I pulled my hand away, instinctively clutching my finger. “I’m a little accident prone, tripped and fell a few years ago and sprained it.”
“Accident prone? You were pretty good on the water.”
I practically scoffed, I’d been falling off my surfboard all afternoon. “I don’t think surfing is my true calling. It’s a little too rough for me out there.”
“Sometimes rough is good,” he said as he lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my pinky, dragging it across the full line of his bottom lip. I looked up at him, the sun catching the amber of his eyes, and I could hear the rapid beating of my heart in my ears. I still didn’t understand how one look from him could throw me so off balance. I glanced around the beach, making sure we were alone.
“You’re covered in sand,” he said, wiping the grainy pebbles from my palm. “We should rinse off.”
I did feel the need for a shower after all our time in the water so I agreed.
He stood and reached his hand out to me, pulling me up and into him. My hands grasped at his bare chest as I tried to gain my balance. His skin was warm and slick with a layer of sweat, and I couldn’t help but imagine running my tongue down the firm ridges of his abdomen. It had been two years since I’d slept with a man and I could feel my neglected need hitting me full force.
I tried to pull myself from his grasp, afraid the friction of our bodies would overwhelm the rational part of me, but he grabbed me by the waist and pulled me closer. The quick pulsing of my heart seemed to take up between my legs as he leaned forward and took my face in his hands. As he pressed his lips into mine, working my mouth open with his tongue, my knees buckled and I grabbed his bicep to keep myself steady. I could hear his heavy breathing, feel his warm exhales against my cheek as our tongues moved over one another. It was true it had been years since I’d been with a man but I’d never been so consumed by a kiss and I was worried I wouldn’t be able to control myself if I let it continue.
“Where are the showers?” I asked, breaking away. I was desperate for a reason to distance myself from him—what would he think of me, better yet what would I think of myself, if I had sex with him when I’d demanded a date to avoid sex? But without a word he lifted me onto his waist, my legs wrapping instinctually around him, and walked us toward the showers.
“Put me—” I began but he cut me off with another kiss, his mouth pressed so urgently against mine that my lips tingled. I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling lightly, as the hard cut of his pelvis rocked against my clit while he walked. I clenched my thighs around his torso to keep myself from grinding shamelessly against him, wanting to feed the desire that had begun pulsing faintly between my legs.
He put me down as he turned on the shower and before I had time to get my bearings, I felt his hands running down my back and across the waist of my bikini bottom. He reached up and loosened my hair from its ponytail, the heavy, damp locks falling down my back as he rinsed the sand from my body.
“What are you doing?” I asked, trying to avoid his touch. I immediately berated myself for getting caught up in the moment—I didn’t need casual sex, especially with someone who was used to getting what he wanted from women. I had promised myself I wouldn’t get involved with another man too quickly, and here I was about to strip naked on the first date.
“I’m cleaning you.”
“I can do it myself,” I insisted.
His hands stopped their merciless roaming but lingered in the middle of my back, his fingers batting at the loose strings of my bikini top. He looked at me, the water running over the sharp bridge of his nose and down to his lips.“Why’re you so afraid to ask for help?”
“Because I don’t need your help.” I tried not to acknowledge the muscled torso, wet and glistening, just mere inches from me.
“I want to make things easier for you.” He slid his fingers beneath the strings of my bikini top and I could feel him wiping away the coarse sand stuck there, his fingers moving toward the side of my breast. I felt my nipples harden from his touch, barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of my suit.
“I just think it would be better if we take things slow,” I breathed.
“Is this slow enough?” His hands creeped toward my chest, the cool tips of his fingers sending goosebumps across my skin. Just as he was about to cup my breast, he shifted quickly, trailing his fingers lightly down my torso. I groaned in a frustrated desire, wanting him to pinch my nipples between his fingers, take them between his teeth and bite gently.
I reached out to him in spite of myself. My fingers traced the raised edges of a tattoo on his shoulder. “What does this one mean?”
“It’s sanskrit for ‘balance.’ I’m a hard worker, Kristen, but I believe in rewarding myself.” I could feel the bulge of his stirring package beneath his board shorts as he moved closer to me.
“And these?” I crooned as I fingered his nipple rings.
“Something of a souvenir from Fiji.”
