Page 108 of Hawaii Can Suck It

He bites down, gently, on my breast. And I lose my damn mind.

“What is it?” I whisper, barely recognizing my own voice. “Tell me.”

“I’ve dreamed of fucking your perfect breasts.” His hand slides up my ribs, thumb grazing the underside of my boob. “If you’d let me.”

“Here?”

“Why not? I can pull the curtains closed.”

He leans down and draws his tongue in between the valley of my breasts. The wet heat of his mouth against my sun-warmed skin sets off a rush of desire to my core.

My breath hitches audibly. I’ve never thought about anyone fucking my tits before. Suddenly it’s all I can picture—Reece above me, his hard length sliding between my breasts, his face twisted in pleasure.

“Would you let me,” he asks, his voice rough with need.

“Yes,” I whimper.

He gives my breast a firm squeeze, his thumb finding my nipple through the thin fabric of my swimsuit. Even through the material, the sensation is so intense that my back arches involuntarily, pushing me farther into his touch.

“I can’t wait to slide between those glorious tits and come all over them. You’ll be dripping.”

“God, yes. I want that.”

Instinctively, I reach for my wrist, fingers searching for the familiar feel of my scrunchie to pull my hair back. But my wrist is bare.

“No. Oh, crap.” I pat my wrist again as if it might magically materialize. “I don’t have a scrunchie.”

“That’s fine. You don’t need it.”

I sit up suddenly, breaking the heated moment like a bucket of ice water. “Oh no. Sorry. No scrunchie, noboobjob. I’ve learned that lesson the hard way.”

He pulls back, disappointment etched into his features. “Do I want to know?”

“If you want to hear about how I jerked off this guy in college who shot his load in my hair and—”

“Stop!” Reece clamps his hand over my mouth. “Moment ruined. Not hearing about you with anyone else, ever.”

He shifts our positions, tugging me so that I’m nestled into his side, my head on his chest, his arm a protective band around my shoulders. He presses his nose into my hair, inhaling deeply.

“Cock-blocked by a scrunchie. And I was so close.” He laughs, his voice thick with contentment. “Let’s stay like this for a while—take a nap in the sun.”

I should resist. I should make a sarcastic remark, keep things light. But instead, I stay warm in his arms, my heart swelling.I refuse to accept any reality that will intrude on our Hawaiian fantasy.

Is this the real Reece?

I came here to quit. To tell him I was leaving, to push him to promote my channel, to put myself first… finally.

But now?

Now, I don’t know if I can.

If I tell him I’m leaving, am I throwing this all away? Throwinghimaway?

But if I stay—keep letting myself fall deeper into him—will I ever be able to leave?

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

REECE

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