Page 7 of Match Made in the Maldives

I nod, to which he hisses an exhale and scrubs a hand over his face. Finn has viewed me as his best friend’s annoying little sister my whole life, but probably even more in this moment.

“Okay, bath time sounds good right about now.” In a swift movement, Finn dunks his lower half into the tub, a hand bracketed on each side. His eyes roll to the back of his head and he groans, a sound that vibrates low in my belly. “Holy shit, Lou. This is perfect.”

“Seriously?” I pad over and test the temperature. Hot, but not too hot, with bubbles like silk on my fingertips. “Hurry up, close those eyes.”

He settles all the way in with one more groan, then rests his face in his hands.

Stripping down and sitting in a tub with my brother’s best friend—just another day in paradise.With my robe on the floor, I slide into my side of the exquisite waters, lean back, and let out a contented sigh. “Wow.”

“All in?”

With my hands, I collect some more bubbles for extra coverage. “All in.”

His eyelids open to reveal that stunning blue again—a hue that puts all the blues in the ocean to shame. Although right now his eyes appear a few shades darker.

“How, uh…” His arms rest on the edge of the porcelain, and he taps his thumb on the inside. “How do you wanna sit?”

His question makes me realize I’m still hugging my legs into my chest, and the tops of his knees poke through the top of the water like islands.

“We can stay this way,” he says.

“No. The whole point of a spa treatment is to relax, and we’re squished into opposite ends of this egg tub. I could maybe stretch out on the right side, and you do the same from your side. We’d bump together a little…Or do you want to do cross-legged?”

“Whatever.”

He is so irritated with me. If I had let him do this massage on his own, at least he’d get to enjoy it more.

“Cross-legged,” I say, and we both adjust into the new position.

Sitting crisscross means there’s no risk of Finn’s ripped thighs rubbing against me, but with my knees out to each side, I’m on display in front of him and baring everything. Only some mounds of bubbles prevent him from seeing my most intimate parts.

“Well, weirdness aside, this is the nicest bath I’ve ever taken,” I say to defuse the tension.

“Same.” His cock-eyed grin pulls on one corner of his mouth, and I sigh from the relief of knowing he’s not as upset about this as I had assumed. “Although if you wanna talk about weird, remember my emo phase?”

“I will never forget.”

“Bet I could beat you at an eyeliner-applying contest any day of the week.”

“Are you…” I run my lower lip between my teeth. “Are you trying to out-embarrass me to make me feel better?”

He shrugs. “Is it working?”

“Yes. But that means you’ll have to beat the headgear I had to wear at night during seventh and eighth grade.”

“Nope, doesn’t count.”

“Why not?”

“Because you get compliments from the dentist every time you go in for a cleaning.”

“I do not.”

“You do, because you brag about it.” His smirk deepens, causing a dimple to appear. I’d never noticed that dimple before. “I had that buzz cut when I graduated,” he says.

“Canceled out by my perm.”

“Fair.” He chuckles, and the sound relaxes me more into the tub.

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