“You couldn’t just get a t-shirt?” I leaned into his chest and took his nipple between my fingers, pinching the cool metal ring lightly.
“I wanted something a little more interactive,” he moaned as he grabbed a handful of my hair.
“I knew I felt something hard when I fell on you in South Africa.” The aching throb between my legs had become nearly unbearable and all I wanted to do was pull his board shorts from his hips and take him in my hands. But things were already going faster than they were supposed to and I would have no one to blame but myself if I gave into Vincent and ended up getting hurt.
“What about you, Kristen? Any piercings you’re hiding from me?” The tone of his voice and the ceaseless roaming of his hands suggested he had every intention of finding out unless I put a stop to things.
I tore away from him, mustering all of my willpower to deny my desire. It was hard to ignore just how sexy Vincent was, and I wasn’t sure I believed those surfing lessons he was giving were innocent. It seemed like a flawless plan—the minimal clothing, maximal touching and his persistent charm, any woman would succumb to the seduction. But I wasn’t looking for seduction and if that’s all Vincent was interested in doing then it was better I walked away from our date with my dignity still intact, something my last relationship had taken from me.
Not wanting to cause an argument or dredge up my relationship history I flashed him a doe-eyed look and stepped out of the shower’s stream. “Nothing worth pursuing comes without patience,” I teased.
His shoulders dropped in obvious disappointment but the toothy smile on his face left me hopeful that maybe sex wasn’t his only motive. “I guess that means you want to see me again.”
“Maybe,” I said playfully as I left the stall, “but you’ll have to let me off this island first.”
I made my way to the women’s bathroom and slowly peeled the soaking swimsuit from my body, taking my time as I tried to decompress from the shower. It was ridiculous to try and convince myself I didn’t want Vincent. But whisking a woman off to an isolated island for an afternoon had raised some red flags. Although no one had ever planned such an elaborate date for me, I was starting to think Vincent knew the rules of seduction far better than he knew the rules of dating. I didn’t want to give up on him but I couldn’t let my body get the best of me next time.
Once I had changed and fixed my hair into a loose, damp braid I left the bathroom to find Vincent leaning against the convertible, the deep tan of his skin standing out against his white t-shirt.
He leaned down and kissed me before tugging lightly on the braid. “You look beautiful,” he said.
I blushed, conscious my makeup had washed off and my hair was a mess. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“Are you hungry?” he asked. “All that time in the water wore me out.” He shot me a suggestive grin and I knew he wasn’t just talking about the ocean.
“I’m starved,” I said, but I knew no amount of food could quell my appetite.
Chapter Eight
By the time we boarded Vincent’s plane, it was evening and I was physically drained. After the hours of surfing, we tried out a Caribbean barbeque place with amazing burgers then drove around the island sightseeing until the sun set. It was a romantic, memorable first date and I found myself hoping it wouldn’t be our last. I’d expected him to be his usual charming and seductive self all day, but he was surprisingly attentive and caring, showing he’d listened when I’d told him about taking things slow. He suggested we stay the night—in separate rooms of course—but I wanted to avoid the possible implications. Resisting him in the public shower was hard enough; sleeping in the same hotel with beds conveniently nearby might’ve been too much for my resistance if he decided to be seductive again. Instead, I’d fallen asleep on his shoulder on the flight back. When he dropped me off at my apartment, we exchanged a chaste goodbye kiss. He promised to text me tomorrow and I promised to tell him what I thought about a second date. I trotted to my room and plopped on my bed, exhausted from the day’s activities.
***
Monday morning felt better than it had since as long as I could remember. With everything I did with Vincent over the weekend, it seemed like forever since I got the chance to sleep in. Which is why I took full advantage of the opportunity on Sunday. Except for exchanging a few flirty texts, the day had been uneventful but relaxing. Not that being involved with Vincent Sorenson wasn’t thrilling enough, but the lazy Sunday was just what I needed to re-energize.
I’d told him I needed more time to think about seeing him again but it was more to save face than anything else. If I was honest with myself, the idea of secretly dating a gorgeous client was thrilling, but I’d been careful not to reveal that to Vincent. I also found myself wanting to know more about him. He wasn’t the surfer bum that Richard pegged him for nor was he the cold, calculating businessman typical of individuals his stature. He was something in between. Steadfast in pursuit but adaptable. Charming yet respectful. In other words, complex.