Page 26 of Take 2

Chapter Twenty-Three

T he beach is a perfectly acceptable place to strip off clothing from over a bathing suit, but the air vibrates between us as I do it.

One at a time, the buttons of my dress pop out of their holes, and I stare Preston down the entire time.

He pretends to ignore me, but his shoulders and jaw are tense.

He found the bay very interesting while we ate breakfast by the water, and now his forced attention on everything that isn’t me would offend if it didn’t make me insanely giddy.

If only I had thought of this sooner. Years of being mean never really seemed to bother him but throwing myself at him does the trick. His agitation with me dials up tick for tick the more flirtatious I am. James was right. We’re going to end up having hate-sex.

Preston lays out towels, and I shrug out of the dress. “Hey.” I toss him a bottle of sunscreen, which he catches mid-turn toward me. “Get my back?” I turn away from him and pull my hair up into a ponytail—with the green scrunchie, of course.

“I know what you’re doing.” His hands land on my shoulders and rub the cream over the sides of my arms.

“I’m not being subtle about it, so I’m not surprised.”

“You’re going to pay for it later, though.” He whispers as his lips graze my ear.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time.”

His hands wrap nearly all the way around my biceps. The left stops, and he rubs the underside of my arm with his thumb. “What’s that?”

“Birth control.”

“In your arm?”

“Yep.”

“Interesting.” He finishes my back, and I turn around to find him shirtless before me.

This time, I’m not tortured by his amazing body. It’s going to be on mine later. There’s no doubt of that in my mind, so I can appreciate it now. I can appreciate it a lot as I massage sunscreen over each strong shoulder and down his spine.

“How long are we going to be able to stay here?” I ask. “I’ll be nice about it when you demand we go back to the hotel. I won’t even make you beg.”

“Is that what you think will happen?”

“I know it will.”

“For as much as you’ve claimed I’m cocky …” He turns back toward me.

I sit down and fiddle with the straps at the back of my neck.

“What are you doing?”

“When in France.” I untie my top and let it flop down under my breasts. His eyes widen slightly before he presses them closed. I undo the lower strap and put my bikini top into my bag.

Preston sits down slowly and keeps his eyes on the water. “I kind of hate you.”

“That’s a shame.” I grab the sunscreen from between us, and he looks at me while I squeeze some into my hand. The struggle on his face as he tries to keep his eyes off my chest when I apply sunscreen is almost pained enough for me to feel guilty.

He twists around and lies on his stomach, and I laugh so hard tears stream from the corners of my eyes.

“You’re being such a jerk.”

“Actually, you’re kind of being a jerk.” I lie on my stomach too, as a peace offering, though there’s still plenty of boob viewing available from his peripheral.

“I can appreciate you turning me down when I was drunk, though, to be honest, I wouldn’t have been upset if we did have sex. Now your rejection is just painful.”

“You know that’s not what it is.”

“But I don’t know what it actually is.”

He rubs his temples and lets out a long breath. “I want you for more than sex.”

“I know.” Waves, wind, and tourists fill the silence, and I realize that wasn’t the answer he was looking for. “I do, too. You’re handy to have around for banter—I really do love how you always have a quick response to my sass. And no one else throws me off boats, so …”

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“Well, you’re obviously a masochist, as proven by the fact that we haven’t had sex. So, I guess that’s why you like me.”

“I guess so.”

I fold my hands together and rest my chin on them. “I can’t promise any more than that right now. And I don’t think we can figure out any more than that while we’re flirting and building this tension only to bottle it up. I don’t know about you, but I’ll go insane.”

He relaxes into his typical smirk. “I thought you could satisfy those needs on your own.”

“I can, but there are definitely things you can do that I cannot.”

“Glad to know men haven’t been made obsolete.”

Now, when his eyes skim over me, they’re full of heat and none of the pain.

It was amusing to torture him, but this hungry look is such a turn on.

The only valid excuse he’s made today was the need for food earlier.

Eating more than a croissant and coffee was probably a good idea. I’m going to need my energy.

Too perfect continues to be a trend on this trip. The weather, the view, and even spending time with Preston—all amazing. Until later when I put my top back on to get in the water. I screech when it gets past my ankles.

“Well, we tried,” I say, jumping back onto the sand.

“Oh, come on. The Pacific is just as cold.”

“Which is why I don’t go in the water there either.”

“You went in the water here the other day.”

“Not by choice!” Apparently, the adrenaline from being thrown off the boat had warmed me and kept me from noticing how cold the water was.

