Page 81 of The Romantic Agenda

Fox sits with his knees bent, arms looped around them. From where they are, there’s still a good view of the lake and he seems to be enjoying the idyllic scenery, but Joy knows better by now. He’s off somewhere, thinking again. She turns onto her side, tucking her hands under her head as she gazes up at him. He has freckles all over his body—she noticed while massaging him—but none on his face. Strange.

Lifting one hand, she presses a small cluster on his forearm, then traces a line to the next, deliberately spelling out a short word with three letters.

“Why did you ask to kiss me?”

Unbothered, she answers, “Because I wanted to. Happy to report, I’ve been thinking about asking again.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm? Why hmm? What’s going on? Talk to me.”

“He’s not here.”

Malcolm.“Nope.”

“But you asked anyway.”

“That had nothing to do with him,” she says, dropping her hand. “And everything to do with you. Kissing other people doesn’t mean I love Malcolm any less. It’s nice to connect with someone lovely and pass the time with them for a little while.”

“Hmm.”

“And it’s not like I’m saving myself for him or anything like that. That’d be beyond stupid.”

Nothing about his body language changes in the too long silence that follows before he finally says, “How long is ‘a little while’?”

Joy sits up, placing her chin on his shoulder. His gaze slowly slides to her as he turns his head ever so slightly so he doesn’t have to look from the corner of his eye. She murmurs, “Just for today?”

Fox lowers his head, frown out in full force. “Then no. I don’t want to do that.”

“Oh.” Joy backs away quickly, like she’s been burned, to give him space. “Okay. That’s okay too.” Her mind goes blank—complete hard reset. She has to make sure her mouth is closed and not hanging open in shock because she wasn’t expecting that.

He rejected her. Fox rejected her.

But he likes her—she knows he does. They have chemistry and jokes and understand each other. Why no?No?

Joy blinks rapidly as she stares at her thighs because she’s in the damn twilight zone. How did—

“Until we go home.”

Her head snaps up at the sound of his voice. “What?”

“You want someone to pass the time with and I want it to be until we go back home,” he says.

Joy isn’t sure if she should trust her voice just yet. If she opens her mouth, it would be equally likely to result in laughing, screaming, or calling him a very un-Joy-like name because he did that on purpose. Deceit and mischief are practically glittering in his eyes, and the restraint he’s using to not wickedly grin at her is truly something.

She settles for stalking toward him slowly like a cat about to pounce. “How dare you,” she says, launching herself at him.

Fox laughs through her kiss attack, expertly holding them both up instead of falling backward. “Is that a deal?”

“Shut up and kiss me, you jerk.”

Oh, and he does.

And the thing is, Joy feels safe, which doesn’t always happen. Without breaking the kiss, she climbs onto his lap. This is a danger zone—always has been, always will be, but it’s her favorite way to kiss someone. Her on top and in control.

Sometimes she held her kissing partners’ wrists to keep their hands from wandering. Because she knew they saw kissing as a prelude—hands touching her breasts, her ass, trying to slide up her skirt, without permission. Kissing didn’t imply anything other than that she wanted to kiss them.

Fox doesn’t do that. As they kiss, his hands rest on her hips, firm and warm, but very still, until his right thumb begins to brush the tiny patch of skin left uncovered by her swimsuit. She runs her fingers along his jaw, brushing against his stubble. He inhales as she does it, his chest rising and pressing against hers—she squeezes closer to him as tight as she can until she feels the faintest thrum of his pounding heartbeat.