He’s trying to dismiss this, dismiss me, and I know exactly why. I’m not the kind of person Charles Cash would want to be associated with back in the city. He takes things seriously. He’s probably having some kind of moral crisis because he lost control of himself last night, and I invited him in with his anger and heat.

I can feel the walls going up around my heart, the concrete setting, even as I pounce on him.

God, he tastes so good. I block out everything but the feeling of his lips firmly planted on mine. Nothing is worth getting upset about. Nothing is worth getting attached to. Nothing except a good time, and then the next good time.

What do you know? Here we are.

He stumbles a little, losing his footing in the sand, but he can’t stop kissing me. Between kisses he manages to ask me a question. “What are we doing?”

Charlie isn’t the type to have sex on the beach, but I feel a strange combination of numbness and a wild, aching crush that gives me license to do anything.

Including pulling down his shorts as I kiss him, moving my lips down his hard, muscled chest inch by inch, tasting the salt on his skin. 

There’s an outcropping of rocks on one side of the alcove. Before I get fully to my knees, Charlie lifts me up with a growl and turns, backing me into the rocks. They’re cool and rough through my tank top. His eyes are on fire—absolutely on fire—and he holds my face with one hand. “This is dangerous.”

His voice is deadly serious. I don’t know whether he’s talking about semi-public sex, or any sex at all.

“What’s dangerous is always staying in your boring little comfort zone.” I buck against him. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

Indecision flashes through his eyes. “Not unless you want me to.”

I want more than that from him. A lot more. But I’m not going to say that out loud. I’m not even going to think it. I’m going to get what I can from this man, and then I’ll go back to my imploding life. All that matters is right now. That’s all. 

I wriggle out of his grasp, and as soon as my feet touch the sand, I’m stripping off my shorts and panties. Charlie watches me with desire written plainly on his face.

“Put your hands on me,” I whisper, and he does. Oh, God, he does.

On my neck. Down my side. Tugging at my hair. Spreading my legs, pressing me back against the rocks. His fingers play along my slit, getting drenched in juices, and then he’s sticking them into his mouth, sucking. How he lifts me, I’m not even sure, but the next thing I know, I’m bracing against the rocks as he thrusts into me with all of his strength.

I want someone to walk by, to see me here with Charlie. I wouldn’t even mind if they screamed and made a scene. I want this to be real, and the thought of an onlooker makes me even hotter.

“Why do you do this to me?” He murmurs the words into my ear, and it only makes me rock harder against him.

The pleasure builds with the anticipation of potentially being caught. The woman’s eyes would go wide, her hand flying to her mouth, because this is the most raw moment I could ever present to the world.

“You need this,” I hiss back at Charlie. “And I need this. I need it…give me more, Charlie, more.”

The begging sets him off, and I squeeze my eyes closed, letting the orgasm bear down on me until it bursts out from between my legs like a thousand fireworks. Charlie follows me soon after. He doesn’t let himself make a sound.

With my feet firmly back on the ground, I wrestle the ache in my chest into submission. I’m not going to fall for him. I’m going to ride him until the fun is over. No pun intended. 

We put our clothes back on, the combination of sweat and sand on our skin making it tough to slip into the fabric, and then Charlie jogs back out toward the ocean. He looks one way, then the other, and his shoulders relax a little bit. God, he’s a stickler for following the rules.

“There’s no sign,” I call after him.

He turns, and again I’m struck by how breathtaking he is in the morning sun. “What?”

“There’s no sign saying that we can’t have sex on the beach.”

Charlie grins. “What makes you think I’m worried about a sign? I don’t want other people to be…jealous.”

“You don’t want other people to look.”

“Not at you.”

“Oh? You think you have that kind of claim on me?”

“I’ve claimed you twice.”

I waggle a finger at him. “And that’s all for today. Remember the rules.”

He just shakes his head.

* * *

I try to make sense of it all on the walk back to the resort. We move slowly across the sand, sipping the last of our coffee, and I can’t decide what the hell I’m feeling. I want Charlie Cash. I want all the pleasure he can give me, right up to the point where he breaks my heart.

And he will break my heart.

Maybe the rule was a stupid one to make. Maybe I should give in to the urge to go wild with him, if I can convince him that it’ll be a good idea. But I’m supposed to be figuring out my life, not spending every moment with a Cash brother who will drop me like a hot potato the moment we leave this island behind. 

As he should. I’m all wrong for him.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he says, his voice blending in with the waves.

“You took it out of me.” It’s a joke, meant to turn things back toward our common sexual ground, but he bats it away like it’s nothing, looking across at me with a piercing gaze.

His voice is a low rumble. “Josephine, we don’t have to do this.”

“How many times are you going to say that? If I hadn’t wanted to, I wouldn’t have—”

“It was impulsive, last night…and just now,” he admits. “You can always change your mind.”

“Change my mind?” My laugh barely sounds genuine. “I want to have the time of my life.” Before it’s all over. ”Do you…not want that, too?”

There’s a glint in his eyes. “Oh, I want that.” A pause. “But not at the expense of—”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” I say, irritation a thunderclap in my chest. “You are such a goody two-shoes that I can’t even stand—” I glare at him, only to notice that his eyebrows have shot up. “What is it?”

We’re nearing my bungalow, and I swivel my head in the direction he’s looking as he says, “Holy shit, Josie…” 

He raises one hand to point, but he doesn’t have to. How could I miss it?

How could I miss the sight of my bungalow, crushed by a fallen tree?