The Consequence of Revenge

Page 47

“Ready?” He held out his hand.

“Yeah.” I grinned. “I am.”

“Let the date continue!” Max pulled me close to his body and wrapped his arm around me.

I breathed a sigh of relief.

It was going to be a good night and I knew just how to put him at ease.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

MAX

If Becca’s hand wandered any closer to my favorite place, we were going to have a big problem, and not to brag, but it was really going to be a big, huge, large problem. Feel me?

“Ha-ha.” I scooted away from her wandering hand and cursed men everywhere for not bringing back the whole hanky trend. Damn, I needed a cloth pressed against my forehead.

“It’s pretty out here.” Becca put her head on my shoulder. We’d been watching the waves for over an hour, talking, laughing, and, in my case for at least 99 percent of that time, damn near exploding with desire and making a giant ass out of myself.

It would be fine if she had just been patting my leg, you know, in a motherly way.

If mothers did what that girl was doing—it would result in a hell of a long prison sentence, that’s all I’m saying.

She didn’t pat.

She caressed.

Then slightly pressed her fingers into my thigh, massaging, moving, making my hips want to drive toward her with such hunger that I had to imagine Reid naked to keep myself from having an inappropriate moment on camera.

“It is.” I finally found my voice as her hand stopped moving. “Really pretty.” I turned and gazed down at her.

She was watching the waves.

I was watching her eyelashes flutter against her cheeks.

When she finally realized I wasn’t looking at the same thing, she looked up at me. Her eyes appeared heavy as she looked out from underneath those thick, dark lashes.

Her hand moved.

Ha, so did I.

I mean not my body, but let’s just say parts of my body responded in a very . . . cheerful way. Yes, let’s go with cheerful. Oh, hell, my body was damn near rejoicing and breaking out into song.

Slowly her hand slid up my thigh and squeezed, when she grazed what I’m only assuming she thought was my cell phone. I jerked away from her.

Spoiler alert—I’d left my cell phone in my hut.

It was to remain off at all times. As per the rules.

And I was so damn on.

“Swim?” I choked. “Do you want to go for a swim?”

“But I don’t have my swimsuit.”

“Me either.” I shrugged. “But you’re already aware that never stops me, does it?”

Becca blushed.

The cameras leaned in.

“Filming done yet?” I asked, not taking my eyes off Becca.

“We need about ten more minutes of tape. Then again, if you get naked, we’ll film till you’re done.”

Becca’s hand moved again.

I was ready to bust out the bloody hells and I wasn’t even British. See? She was driving me crazy! I was officially changing nationalities! Her hand slipped. Swear it had to have slipped because she was actually now almost copping a feel.

O Canada!

“Done! For the night, done! Ha-ha.” I couldn’t stop the nervous laughter. Becca smiled and then looked down at my physical tribute to her beauty. Ha, if I weren’t so aroused I’d laugh at my own joke.

“Max!” Becca shouted.

I covered her mouth with mine, then let my lips trail to her ear. “Long story.”

“Huge story,” she whispered against my lips.

“Damn right it is.” I pulled her into my lap. Irritated that the light from the camera was two seconds away from making me permanently blind. “Go away!”

“What?” Becca pulled back.

I jerked her against me, my mouth urgently finding hers, before I broke the kiss and said, “Not you, them.”

“Not when you give us this.” Big Al chuckled.

I kissed Becca’s neck. “A little help?”

“Hmm.” She tugged my lower lip, then trailed a kiss down my jaw.

I groaned and said through clenched teeth, “That’s not the type of help I meant.”

“What,” she whispered in my ear, “do you propose I do?”

“Not feel me up!” I snapped in her ear, then gave it a little tug, because, you know, I was there and all.

“But Reid said . . .”

“And you listened!” I whispered harshly.

“You don’t even know”—she arched her back as I kissed down her chest—“what . . .” she panted, “he said.”

“Anything.” I gripped her by the shoulders to steady her. “And I do mean anything and everything he says—you take with a grain of salt, or just don’t listen.” I released my hold on her shoulders, which was a mistake, because it caused her knees to sink farther into the sand on either side of me, making my body damn near explode. “Headgear, Grandma, Reid pleasuring Grandma, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, Garfield!”

“Please tell me that’s not dirty talk.” Becca gave me a concerned stare.

“I’m trying not to . . .” I held up my hands. “You know.”

She tilted her head.

“Your fault.” I pointed at her and then stared at her mouth and lost my train of thought.

“Max?”

“Shh.” I pressed a finger to her lips. “I’m . . . trying really hard here.”

“How’s that working out?”

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