He gives me a sardonic grin and sits up, tugging at the hem of my top, which has ridden up from all the activity. Then he reaches for two bottles of water from the cooler, twisting off one lid and handing it to me before rolling the other cool bottle across his forehead.
I sit up and take a long swig as Inge and Chris appear, followed by Victoria and Elvis. “Hey!” I say a little too chirpily—because they came within seconds of seeing my O-face—but they don’t seem to notice.
“Oh, hey, Juliette. We didn’t know anyone was up here,” Victoria says, glancing at her husband. “We can go somewhere else.”
“No, that’s okay,” Reno says quickly, standing and picking up the cooler to hold in front of his dick, which appears to be trying to Hulk-smash its way out of his pants.
He holds out a hand to help me stand. “Yep, we were about to leave anyway, but I’ll see you guys tomorrow night.” I bend to pick up the blanket, and when I stand, I catch Chris’s eyes on me. More specifically, on my backside.
“Looking forward to it,” he says, very obviously checking me out.In front of his wife.
Forcing a tight smile, I roll the blanket into a ball and hold it in front of my body as we wave goodbye and Reno leads me toward the trail.We walk for a few minutes, both of us silent, which is weird for me. I tend to talk a lot.
I don’t want to mention the ogling. I mean, what if I imagined it? That would make me sound conceited. But did Reno notice too? Is that why he’s being so quiet? I relax my face, push the thoughts out of my mind, and think of a different subject.
“Which movie do you think has the best music soundtrack?”
Reno seems startled from whatever headspace he was in, and as the trail widens, he pauses to let me catch up to him. His hand captures mine, and his warmth calms my frayed nerves a bit.
“Top Gun,” he says without much thought, and I laugh.
“That’s such a dude answer, but I can’t argue. I actually hated the song ‘Take My Breath Away’ when I first heard it, but then I saw it in the movie, and it changed my whole perspective.”
“What’s your favorite soundtrack?”
“I don’t have a favorite. It really depends on my mood, butFootlooseandForrest Gumpare high on my list.”
“Both solid choices,” he says with a sage nod. “Would you make me hand in my man card if I said I love the music fromDirty Dancing?”
I laugh. “Trust me. Your man card is secure.” There’s no denying that Reno Swain is innately masculine, and not the toxic kind of masculinity. He gives off a protective vibe without being overbearing, and he’s gentlemanly without coming across as patronizing.
And he’s sexy as hell. I picture our naked bodies tangled up in the sheets while we go at it ladybug-style.
If that’s even what Reno still wants. I glance down at his shorts. He’s softened a bit, but there’s still a pretty firm semi happening down there, and he occasionally hitches his step as if he’s trying to subtly readjust.
“You want to come to my cottage?” I ask when we reach our cozy little area of the island, and his answer comes quickly.
“Hell yes.” His lips twist to the side. “I mean,if you want me to.”
“I do,” I tell him, and he takes the blanket from me while I unlock the door. As soon as we’re inside, he tosses the cooler and blanket aside and backs me against the door.
“I signed you up at my table for dinner,” he tells me, bracketing my head with his forearms. “We have three hours until we have to leave. How many orgasms do you want your female character to have?”
He says it with all the confidence in the world, like whatever number I spout, he can achieve it. I lift one brow and shoot back with anotherMean Girlsquote.
“The limit does not exist.”
The warmth of his chuckle gusts across my lips. “I look forward to finding out what your limits are, dream girl.” He steps into me, his body hard and hot against mine. “I liked spending time with you today.”
I tilt my head back against the door and look up into his pretty green eyes. “I liked it too.”
Reno cradles the side of my face in his big palm and strokes his thumb over my bottom lip. “I just want to make sure we’re on the same page. I’m not looking for anything serious.”
“I’m not either,” I assure him, nipping at the pad of his thumb. “Just a fun island fling.”
And it wouldn’t work out anyway because he lives in Denver, and I live in Texas. He still hasn’t mentioned his last name, and I haven’t let on that I recognize him. If he values a bit of anonymity, I don’t mind giving that to him. I’m sure he deals with enough craziness in his career.
He leans forward and kisses my lips softly. “Good. I don’t want you to think it’s about you. I think you’re funny and beautiful, and if it weren’t for your lifestyle, I would definitely want to pursue something with you outside of a vacation fling.”
