Page 66 of Ship Outta Luck

He seizes on it, dragging me closer, until my nails curve into his shoulders and I can hardly breathe for wanting him. His tongue slides against my lower lip, and everything in me goes tight and loose all at once.

We’re skin on skin, the thin material of my bikini not enough and too much all at once.

He lifts me up, my butt in his hands, and I wrap myself around him just like I did last night, except this time?

This time, I’m exactly where I want to be. I nibble on his lower lip, and his sharp inhalation feels like a prize. More. I want more.

“June,” he murmurs. My name, my real name, coming out of his mouth, ragged and desperate, is nearly enough to send me over the edge.

I draw back slightly, letting out a small whimper.

His eyes devour me.

“What do you want?” he asks, his fingers kneading my lower back, the curve of my butt. “What do you want from me?”

I lean my forehead against his, trying to calm my racing heart, trying to sort out the tangled knot of my emotions.

“I don’t know. I don’t know, Dean.” I shake my head and his grip loosens, my legs unwinding.

The sand’s hot on my bare feet.

“Do you know? What you want?” I ask him, biting my lower lip. He lets out a groan, gaze dipping to my mouth, and my core tightens.

“I know I want you.” It sounds desperate, wild almost, like he wishes it wasn’t the case.

But no matter how much I want him?—

“Ineedto know the truth,” I finally answer.

I stare up at him, challenging him to deny me or kiss me again, I don’t know. I might be fine with either.

The waves pounding against the beach amplify the roaring in my ears.

Dean steps towards me, and I stand my ground.

A sea breeze catches my hair, sending a damp lock curling across my face. Dean steps closer, and I narrow my eyes at him. His strong hand pushes the hair out of my face, tucking it behind an ear, but he doesn’t let it go.

“I’m not perfect. I’m not… I’m not good at beingwithsomeone,” he finally says. “I think, though, I think we might have something here.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know what.”

“Not exactly a rousing endorsement of your, ahem, abilities.” I let my gaze track down his torso meaningfully, then pause as I fail to ignore the evidence of my effect on him. His hand tightens against my loose hair until I look back up at his face.

“That’s not what I meant.” The words are a low growl.

“Good.”Good?My voice sounds breathless, and I close my eyes. Trying to find my bearings.

“I’m great at that.” His thumb strokes against my throat, and I can’t help leaning into his touch.

“Then what?” I make myself ask.

“You… you deserve someone you can trust. Someone who isn’t carrying around a decade’s worth of baggage.”

“Baggage?” The problem is, maybe I do trust him. I do, in fact, feel safe with him. Around him. In his arms.

“Therapy talk. Must be rubbing off.” His lips screw to the side before melting into a half smile.

That dang dimple is going to be my undoing. Not to mention his possessive grasp on my hair, the way his thumb strokes up and down, so sure.

What else can that thumb do? I wouldn’t mind finding out.

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