Page 34 of Surfer's Paradise

Rosie swallowed. “So it’s… a thing?”

Isaac hesitated.

Just for a second.

Then, reluctantly, “It’s a thing.”

But he was still holding her.

Still breathing into her hair.

Still wrapped around her like she was the one he wanted here.

She forced herself to relax against him.

To keep her voice level.

To pretend like this didn’t feel like a blade sliding between her ribs.

“Cool, cool,” she whispered.

And then she closed her eyes, wishing she could disappear into the dark.

Chapter 7

Isaac lay on his side, his arms wrapped loosely around Rosie’s warm, familiar body, her back pressed against his chest, his fingers threading lazily through the strands of her dark brown hair. It was soft, slipping between his fingers like silk, something delicate, something meant to be handled with care.

The porcelain skin of her bare thighs was warm against his, so smooth, so untouched in a way that made something inside him tighten.

Because he knew.

He knew Rosie.

Knew that she didn’t let people in, didn’t trust easily, didn’t waste her time on men who weren’t worth it.

And yet, here she was.

Letting him hold her.

Trusting him like she always had.

His fingers traced slowly along the curve of her shoulder, then back up to her hair, twirling a long strand around his knuckles. She smelled faintly like vanilla and paint, something warm and familiar, something that made his pulse sit too heavy in his throat.

It took everything in his power not to press his mouth against the back of her neck.

Not to sink his teeth into her skin, not to kiss her senseless.

Because fuck, he wanted to.

And that was a problem.

His jaw ticked, exhaling slowly, trying to shift his focus.

Rosie shifted slightly against him, her body pressing deeper into his hold, her skin brushing against his. His cock throbbed.

Jesus Christ.

He closed his eyes, reeling it in, thinking about literally anything else.

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