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Slightly changing the subject, I say, “Stunning.”

“It is.” Becca stretches her arm in front of her, spreading out her fingers and admiring the flawless, brilliant rock that sends prisms of light in all directions under the direct sunshine.

“I’m not talking about the ring.” There’s so much emotion in my voice, it cracks.

Her chest rises.

Her head tilts.

Her eyes soften.

Interlacing our fingers, we stare into each other’s eyes. She finally says, “How can you be so cocky one minute and so romantic the next?”

“All I said was stunning.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

Striding behind the others, we come to a wooden structure with white gauze fabric wrapped around the poles, softly whipping in the ocean breeze. The girls clamor to each other while we hang back. We hear the excitement in their voices.

“Oh God, this looks so good.”

“This is so cute.”

“Look at this.”

“I’m starving.”

The girls fill up their plates. I tap on Becca. “That’s what you eat when you’re starving? A mouse eats more than that.”

“I don’t like my food to touch.” Embarrassment tints her face.

“Hmm. Learn something new every day.”

When I think the conversation is over, she whispers, “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I have enough energy for tonight.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Becca

Spreading my arms out wide, I fall backward on the bed. My body bounces slightly. I’m exhausted. Today was a long day, filled with snorkeling in the cave, picnicking, boogie boarding, sunbathing, and throwing Logan’s football on the beach with Roscoe, their dog.

The door clicks, and John appears with a towel knotted at his hips. He’s called me stunning, but he’s the one dusted with water beads, looking delicious. Playfully, he shakes his hair out over me, like a dog. At least he has short hair, I think to myself as the water hits my face and arms.

Giggling and pretending that I want him to stop, I push my hands against his chest. A smattering of hair covers his chest. His body hovers above me, and I caress his taut, wet muscles. He’s masculine in every way.

His square jaw.

His muscles.

His protectiveness.

His XL.

John closes the distance between us, pressing an open-lipped kiss to my mouth. One kiss turns into ten, and I feel him growing and hardening against me. A purr slips from my lips. I’venever been as sexually aroused as I’ve been on this trip. Maybe I’m releasing everything that’s been bottled up for years. Or should I say unused?

When he goes to slide my bathing suit coverup off my arms, I jerk in pain.

As he presses into a push-up position, his eyes round. “You’re burnt to a crisp. Damn, baby, do you have any aloe?”