Page 126

A rush of warmth floods me. “Yes, you’re so disappointing.”
His deep chuckle somehow travels down to where his fingers touch me. “At least let me make you come.”
“Okay.” I sound helpless, shaky.
Wedging his foot between mine, he shimmies my legs farther apart, giving him better access that he takes full advantage of, sliding a second finger in. Each stroke is fluid and easy and deep, my body responding like it’s been starved for a man.
Not just any man.
Him.
“You’re soaked.”
“Uh-huh.”
“And swollen.”
“So are you.”
He presses himself against the crack of my ass in answer, and I whimper. Swollen isn’t the right word for what Ronan is. Ramrod, fire-poker hard. I roll my hips in response.
Ronan hisses and shifts behind me.
Material rustles.
The back of my floral captain’s shirt lifts.
And suddenly, his hot, velvety-smooth length is pressed against my bare skin.
“Ronan—”
“No one can tell. I promise.” He adjusts his stance to lower himself and, with his free hand, he angles himself. His tip prods, then slides between my thighs from behind while his thumb keeps stroking my clit.
A casual glance over my shoulder confirms that he’s so discreet about it, he may as well be standing still. All the work is happening at his hips, as he pretends to watch the horizon while he slowly guides his cock, the slickness making each casual thrust easier. There is nothing clumsy or inexperienced about this guy.
All it would take is a shift of my pelvis, a tug on my skimpy suit, and he could be inside me. Just the thought stirs an unbearable ache.
I look around. Still, no one pays us any attention.
My body vibrates with need, and it issotempting.
On his next pass, I rise to my tiptoes and arch my back.
“Careful,” he growls, but he tugs my bathing suit material aside and presses his head against my opening.
“Oh fuck,” I hiss.
“Not quite. Stay still, or Iwillfuck you right here and I won’t care who watches.” There’s an edge of warning in his tone. “Let me finish you off.” His hand regains its rhythm, and my core hums with anticipation.
“What is that perfume you’re wearing?”
“I’m not … It’s probably sunscreen.” It could be his skill or my desperation, or it could be the insanity of allowing this, but the orgasm he’s promised me is already there, drifting along my spine, just out of reach.
“No, you smelled like it before too.” He inhales deeply. “Pineapple and coconut.”
“My shampoo.” I bite back a moan, my hand reaching for his forearm, to feel the corded muscles strain beneath myfingers as he plays me like an elegant instrument. Hell, I’ve never been touched so thoroughly.
“Iloveit.”