Christ. Blake’s email was very well the douchiest thing Connor had ever had the pleasure of reading. He pulled it up again as everyone sat around the bonfire, drinking straight from bottles now. After a day of snorkeling, speed boating and playing boozy beach volleyball, the actors had all become more than acquainted with each other. Unfortunately, with Kensie spending the bulk of her time with Kyle and Isabel talking politics with Jackson Torres, Connor was left with Poppy Somerville and her rather aggressive methods of flirtation. Somewhere between her fourth and fifth Mai Tai, the girl had put her own iPhone on the speaker dock and started up the playlist titled “Babymakin’ <3.” By her sixth drink, she was giving Connor lap dances with her mouth hanging open in a this-is-my-sexy-face kind of way. It was brutal but on the bright side, Poppy was too drunk to realize that Connor wasn’t watching her at all.

Leaning back in his oversized wooden beach chair, he eyed Peyton. She had been nursing the same flute of Veuve since five hours ago, which was probably good for a Guinness World record, and like everyone else, she was still wearing her swimsuit – an athletic, black two-piece that could probably double as a sports bra and booty shorts. Though he generally preferred his women as minimally dressed as possible, the ensemble drove Connor wild. While the rest of the girls gave minimal effort during volleyball for fear of wardrobe malfunctions, Peyton powered through every match, serving and spiking like she belonged on a professional squad. On several occasions, she let out grunts that had Connor instantly hard.

Which he found annoying. He was hell bent on being over her, especially since she’d just ignored him after he explained himself about the late-night calls, but it wasn’t happening. He couldn’t stop staring and lusting. If anything, he wanted her more now that he’d completely unloaded on her. It was ridiculous. He fantasized about touching every part of her body, particularly those long, toned legs. Connor could only imagine how good they’d look by tomorrow morning, when her fresh tan began to show.

“Want another?”

Stirring Connor from his thoughts was Kyle, who stumbled over with a bottle of scotch, wearing his slightly-too-tight, slightly-too-short swim trunks. They were no doubt made by the same designer whom he modeled boxer briefs for.

“I’m good,” Connor replied, prompting Kyle to snort.

“Naw. Since when are you a one-and-done drinker? I’ve seen you put away whole bottles of Laphroiag in a night. Trying to be a good boy for some reason?”

“Someone’s gotta keep a safe eye out. Don’t want anyone drowning in the Atlantic before production starts.”

Kyle laughed. “Don’t worry about it. Kensie said her cousin is the designated chaperone for tonight. You know the one that beasted at volleyball today? Apparently she’s also good at watching over idiots.”

Connor flashed his eyebrows. “Calling Kensie Cohan an idiot?”

Kyle shrugged. “I mean she’s not the sharpest tool in the shed. And she’s kind of fucking needy. But if she’s a good actress, she’s a good actress.”

“She’s a good actress,” Connor confirmed.

“Alright. Don’t give me that look,” Kyle snorted.

Connor smirked. “I just know your history of being a dick to costars when they so much as breathe too loud for your taste. And I’m sure you’re starting to notice but Kensie can get talkative.”

“I’ve noticed, but yeah. Don’t be a dick to Kensie Cohan. Got it,” Kyle gave a sarcastic thumbs up. “What, you dating the girl?”

“No.”

“Then why are you – hey, I was wondering.” Kyle’s drunken train of thought took a sharp turn as his gaze began to follow Peyton, who was getting up to go after Kensie for some reason or another. “What do you think of Kensie’s cousin? I noticed that she’s kind of smoking hot.”

“You’re not the first to discover this, Columbus.”

“Well shit, sorry. Looks like I came second to you again,” Kyle said with a grin though Connor knew that he found nothing funny about his thirteenth spot ranking on this year’s Forbes list. Mostly because Connor had ranked at number ten. “Alright, man, if you’re not having another round, I’ll have it for you. At least I got that on you,” Kyle slurred, drinking from the bottle.

Good. Do that, Connor thought. Between the massive alcohol consumption and day’s worth of sweating in the sun, he figured it would be no time before everyone was passed out in their rooms.

Everyone except Peyton.

The theory did take some time but by 4AM, it finally proved true. Everyone was asleep, either in their rooms or on random couches, and the only sound came from Poppy’s phone, which still played old school R&B to which people probably did conceive children. Connor headed toward the kitchen to turn it off but just as he approached the arched entrance, he found a bleary-eyed Peyton walking there herself, dressed in just a ribbed tank top and boy shorts. She froze the second she spotted Connor.

“I thought everyone was asleep,” she said, instinctively pulling the hem of her top down to cover her bottoms. Connor watched in silence as the material of the shirt stretched thin, the neckline tugging down to give him a more than generous view of her cleavage. Christ. Connor shifted his weight to make room inside his trunks.

