Page 52 of The Honeymoon Hack

Worse yet, she didn’t move away from it. I made her recoil, and she didn’t want me to know it.

The rejection stung more than it should have. This morning, she’d pulled me closer, making me think she wanted me.

No. MakingClairethink she wanted me.

And now she couldn’t even handle my hand on her back.

I stepped away from her and swiped my sleep shorts from my drawer. “I’ll shower and get out of your way.”

Was that petty? Did it sound bitter?

Either way, I didn’t wait for a reaction.

Chapter 20

Will

I closedthe bathroom door harder than necessary and got into the shower before the water was hot. I stood there for too many minutes, the water doing nothing for the tension in my shoulders or the headache spreading across the base of my skull. Let alone for the tension anywhere else.

I’d been half-hard most of the day, my body refusing to forget how our tongues had tangled this morning.

And now, Brie couldn’t stand my touch.

I braced my hands against the tile, letting my head roll forward so the water could beat down on my neck and shoulders. This was ridiculous. I couldn’t work through the Claire situation—couldn’t figure out whether we were dealing with government surveillance or corporate espionage—when every other thought circled back to our kiss.

To her breasts crushed against me. To the way they’d looked all those years ago, the one time she’d shyly let me see everything, and I’d been too inexperienced to touch her the way she deserved.

Today, I’d take one of her nipples in my mouth, suck on it until?—

Fuck, Will.

If I could clear my head and get rid of this tension, I could actually work on the problem without my brain constantly replaying the taste of her, the feel of her.

I wrapped one fist around my cock, closed my eyes, and let myself remember.

The beach. The split second before our lips touched, when I’d thought maybe this was it—maybe this was finally our chance. The way she’d looked up at me after the first kiss, inviting me in for more.

My hand moved faster, grip tightening.

And my brain went further back. To our first time. In my workshop at my parents’ house. Our only time.

To the laughter, the awkwardness, the way she’d moaned my name when she came. The feeling of being inside her.

But then the next morning?—

Stop. Go back to the beach.

I gripped myself tighter, so fucking hard for her. It wasn’t acting this morning. I knew Brie. I’d known her since we were seven. I knew the difference between her performing and her actuallyfeelingsomething.

Didn’t I?

The doubt tried to creep in, but I pushed it away. Right now, I just needed release. I just needed five minutes where I wasn’t wound so tight I could barely function. I needed to think about Claire and the threat she represented, rather than constantly circling back to Brie.

I stroked myself faster, chasing the building pressure. Images flashed through my mind—not just the kiss, but everything. Her smile when we’d landed in Freeport two days ago. The way she’d flopped on her bed in our hotel room that night. The way she’d paced our room, too full of nervous energy to sit still.

How she’d looked in her fucking bikini—I bucked into my hand, remembering how embarrassed and sexy she’d been. Holy hell, the curve of her neck when she’d tilted her head back as I settled over her. The sound of her breathing, quick and shallow.

Her whimper.