I’m a bartender, which means I’m a talker. It also means I can recognize when a customer doesn’t want to talk. If I talk too much to someone who doesn’t want it, I don’t get a tip—at least at bars where tipping is allowed. It’s all about reading people.
I’m reading Em now. She doesn’t want to talk.
That’s okay.
Sure, I want to know more about her. Man, I want to know everything about her, but in her time.
I don’t know how long she’s booked here on the island. I could check with Manual, but does it matter?
I’m a live-for-the-day kind of guy. Carpe diem and all that. I always have been, and today’s no different.
Perhaps Emily will leave tomorrow. Perhaps she’ll stay a couple months.
All that matters is this moment. Right now.
And although I won’t deny that I’d love to get her between the sheets, I’m content, in this moment, to walk along the shoreline with her and simply hold her hand.
So I’m surprised when she stops walking and turns to face the ocean.
“It’s so vast,” she says. “I can see so far just in the moonlight.”
“The moon doesn’t actually make any light,” I say. “It’s a reflection from the sun.”
She smiles. “You learned that as a psychology major?”
“No, I learned that in seventh-grade earth science.”
She laughs. Just a slight laugh, but it’s beautiful. It’s joyous. It makes a grin split my face.
“You’re something, Emily Moreno.”
“Am I?” Her tone is slightly flirtatious.
I trail a finger over her soft cheek, down her neck. “You definitely are.” I lean in and give her a chaste kiss on the lips.
I pull back, but shock rolls through me as Em wraps her arms around my neck and pulls me into a clench, crushing our mouths together.
Unexpected…and awesome.
Her soft lips slide against mine, her tongue probes mine.
Em is taking charge of this kiss. Very different from our previous kisses, and I’m loving it. Really loving it.
I glide one hand down her shoulder to her breasts, resisting the urge to cup one. Instead, I slide my hand down her waist to her hips and around to one of her ass cheeks. I pull her toward me, let her feel my hard cock against her belly.
Then she unclenches herself from my grasp.
I’m sorry. The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t bring myself to say them. I’m not sorry. Not sorry at all.
I want more kisses. I want more than kisses. I want to make love to Em, hard and fast, and then slowly and passionately.
But I won’t pressure her.
“I’m sorry.” The words I considered saying come from her lips instead of mine.
“Don’t be,” I say. “Never be sorry. If you’re not feeling what I’m feeling—”
She shakes her rapidly. “I am. I’m feeling exactly what you’re feeling, Scotty. I swear it.”
I inhale. I love the smell of the beach at night. Sand and saltwater and shells, but tonight, I get a waft of Emily’s citrusy perfume, her coconutty hair, her…sultry musk.
Yeah, I can smell her need. Her ache. Her want.
It mirrors my own.
Should I ask her if she wants to go to my hut?
No. She stopped the kiss. She wants me and I want her, but she stopped me from going any further.
“You want to walk back?” I ask.
She breathes in and reaches both arms out, as if sizing up her wingspan. She faces the ocean, closes her eyes, inhales again. “This place makes me think anything is possible.”
I want so badly to touch her, to kiss her, just to grab her hand even.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
I can’t disturb the picture she makes as she faces the sea, her eyes closed, her arms stretched out, her hair curtaining down her back, and her white dress flowing around her body in the soft evening breeze.
So I watch her. Take in the perfect embodiment of beauty before my eyes.
And I’m not sure I’ll ever tire of gazing at her.