He toys with my red bikini strap before squirting the sunscreen bottle. “You look good in red.”
Does his voice sound huskier? Is it just me? I can’t see his face since I’m looking out at the Mediterranean Sea.
My body jerks when the cold liquid hits my back. I lie to myself, chalking up my goosebumps to the cold sunscreen. Not because of Noah rubbing sunscreen all over my back. Nope.
I tell myself so many lies about Noah that I convince myself to go to the local confessional. A priest will have a field day with this type of stuff, offering sage advice before sending me off with at least five Hail Marys. I can’t blame myself. Noah has the sex appeal of about one hundred men combined, making this whole process hard.
My arms grow heavy as he continues to rub lotion into my back; I’m enjoying the feeling of being cared for while Noah’s hands caress me. His strokes leave a path of warmth behind them. I let out an embarrassing moan that I try to cover up with a cough.
His laugh—all throaty and deep—makes my body sing. He acts like this is natural, just the two of us hanging out on our private yacht, enjoying a casual day on the water. We might as well be because not one person passes by to save me.
He can’t see my face, thankfully, because my cheeks sear at his unrelenting touch.
And that’s not the only thing heating up.
My core pulses at the attention from him. How long has it been since I’ve slept with a guy? Maybe my junior year of college? My brain draws up a blank, which I don’t find to be a good sign. I decide this must be my issue with him. Not because he knocks off every attractive thing on my checklist.
Sure.
His hands move to the dip in my lower back and I groan as they knead my skin.
I’m so very fucked.
My body hums with excitement at Noah’s touch, not understanding why this is all so very, very wrong.
He pulls me out of my thoughts.
“Did I tell you that you look beautiful today?”
Nope, you didn’t. But I’ll take it now, with my head pressed against the comfy lounge chair as his hands rub my back. I don’t think he has a drop of sunscreen left on his fingers.
“Hmm. Not sure.”
Okay, good job. That didn’t sound half as desperate as your moan.
“You look stunning today.” He ramps up his charm.
He shocks me by doing the unthinkable. I suck in a breath as his lips press against the curve of my neck. Swoon. It takes everything in me to not bolt from the chair. My fingernails claw into the seat fabric to hold still, leaving indentations to match the ones Noah burns into my brain.
My body feels on fire and my most intimate places are worse off. How is it possible to get turned on by sunscreen application? There should be a warning label on the back of the bottle for this. Screw damaging rays, this shit with Noah burns me up worse than any SPF below fifty.
He lets out another chuckle that prompts me to turn around and face him.
He looks unaffected, and it ticks me off. I check for signs. His eyes remain hidden, and his face looks neutral. My eyes surpass his golden chest and abs because I have absolutely no time or restraint for that.
I smirk at the bulge in his bathing suit. His cheeky grin makes me want to kiss it off his face, replacing the humor in his eyes with lust.
Our attraction threatens our semblance of normalcy with one another. Not sure what to make of this. I need time to process, concoct an avoidance plan, set up defenses against the ultimate playboy. This will take effort. I may even need Sophie’s help with reinforcements because plans are her thing; she’s been successfully avoiding her attraction to Liam like a plague.
Thou shall not bang your brother’s teammate rings in my ears, a new mantra for me by now. Yes, my mantra list continues to grow, but you haven’t met Noah Slade. You don’t understand how sensuality seeps from his pores. Never underestimate the power of pheromones and wicked smiles.
He even makes sunscreen application into some kind of foreplay.
Guilt rushes through me because I don’t want to be attracted to Noah. Although he does nice things for me, he stills acts like a dick to Santi. I’m a walking contradiction at the moment, battling the pros and cons, weighing catastrophic situations if Noah and I got together.
Noah gets up from my chair, placing the offensive sunscreen bottle next to me. A wave of uncertainty passes through me. Part of me wants to make him stay while the other part of me wants him to go. My brain needs to digest this information. His boner distracts me enough, drawing my attention to it, the bulge looking much larger as he stands. I need it removed from my vicinity ASAP.