This kiss…
I knew it would happen. Expected it, even.
But this…
Scotty’s kiss is unlike any other kiss I’ve experienced…and I’ve been with some expert kissers.
Scotty, though, has made kissing into an art—and I love art.
Not just painting, which is my preferred medium, but all art. Sculpture, poetry, music…and kissing.
His tongue is velvet against mine, his lips full and soft. I scrape my fingers over his dark stubble and then wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer to me.
Our bodies are melded together now, and my nipples harden, press into his chest. I kiss him more deeply, until—
He pulls away.
My fingers go absently to my lips. What just happened?
“My place?” he says.
He wants to get me in the sack. Of course he does. He’s a beach bum lothario.
What’s holding me back? Lucifer and I are over, despite what he thinks. And Scotty…
I want Scotty. If he’s this good at kissing, he’s got to be amazing at everything else.
My whole body is on fire, but… “I can’t.”
He nods. “I understand.”
Except he doesn’t. He thinks I don’t want him. The fact is, I don’t want to pull him into my drama.
Because Lucifer will find me.
It’s only a matter of when.
This beautiful island may be off his radar for now, but he’ll find it.
You’ll never escape me, Emily. You’re mine. Mine to do with what I want.
Even now, so close to Scotty, Lucifer’s low voice haunts me.
Scotty grabs my hand. “I’ll walk you back to your room.”
“But…”
“But what?” He turns and meets my gaze.
My God, his eyes are something out of a Renaissance painting. Are they brown? Green? Golden? They change, according to the angle, according to the light.
“You promised me a walk on the beach. Or did you really mean a walk to your bed?” I smile, hoping he can take the joke.
“I’m not going to lie, pretty girl. I want to make love to you. Desperately.”
Desperately.
I need you desperately, Emily.
Lucifer was fond of that word.
“I didn’t come here for that,” I say.
“Why did you come here, then?”
“To paint,” I say too quickly. “Why does anyone come here?”
He touches my cheek. Just a flutter of a touch, but I feel it intensely between my legs. A small sigh escapes my throat.
“I think it’s more than that,” Scotty says softly. “It’s written all over your face. Your eyes, especially.”
“Oh? What do you see in my eyes?”
“I see desire, Em. I see passion. But I also see fear.”
“You can see all that? From a major in psychology?”
He trails his finger over the shell of my ear, pushing my hair back. “I can see all that because I’m interested in you. In what makes you tick.”
“You’re interested in getting me on my back,” I say.
He chuckles, shaking his head. “You do have a one-track mind.”
“I have a one-track mind? You already admitted it.”
“I did, so why are you the one who keeps bringing it up?”
My cheeks burn. He makes a good point, which pisses me off. Because the truth is, I want nothing more than to get between the sheets with this gold medal kisser. I want to lose myself in his magnificent body, underneath his magnificent tongue.
“Let’s just finish our walk,” I say, without looking into his eyes again.
Those eyes—they’re hypnotic. If I look again, I fear I’ll melt into a puddle of honey, and he’ll scoop me up and take me to his place.
Which is what I want now more than my next breath of air.
“Good enough.” He flips off his slides and picks them up. “Let’s try the water.”
I look down at my dress. “In this?”
“Just wading in the sand.”
“What about jellyfish?”
“You see any?” He gestures.
I don’t. Not like the beaches in LA sometimes. I’ve gotten used to always wearing flip-flops on the sand.
“The beach guys are good about letting us know if we need shoes. We haven’t had a jellyfish invasion since I’ve been here.”
I wiggle out of my flip-flops and step into the sand, letting it squish between my toes. I laugh. Actually laugh!
“What?” Scotty asks.
“It just feels good. Sand between my toes, like when I was a little kid. I’d almost forgotten.”
“You’re from the California coast, and you’ve forgotten sand between your toes? We need to take care of that!”
I gasp as he swoops me into his arms and carries me toward the water. “What are you doing?”
“Showing you what’s important in life.”
Scotty carries me to the water’s edge, but he keeps going. Soon he’s nearly up to his knees in the water.
“You wouldn’t,” I say.
“Want to bet?”
In the next second, I’m tumbling into the water, splashing.
“That’s a risky game,” I say, spitting out salt water. “What if I couldn’t swim?”
“The water’s two feet deep, pretty girl. You aren’t in any danger of drowning.”
Except I am.
Scotty just doesn’t know it.