Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141281 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 706(@200wpm)___ 565(@250wpm)___ 471(@300wpm)
“Come on. One drink. I’ll enjoy it like a civilized dude, dry off, watch the pretty fires, and be on my merry way,” he whispers, embracing me softly from behind.
I’m so not used to being touched.
Especially not like this.
Especially not by god-men like him.
Even his hands are big, proper paws. They slowly skim down my body as he releases me, driving me fully insane.
Holy hell.
This can’t be happening, getting felt up by a total stranger and enjoying it.
Some crazy instinct flips on in my head.
Before I can think, my hand flies across his face, connecting with warm flesh.
My palms are needles and—and I’ve just slapped Mystery Man.
I inhale sharply.
“Oh, crap. I didn’t mean—I’m sorry I lashed out. I never meant to hit you like that. I just got carried away when you started feeling around for—”
What, exactly?
Maybe I screwed up, misread him, even if he was breaching my personal space.
“For what?” he demands coldly, reaching down into the leather duffel bag at his feet.
My toes curl in my sandals as I watch him pack up his gear.
Okay. So he may be touchy-feely, but I’m not a total bitch.
“Look, if it’s just one drink, then maybe—”
“Forget it,” he clips. “I’m gonna bounce. I can always party on beaches with people who don’t shit diamonds anytime. Sorry to bust your fairy-tale bubble, princess.”
My hands ball into fists at my sides.
“Ugh, will you stop calling me that?” I shake with frustration. “Dude, you can have your drink. For the record, I didn’t mean it, just like I didn’t mean to chew you out and ruin your night.”
“For the record,” he spits back, all green-eyed challenge. “It’s awful fucking difficult keeping my hands to myself when I see a firecracker in front of me.”
Dead.
I actually tilt back a little before my balance catches me at the last second.
Just in time, too, because he flashes me a smile too good for this world, complete with dimples.
My heart dives as I watch him stow his scuba gear. The zipper echoes loudly through the night, and then he’s standing, marching away with something tucked under one arm.
Clearing my throat, I run after him and gently reach for his shoulder.
He whirls around when he feels my touch, holding a fresh change of clothes.
“What? You didn’t get a big enough eyeful the first time?” he snarls.
“I’m trying to be nice. I’m not as rude as you think and you’re not unwelcome here,” I say with a sigh. “Look, I get it. You think I’m a snob—daddy’s spoiled little princess or whatever—but if you want...we’ve got an open bar and there’ll be music for a few more hours. It’s no big if you want to hang around and have a few drinks. Be my guest.”
He raises his brows, moving his eyes slowly up and down my body.
“You’re serious, huh?”
I nod firmly.
I’m not sure what makes my heart race faster—the guilty conscience I’m trying so hard to appease by taking a gamble on him or watching how his tattooed muscles flex when he drops his pants and boxers, ready to roll them on.
He hesitates for a long second, the silence eating me alive.
“Well?” I venture. “Are you coming?”
“Keep your panties on, lady. I guess it sounds like more fun than being slapped by a party princess again. Now turn the fuck around while I get dressed. Unless, you know, you want to put your hands on this body without the kitten scratch.”
Oh, boy.
His mouth is going to make me regret this, isn’t it?
Probably long before I find out if I’m doing the right thing by inviting him to join us—or if I’m making one big fat half-naked mistake with a merman who’s put me under his green-eyed spell.
* * *
I lead Mystery Man over to the small private bar and watch as he pours himself a dark stout from the tap and throws together a fresh margarita for me.
“So, what were you doing out there diving this late? Are you a professional Batman impersonator or something?” I stare at the neat white button-down shirt he’s changed into. It hugs his wall of a chest so perfectly it’s almost obscene.
“Work. Fitness. Training. Bit of pleasure, too, if I’m being honest. You’d be amazed what you can see along this stretch of beach up there when the lights start twinkling. Hell, you must know, considering your father owns all this. Pretty damn pristine slice of land.”
He sips his drink with a smile as he looks around, taking in the scenery.
I raise my glass to my lips, unable to rip my eyes off just how sculpted he is.
Now that I’ve got him relaxed and talking, he definitely sounds too smart to be one more surfer dudebro or workoutaholic gym rat. That leaves one good guess.
“Are you Navy or something?”
“Something,” he says with an elusive wink, taking a long, thoughtful pull from his beer. “You know I didn’t come here to talk shop. I’m here to unwind. I like your bar digs, and the tunes aren’t half-bad.”