“I was about to head upstairs. Just wanted to turn this thing off first,” he said. “Did Poppy’s baby-making playlist wake you?”

Peyton cracked a smile that made Connor’s heart beat a bit faster. “It did. And now I think I’m up,” she sighed. “Not really sleepy anymore.”

“Sorry,” Connor said, though he wasn’t.

“It’s not your fault,” Peyton shrugged. And for a second, they stood before each other outside the kitchen, either unsure of what to say or simply waiting for the other to speak first. Filling the growing silence was Poppy’s music, which was so sexual it bordered on hilarious. Slowly, and seemingly at the same exact time, Connor and Peyton processed the lyrics.

I’m gonna take off all your clothes and I ain’t usin’ my hands

These fingers are too busy gettin’ deep as they can

“Oh God,” Peyton snorted, covering her mouth. Connor grinned as he watched her try to resist flat-out laughing in his presence, because that would mean that they were actually enjoying something together, and God forbid that.

I got you wetter than the ocean baby, hot like a stove

Watch me rock inside your body till I’m ready to blow

You’re feeling so good I’m ‘bout to make you my wife

‘Cause girl I wanna fuck you for the rest of my life

Promptly, Connor lost it.

“Oh God, that’s horrible,” Peyton gasped, trying to laugh quietly since Jackson was in the next room, asleep on the hammock. “’Wetter than the ocean,’” she repeated, wiping a tear from her eye.

Connor snorted as he went to remove Poppy’s phone from the dock. “I personally liked the whole ‘fucking you for the rest of my life’ thing.”

“Of course you did,” Peyton giggled sleepily. “No. Actually, you’re the last person who’d want to fuck one person for the rest of his life.”

“Come on. The assumptions again,” Connor smirked as he tossed Poppy’s phone onto the kitchen table. “I’d be perfectly happy fucking one person for the rest of my life,” he said before strolling back out into the hall and toward the front door. To his surprise, after standing still for a couple seconds, Peyton followed.

“I guess you’ve been with enough women at this point to be satisfied with one for the rest of your life,” she murmured, mostly to herself. She rubbed her eyes as she followed Connor out the front door of the house. Despite hoping for this, Connor stopped and took a good look at her.

“How drunk or sleepy are you right now?” he asked.

She blinked. “Why?”

“You’re being oddly civil with me,” Connor said as he closed the door behind them. “And you’re following me instead of running in the opposite direction. Not that I’m complaining.”

Peyton laughed sheepishly. Even in the dark of the night, Connor could see her cheeks flush a little. “I may or may not have had one drink after Kensie fell asleep ‘cause I thought it would help me sleep too,” she confessed, her bare feet padding past him and down the steps. Connor trailed her onto the sand. “So being slightly tipsy,” she turned to walk backwards and face him, “I have the guts to admit now that I... was wrong. I’m glad you told me about Blake and I’m sorry that I spent the whole day panicking about the information instead of thanking you for it. So thank you for that, and thank you for saving me that night at the club.”

Catching up to her, Connor walked slowly forward, keeping an eye on Peyton as she continued to walk backwards. “You’re welcome,” he said, his lips unconsciously mirroring Peyton’s as they curved up at the ends.

“Blake aside, I also appreciate the time you took to feed and hydrate me before bed.”

“My pleasure. Nothing better than reminding a grown woman that she has to uncap a water bottle before drinking it.”

“God, did that really happen?” Peyton burst out laughing. “I’m sorry I was so drunk. I really need to get back at Poppy for tequila-bombing me that night.”

“I’m happy to help if you need.”

Peyton cocked an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Connor nodded, a slow grin spreading his lips as he watched her. There was something sexy and playful in Peyton’s eye that he’d never seen before – that was driving him wilder than any woman had ever driven him. Tugging his facial hair, Connor continued to follow her footsteps in the wet sand.

“I’ll probably take you up on that offer,” Peyton smiled. “But since I’m mentally prepared now, I’m gonna have to ask you for the details about Blake’s email.”

“I would get into it but I’m rather enjoying this thing you’re doing with your lips right now.”

“What?”

“I think it’s called smiling.”

“Funny,” Peyton laughed despite her sarcasm.

“Mm. I like that thing, too.”

“What – laughing?” she snorted.

“Yes. You should do it more often. Along with, you know, letting loose and living your life.”

Still marching backward, Peyton closed her eyes. She sighed as a small wave washed forward onto her feet. “I’d love to.”

“What’s stopping you then?” Connor asked. But just as Peyton opened her mouth to answer, he spotted something in the sand, glistening elegantly under the arch of her bare foot. Glass. A long, skinny shard just inches from piercing her flesh.

“Watch!”

