She looked at the candy in his palm and then up into his eyes. He knew she was remembering that moment in the stairwell so long ago. He was too. And he thought he knew which she’d pick.
‘Raspberry.’
Right. The real favourite. Satisfaction and sweet, steamy memory swept over him. ‘We’d barely spoken before that afternoon and you just melted in my arms,’ he muttered. He’d never forgotten it.
Skylar rocked onto her toes in her new trainers. She’d not expected him to mention that. Certainly not now. But she wanted to hear what he had to say about it.
‘You were so beautiful,’ he added. ‘So hot.’
‘So were you.’ But then she remembered how badly that moment had ended. She ought to say something now. Apologise for not saying anything then. Her father had been so awful. But before she could say more, he slung his arm around her waist and squeezed.
‘Let’s go back to the hotel and I’ll give you a rub down.’
‘Now, there’s an offer,’ she breathed, both aroused and disappointed.
She wanted to talk about that moment with him. She wanted to work it through. But now he had that charmingly wicked smile on his face and she put that raspberry candy into her mouth. Becausehedidn’t open up—that was how he rolled.
‘There’ll be pancakes, strawberries and cream too,’ he drawled. ‘And coffee.’
‘Stop it.’ She pouted at him. ‘Or I’ll end up falling in like with you.’
He laughed. ‘An arrogant prat like me? Impossible.’
But Skylar almost choked on the last of her candy. Because she did like him. She actually, truly did. She wasn’t supposed to. The fact that shedidn’tlike him was what was meant to have protected her. Because this only about sex. About getting him out of her system for good so she could move forward and be more...normal. Maybe meet another man. But nowthatprospect was horrifying. She didn’twantanyone else. She never had.
But this was nothing more than agameto Zane. He didn’t want a relationship. He indulged only in funphysicalintimacy—he’d been with a heap of women in the past. And she knew it was never emotional. Because he didn’t open up. Sure, he’d listened to her prattle on about her past some, offered the smallest of responses. But then he redirected. Hell, he hadn’t even mentioned the total bawling out her father had given them both that day just now. Which bothered her so much but she didn’t know what to do about it.
Flustered by her inner chaos, she opted for redirection herself. ‘What Ireallylike is the beach.’
‘Then let’s go.’
‘You want to go on the water?’ he called as she walked over the beautiful sand in a scarlet bikini more than an hour later. ‘I’ll paddle. You’ll be tired from your run. You can spot the fish.’
He’d prepped a two-seater ocean kayak with snorkels, masks and flippers on board, plus a stash of water and snacks. As excited as a kid on her first-ever outdoor experience, she scrambled into the front seat and eagerly pointed out all the pretty fish and coral she spotted.
‘You didn’t do this much even though we grew up near one of the best beaches in the country, did you?’ he teased.
‘You didn’t either,’ she pointed out—pausing to see if he’d talk more about back then.
But he just pointed out a turtle she’d missed.
An hour passed as he paddled them along the reef and from cove to cove. Warmed by the sun and tempted by the sea, she precariously clambered upright and dived into the water to cool off. Getting back on board wasn’t quite as easy for her to manage. He watched, laughing at her, until in the end he hauled her back with one strong pull. Then he turned the kayak back towards their beach. She saw the sun had passed its zenith. Time was slipping by too quickly. She carried the snorkels and watched him haul the kayak beyond the waterline ahead of her.
‘You’re bleeding.’ She dropped the gear and grabbed his hand.
‘It’s nothing.’ He tried to curl his hand into a fist. ‘Just a blister. Go ahead and tease me about having soft hands not used to real hard work.’
But Skylar held his hand in both of hers and forensically inspected it. It wasn’t a blister but a deep cut on the inside of his thumb.
‘Why didn’t you say something?’ She fetched a towel and pressed it against the wound. ‘You’re really hurt.’ She lifted the towel but the gash immediately refilled with blood. ‘You should have told me. I would have helped.’
‘I didn’t need your help. Besides, you were enjoying yourself—’
‘At your expense—’
‘It’s not that bad.’ He laughed. ‘Just a scratch.’
‘It’s not a scratch, you’rebleeding.’ She applied more pressure on the wound and glared as he winced. ‘You know I would have helped if you’d asked. You didn’t have to suffer in silence.’