“Then perhaps you shouldn’t judge mine. We’re perfectly happy,” Liz said with a smile. “Write about that.”

Brady came to her side a few seconds later. “Miss Hollingsworth,” he said cordially. “What were we talking about over here?”

“How perfectly happy we are,” Liz said, wrapping her arm around his waist.

“That we are. You’ll have to excuse us. We have prior engagements to attend to.”

“Always great talking to you two. You’re so very . . . insightful,” Calleigh said.

Liz followed Brady back to his family, who all seemed ready to head back to the line of cars waiting for them. Heather had worked her magic and police had cleared an area for them to walk through. A minute later she and Brady were cloistered in a town car bound for the airport.

“Did you really have to go talk to her?” Brady asked with a resigned sigh.

“She’s up to something.”

“And you thought goading her was going to get her to stop?”

Liz turned her head to face him. “I was just talking to her. She started goading me by making fun of me losing my job and then saying I was mooching off of you! I even ignored those statements when I could have been a bitch back, but I wasn’t. She should know that I’m not afraid of her.”

“She’s an annoyance. Nothing more. Just ignore her from now on.”

“She feeds off of that,” Liz insisted.

Brady’s phone buzzed and he pulled it out to check it. “You feed off of goading her.”

“I’m not goading her! The woman just deserves to be put in her place.”

He typed out a reply, then tossed the phone back into his suit pocket. He looked really irritated. “She does, but not by you.”

“Is everything all right? You’re not really mad at me, are you?” She hadn’t meant to upset him.

“No, baby, it’s not you,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “Chelsea won’t stop badgering me about this fracking issue, as if it’s the only thing on the agenda.”

“She’s texting you about that?”

“Yeah. She’s insistent.”

Liz chewed on her bottom lip. “Isn’t that kind of unprofessional?”

“A bit, but it’s not the first time. You’d be surprised what people will do to get what they want.”

Would she? Glancing up at Brady, Liz really didn’t think that she would.

They arrived on Hilton Head Island later that afternoon. They had a car waiting for them, which drove them to Brady’s parents’ beach house. Liz had dreamed about coming out here and being welcomed by his family when she had been here two years ago. Now she was actually doing all of this.

The Maxwells’ beach home was a massive three-story construction on a secluded piece of land. A butler came forward and began to unload their luggage as Brady whisked her through the front door and began to tour her through the house. It had seven bedrooms, a kitchen the size of Liz’s entire house back in Chapel Hill, and a projection screen that took up a whole wall in the living room. The back door led out to a clear blue resort-size pool with lounge chairs and cabanas. She smirked when the memory of having sex with Brady on a cabana in Hilton Head came back to her, and Brady seemed to guess and shared the memory by planting a deep kiss on her lips.

Beyond the pool was a small beach and the Atlantic Ocean as far as the eye could see.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered.

“My great-grandfather had the house built in the thirties and we’ve maintained it ever since.”

He led her back into the house to change into bathing suits, and then they spent the rest of the afternoon doing the most amazing thing she could think of—lounging around lazily by the pool, taking periodic dips to cool off from the blazing South Carolina sun, and walking hand in hand down the beach.

The next day Brady gave her a tour of the town. They rented bicycles and went on a several-mile-long nature ride. When they returned to the beach house, sticky from sweat, they raced each other through the house, stripping down to their bathing suits, and then doing cannonballs into the pool. Andrea screamed at them for getting her wet, but they were lost in the euphoria of being together. They knew that when they returned to reality there would be so many more demands on their time. They wanted to cherish each moment that they had now.

Later that night, they were wrapped up in each other’s arms in bed and Brady was stroking her hair back and kissing her forehead. “You’re so beautiful.”

She sighed and nuzzled closer to him. “You’re not so bad-looking yourself.”

“Well, glad that I meet your approval,” he joked.

“Always.”

“That’s how I feel about you.”

“That I always meet your approval?”

“No,” he whispered. “You’re my always.”

Liz’s breath caught at the word. Always. Forever. Brady was making promises with those words, and he always kept his promises.

“Hey, come with me,” he said, pulling the sheet off of their naked bodies and straightening.

“Why? We were so comfortable.” Her eyes dropped to his dick, already lengthening at the sight of her silhouetted in the light from the moon.

“It’s three in the morning. Everyone’s asleep.” His hands slid down her hips and roughly dragged her toward him. He bent at the waist and started trailing kisses down her stomach. She groaned deep in her throat. “Just come . . . with me.”

“You’ve convinced me,” she said breathily.

He laughed and continued his way down until he was buried between her legs. Her fingers dug into the sheets as she felt his tongue lap and swirl and tease her most sensitive area. He pushed her legs farther apart for him and then slid a finger inside of her.

“More,” she groaned.

He obliged her and pushed a second finger up into her. Her back arched off of the bed as he started sliding his fingers in and out. She felt as if at any moment she might combust. He knew every inch of her body and how to extract the maximum amount of pleasure from each stroke. And just when she thought she couldn’t handle any more, she came with an intensity that made her see stars.

As she came down from her release, Brady pulled on some swim trunks and found a bathing suit for Liz. She stood on wobbly legs and managed to get into her suit with only a little assistance from Brady.