Gideon is right. Nothing terrible happens when we climb over that first set of boulders. It feels good, after five hours on the plane and a morning sleep so deep it was a little disorienting, to use my muscles, to climb, to grasp. From the bottom, every incline in the trail looks intimidating, but once I’m moving, once we’re climbing, I feel at ease. I feel powerful.

I’m still testing, still tugging at every rope hold before I put my weight on it, but Gideon keeps his word. He’s with me every step of the way.

Halfway over another set of granite rocks rising from the waves, I stop to look out at the water. It’s absolutely brilliant, blue and turquoise stripes glittering in the sun. “It looks like the brochures,” I tell him as the breeze stirs my hair around my face. “That’s…that’s a hell of a view.” I’m starting to understand what people get out of planning expensive vacations to these places, though I could have been content with a week on the sand, no luxury cottage necessary.

Although I can’t say I don’t love it.

“From here, the view is even better.” His voice dips into that sexy, flirty range, and I reach behind me to swat at him and miss.

“Don’t flirt with me too hard, Gideon. I might not make it back to the cottage.” It’s the most empty, playful threat I’ve ever spoken in my life.

“I’m terrified, you gorgeous thing. Are you going to keep climbing, or do you need a lift?” He runs one hand up from my ankle toward my thighs. We’re toying with each other, that’s all, but every time he touches me the heat between my legs grows. I might have to jump into the water before we leave so the rest of my bathing suit is evenly soaked. The trail has taken us crawling through the shallows at several points, but the droplets dry in the sun as soon as we’re out in it.

“I can’t climb when you’re touching me like that.”

“I’m only helping.”

“You know exactly what you’re doing.”

“So what if I do?”

I laugh to keep the need in my chest from intensifying past the point of control as we navigate the next section of trail. “How many times have you been here?”

Gideon slips his fingers into mine, coming to walk alongside me. It’s impossible not to stare at his body. He’s tan, probably from spending most of his time in places like this, and his green eyes soak up the blue of the sea and turn it into something lovely and unearthly. “I’ve lost track.”

I ask the next question without thinking. “How many women have you brought here?”

He cocks his head to the side, considering. “To the island? Or to this place?”

“Both, I guess.” My skin is starting to turn pink in the sun. I should have brought more sunscreen. It’s an absent thought that’s chased away by the pleasant heat, the sound of the waves.

“I brought one other woman to the island.” Gideon’s mouth is set in a hard line. “Do you think we’re past dessert?”

It takes me a second to realize what he’s referring to, and when I get it, my heart beats harder. Gideon has told me the outlines of his life—an exclusive school in New York City, prestigious internships in college, no siblings—but he’s never mentioned this. I’ve seen pictures of him with plenty of other women on the gossip sites, but you can never tell anything for sure from those. “I think we’re approaching third date territory.” I try to keep my tone easy. 

“There’s not very much to the story,” he says, looking out at the water. “Andrea was my one and only serious relationship. We were together through most of college, and when we graduated, I thought everything would continue on like it always had. Andrea had other ideas.”

“I can’t imagine wanting anything out of life other than you.” It sounds lighthearted, but Gideon squeezes my hand.

“I brought her to a different resort on this island on our last vacation together. On the plane ride home, she told me she’d taken a job in Seattle.”

“You didn’t want to go with her?”

Gideon laughs, a bitter sound. “I wasn’t invited.”

My heart aches for him. My perspective on all of it shifts like a kaleidoscope—all the adrenaline-junkie vacations, all the photos of him grinning into the camera from some terrifying vantage point. His heart must have been shattered.

“Her loss.”

Gideon shrugs, putting a smile back on his face, and nods to the next section of trail. “It’s over this last stretch.”

He’s not kidding. A few minutes later, we’re hiking down toward the most beautiful beach I’ve ever seen. We’re descending onto pure white sand surrounding a horseshoe-shaped bay, outcroppings of granite rising from its curves. My mouth drops open at the view. “Gideon, this is—”

I turn to him to thank him for bringing me here, for insisting it would be worth it, but Gideon’s eyes aren’t on the view. They’re on me, and they’re burning with lust. I suck in a breath, fire igniting in my core, raging like an inferno, and I’m almost ready for it when he sweeps me off my feet.

His mouth is on mine, his kisses hard and hot and on the verge of being out of control. My nipples pebble beneath my bathing suit as he backs me up against those rocks, smoothed by centuries of beating waves, nestling us in a semi-hidden space between two of them. His hands are on my sundress, shoving it upward, and I arc toward him, a moan tearing from my lips. I want him so badly. I want him right now. I can’t wait until we get back to the cottage, and he can’t either.

I press myself into him, wrapping my legs around his waist, his cock pressed against my slit, and the only thing separating us is the thin layers of our bathing suits. The hardness of him against me is enough to make my hips buck and roll.

Gideon reaches down for my bathing suit, pressing his lips against my neck, and I let my head fall back, planting one foot on the ground to steady myself.

“God,” he murmurs against my ear. “Kennedy—”

“Don’t make me wait, Gideon. Don’t make me wait.”

After all we’ve done in the past hour, after the intense highs and lows of even making it here, I have no more defenses left, no more reasons to delay this. All I have is a desire so all-consuming that at first I don’t notice them.

And then I do.

Over Gideon’s shoulder, a family is spilling onto the beach: two parents, two teens, and one that looks like he might be eight or nine.

“Shit.” I keep my voice soft, but he turns, following my gaze.

When he looks at me again, his eyes are full of thunder and urgency. “Kennedy, we’d better run.”