Page 70 of Surfer's Paradise

Fuck, she tasted like coffee and sleep, like last night and everything he wanted more of.

She made a soft, breathless sound, her fingers sliding into his damp hair.

That sound alone was enough to make him hard as a fucking rock.

He groaned, palming her ass, pressing her tight against him, letting her feel exactly what she did to him.

His cock was already aching, already ready to be inside her again.

And fuck, he had twenty minutes.

Maybe thirty.

They could make it work.

She was bare underneath this shirt.

No panties.

Perfect.

He was already pressing her onto the counter, his fingers sliding up her thighs, spreading her open.

But then—

She braced a hand against his chest, pushing back slightly.

“Isaac,” she breathed, half-kissed, half-warning.

He kissed her again, groaning into her mouth. “Mm?”

She let him take another slow, deep taste, before pulling back again, firmer this time.

“Isaac, I am not ‘baby’ and I’m not having casual sex with you.”

He stilled.

Then grinned, leaning into her, nipping at her bottom lip.

“It’s not casual,” he said, sliding a hand between her legs, feeling just how ready she already was.

She sucked in a sharp breath, biting her lip, trying to fight the pull.

Isaac smirked. “It’s just the tax for staying here.”

Rosie froze.

Her entire body went rigid in his hands.

Her eyes snapped up, narrowing sharply.

Fuck.

Okay. Wrong fucking thing to say.

“Jesus, I was kidding,” he muttered immediately, backpedaling, kissing her jaw, trying to distract her.

She wasn’t having it.

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