Her lips.

The slide of her tongue against mine.

The feel of my hands on all that slippery skin.

It’s my undoing.

I slant my head and sink deeper into the kiss.

Because I need to get closer. I need to devour her. Take her. Possess her.

I need to fucking own her body. Bend her to my will. Plead for me. Beg.

I growl and her legs squeeze me tighter. She molds to me. I want to touch every inch of her but I can’t gather my thoughts enough to make it happen.

Our breathing picks up.

Our lips part, our heads turn, and then we crash together.

One thought pounds through my head—and it should be enough to send ice through my veins but it just makes me hotter—mine.

She rolls her hips against my straining cock and I palm her ass, urging her forward.

Rocking into her.

It’s not enough.

It’s not hard enough.

I’m not inside her.

I don’t have the leverage I crave to properly claim her.

With a gruff pant I manage to rip myself away, gripping her wet ponytail to keep her from chasing my mouth and losing my sanity all over again.

I find myself saying words I’ve never spoken to another woman. “Not like this.”

Her lashes blink open, and her glazed blue eyes settle on mine. Her lips are wet, parted and slightly swollen. I can’t resist the urge and bite her lower lip, a sharp tug that has her gasping and keening into me.

I look behind us. The beach is still deserted and maybe it will stay that way for the whole day, but maybe it won’t, and fuck if I’m willing to be interrupted. I slide my hands over her back. “I don’t want to take you where anyone can just happen by.”

She groans, presses closer and nods. “Good point.”

I rub my thumb down her jaw. “Christ, why do you have to be so fucking gorgeous?”

“I could say the same for you.”

“Unwrap your legs from my waist before I change my mind. I brought you something.”

She untangles herself and I grit my teeth at her hard nipples. Why in the hell does she have to wear a white bikini? A million whys race through my head.

Why does she have to be like this?

Why does she have to make me laugh?

Why does she have to be so fun?

It’s been an eternity since I had fun.

I don’t want to remember, but she’s forcing me, backing me into a corner I can’t escape from. I need to find her flaws, because right now I like every single goddamn thing about her. So much I’ve just committed to screwing her exclusively for two weeks.

And what’s worse? I don’t think two weeks is enough.

She beams up at me. “What did you bring me?”

When I’d left her to check in on things, and get ready for the day, I hadn’t allowed myself to think too much about my actions, but now they embarrass me.

I rub my hand over the back of my neck. “I made you lunch.”

Her face lights up the way another woman’s would over diamonds. “Oh my god. Gimme.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. Her joy overshadows my discomfort.

I take one look at the happiness shining in her eyes and decide—for just today—to give in to her. To turn off my brain and my responsibilities and let myself enjoy being with her.

One day off from being an asshole.

One day off from being guarded.

I take her hand and drag her to the shore where she tumbles like a graceful puppy onto the blanket and peers at the backpack, brimming with the same excitement kids exhibit on Christmas morning.

“Don’t get too excited. It’s just a sandwich.”

She holds out her hands and bats her lashes at me. “I promise not to make a big deal about it.”

I doubt this. I dig out the sandwich and hand it over to her.

She takes it with almost reverence, unwrapping it like it’s a precious gift as she shimmies around, squirming in eagerness. It makes my chest hurt.

I shake my head. “You’re making a big deal.”

“No I’m not.” She grins at me. “I’m hiding at least seventy-five percent of my giddiness.”

“That’s scary.” I watch her with a mixture of anticipation and unease.

Aggravated I care. Irritated what I’m about to reveal. Helpless to stop it.

After she bites into the sandwich I made for her she’ll know I still give a shit about food, that I miss that life I’m rejecting.

Even knowing this, I’d made it for her anyway, because I’d wanted to.

I’d justified it at the time as something easy and portable to make. Something simple and classic and ordinary. It was only a tomato, basil and mozzarella sandwich. Not remotely a big deal.

But the bread and mozzarella are homemade, the basil and tomatoes homegrown. The olive oil is a hundred dollars a bottle and imported from Palermo. The Balsamic my own creation, reduced and aged in my basement cellar, until it’s thick, sweet and syrupy.

Gwen has a palette that’s going to know the difference. She’ll understand the ingredients.

I’m holding my breath as she takes the first bite.

I hate it, but it’s true.

Her teeth sink into the crunchy crust, and she closes her eyes, moaning like she’s in ecstasy.

I expel the air in my lungs, as softly as I can, ignoring the pleasure that settles in my chest.

She chews slowly. Her fingers tightening on the sandwich as she savors the bite the way others savor fine wine. When she opens her eyes I hand her a napkin, which she takes, all the while staring at me in a kind of stunned awe. She licks the last traces of balsamic from her lips. “I’m not supposed to make a big deal, right?”

I stretch out on my side and prop my head on my palm. “Right.”

Her gaze travels over me like she wants to lick me. She is bold in the most interesting way. She’s not coy. She doesn’t feign sexiness. She’s absolute in what she fucking wants and goes for it.

It makes her irresistible.

“Are you sure?” She takes another bite, her lashes drifting closed she bows her head as though in prayer.

“I’m sure.”

