A child’s giggles broke the spell Lacey’s naked breasts had weaved over him, and he realized a family was entering the water right next to them. Dropping to his knees in front of her, he tugged her up into an embrace, pressing her chest to his. “Wrap your arms around me,” he said against her ear. “I’m going to stand and carry you out farther so no one can see you. Then, I’m going to go back to shore and get your cover-up, all right?”

She burrowed her head into the crook of his neck and nodded. There was a long pause and then she released her breasts to snake her arms around his neck. He sucked in a breath as her softness smashed against his hardness. The cool slide of her skin against his sent a sizzle of lust through him, so strong he nearly toppled over.

“This is so mortifying. This is why I don’t do anything wild or crazy. I suck at it. One bikini in my whole life and look what happens. Even when we were young, your sister used to say I was the kiss of death because whenever she convinced me to do something fun, I always ended up getting us caught or screwing it up somehow.”

He focused on her panicked babbling and clutched her thighs to stabilize her, forcing his feet to propel them forward.

“You okay? Am I too heavy?”

“Nope, I needed to adjust my grip, is all.” He stood, lifting her with him, and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He hadn’t thought that far ahead and groaned as her thighs straddled him, lining her pubic bone directly against the throbbing heat of his dick. She stiffened in his arms and gasped, the babbling coming to a screeching halt. His starving brain cast around fruitlessly for another way to carry her, but this was the only way to preserve her modesty, which in turn obliterated his.

When the water was deep enough to swim in, the strength of the waves began to rock her body against his in a torturous rhythm. The need to rock back, grinding into her softness, was so strong he had to stop for a second and get a grip. That’s when he felt it. The subtle shift of her hips as her body pressed closer, pulsing against his, as if driven by instinct. She clutched at his shoulders, burrowing closer, her nipples pebbling against his chest. The blast of want hit him so hard, he had to grit his teeth to keep from groaning.

Clutching at her thighs, he anchored her still. “Stop wriggling,” he said. His voice was low, gruff, and strained.

She froze. “S-sorry.”

The warm puff of air against his ear and the break in her voice almost threw him right over the edge. What would Little Lacey Garrity do if he stripped aside those tiny bikini bottoms and buried himself in her again and again until she screamed?

Not the plan, asshole.

He took a steadying breath and strode purposefully into the surf, reciting his times tables as he went. He wouldn’t think about how soft her breasts were, pillowed against him. Or how her tight little nipples were branding his chest. Or how they’d looked in the morning sunshine, pouty, glistening with ocean water, begging for his tongue.

“Okay, good enough,” he announced abruptly, and released her, stepping back like she was on fire.

She covered her breasts again, dipping low until she was immersed in the blue water.

He averted his gaze and cleared his throat. “We’re the only ones out this far, so if you turn to face the open ocean, no one will see,” he said, his voice almost guttural now. Too bad. He didn’t want to shock her, but he was only flesh and blood, and there was nothing he could do about it.

She didn’t respond to his suggestion and wouldn’t look at him.

“Lacey?” Still nothing. Shit. She was upset. He struggled to find words over the cacophony of his roaring libido. “It’s no big deal. Don’t let this derail you. You came here to let loose, to get away from the drama at home. Now you have a funny story to tell.” He tipped her chin so she had no choice but to look at him. “Talk to me, squirt.”

When she finally met his gaze, he wished she hadn’t. Her pupils were dilated, her nostrils flaring lightly as she struggled for air. The pulse in her neck fluttered, and he stared at it, overcome with the desire to close his teeth over the delicate skin there. The adrenaline rush of the situation may have intensified her feelings, but one thing was clear that hadn’t been the night before. Her body’s reaction to him wasn’t a fluke. She was as hot for him as he was for her.

Bad news for Lacey because, up until that moment, he’d relegated himself to the role of unofficial guardian. But now that he knew the vibe he’d felt from her last night was more than just the alcohol and stress of the situation—now that he knew she wanted him for real?

It was on.

Chapter Five

“You’re a married woman,” she told herself. “At least until the annulment.” Lacey watched her reflection, waiting for it to roll its eyes at her stern reminder.

She muffled a groan. Crap. She was in big trouble. No. Huge, ginormous, major trouble, because she was madly in lust with her best friend’s brother and it was so not okay. She bent at the waist and rubbed the towel vigorously over her hair. Just the feel of Galen’s hard body against hers had her senses rioting in a way that even the whole tamale with Marty hadn’t. If she wasn’t sure she’d made a mistake in her choice of husbands before, she was sure of it now.

Was that what it was supposed to feel like? Wild and crazy and like you would do anything…anything at all for another taste? Or was it the sand and sun coupled with her first taste of real freedom? She’d had some during college, but since her parents had insisted she go to a posh school only forty minutes from home, even that had been tempered by their influence. Now she was free to do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted, and there was no one to judge her for it.

Except Galen.

She straightened and hung the towel on the hook behind her. Somehow, despite the jabs they’d exchanged over the years, she got the distinct feeling they were in a judgment-free zone. She could act a fool, and he would stand back, watch, and smile. She could drink and dance and act crazy, and he’d be fine with that. Was his only motive to try and help her through this transition, encouraging her to let go a little and enjoy this trip? Or was there more to it? If the hot ridge in his bathing suit had been any indication, she would have to guess the latter.

