I’m not even going to tempt it.
Poppy reverts to the subject at hand. “I thought Ryke did a great job sticking up for himself and Daisy. He told Dad what everyone else wanted to say.” I’m guessing that bit about Daisy being grown up. “With probably too many curse words,” Poppy adds. “But Dad started yelling first.”
My mouth drops. “What…？”
“He was really mad,” Daisy reminds me.
“Yeah but…” That’s crazy. I try to recall a single time where my dad raised his voice.
Off my confusion and shock, Poppy says, “He used to get so worked up over Sam that he’d start yelling. He’s just worried about guys taking advantage of us.”
Oh. My relationship with my dad is so dissimilar from my sisters’。 He treated me more like his son than his daughter, letting me do what I pleased since he trusted Lo so much. I don’t think he ever felt like he had to protect me like he does them.
My dad and I communicate in head nods, shoulder shrugs, and brief smiles.
Since my sex addiction, it took him a while to acknowledge me again. By not telling him my problems, I somehow broke our silent bond, something I didn’t even really see until my therapist pointed it out. But we’re okay now.
The smiles are back. The shoulder shrugs and shoulder pats happen more often. We haven’t had any sort of emotional heart-to-heart, but I’m not looking for one.
“We’re trying not to be disrespectful,” Daisy explains her situation with Ryke. “It’s really fine if we stay in separate rooms.”
It’s her birthday. She deserves the orgasm that I had last night. That and more. I wish I could trade with her, but it’s not looking possible.
Color returning to her cheeks, Rose eyes our oldest sister as she sips the mojito. “I hate you,” Rose tells her, her glower drilling holes all over Poppy.
Poppy wipes her mouth with a napkin. “I remember you drinking margaritas while I was pregnant with Maria. So now you know how it feels.”
Rose purses her lips, glaring now at the minty drink. “I bet it tastes horrible.”
“It could be better,” Poppy says nicely.
“I like you a little more.”
While they talk, I spot a magazine on a rack by the wall, a shirtless Zac Efron on the cover. I throb again, an ache that grows at the sight of two-dimensional abs. When did the star of High School Musical look like that? Jeez.
I swallow hard, cursing my body. I had to even stop watching Teen Wolf this season for this very reason.
It makes me nervous. Lo tried to explain to me that the world isn’t a porn-filled playground. I don’t need to be frightened of my surroundings, even if everything turns me on. I just need to take deep breaths…I blow one out…and train my mind on different things, avoiding carnal fixations.
My mantra this trip: I refuse to act on my arousal. Unless it’s from Loren fucking Hale.
I nod resolutely.
Now I must disappear and hide this red flush. “I’m heading out,” I tell my sisters. All lathered in sunscreen, I exit through sliding glass doors and step onto the deck that overlooks the yacht’s pool.
I stretch my arms, the afternoon rays beating down on my pale shoulders. Looking at the deck below, I skim the row of lounge chairs absentmindedly and then land on a supreme eight-pack, with long masculine legs.
I freeze and do a literal double-take at the toned body, with muscles that point towards his navy blue swim trunks, the guy’s face blocked from view thanks to the bar.
My hormones do not care about my sanity.
I squeeze my thighs together, hot from more than just the sun. Oh my God. I know every ridge of Loren Hale’s body, and this is not him. I burn with guilt. I would never cheat on him, I remind myself. I need a cold dip in the pool. Stat.
“His body is infuriating,” Rose suddenly says beside me. I jump in fright.
“When did you…” I trail off as Daisy joins us, shutting the sliding door. Her yellow cast, with the words Fuck Off scrawled in Ryke’s handwriting, is wrapped in plastic so she can get it wet.
Rose is focused on the guy below, resting her forearms on the railings, maybe in part to battle her seasickness. She shouts, “I hope you get a third degree burn and drown!”
What? My brows crinkle, and that’s when the body stirs. Oh no. Oh no. He sits up, bare feet dropping on either side of the lounge chair, and then he leans forward, in plain sight.
Connor Cobalt.
I just got aroused from my sister’s husband.
Someone I’ve never been attracted to like that. I’d like to say that pregnancy is awesome and beautiful, but this part is doing a number on me. I roast in embarrassment, unmoving, a statute on deck.