She swallows, lifting her chin up again, before cocking a grin. “So I shouldn’t propose marriage?”

Some of my tension eases and I relax. She’s going to let me slide. I laugh, dig into the bag and hand her a bottle of water.

She takes it and puts it in-between her legs and I’m suddenly jealous of the water. “Aren’t you going to eat?”

“I will, after I watch you.”

“I need this balsamic in my life on a regular basis.”

I push away the response that comes to my mind. “Eat the sandwich.”

“With pleasure.” She does and I watch her, letting myself enjoy her pleasure. It’s been a long time since I’ve allowed anyone to enjoy the pleasure of my food. Yes, I designed the food for the bar and cook for my family, but this is different. People like it, and it’s raved about, but it’s not made with the same kind of thought I made this. And it’s not appreciated the way only someone like Gwen can appreciate it.

When she’s done, she wraps up the package, leans over and kisses me, soft on the lips before she whispers, “Thank you, Jackson.”

It makes me ache. Makes me hard. My voice is strained when I answer. “You’re welcome.”

I worry she’s going to say more, but she seems to have a sixth sense of how much to push me because she grabs the suntan lotion and proceeds to slather it over her entire body, giving me a whole other kind of show. When she’s rubbed the lotion into her calves, she hands the bottle to me. “My back?”

Well, this is going to be a whole new level of torture, but I’ve always been a glutton for punishment.

It’s my fatal flaw.

I move behind her, putting a healthy amount of the sunscreen into my hands. I stroke over her shoulder blades, her skin is hot to the touch and I let myself savor the feel. I move, slowly, deliberately down the curve of her spine, over her waist. My cock is straining against my shorts, and I think I could touch her forever.

I run my hands over her shoulders and press her against my back. She leans into my chest and I nip at her earlobe. “You’re a dangerous woman.”

She tilts her head to rest on my shoulder. “Thank you.”

Unable to keep from touching her, I run my fingers over the curve of her breasts and she arches. I dip farther, snaking under the fabric, moving lower to rub over her nipples, beaded hard.

Her lashes flutter closed. “I can’t think when you do that.”

“So don’t think.” I circle the peaked flesh until I feel it pucker under my touch.

“Jackson.” My name on her lips, stuttering and catching, is one of the sweetest things I’ve ever heard.

I growl, low in my throat when her hips lift, seeking friction. I take one hand from her breast and slide down her flat stomach and into her bathing suit. She’s wet and my fingers meet no resistance. “Is this what you want, darlin’?”

“Yes.” She opens her legs.

My fingers circle her clit. “You’re so wet.”

Her hand rests on my forearm and her nails dig into my skin. “Please don’t stop.”

My breath kicks up, matching hers. Her hips move restlessly under my hand. I’m teasing her, and it’s torture. I whisper in her ear, “I can’t wait to sink my cock into you. I’m going to fuck you hard, over and over again.”

“Yes.” She jerks up into my hand.

“You want to come, don’t you?”

“God yes.”

“Too bad I’m a selfish bastard because I’m going to make you wait until I’m inside you.”

It’s hell but I stop touching her.

She emits a feral sound, jerking her head up to glare at me. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am.” She comes with me. End of story. I jut my chin to the bluff. “Let’s go jump off some cliffs.”

It seems befitting to jump into unknown territory.

I stand and hold out my hand. She slaps her palm into mine, rising before releasing me. With a scowl she takes off in the direction of the path, her spine ruler straight. I follow behind her, completely amused at all her fuming. This is a woman that doesn’t do anything halfway and she huffs and puffs and stomps with such dramatics I have to work to contain my laughter.

When we finally make it to the top of the bluff, I smirk down at her. “That’s quite a little temper you’ve got going there.”

“I do not have a temper!” She waves her hand through the air. “Ask anyone.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“You’re intentionally driving me crazy.”

I cock a brow. “Yeah, so?” It hadn’t been my intention but I couldn’t resist touching her. Teasing her. It would have been ridiculously easy to make her come, I know that, but I want the first time to be on my cock. Sue me.

She plants her hands on her hips. “It would have been the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“I’m not a gentleman.” I come to stand in front of her and hook my finger on the tie between her breasts, imagining stripping it off her. “If I have to suffer, so do you.”

Her mouth falls open and she stares at me.

I tug her closer, my attention snagging on her lips. “When’s the last time you were with a man that wasn’t a slave to your pussy?”

She huffs. “Never.”

We’re alike that way, and I suspect it’s part of the appeal. We want each other with a lust that borders on insanity, but we’re on equal footing. There’s no inequality between us.

In answer, I raise a brow.

She sputters a laugh and the shrugs. “Yeah, yeah.”

I capture her jaw with my hands. “When you come I’m going to be buried inside you, we’re going to be hot and sweaty and insatiable. It’s going to be worth it. I’m not settling for anything less.”

She rises up on her tiptoes, wraps her hand around my neck and pulls me down for a hard, aggressive kiss. She rips away. “I am going to tear you apart.”

Then she releases me, runs and flings herself off the bluff, screaming the whole way down.

I can only shake my head and follow.