Our Secret Summer(43)
“I brought some in my bag,” I cut in, trying to be helpful. I’m about to call out to Simone to get it for me but she’s busy flirting with Felix.
“No worries.” Beth smiles. “We have quite a variety on board, but did you want yours? I can go retrieve it.”
“No. Any will do.” I smile back at her. “Thank you.”
“Your tattoo is covered?” Cristiano asks me once Beth is out of earshot.
I look down at my arm, confirming the small Band-Aid is still there. I’ve read I should avoid sun exposure and swimming as much as possible while it heals, but the scripted ink is small enough that a thin bandage does the trick.
“I don’t think you should swim in the sea just yet.”
The others are already heading out on the Jet Skis.
I frown. “I thought so, too. It’s okay. I brought a book, and Simone can keep me company. She got a tattoo as well.”
I peer up to see that his brows are drawn together and he almost looks concerned.
“There’s a small pool on the upper deck. You could float in there so long as you keep your elbow above water.”
Oh. I’d already resigned myself to being hot and sweaty on the boat all morning. “A small pool?”
He smiles at our inside joke.
“I’d love that,” I tell him. “Maybe after I eat. I’m sure I’ll need to cool off in a bit.”
He nods toward the bartender, who hands him his drink, then asks, “Would you like something?”
Right. Otherwise why would I be over here…
“Did you finish your cucumber water?” the bartender asks me, trying to show his attentiveness.
“Yes.” I smile. “Could I have another, please?”
I prop my hands on my hips while I wait, and Cristiano swallows and looks away, his focus narrowed out over the sea. “I’m tempted to take Simone’s phone and fling it into the water.”
“To destroy the pictures?” I ask playfully. “Because you don’t want anyone seeing your fancy boat?”
Men like him are always insanely private.
He laughs, but the sound isn’t joyful. When he looks back at me, I almost shiver.
“No, because I don’t want anyone seeing you.”
That’s all he gives me, and my smile drops as he steps around me to go and claim the lounge chair beside mine. I watch as another crew member hurries over to bring him a plate of food, and once she’s gone, I watch him tug his shirt off and lie back, picking up his phone. His incredible body is on full display, all that tan skin, wide muscular shoulders atop a broad chest with a sprinkling of black hair. His stomach is trim, his legs long. His tattoos give him the perfect edge.
I don’t want anyone seeing you.
Those bold words leave no room for interpretation. That was blatant flirting, and the butterflies in my stomach are proof of it. Still, what to do now? A gorgeous Spanish man is flirting with me while we set sail on his luxurious yacht—this is uncharted territory! Except I’m not completely without direction. I have Winnie’s list to guide me, and it was silly of me not to consider before that Cristiano could help complete it. Never mind falling in love. It’s too absurd to consider or try to force just for the sake of completing everything on the list, but wild sex may actually be within my reach.
A feeling of resolve settles over me.
Yes. This is right. I want wild sex with Cristiano. I practically feel the sea breeze pushing me in his direction.
Oh my god.
I’m jittery with nerves as I head back to my lounge chair. A second cucumber water was a mistake. I need something to boost my courage.
“Can I?” I reach for Simone’s untouched champagne from the table between us and take a long sip before she’s even given me permission.
She winks at me, then turns to talk to Annika, giving me some semblance of privacy with Cristiano just as Beth comes around with the sunscreen she promised.
Here goes.
I take a slender blue bottle and waggle it toward Cristiano. “Help a girl out?”
He looks at me over the top of his phone, and I hold my breath. I can’t give him time to reply. If he turns me down now, I doubt I’ll have the courage to put myself out there again, so I take my champagne and the sunscreen and move to the end of his lounger, holding the bottle out for him.
When he leans forward and takes the sunscreen out of my hand, I can’t help but bite down on my smile.
“Turn and scoot back,” he commands.
Winnie, what the hell have I gotten myself into?
It’s just one side of my body and not even all of it, I tell myself. He only needs to rub his hands all over my naked back. Ha ha! What’s the big deal? What’s the big deal? Cristiano’s hands are the big deal. He has those NFL hands. Quarterback hands. Hands that make me sweat just thinking of them roaming over my body.
The moment his warm palm flattens against my lower back, I have to fight back a gasp. I’m so out of my league here, and raising my shaky champagne flute to my mouth doesn’t help. I pray the fizzy bubbles will settle the butterflies rioting in my stomach, but if anything, they make them worse.
Cristiano doesn’t talk while he works, thank god. I don’t want to have to try to string together a coherent sentence right now. I just want to sink into this feeling, memorize every second his hands are on me, sliding up beneath the ties of my bikini, accidentally loosening it ever so slightly. He gathers up my hair and twirls it around his hand before draping it over my shoulder, exposing more of my skin so he can make sure he gets every inch from the nape of my neck to the hollow of my spine. His hands knead my muscles as he goes. He doesn’t have to be this thorough. His hands don’t have to dip slightly around my torso, encompassing my rib cage just beneath my breasts like a tantalizing promise.