She suppressed a shiver and tugged her dress over her head. Why now? Why after all these years had he finally decided to notice her?

“Save me some hot water,” he called through the door.

If she’d had the balls he gave her credit for, she would’ve suggested he join her next time. But she didn’t, and she wouldn’t. Instead she smoothed the skirt of her cotton sundress and opened the door. “I’ve been out for ten minutes now. I was getting changed.” She stepped into the bedroom and gestured to the bathroom door. “It’s all yours. Make sure you wipe out the drain when you’re done. And hang up your towel.”

He smirked and flicked a lighting-fast hand out, snapping said towel at her bare toes.

“Hey!” she squealed and jumped back.

“Don’t take that bossy tone with me. I’m telling you right now, I’m going to leave stuff everywhere. Toilet seat up, towels on the floor, cap off the milk.” He tugged his T-shirt over his head and dropped in on the floor. “We need to break you of this control freakiness, and this is the perfect time to learn how to go with the flow and just let things happen.”

Inexplicably, his harmless words felt as weighty as the pressure in her belly. She tried not to stare at him but failed miserably. His board shorts hung low, clinging to his lean hips. She helplessly followed the trail of hair leading from his navel downward…

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you never saw a half-naked man before, squirt.” His voice had dropped to almost a whisper, and even the childish nickname felt like a caress.

“I have,” she protested and took another step back. “Plenty of times.” Okay, she might have exaggerated a bit, but he didn’t need to know that. “You have to admit, though, you’re bigger than most.”

“Well, I appreciate that, darlin’. You know exactly what to say to a man, don’t you?” He flicked her nose with the tip of his finger and chuckled when she flushed.

“I didn’t mean that.” She gestured to his general groin area in a circular motion and that only made him laugh harder. “You’re such a guy sometimes,” she said with a snort of disgust. “I meant, big like tall and…beefy.”

“I guess that’s better than being doughy or fragile, so I’m going to go out on a limb and take that as a compliment.”

“You do that.” The sparring between them felt so strange with the addition of this new sexual tension. Like she’d fallen down a rabbit hole or, more likely, into one of the decade’s worth of fantasies she had stored up. She crossed the room, waiting for the bathroom door to close so she could breathe again, but felt the heat of his gaze trailing her.

“By the way.” His voice had dropped low again, the silky, intimate tone sending her pulse careening. “I like your dress.”

“Uh, thanks. I g-got it at Target.” Oh, yeah. Very smooth. But still, she couldn’t stop the flow. “My mom hates when I shop there. She says it’s for poor people.”

Perfection. She must have picked up that tidbit in some trendy women’s magazine. If a super-hot guy compliments you, make sure to bring up your mom. And if you can squeeze in a comment about her elitist views, even better.

To Galen’s credit, he only smiled.

“Hurry up and take your shower. I’m starved.”

.

Half an hour later they were strolling down Los Rosales Street in search of food. It was a good thing, too, because sharing close quarters with him was getting to be an issue. She must have been crazy to agree to spending the next two weeks with him.

“That place looks good,” he said, pointing to a terra-cotta building dripping in exotic blooms. The elegant sign above the lanai read FLORES, which was fitting. As they approached, a nattily dressed waiter strode by carrying a heaping plate of lobster, orangey-pink and glistening with butter.

She eyed the tray longingly then gave a regretful shake of her head. “We can’t. My dress is too casual for a place like this, and you’d probably need a jacket or at least pants.”

“We won’t know unless we try. What’s the worst thing they can do? Say we can’t go in?”

His nonchalance baffled her. It would be mortifying to get turned away. People would probably stare, and the host would think they were a couple of idiots. “I’ll pass. The bistro across the street is fine.”

He took her wrist and stopped her on the sidewalk. “I thought this was going to be the era of pushing boundaries for you? Now you won’t even go to the restaurant where you want to eat? What a chicken.”

Her stomach growled at the mention of poultry and Galen sent her a wicked grin. She gnawed on her bottom lip, trying to work up the nerve to go up to the desk, but really, what was the point? They had a lot of time. They could dress appropriately tomorrow and eat there without causing waves. She was all for change, but probably baby steps were better.

“I’d rather go another night,” she said primly.

Was it her imagination, or did he look slightly disappointed in her? She refused to explore why the thought bothered her and instead led him toward the bistro.

A few minutes later, they stood by the outdoor bar less than fifty yards from the ocean. The room was long and narrow, with seating designed to take advantage of as much beachfront space as possible. Tables flanked the railing, offering both a breeze and a view, or with a few steps down, patrons could sit at a table in the sand if they chose.

A waitress bustled by with what looked like a mouthwatering plate of shrimp and Lacey grinned. “Nice place.”

He nodded. “But don’t let the fact that it worked out well this time go to your head. It’s always better to take a chance than to be left doing the safe thing and wondering what you’re missing. I bet that lobster was fantastic.” His tone was teasing but she knew he was only half kidding, just as she knew he was right.