Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
That’s probably not a good idea.
“Sure.” The word is out of my mouth before I can stop it. I pass him the tube as he pulls himself up to a seated position before stretching his legs out in front of him so there is a slight bend in his knees.
“Come sit here.” He pats the space between his thighs.
I gulp before pinning my lower lip with my teeth and resettling in front of him. Even with the sun blazing down on my exposed skin, a chill scuttles along my spine as he works the lotion into my flesh. The way he massages my muscles has my eyelids feathering shut. He starts at my neck before gradually working his way lower until reaching my bikini briefs.
By the time he finishes, my body is humming with need. Silence descends as the tension rachets up between us. A fresh wave of nerves skitter across my over sensitized flesh. It’s the best feeling in the world.
“I think you’re good,” he says gruffly.
What I think is that I’m on fire.
I twist around as he passes me the bottle. My gaze crawls over the powerful lines of his chest. There’s not a spare ounce of fat on the guy. He’s all chiseled strength. I’m dying to lay my hands on him. “Want me to do you?”
Even from behind his shades, his brows skyrocket across his forehead. The comical expression is enough to break the sexual tension building between us.
“That didn’t come out the way I intended,” I laugh before clarifying the question. “Would you like me to apply some sunscreen?”
When he jerks his broad shoulders, my mouth turns cottony. “Sure, why not?”
He turns so I’m treated to the wide expanse of his back. His muscles ripple with every movement.
Traps.
Deltoids.
Scapulae.
Oh, my...
It takes a moment to realize that my hands are trembling as I squirt a quarter-sized dot on the palm of my hand before rubbing them together to warm the lotion. I draw in a shaky breath before laying my hands against his shoulders. The flesh beneath my fingers is hot as I work my way down his back, making sure to get the sides. His muscles are hard yet pliable as I massage them. I could do this all afternoon.
When I reach the band of his boardshorts, I clear my throat along with the dirty thoughts that have invaded my brain like a swarm of bees. “Okay, all done.”
Unfortunately.
Instead of stretching out, he flips over onto his stomach, resting the side of his face against stacked hands. I lower myself to the towel, allowing my muscles to loosen before melting into the cottony material.
A pang of sadness fills me at the thought of never seeing Kingsley again after this vacation comes to an end. Even though we’ve only spent a brief period of time together, already I realize that he’s someone I’d like to get to know better.
“You never mentioned where you’re from,” he says, deep voice interrupting my thoughts.
“You never asked,” I shoot back, turning my face toward him. Our time together is limited. All I want to do is drink him in so I can create a series of mental snapshots I’ll be able to pull out when I want to remember what an amazing day this was.
“Touché.”
When he says nothing further, I clear my throat. “Chicago.”
He nods, his expression turning thoughtful.
“What about you?” I ask, wanting to know every little insignificant detail about him until a clear picture is painted in my mind.
“I’m from a small town a few hours west of here in the middle of the state.”
I don’t ask for specifics since I’m not overly familiar with Wisconsin. We drive through Milwaukee and Green Bay to get to Door County. That’s about all I know.
“Are you here for the rest of the week?” His fingers reach over to ensnare mine.
“Yup, until Saturday morning.” Today is Tuesday, which means we have three days to spend together. If that’s what he wants. Maybe I’m jumping the gun and won’t see him again after he drops me off. A tightness gathers in my chest at the notion. Anxiously I ask, “What about you?”
“We’re heading home on Sunday. Football camp begins next week, so I need to get back for that.”
I knew he was an athlete. “What college do you attend?”
“I’m not in college.” A grin flashes across his face. In the sunlight, his teeth are almost blinding in their intensity. “I’ll be a senior in high school.”
“Really?” Holy moly. I find that difficult to believe. What happened? Did he flunk a few grades?
“Yup.” He seems pleased by the compliment. “You thought I was older?”
“Well, yeah.”
“How come?”
“Because...” Exactly what am I supposed to say? You’re so freaking built and muscular, you couldn’t possibly be in high school?
“Because,” he prompts, twisting toward me and propping himself up on his elbow. All those well-honed muscles ripple with the movement.