Page 102 of A Quick Stop in Paradise

Her eyes sparkled. “What, you don’t want it?”

“No, well, yeah, I do.” I laughed, and I threw my arms around her neck, and I kissed her like nothing else would ever matter. “I do,” I said, when I parted, hovering just short of her lips. “I mean… brick pizza oven. Built by hand by a hot woman. I can’t pretend I’m not affected.”

“Exactly why I built it.” She paused. “Stella and Allison are, uh… they’re not coming around, are they?”

“I doubt it. They showed up in Stella’s and my hotel room together to tell me about your message and to tell me to get the fuck out, so… I imagine they’re… busy.”

“Good. Because Allison would absolutely come knocking for some of that leftover pizza or something, and if you’re not too exhausted from fighting with your family, rescheduling travel, upending your life, and running across the island to find me, I want to take you back to the house and make love to you.”

Ah, god. Having the most beautiful and the sexiest woman I’d ever met talk about taking me back to her beach house to make love already sounded like paradise even if she took the delicious food out of the equation. I laughed, a spontaneous thing bubbling up out of me, and I kissed her again, practically glowing. “That’s a tempting offer,” I said. “So, pizza first, or second?”

“First. Of course. You’ve got to get a girl dinner first.”

“Oh, good. A proper romantic, then.” I laughed, pulling out my phone. “Let’s take a picture together. I think a lot of people want to know how this went. I can crop out your face, if you like.”

She laughed, eyes sparkling, as she wrapped her arms around my waist from behind, pressing the side of her face against mine. “Go for it,” she said. “I’m not shy about staking my claim on you very publicly.”

“Okay, kind of sexy.” I felt like a giggly teenage girl all over again, drunk on the thought, the feeling, that we could do this as much as we liked—that tomorrow could be the same, the day after—but I scowled when I opened the phone and saw our faces as two dark, blurred outlines. “Er… maybe we should go somewhere with better light.”

She took me back up to the house, where we took pictures on the terrace that actually showed our faces with the ocean in the background, and I felt giddy as I edited the post with an update to let everyone know I’d be working from my little vacation retreat for a bit longer still, just in time for Brooklyn to bring food upstairs. Sat me down in my spot—the seat in the corner that I hadn’t even realized would have forever beenmy spoteven if I’d left—and gushed with Brooklyn like it was the start of everything, like the world was new.

And when we finished the food, she slid over to the spot next to me, pulling me up against her, and she kissed me—soft, sweet, slow, like the rolling of the ocean waves against the sand below the house. A million perfect, romantic touches, caressing my cheek, fingers curling over my jawline, tracing me like she wanted to memorize every inch of me.

“I’m glad you came back,” she whispered, kissing her way to whisper in my ear. I bit my lip, a shiver running down my spine.

“Mm…”

“I’d have had the saddest masturbation session in the world if you hadn’t.”

I snorted, collapsing into her. “Well, we can’t have that.”

“I’m just saying, we’ve been having sex practically every morning, so I’d wake up wanting to touch you and just have to mope while I do it myself…”

I slipped a hand to her waist, trailing down to touch her thigh, as I pressed a kiss along the line of her jaw. “No need,” I whispered. “I did tell you that you could just keep me around and have all the sex with me that you want…”

“Mm. A very good offer. I might just take you up on that,” she said, teasing a hand under my shirt, and it felt so impossibly perfect, the spark of heat dancing up from where she touched me. Not urgent, not rushing.

“Do you want to… go inside?” I whispered, tracing my fingertips along the band of her pants, and she laughed, low and murky, her lips against my skin.

“Not really,” she said softly. “You love the ocean. Never fantasized about making love by the waves?”

“Oh, god.” I closed my eyes, resting my head against her shoulder as she slipped her hand higher under my shirt, fingers exploring higher until she cupped my bra. Her thumb working softly against my nipple through the fabric… “Someone’s going to see us if we do this,” I murmured, notreallyfighting it. She laughed.

“We’re way out here. The only person who comes this way is Allison, and she’s busy right now.” She paused. “Besides, even if she did come this way, well… she knows what she’s getting into. And she knows what we get into.”

“God. Frankly, if it’s you touching me, I don’t really even care. Mm…” I let my body move for me, my hand dipping down to caress the firm musculature of Brooklyn’s thighs, and the sound of her breath catching when I did was so indescribably sexy—knowing I had her so turned on—I couldn’t believe I got to do these things with her.

“Ryan,” she whispered, slipping her hand into my bra, finding my nipple and teasing over it in the circular patterns that always drove me out of my mind. “Take your pants off, please.”

I didn’t even think—hands worked quickly undoing my pants, tugging them down my legs, kicking them off just in time for Brooklyn to take over, her hand falling on my bare thigh and spreading my legs wide, leaning me back against the railing as I moaned softly, the touch of her fingertips close to my underwear sending electricity through me.

“God, you’re so pretty,” she whispered, settling in between my legs, fingers trailing up higher, higher, until—achingly—she found me at last, caressing up along the front of my underwear. I heard my breath hitch, a sound caught in my throat, as her fingers moved slowly, gently, over the stained fabric. “It’s so sexy seeing you feel good, Ryan.”

“I’ve never known anyone could turn me on so easily,” I laughed hazily, and she smiled wider, leaning in and pressing a kiss against the base of my neck as she moved her hand up and slipped it down into my underwear—I arched against her with a gasp at the touch, and she caught me by the lips, pulling me into a kiss as her fingers circled tightly over my clit.

It wasn’t long before she had my underwear gone too, and I didn’t care how obscene it was, sitting out here in the open air like this wearing only my shirt—I spread my legs wide, thighs stained with my wetness, as Brooklyn shimmied out of her own bottoms and shifted onto my lap, her wetness pressing against my thigh as she worked her fingers over my clit, her tongue slipping into my mouth. Dirty and risky up here on the terrace, Brooklyn grinding her hips against my thigh while her fingers worked me relentlessly, but at the same time it was so achingly beautiful, so romantic and so perfect, giving myself over to her, gripping her by the hips and encouraging her rocking against me, mutual pleasure building up as the two of us worked into a feverish pitch, and Brooklyn broke off from the kiss to gasp, “Fuck, Ryan, I’m going to come on you—on your pretty body—”

“God, please, yes—I’m close, too—”

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