Page 102 of Surfer's Paradise

The world was still soft and hazy, the heat from the shower lingering on her skin, but Rosie was sober enough now to understand exactly what was happening.

Isaac got her out of the shower, arms strong and steady, his hands never leaving her body.

The cool air hit her damp skin, and she shivered, but before she could say anything, he was already there.

Already wrapping a towel around her shoulders, already smoothing another over her hair, already kneeling slightly to press one to her legs, drying her off with slow, firm strokes.

His fingers trailed down her arms, the movement so careful, so unhurried, so unlike him.

She swallowed, breathing hard, but her body was heavy, weak, exhausted from the night.

She let him.

Just let him take care of her.

When he was done, he pressed a fresh t-shirt into her hands—his t-shirt.

“Put this on,” he said.

She didn’t argue.

Just slipped it over her head, feeling the fabric swallow her up, the lingering warmth of his skin, his scent, his presence wrapping around her.

She caught a quick glimpse of herself in the mirror—hair damp, face flushed, eyes too bright—and muttered, “Gimme a sec.”

Isaac just nodded, stepping back, letting her grab a toothbrush and brush away the last bitter taste of the night.

By the time she was done, he was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, watching her.

The look in his eyes—something unreadable, something deep, something dangerous—sent a fresh shiver through her.

She ignored it.

Didn’t trust herself to analyze it.

Didn’t trust him.

Instead, she stepped past him, back into the bedroom, slipping under the covers, feeling the weight of exhaustion finally crash over her.

And then—

He was there.

Pulling her against him.

His body big, warm, steady, the heat of his chest pressing into her back.

His lips found the curve of her shoulder, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses, slow and lazy, like he had all the time in the world.

Her breath caught.

His arm tightened around her waist, his nose nudging the damp strands of her hair aside, lips dragging up her neck, over the shell of her ear.

She shivered.

“Sleep,” he said, voice rough, low.

She exhaled, eyes slipping shut.

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