Page 56 of Café Diablo

She moans, like that was a gift, and all I want to do is freeze this moment—golden hour, feet in the sand, Olivia in my arms. I always want to win, but this—this is different. It’s not about proving anything.

Olivia twists around, turning her back to the ocean and kisses me—intensely—like she wants to fill me up with all that sun and possibility that she just soaked up from the horizon. Her mouth blazes over mine and it tastes like soy sauce and the spray of salt water and I want to drown in her and shed every rule and boundary.

My hands run up and down her spine and we kiss for so long all the vibrant colors in the sky turn to jewel-tones of violet and indigo.

“You make me feel wild,” I say, cupping her face and looking deeply into her brown eyes. My fingers thread through her dark hair. “You make me out of control.”

She smiles, leaning forward to kiss the side of my mouth. “That’s a lie, Edwin,” she says hotly, her voice breathless from the heat of our lips. “You’reafraidto let go, but you haven’t yet, not in the way I hope you will.”

My body tenses, defiance and desire surging through me—I’m the oxygen gasp of a fire, leaping to life and jumping to a new level of bright. I smash her against me, kissing and lifting her up, then I turn us swiftly and lie her down in the sand beneath me. She yelps in surprise, but I sink all of my weight on top of her and she whimpers as I press her into the shore.

My hands tangle in hair and sand. My tongue meets the assault of her mouth, and my body rocks her hotly against the ground. The two of us are gasping and kissing and raw, sand all over her arms, and shoulders, and her neck—rough grains grinding us together.

When I pull back, her chest is heaving and her eyes are black. She reaches her hand up and musses up my hair, murmuring something about how sexy I am when I’m completely upended.

“You want to see me out of control?” I growl.

She nods hotly, but then shoots me a defiant eye. “Though, I’m not sure if it’s possible.”

She’s pissing me off, on purpose, I know that. But I thrust my hips against hers in the sand and take her mouth in mine. She mews hotly, her knees opening to cup my ribs, that jean skirt of hers inching up her legs. My hands run over her naked thighs, finding them covered in cold sand—that thick grit reminding me of how hot it would be to take her against all that mud on the side of the truck.

“Edwin,” She moans beneath me. “Let me get—”

I kiss her and she bends to my will, moaning as her body writhes in the sandy cove. I nip and suck her lip and she pants.

“Let me just—” she breathes heavily. “Get a blanket. Sand is worse than glitter.” I pull back and she looks up at me with her lips swollen and hot. “Naked in the sand sounds exciting, but in reality—”

“Are you telling me there’s a mess you can’t handle, Olivia Reese?”

“Sorry, but sand in my hoo-ha?” She shakes her head. “Not happening.” She lifts herself up and kisses me softly. “But everything you were just about to do, please hold that thought!”

She sneaks out from under my body, the depression from her ass and arched back still pressed into the beach. I pull back onto my knees and start brushing the sand off my front as she skips toward the truck. She also brushes off her body as she goes, because I see white puffs of sand falling from her arms and legs, and I’ve half the mind to follow her to that truck and see what she thinks about being pressed against that truck’s slick of mud.

24

Olivia

My skin is humming as I pull the truck door open and look in the cab. Being pushed hotly into the sand by Edwin is romance-novel worthy, because yes-sir-may-I-have-another, the man is sheer heat and domination when he wants to be. I just don’t want sand to ruin what’s about to be me naked under him.

I mean, think about it, naked body covered in beach? One hot lick of my skin and he’ll be crunching on grit for the rest of the evening.

Talk about a buzz kill.

I know Poppy keeps a blanket in here somewhere, but at first glance I don’t see it. Grabbing the “oh-shit” handle, I pull myself up into the cab and notice there’s enough junk on the floor of the passenger side that the blanket is probably under all the gloves and garden trowels. I crawl onto the seat and start rifling through the mess—magazines, a sweater, old bills that I’m going to have to make sure Grandpa has paid.

“Did you find it yet?” Edwin says, and I look over my shoulder to see him standing in the open doorway of the truck, his dark silhouette taking up most of the space.

“I swear there’s a blanket in here,” I reply, turning back to the mess. “I might have to pull this—”

Warm hands cover my legs and I startle—his hands are on the back of my thighs, right below my ass that is up in the air and practically face-level with Edwin.

My body wicks with sudden heat as his thick fingers caress my skin, the excitement of his touch immediate.

“Can’t wait, huh?” I tease. “You’ve got to keep your hands in the cookie jar, do you?”

Only, Edwin’s hands aren’t sweet, and he doesn’t have to answer me because his wide palms are already pushing my jean skirt up past my ass to my hips. The cool night air kisses my backside as he bares it to him, and I tip my head to look back at him.

A glowering and determined frown creases his mouth, one that says,I’m in charge, and you’d better prepare yourself.

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