“You didn’t even mention the cold.”

“Because I was too busy yelling at you.”

“So, if I throw you in again, you won’t notice the cold?”

“If you throw me in again, I will kill you in your sleep.”

He laughs as he walks toward me, but I match his steps to keep a safe distance. “What if I promise to warm you up?”

“I already told you—there are other, hotter ways to get me wet.” All the puns intended.

Including but not limited to this scorching look in his eyes that makes me squirm.

“I think I’m done with the beach,” I say.

He nods and squeezes my hip as he walks past me.

We collect our things and make the short walk back to the hotel hand in hand.

I’m the one who said we shouldn’t put so much weight on this, but every moment’s delay has built up the pressure.

So much so that by the time we get into the hotel room, I feel like a virgin on prom night. I sit on the bed, and my knees bounce.

Preston leans back against the dresser. “Do you want to shower?”

“Together?”

“I meant … before.”

I narrow my eyes and stand. “You’re not trying to brush this off again, are you?”

“No, I—”

“Because the mixed signals are really—”

“We’re covered in sand, salt, and sweat,” he says.

“So?”

“So, I want it to be perfect!”

My anxiety puffs out on a breath. “You can’t script this. You know I’m not interested in perfect. What happened when we kissed and it was too perfect?”

“I pushed you off the boat because you complained about it.”

“Which was possibly my favorite part.”

“Thought you were pissed about that?”

“I’m full of shit, and you know it.”

His smile is more tentative than I’m used to. “It’s because it’s you.”

I close the distance between us and slide my hand up his chest to his neck. “Please stop trying to write this. Just live it.”

“You want me to stop overthinking?”

“Yes, please.”

“Just do what comes naturally?”

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

I plant both hands on my hips. “Oh, for fuck’s sa—”

His lips crush mine. He lifts me off the floor so fast my breath hitches, and my legs are wrapped around him before I’m even aware he moved away from the dresser.

He grips my ass like it’s the only thing tethering him to the world.

His hair isn’t as silky after hours at the beach, but tugging on it as our mouths and tongues make up for lost time is everything.

The bed bounces when I hit it. Preston’s weight pushes me into the comforter. The dam has finally burst, and a flash flood has never felt so good.

A whimper tickles the back of my throat as he squeezes my boob through my dress and bikini.

“Do you know how hard it was not to jump you at the beach?” He softens his grip and brushes the fabric over my nipple.

“I didn't seem too desperate?” I fumble for the strap behind my neck.

He pulls himself up on his knees, straddling me to unfasten the top couple of buttons of my dress. “Made you seem sexy as fuck.” Our joint efforts allow him to uncover my breasts, and he takes one of my nipples into his mouth.

I drop my head back as he sucks and teases me. My hips grind against his erection, and I shudder.

The gentle scrape of his teeth against that sensitive skin sets me on fire. “You were being such a brat.” His voice is heady. Brattiness was fun, and now it’s locked in as a brilliant tactic.

“Mhmm.”

A trail blazes along my skin as he kisses, licks, and nibbles his way back to my mouth. Every nerve in my body shoots off like fireworks on the Fourth of July. “Don’t you think I’m going to make you pay for that?” He pinches my nipple just long enough to make me gasp, then rubs it with his thumb.

“No.” I hold his gaze. “I don’t think you are.”

His eyes swim with thoughts and desire. “You’re not playing fair.”

“You brought me to France. Fair hasn’t been on the table.”

Our lips, tongues, and breath tangle again.

Maybe the Academy thinks he’s better than me, but now, I’m winning.

Keeping track of every simultaneous touch is impossible.

The kisses alone would muddle my brain, but there’s also a hand in my hair and the weight of him pinning me down in the best way, and—oh, his other hand has found my bikini bottom.

He pulls it down around my thighs and swipes fingers up my center.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against my mouth. “I thought you said I’d have to get you wet.”

“And you have.” I suck his bottom lip between mine. “You’ve done it with much less before.”

He holds eye contact while his fingers explore me. The intimacy of that alone almost pulls me to climax. His eyes only leave mine when he closes them as he pushes a finger into me.

My heart tries to race out of my chest. “Fuck foreplay. I need you.”

“This is not foreplay.” A firm kiss sinks me farther into the bed. “I want to feel you in every way possible.”

He rises off me and grips my hips to wrench me to the edge of the bed.

Then he kneels down between my legs.