Before Peyton could step down, Connor grabbed her, yanking her into his chest by a handful of her shirt. With a short gasp, Peyton grabbed his shoulders, looking down and behind her to see what he’d pulled her away her from. “Fucking beer bottle,” Connor exhaled, one arm still wrapped firmly around her waist. He breathed a hard sigh of relief, staring at the glass as if it could feel his accusing glare. “Sorry if I hurt you,” he murmured to Peyton when he turned back to face her.

“It’s okay,” she breathed hard, eyes fluttering as she looked up at him.

And suddenly, with her arms still around his neck, her lips just inches from his, Connor processed the sensations on his skin. The fact that his palm was resting on the naked small of her back, his hand having inadvertently pushed her shirt up while pulling her close. And of course, there was the fact that her naked breasts were pressed up hard against his bare chest, fully exposed by the neckline that he so forcefully stretched while saving her from the splinter of glass. Holy fuck. Connor felt his lips part as he stared into the blue of Peyton’s eyes, fixing his gaze on them instead of looking down at her perfect, indecent body. He wanted desperately to but he was having enough trouble controlling himself. The look in Peyton’s eye – a mixture of lust and complete shock – had Connor thinking of every last thing he wanted to do to her. It filled him with a hot, burning need to show her all the other ways he could make her body feel something good and new. Clenching his jaw, Connor watched Peyton bite her swelling lips. He took immense pleasure in the touch of her fingertips curling against his skin, scratching the back of his neck in a way that couldn’t be interpreted as anything but need. Jesus Christ. Connor grated his teeth. One little thread – that was all his self-control was hanging on by.

So definitely, the last thing he needed was to look down and see Peyton popping out of her shirt.

Besides, feeling it was enough to get him hard as a rock.

“Fuck,” Connor breathed, watching Peyton process the stiff throbbing she felt against her body. He let his eyes dip just a little as her red lips parted, her breathing jagged now as she – was she, or was he imagining it? No – she was pressing up against him, rubbing herself slowly, torturously against his erection. Squeezing his eyes shut, Connor groaned, reveling in the moment, his own fingers curling now, itching to fist the cotton of Peyton’s top and rip it clean off her body.

But suddenly, despite his aching need, he felt an irritating sense of responsibility.

“Peyton, what are you doing?” he exhaled his question, breathing hard against her heaving chest. Her response was a hasty ramble.

“I don’t know – I’m not drunk. I know you think I am, but I’m not.”

Connor nodded, pulling her tight. “Okay, you’re not,” he murmured quickly, more than ready to accept her words. He fixed his gaze on her lips as he felt them come closer. “I trust that you aren’t.”

“I’m not,” Peyton repeated, her fingers sliding up the back of his neck and into his hair. “I just – ”

Don’t say it, she scolded herself. Don’t admit it. Don’t say it. Don’t do it, just don’t.

“I want you so fucking bad.”

She sucked in a deep breath.

The words had come out of Connor’s mouth before they could even escape hers. They made Peyton’s fingers curl hard and grasp handfuls of his hair. “I do too,” she couldn’t help but return. She wished she was lying but she wasn’t. She wanted Connor Schaffer. She hadn’t stopped thinking about him since he caught her eye that night at the top of The Green Room – since he’d watched from afar her till she let her gaze plead for him. Even after the 2AM calls, she’d been unable to stop thinking about his unblinking urgency as he ran to get Blake away from her. Barely an hour before that moment, she had called him repulsive. But with one desperate look across a rooftop, he’d made her his priority, no questions asked.

“I’ve wanted you,” Peyton clarified, her words were like a key that opened the floodgate. With a deep rumble, Connor pulled her in, one hand sliding up her back, the other cupping her jaw. A short gasp escaped Peyton’s throat as his hand parted her mouth, holding it open for himself. He eyed it for a good second, savoring the sight before closing his hot lips over hers, kissing, sucking, biting till she moaned against him. She had never felt so hot, so desperate for someone that she couldn’t identify all the feelings of pleasure taking over her body. He had her by the lips, by the jaw, by the waist, by the back. It was electrifying. It felt like he was touching her everywhere.

Well. Almost everywhere. By now, Peyton was desperate for him to cover all bases.

“Take me inside,” she breathed urgently, her command compelling Connor to instantly pull away from their kiss. He stepped back to look her in the eye.

“Yeah?” he panted, staring at her for only a second before his eyes fell to her chest. She was exposed, indecent, her top hardly serving any purpose anymore. Connor swallowed hard as he took her in, growing visibly harder with every second that passed. “Fuck,” he gnashed his teeth, unable to blink. His hungry eyes gaped in disbelief until Peyton broke the silence.

“Please,” she pleaded.

And just like that, he easily surrendered. “Okay,” he breathed hastily. With one last kiss and two greedy handfuls of her body, Connor took Peyton into his arms, carrying her not so quietly back into the house.