Page 25 of Love, Take Two

His hands move to my waist, then higher, thumbs brushing the underside of my breasts through the thin fabric of my dress. The touch is light and careful, giving me every opportunity to object, but all I want is more of his hands on me, more of this connection that feels both achingly familiar and thrillingly new.

We lose ourselves in kissing and touching, hands exploring and relearning, both of us making soft sounds of pleasure and recognition as we rediscover how perfectly our bodies fit together. His mouth trails from my lips to my neck, finding that spot just below my ear that always made me arch against him, and when he places an open-mouthed kiss there, I actually gasp with the intensity of sensation.

"You taste. So. Good." He murmurs against my throat, the words vibrating against my skin in a way that makes me clutch at his shoulders.

His hands slide under the hem of my dress, palms warm against my thighs. But when I should be pulling back or insisting we slow down, all I want is to encourage him to touch me everywhere, to make up for eight years of not having his hands on my skin.

"Is this okay?" he asks, fingers stilling on my thighs as he pulls back to look at my face.

"More than okay," I breathe, then prove it by kissing him with all the pent-up longing I've been trying to deny since the whole yoga thing.

When his hands move higher, exploring the sensitive skin of my upper thighs, I can't suppress a soft moan that makes his breathing become even more unsteady. Everything about this feels right—his touch, the way we fit together, the connection that's been building since we saw each other again.

But as I'm about to make a bold move, voices carry from the path near our cabana. Other guests walking along the beach, close enough that we can hear their conversation.

Reality crashes back as we both realize how public our location is and how carried away we've gotten. We break apart reluctantly, both breathing hard and staring at each other with wild eyes and thoroughly kissed mouths.

"We should probably…" I start, though my brain is having trouble forming complete thoughts when he's looking at me like that.

"Go somewhere more private?" he finishes hopefully, his voice rough with desire and suggestion.

I nod, not trusting myself to speak, and we extract ourselves from the cabana with the kind of coordination that comes from shared urgency. His hand finds mine as we walk quickly back toward the resort, and the touch grounds me even as my entire nervous system feels like it's on fire.

The elevator ride to our floor happens in charged silence, both of us knowing that we're about to cross a line that will fundamentally change…everything. When we reach our doors, we pause in the hallway, looking at each other with an intensity that makes the air feel electric.

"Your coming to my room.” His voice breathy and deep.

"Yes," I say without hesitation

He unlocks his door with slightly unsteady hands, and we step into his suite together.

And for the first time since I arrived in paradise, I'm completely ready for everything to change.

9

EMORY

The moment we step into my suite, the air between us feels electric enough to power the entire resort.

Vada stands just inside the doorway, her sundress slightly rumpled from our encounter in the beach cabana, her lips still swollen from kissing, looking at me with an expression that's equal parts desire and uncertainty. The soft lighting from the bedside lamps casts everything in warm gold, and I can hear our breathing over the distant sound of waves.

"Are you sure?" I ask, though every cell in my body screams at me not to give her an opportunity to change her mind. "Because once we—"

"Emory," she interrupts, stepping closer with deliberate movement that spikes my pulse. "I've never been more sure."

When she cups my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones, I'm lost. Eight years of wondering what if, and now she's here, in my room, looking at me like I'm everything she's wanted.

"Come here," I say, pulling her against me.

Kissing her feels natural and like a revelation all at once. Her mouth is soft and eager against mine, hands threading through my hair in that way that made me lose my mind in college. When she makes a small sound against my lips, my control snaps.

My hands explore her waist, the bare skin of her arms, the way her breath catches when I find that sensitive spot where her neck meets her shoulder. She's responsive as I remember, but there's something different too—a confidence that speaks to the woman she's become.

"You feel incredible," I murmur against her throat, then prove it by kissing along her collarbone until she arches against me with a gasp.

"So do you," she breathes, her hands exploring my chest and shoulders with focused attention that makes me wonder how I survived eight years without her touch.

We move toward the bed with surprising coordination given how thoroughly I'm being destroyed by the soft sounds she makes when I find her sensitive spots. The ocean view windows provide the perfect backdrop, moonlight streaming across white linens, but all I can focus on is the way she looks at me when I pause to see her.

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