Page 25 of The Last Sunrise

“If my mom were here, she would agree. But I’m an adult. How old are you?” I turn his question back to him again.

“Twenty-six. My birthday was yesterday.”

My eyes go wide. “Your birthday was yesterday?”

He shrugs his broad shoulders, the definite line of muscles retracting. He’s built like a fisherman, that’s for sure.

“Yeah, why?”

“And you spent it on a nude beach, alone?”

His bottom lip curls up and he bites down, hiding a smile.

“Don’t make me sound like a pervert. I spent it doing whatever I wanted and not working. Don’t be so uptight about nudity; it’s not a big deal.” He gestures to me in my soaked, skin-gripping shirt and panties.

“Stop staring at me.” I cross my arms over my bare torso.

“You’ve been staring at me all night, and right now I have less clothes on than you.”

Though he has a valid point, I ignore it and try to look away from the beads of water shimmering on his buff arms, his toned chest…

“Why didn’t you mention it was your birthday yesterday?” I wonder.

His neck jerks a little; his face changes from cocky to confused. “Why would I? We don’t know each other.”

Right. We don’t know each other at all. It’s been a little over a day since I met him, so why does it feel like weeks, months, years even? Is it my lack of exposure to men since I graduated college?

“Feels a little longer, yeah?” he surprises me by saying.

Debating whether to be honest or not, I look at him. His eyelashes are soaked, even more thick and bold than usual. “Yeah, actually.”

“Same. I don’t know why, but I feel the same.”

I can feel it as it happens, my guard rolling down the sand and getting lost in the sea. He’s good, too good at this. He steps toward me, making the gap between us less than a few feet. My toes curl in the sand, the granules attempting to stabilize me. I’ve never met a man who’s so insanely versed in the art of seduction.

Even his tone has changed as he asks, “Do you have a boyfriend back home?”

His eyes feel like a paintbrush, stroking gently, leaving traces of watercolor on every inch of my skin in its wake. His tongue slides across his lips slowly as I try to catch my breath.

I shake my head. “Shouldn’t you have asked me that before?”

My fingers tug at the knot at my waist as I try to keep a bit of reality within the bubble we’re suddenly in. The air has shifted, something between us has changed and ignited.

“Here,” he whispers, and I shiver as his fingertips brush my skin. Within seconds the lace loosens and falls to the ground at my feet. I look back up at him, impressed. “Fisherman, remember?”

“Ah, yeah.” I can barely speak, my mouth is so dry.

In contrast, he’s fully composed as his expert fingers drag along the dip of my hips. I suck in a breath and put my hand on his shoulder to keep my knees from buckling. His skin is cold compared to mine, his chest calmly rising and falling with each breath. Time stops and speeds up at once,and everything in my sight looks so much more vivid, the deep bow of Julián’s bottom lip, the freckles on his nose and chin. I begin to count them as he leans in.

I close my eyes, anticipating his lips touching mine, but they don’t.

“I don’t hook up with women I just met.” His teeth graze my ear, gently biting the tender pad of my lobe. I groan, instantly aching between my thighs.

“Really?” I push my hands toward his waistline, pressing my fingernails just hard enough to leave the slightest of marks on his skin. His eyes, full of lust, roll back. His hands pull me closer to press my body flush to his. The intensity is so strong, I think I might faint if he weren’t holding me up.

I continue to tease him; this time my hands move across his expansive back.

“Yeah, really.” His breath is warm across my lips, my body throbbing.

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