for a quick second before he pointedly looks away, shoving his hands into his trouser pockets. I glance down instinctively and catch it—the unmistakable bulge in his pants.

He felt something too.

My face burns. I'm so flustered I can barely think straight.

“Let’s go!” Brooke calls, already bouncing toward the door. I follow, my pulse racing, aware of Jett just behind me. His presence is magnetic and I feel pulled to him.

It's the heat, I tell myself. That, and the flight, and the shock of being here.

But already I can see that this beach trip is going to be complicated.

Chapter 17

CARI

I need to cool down. My heated body needs to cool down, especially after having him touch my skin and slather suntan lotion all over my back.

But the water is warm, and doesn’t give me the respite I need. Still, it feels better being out of the same building that Jett is in. I glance over my shoulder. Not knowing much about the layout of the house, I don’t know where his study is or whether he can see out, see us, see me.

Because upstairs, he saw every inch of me. I get goosebumps thinking about it even now, my body still tingling from his observations.

Up close, the sea is a beautiful, shimmering aquamarine-blue, the foamy waves washing over pastel-pink sand. I wade in with Brooke, taking care not to go in too deep, only where my feet can reach the bottom.

Brooke and I spend more time walking along the beach, which stretches out behind the mansion like it was made just for the Knights. Of course it would be. They have the best of everything.

The sun beats down on us, and I question being out here. And then I remember Jett’s comment, which went over my head at the time because I was so fixated on his hands on me.You have the type of skin that is at risk.

It felt so intimate, him saying that. It’s a casual observation anyone who’s seen me could make, with my auburn-colored hair and pale skin, but somehow it feels even more coming from him. Like he’s been watching me, knows me, cares about me.

I’m conscious of the time, so I tell Brooke we need to get back. Luckily, she’s been my distraction.

We return to the house and I help her into the shower, then offer to help her get dressed. She wants to do it herself, though, which I’ve started to notice happens a lot. I’m not sure if it’s just with me, or if she also did it with Anna, but she seems to want to be older, more capable.

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