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I shake my head. “No, I don’t usually burn.”

He pushes off the bed, discards his towel on the floor, and quickly puts on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. “I’m going to the sundries shop to buy some.” He pours me a glass of water. “Drink so you don’t get dehydrated.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not. It hurts when the lightest fabric on earth touches your skin. Drink.”

I sit up to drink the water. While he’s gone, I look at myself in the mirror, and I’m a shade below a lobster shell. I push my finger against my chest. White appears, then back to red. The same with my arms and legs.

Sliding the ring from my hand, a white band circles my middle finger. It brings me back to John being so protective and instinctively knowing what to do when I was hung on the icicle. How he made me eat so we would have enough energy to—well, that’s not in the cards. He’ll probably be mad, since he’s been hinting around all day, but staying true to his word that he wouldn’t make Corbin uncomfortable, his teasing was always whispered in my ear.

As I slip out of my bathing suit and coverup, it’s an exercise in slow motion torture. The fabric sticks to my skin like the material is part of my largest organ. When I peel it back like a bandage, I flinch in pain. My teeth dig into my bottom lip, as I curse myself for not using sunscreen today. We were in the cool, damp cave and driving with the breeze blowing, so I didn’t realize how much sun I was getting. I already had my starter tan, and it’s out of character for me to burn.

It takes patience, which I’m currently running out of, to remove my bathing suit completely. The fabric clings to my tomato-red skin and with each tug, I squint in pain.

When I’m finished, I let out a careful breath as if it will cause more pain. Gingerly, I settle under the lightweight throw at the end of the bed and wait for John. Just the thought of something cool hitting my skin makes me need it more.

“I’m back,” John says a little louder than normal. He rustles the plastic from the bottle and appears with the natural green gel. He glances at the floor where my clothes are uncharacteristically strewn. “Are you in pain?”

“Just when I move, or something touches me.” I grimace.

John curls his hand around the bottle of aloe, removing the cap. He pulls back the covers, exposing my sunburned skin, and I snatch them back up.

“Becca, I’ve seen and tasted your body. Now let’s heal you up so I can do it again.” He shoots me a smile, promising dirty deeds.

He squeezes the gel into his large hands, rubbing them together, then placing them gently on both shoulders. I nearly leap off the bed at first touch, like ice sticking to a piece of cloth, excerpt it’s my skin. It’s gradual, but he smooths it out gently as he manages to soak my body with the green gel.

He peels me off the sheet, which feels like picking off a three-week-old Band-Aid from my skin. Then he stands me up and paints me with more aloe. Blowing on my neck, he asks, “Does that feel better?”

I nod and let my head fall back on his shoulder. “Yes. But am I supposed to stand up naked all night?”

“I bought you a gown made of bamboo to help.” He retrieves it from the entrance and brings it to me. “I hope you like it.” It has small palm trees scattered over the fabric.

“It’s cute. You didn’t have to do that. Oh lord, what if Corbin saw you buying me lingerie?”

“This is not what I would pick out for lingerie. I would picksomething lacy and see through so I could see your nipples peak.” His voice level drops an octave like he’s in the moment inside his head. Then he rakes over his two-day stubble. “Also, housekeeping is coming by to change the sheets in an hour.”

“Why?”

“I asked. This resort is top-notch.”

I shiver, goosebumps popping up on my arms and chest. “I can’t believe I’m so cold.”

So, he takes off the tags and slips the new gown over my head. The straps are loose, and the gown skims my shape; it doesn’t cling to it.

“Is that better?” he asks, taking the tips of my fingers into his. He accepts the nod I give him. “Good. We’ll let the aloe dry, then I’ll fill up the tub with cool water and ice while the maid is here.”

Attempting to be coy, I say, “I’ll wait for the housekeeper. Maybe it’s a male, and he can help me into the bath.” I hardly contain the laughter bubbling to the surface as I watch his expression change. His eyes widen before they narrow. His jaw drops before it tightens, and he grinds his teeth.

“Nobody is seeing what is mine. Do you understand?”

Slowly, I lift my arms, wincing as my shoulders burn, and I wrap them around his neck. “Yours?” I twerk my brows, which also hurts like hell.

“You burn for me, remember?” he asks with a wink and a lopsided smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll stock up on aloe.”

I want to slap him in jest, but I know it’ll hurt me more than him. Just as I’m about to complain about being cold again, he opens the patio doors, allowing the heat to blanket the villa in warmth. It chases every shiver and goosebump from my skin.

Following him into the kitchenette, because I’m not ready to sit and have this gown stick to the aloe, he opens the small freezer. Ice clatters into the ice bucket, echoing slightly as the cubes hit the sides of the metal container.