Page 29 of Blame It on the Bikini (Ocean Shores #4)

Chapter Fifteen

They ate their snacks and sipped wine as the chessboard between them turned into a battleground. Lexie wanted badly to win, but Grayson was proving a ruthless opponent—calm, calculated, and infuriatingly clever. Every time she thought she’d set a trap, he slipped around it with maddening ease.

She told herself she was just dragging out the game because she loved a challenge, but the truth was more dangerous.

Thinking about the night ahead and sharing a tiny cabin with him was giving her far too many reckless ideas, and as long as there were pawns on the board, she could pretend strategy mattered more than attraction.

But it didn’t. Not when her pulse jumped every time his dark eyes flicked up to hers. Not when she knew he might be the man who took away her home, her aunt’s home, her friends’ homes. Wanting him felt like playing straight into a checkmate.

"You’ve been staring at the board for five minutes," he said. "That’s the longest you’ve ever taken. Which means you’ve realized I’m about to crush you."

She arched a brow. "Crush me? That’s a little dramatic."

"Checkmate is checkmate. Might as well accept your fate." He leaned back, smug confidence radiating off him.

Her fingers tightened on her rook. "I don’t quit."

"I’ve noticed." His gaze lingered, sharp enough that she felt it in her chest. "So what’s taking you so long? It’s not like you to hesitate."

She forced a shrug, though her pulse was thumping. "Maybe I’m plotting something brilliant."

"Or maybe you’re stalling because you know you’re cornered."

The words landed with an edge of truth—about the game and everything else between them. She slid a pawn forward, not her best move, but it bought her time.

"See?" he said, smoothly capturing it with his bishop. "You can fight me all you want, Lexie, but sooner or later, I win."

She wished she found his cocky attitude unattractive, but she didn't. Because she knew he just loved a good battle, and she would give him one. "We’ll see about that."

They sparred another twenty minutes, each move more desperate than strategic on her part, until finally her king was trapped.

"Damn," she muttered.

"Do you concede?"

"I really don't want to, but I guess I don't have a choice."

"So, I win."

"Okay, you win," she said. "But I made you work for it."

"You did," he agreed. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Which makes the victory sweeter." He paused, looking around the room. "I think the wine party is over."

"They probably want to clean up. We should go."

As they made their way through the lobby, they said goodnight to the woman at the front desk and then left the building in search of their cabin. It was only about ten feet away, which was far closer than she'd been hoping for.

She put the key in the lock and opened the door.

The cabin was definitely cozy and rustic, but also warm and inviting with knotty pine walls and a colorful throw rug on the hardwood floor.

The bathroom was clean and updated, and the kitchenette was just a counter with a hot plate and a small refrigerator.

In the middle of everything was one queen bed that seemed to dominate the space.

"I'll sleep on the floor," Grayson said, bringing her gaze back to his. "That rug looks comfortable."

"I can't let you sleep on the floor," she replied, her voice slightly breathless. "We can share a bed without anything happening."

He gave her a long look. "I'm not so sure about that, Lexie."

Her stomach clenched at the gleam in his eyes. "To be honest, I'm not sure, either."

"Then I'll take the floor, as long as you share your pillows."

She stepped forward, putting her hands on his shoulders, feeling his muscles tighten beneath her touch. "Grayson…"

"What?" he asked, placing his hands on her hips. "Tell me what you want, Lexie."

It was suddenly all so simple. "I don't want you to sleep on the floor. I want you in the bed with me. I want to pick up where we left off earlier."

"Are you sure? I don't want this to happen just because there's one bed."

"That's not the reason. I want to be with you.

I know that might not be the smartest idea, but I don't want to think about anything else right now.

I just want us to be together," she said, looking into his eyes.

When he didn't answer right away, she added, "And if you say no, you are definitely not getting a pillow. "

He smiled at her nervous joke. "You think I'm going to say no? Do I look like I'm crazy?"

"Well, you haven't said yes."

"I wanted to be certain you didn't have anything else to say. I don't want you to feel pressured."

"I'm actually starting to feel like I'm pressuring you."

