“Thanks, Eva.” I hear Dax talking to the waitress as I approach from the outside.

She leaves with an empty bottle of beer and my glass. I smile. “Thank you.”

“I'll be right back,” she says.

I enter the cabana. Dax looking like he should be posing for a magazine cover. He’s tanned from our time in Thailand, his six-pack is on display, and his happy trail is leading to the prize below his board shorts.

When he sees me, he shoots me a smile that literally weakens my knees. Sometimes I can't believe he's mine. I can kiss him, seduce him, smack him playfully whenever the urge strikes—which is often.

“Already shortening the waitress’ name?” I ask, sitting down on his lap.

“She asked me to?” He honestly worries that I thought he'd flirt with her.

She's cute and all, but I don't bother worrying about Dax straying. He had his choice and out of all the women he’s ever had, he chose me.

I giggle, falling into his chest. His lips touch the top of my head and his fingers glide up my back.

“Lotion me up?” I pass him the bottle of sunscreen.

Being a redhead, the term sun tanning is a foreign concept to me.

“I can't promise my hands won't roam.” He sits up straighter, his legs on either side of the lounge chair making room for me between his thighs.

“You never do.”

“And you love it.”

I shrug because I have no complaints when the man I'm falling in love with can't stop touching me.

“Whoops.” The tie of my bikini at my neck undoes and falls, leaving my breasts bare for anyone walking by us to see.

“Dax!” I cup my breasts.

He plants his lips on my neck, making a path down to the top of my shoulder. He plays me like a fine-tuned violin. “Shit, I just can't control them. They have a mind of their own.” He undoes the string on my back and I'm left with the flimsy fabric of my bikini top in my hands.

I lean back into his chest, giving in to him. Why not, I have the same needs as him. Neither one of our wants ever wanes.

His large hands come around my middle, easing my own hands away, his own molding to my breasts and tweaking my nipples.

I run my own hands up and down his thighs, venturing up the edge of his board shorts.

“We should’ve stayed inside today,” he whispers in my ear.

“You'd stay in every day.”

“Damn right.”

I feel his growing erection on my back and wetness starts to pool between my legs.

“Oh, excuse me.” Eva backsteps away from the opening of the cabana.

Dax starts laughing while I'm sure I must look like I'm sunburned, my face feels so hot. I turn to give him an evil stare, standing and putting my top back on.

Once I'm decent, I sit in my own lounge chair. “Eva, I'm sorry. Come in,” I call out.

The young waitress comes in, her face a matching shade of red to mine. “Here.” She places the drinks down.

“Sorry, Mr. Campbell tends to be insatiable,” I say.

She giggles, and Dax is busy looking at me like I'm the biggest buzzkill because I'm not in his lap.

“Eva, if you had that, wouldn't you be the same.” He nods in my direction.

Eva seems a little uneasy, but she nods.

“Ignore him, Eva. Thank you.”

“I can draw the opening if you'd like.”

I’d take her up on her offer, but that would take away the view of the ocean.

“Great,” Dax jumps at the chance.

“No, thank you. We're going to enjoy the view,” I say.

“We are?” Dax drones.

“Yep. I'm about to make another deal.”

Eva escapes probably thinking we're either about to fight or fuck.

“No more deals for us.” Dax holds his hands up, taking a swig of his beer.

“You're telling me if I said we could make a deal where I'd blow you every day you wouldn't jump at that?”

“I'm not an idiot. But you want to make some stupid deal about how I can’t touch you in the daytime or some crap. Not going to happen.” He stares out at the ocean, his beer between his fingers.

“Do you think I could actually do that?”

He chuckles. “Well, I'm just putting it out there. I'll never agree to any no-sex deals.”

“Note taken.” I sip my margarita, eyeing him over the rim.

“What did your mom say?” he asks, changing the subject.

“You go from wanting to get lucky to bringing up my mom? Buzzkill, babe.” I take an extra-large sip of my margarita.

My mom might never come around to Dax, but she's going to have to try if she wants to be a part of my life.

“She wants to be your coach. Said it's a family thing and since we're dating...”

There’s only silence on the other side of the cabana. I sneak a peek at him and his jaw is hanging open, while he stares at me.

“Kidding.” I wink.

He falls back in his chair, his hand clutching his heart. “Shit. Thank God.”

“She's her usual self—bossy and irritable.” I stir the straw around in my drink.

“Warning you about the evils of me, I’m sure.”

“Nah. We made progress. You only came up ten times in the conversation.” I laugh.

He chuckles, jumping to his feet and laying on top of me. “I'll win her over. Don't worry.”

“I'm not.” I wait for him to bring his face up to look into my eyes. “I don't care Dax. It's her problem if she doesn't like you and if she makes trouble for us, then she can get out of my life.”

I know my mother and she'll never do that because Dax is right, he'll win her over.

He leans in and gives me a chaste kiss. “Can we draw the screen now?” he whines like a child.

“Okay,” I relent, and he stands up, pulling the string and the fabric closes, shutting off the view, but giving us our privacy.

He starts at my toes, his hands running up my legs, past my knees and along my inner thighs.

My head falls back on the pillow, my hands gripping the sides of the lounge chair.

Dax's phone rings.

“Forget it,” he mumbles, his lips millimeters from my center. Shivers follow in his path.

“What if it's something important?”

“Nothing is more important than what I'm about to do,” he mumbles against my skin.

I try to relax again, enjoying his breath across my skin.

The phone rings again.

“We should see who it is.” I feel for the phone on the other side of the table.

“I don't care.” His fingers graze along the sides of my pussy, dipping under my swimsuit bottom.

I answer and listen to the news on the other end of the line. “Oh my God.” I sit up and Dax's face lands on the chair with am oomph.

“Demi,” he says, in his what the hell tone.

“It's Beckett, he broke his arm.”

“What? How?” Dax doesn't get up but does lift his head, staring up at me.

“Grady says he slipped or something. Details are sketchy. He says he's fine and he's heading to Skylar's place to recover.”

“Skylar's?” Dax's eyebrows raise just like mine. “She's cockblocking me from a thousand miles away,” he mumbles.

I playfully kick his rib. “It's your friend.”

He slithers up on top of me, taking my phone and placing it on the table. “And I love my friend, but there's enough of them to deal with him right now.” He plants his head between the swell of my breasts and kisses the skin.

“Hmm...Beckett’s staying at Skylar's.” My mind starts wandering.

“Maybe now those two will figure out what everyone else already knows,” Dax says and then continues to devour my breasts, pulling the bikini fabric away.

“I don't know, some people need a sledgehammer to fall on their heads to get it.”

He glances up, cocking one eye my way. “I'm going to pretend you weren't talking about me.”

“You go ahead and do that.” I smirk.

“It’s quiet time now. Shh.”

I slide down my lounge chair letting him have his way. He pushes up on his arms, his four-leaf clover tattoo prominently on display. I run my fingers over it. I don’t know if luck has anything to do with it, but sometimes things turn out so much better than you ever planned.