Page 35 of Christmas in Coconut Creek

“You should lose the shorts,” I breathed. “It’s only fair.”

“I don’t think you’re the authority on playing fair right now.”

Still he released me just long enough to slide his trunks off and throw them the impressive distance to shore.

“If my balls get stung by a jellyfish, you’re pissing on them for the rest of the week.”

“That’s fucking disgusting.” I laughed. “And it’s not even true.”

“Yeah it is.” His hands trailed down my naked ribs mindlessly as I clasped my arms around his neck. The feeling of being held went straight to my center. “I got stung in Guam and Cap insisted on being the one who peed on it for days.”

I pinched my lips together to stifle a grin, watching helplessly as Frankie went ghost white and pieced another one of his best friend’s rouses together.

“Fucking asshole!”

“I’m sorry.” I winced, rubbing a comforting thumb over the back of his neck. Our gazes met through watery eyelashes and I offered a sympathetic head tilt, one that seemed to take the breath clear out of his lungs. His eyes danced from mine down to my mouth and back several times.

I couldn’t think of a place I would have rather been: caressed by a beautiful man in the shallow, lapping ocean, stars above twinkling around the full moon. And he was naked, so gloriously naked and looking at me like the world may pause just to let us live in the blinking cursor of it a little bit longer.

Maybe Natalia was right—there could be something so indulgent about giving myself to Frankie, be it only for three weeks. We could figure that all out when the time came, but for now the only pressure I felt was the one in between my legs. A pulsing ache that amplified every second Frankie spent looking down at me like he might lose himself trying not to tear me apart.

“You’re very beautiful, you know that?” he said.

I bit my lip. “This is a bad idea and we both know it.”

“I’ve never seen a bad idea that looked this damn good.”

My legs wrapped around his hips as his hands instinctively dropped to cup my ass, holding my pelvis against him. I sighed in unabashed approval. To hell with it.

“Are you gonna kiss me now? Or are you still thinking too hard about it?”

“Yeah.” He licked the seam of his lips in preparation. “Yeah, I’m gonna fucking kiss you now.”

And he did with so much need that my eyes drooped closed on impact.

Frankie held me tight against the first sweep of his tongue through my mouth. There was no coy warm-up; kissing him was like being consumed, drowning under a wave and not even caring to come up for air. He tasted like sea salt, and I licked it off his lips greedily as I wound my fingers through the damp locks of his hair.

Every part of my body was screaming to be touched, and predictably, I couldn’t help but rut my hips in tiny swivels against him, searching for the sweet relief of friction. He grunted from deep in his chest and swallowed the sound with my mouth as his hands began to explore.

“I am so fucking hard for you right now, O. You’re making me lose my mind.”

I tugged his bottom lip with my teeth and then grazed his chin, the patch of stubbly hair on his jaw, again on the lobe of his ear. I was completely in control of the situation, and hearing him react, unashamed to groan in that husky baritone of a voice, I was slowly becoming enraptured. I feltsexy. Frankie wasmakingme feel that way.

“This smart mouth of yours.” He prodded my lower lip with his thumb. “I just want to stick my dick in it. You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about you on your knees since I sat down on that plane.”

I felt the impact of his every word in my lower half like a tidal wave. I reached down between our bodies and grasped him under the water, and I could tell from touch alone his size would stretch me to my limit. Just thinking about it sent my neck rolling back.

Frankie righted me immediately, his fingers tightening in my scalp to the point of pain. “You can play with it all you want, sweetheart, but I’m not fucking you until I can get you spread out on a hard surface. I’m not one of your little boyfriends.”

Christ, he really wasnot. Frankie had outdone every man I’d seen in the last eight years in about eight fucking seconds.

“I’ll play with you, too, though.” He snagged my lips between his for a balancing kiss. “You want me to play with you, Ophelia?”

“Mm-hmm,” I managed, feeling the first brush of his fingers between my legs, before he abruptly pulled them away.

“Use those words for me. I know how much you love to talk.”

I hurdled past the point where my brain turned off and left my vagina to rationalize. Embarrassingly, I would have sang him a fucking song if he asked. The best thing about it, though, was that he wasn’t asking me—he wastellingme. He held my stare with parted lips like an atom bomb was about to drop if I pushed the right button.

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