"You're not. But once I say yes, we are not going to be talking for a while, so if there's anything that needs to be said…"

His words sent a rush of desire through her. "I'm done talking. And I'm over having to stop kissing you when I really want to keep going?—"

He cut off whatever else she might have had to say by crushing her mouth in a hot, feverish, demanding kiss that matched the need that had been building in her for weeks. She met his passion with her own, feeling dizzy with a hunger that seemed to grow with each kiss.

When they finally broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers.

"Lexie," he said, her name a whisper full of promise and longing.

"I know," she breathed. "I feel it too."

She began unbuttoning his shirt, her fingers trembling slightly.

He caught her hands, stilling them. "Are you really sure?"

"I've never been more certain of anything in my life."

He smiled and then picked her up, surprising her with the move.

He carried her a few steps to the bed and gently put her down on the mattress, his eyes dark with desire and something deeper, something that created a lump in her throat because she'd never had anyone look at her the way he was looking at her, like he saw her, he really saw her, and he liked what he saw, not just her looks, but who she was on the inside.

"You're beautiful," he said, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

"I thought we weren't going to talk."

He smiled at that, slow and devastating, and leaned down to kiss her again, telling her without words exactly how he felt.

Lexie woke up Monday morning to the sound of Grayson's quiet breathing and the soft sunlight filtering through the cabin windows.

For a moment, she lay perfectly still, savoring the weight of his arm around her waist, the way his dark hair fell across his forehead, the sexy morning stubble on his jaw, the peaceful expression that she'd never seen on his face when he was awake.

Their night together had been so much more than she'd imagined it could be. First times could be awkward, out of sync, but not with Grayson. Their bodies had moved together as if they'd been making love for years, as if they knew exactly what the other needed and when they needed it.

The man she knew to be driven, purposeful, and determined had brought all those traits to bed, loving her in a way she'd never been loved before, but he'd also been teasing and fun, and after they'd made love, they'd talked long into the night.

She'd hated when sleep had finally caught up with her because she'd wanted to enjoy every minute, knowing they were on borrowed time.

But now the night was over, and she was a little sad about that, which made her realize there could be more hurt coming her way. It was the choice she'd made to have the night with Grayson, and she wouldn't regret it, no matter what came next.

Grayson suddenly shifted, his eyes flickering open, his lips parting with a smile when he saw her face.

"Good morning," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep.

"Good morning yourself," she said, turning in his arms to face him properly.

"How did you sleep?" he asked.

"Better than I have in weeks," she admitted. "But I was pretty tired by the time we finally fell asleep."

"You're not complaining, are you?"

"Not even a little bit," she said with a laugh.

"Good." He pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Why don't I get dressed and check out what's for breakfast?"

"You don't have to wait on me," she protested.

"I want to. Besides, I'm fairly sure if I let you get dressed and start moving around, you'll remember you're a responsible adult with things to do."

"I think you're more likely to remember to be responsible than me," she said with a smile.

"Good point," he said, sitting up and reaching for his jeans. "But not today. I'm planning on a few more hours of irresponsible, if that's okay with you."

"More than okay." She watched him get dressed, admiring the play of morning light across his shoulders, the unselfconscious way he moved. When he leaned down to kiss her goodbye, she caught his face in her hands. "Grayson?"

"Yeah?"

"Last night was..." She struggled for words that wouldn't sound too heavy, too loaded with expectation.

"I know," he said softly. "For me too."

After he left, she wrapped herself in the inn's plush robe and stepped out onto the small porch.

The desert morning was crisp and clear, the Joshua trees casting long shadows across the rocky landscape.

This was exactly the kind of moment she'd usually be eager to capture, but she didn't want to be an observer today.

She wanted to participate. She wanted to feel everything.

Ten minutes later, Grayson returned with a tray loaded with coffee, fresh blueberry muffins, and breakfast burritos.

They ate sitting cross-legged on the bed, sharing more stories about their lives.

She told him about going to college at UCLA, law school at Georgetown, and then living with two wild party girls her first year working at her father's law firm.

While they were hitting up the clubs, she was working until midnight as a first-year associate.