Page 94 of The Beach Trap

Then he moves his hand to my bare thigh, and I hold my breath.

The calluses on his skin are rough, but his touch is gentle ashe wraps his hand around my thigh, massaging. My skin flushes under his fingers, and I push back against him, feeling his heartbeat getting faster in time with mine. So maybe he does want to take things further.

I tilt my head, exposing the curve of my neck. He takes the hint, pressing his lips to my skin. Heat spreads to my center at the mixed sensations—his rough stubble, his soft lips and warm breath. His grip on my thigh gets tighter, more urgent, as his hand moves up my leg, teasing the hem of my shorts.

No surprise, Henry Alexander is good with his hands.

Every cell in my body is alert, craving his hands, his lips, his touch. I moan in gratitude, and Henry responds with a playful bite on my neck that threatens to undo me.

He pulls me even closer so I’m practically sitting in his lap. I can feel he’s just as worked up as I am, and we’re getting dangerously close to the point of no return. I should’ve known better than to start something we can’t finish.

My body apparently doesn’t have the same concern. I swivel my hips, grinding against his lap as I ask, “What time do you have to be home?”

“Tomorrow,” Henry says, his breath tickling my neck.

I twist around to face him, grimacing as my sore muscles react to the sudden movement. Henry’s got a smirk on his face. I knew Sunny had a playdate after camp, but I assumed he’d have to get her at some point.

“Sunny’s having a sleepover,” he says.

“And you?”

He kisses me, long and slow, and I turn to putty in his arms. Henry’s hands slide under my butt and he repositions me so we’re sitting chest to chest, my legs wrapped around him. “I thought we could have a sleepover, too,” he says, lowering his head to kiss the other side of my neck. “If that’s okay with you.”

“It’s more than okay,” I say, my fingers fumbling to undo the buttons on his plaid shirt. If he was wearing a T-shirt, it would already be on the floor.

Henry smiles through our kiss and helps with the buttons, starting at the bottom until our hands meet in the middle. I pull back so I can admire the view: shoulders, chest, abs. This man is built like a statue. He’s unreal. I run my hands over the contours of his muscles.

“Your body is...” I shake my head. “Damn, Henry Alexander.”

His lips quirk up in a grin, and I lift the hem of my shirt, grimacing as I raise my arms over my head.

“You okay?” Henry asks, his voice tender.

“Just a little sore,” I tell him, letting my fingers trail down his chest, toward the button of his jeans. I can feel him straining against the fabric.

“Do you want to stop?” Henry asks, pausing, even as his hands are positioned and ready to slide his jeans down over his hips.

“Hell no,” I say, and he laughs as I help tug off his jeans.

His fingers trace up my back, unhooking my bra. I shrug it off as Henry’s hands continue roaming down to my waist and up to my breasts. He cups them, gently at first, then leans down, following his fingers with his mouth. He gently bites my nipple and I think I might spontaneously combust.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen,” he says, gazing at me.

I pull back slightly. “You’re crazy—”

“I’m not.” He kisses my forehead, my cheeks, my mouth. “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined this moment?”

“How many?”

“I can’t count that high,” he says, smiling against my mouth.“Every day, sometimes every hour. All summer long. You made it hard for me to focus.”

“Then why didn’t you make a move?” Insecurity is bleeding out of my voice; I can’t help it. “That day we went to Crab Island, you didn’t want to—”

“Oh, I wanted to,” he says. “But you’ve always seemed so out of my league, Kat. Even when we were kids, I thought you were the prettiest girl. Not just pretty—sassy and fierce; creative and sweet. My crush was out of control, but I knew you didn’t feel the same way.”

I frown, because he isn’t wrong. I was stupidly fixated on Junior Rooney and didn’t see what was right in front of me. But does Henry have any idea that he’s out ofmyleague now? He’s the kindest, most generous human being I’ve ever met. “Henry, I’m sorry—”

“Shh,” he says. “I’m living out a fantasy here, Kat. Don’t interrupt.”

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