Our Secret Summer(44)

I know he can feel my heart thundering in my chest, can see my unsteady breaths. I’m not playing it cool here so much as falling willingly into his trap.

He’s done rubbing the lotion in. His featherlight touch slips down my spine for no reason other than pleasure now, and then all too soon, he pulls away.

I’m suddenly bereft. I know if he tugged, I’d fall back willingly, flatten myself against his chest and let him rub the sunscreen onto the front of my body as well. I’m half tempted to lie and tell him I can’t reach my knees, just to see if he’d keep going. I want to feel his hands on me again. Even with our audience.

I squeeze my eyes closed and try to quell the surge of longing, the lust swirling inside me, propelling my bad decisions.

“Done.”

He slides his sunglasses on so I can’t see his gaze when I look back. “Don’t you need me to do you?”

I sound absolutely desperate for the job.

He half smiles. “I’m Spanish,” he says by way of explanation.

I hate those damn sunglasses, guarding his true feelings right now. Did rubbing that sunscreen on me affect him at all? I can’t help but chance a peek at his black swim trunks, and I inhale sharply, then quickly look away, smiling like a fiend.

Oh.

There’s my answer.

He shifts and lifts his right knee up; my smile only grows.

“Isabel,” he practically growls.

I correct him with a tsk-tsk. “Elle.”

Then he reaches out to take the forgotten champagne from my hand and drinks the last of it.

“Don’t you want your food?”

He’s referring to the untouched plate on my lounge chair, the little canapés and appetizers I was ravenous for a few minutes ago. Now I’m hungry for something else entirely, and Cristiano knows it.

I steal back the champagne flute and flounce over to my lounge chair, aware of his eyes on my backside barely covered by my skimpy bikini. My food can wait. For now I think I’ll lie out for a bit and work on my tan.





Chapter Fourteen


Isabel


I can’t tell which burns hotter, the blazing Spanish sun or Cristiano’s gaze as I lie on my front, propped on my elbows, flipping through an Ibiza guidebook I brought along in my swim bag. My feet kick slowly back and forth; I’m the picture of innocence. Wink. I don’t even have to check to confirm his attention is on me, the same as it has been for the last hour.

I almost feel bad for the cut of this bikini. Almost.

I hear Cristiano shift in his chair, but my face is turned toward Simone. She watches as he stands and comes over to me, his hand touching the small of my back, covering my spine. My toes curl before I can stop them.

“I’m going in to talk to the captain for a bit. Do either of you want anything when I come back out?”

“Champagne, please,” Simone says. “Since you two stole mine.”

I continue flipping through my book without looking up, playing it cool. “More water, please.”

I’ve decided to avoid alcohol at all costs. Clearly I’m feeling bold enough with just the few sips of champagne. Any more and I’ll be whipping my bikini top around over my head.

“Got it.”

The moment Cristiano turns away, Simone and I automatically assume our positions: heads bent together, faces tipped down, sunglasses sitting low on the bridges of our noses so we get an unobstructed view of Cristiano walking away.

“That body.” I sigh.

“That butt.” Simone fake moans.

We both crack up.

“He’s not going to chat with the captain, by the way,” she continues. “He’s going in to have a wank.”

“A wa—Simone.”

I lose it, laughing even harder and drawing the attention of an annoyed Daniella. She’s been sunbathing and napping on a lounge chair on the other side of the deck ever since Juan Carlos finished taking her photos.

I lower my voice. “He’s not going to do that.”

“Pfft. Oh yes he is. A good ol’ rubdown, and I can’t even blame the poor bloke! You’re vicious teasing him like that.”

“I’m just tanning. I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I defend sweetly.

“Oh please, you brat. All that rolling around and adjusting your top business. You had him sweating. Good thing the others went off to play in the water or I’d toss a towel over you.”

“You have nothing to worry about with Felix. He’s not interested in me.” I’m confident about that. “He’s flirted with you the entire day, and when everyone went to go swim, he offered to stay back and hang with you until you insisted he should go try out the Jet Skis.”

I watch her toss this idea around, contemplating it.

“Then by that standard, Cristiano is interested in you as well, because he’s not swimming, either.” She pushes her sunglasses onto her head and rolls toward me. “Honestly, I can’t tell if Felix is holding back out of respect for Annika or if he’s just really not that interested. We’ve flirted and flirted and flirted but he hasn’t snogged me since the start of summer. We’re still just dancing around each other—”

“Speak of the devil!” I lower my voice and motion to her. “Quick! Arch your back. Sit up a little. Perfect. Don’t. Move.”