Page 25 of Her Fake Island Wedding

Chapter Twelve

It was well after midnight when Bryce walked wearily back into the staff area and hesitated at a fork in the path. Going back to his cabin seemed pointless since there was almost nothing of his there, not even his toothbrush, but going to Lucy’s felt kind of presumptuous. She was probably asleep, anyway, and he definitely didn’t want to wake her. The way she’d fallen asleep on him that afternoon spoke of nights she’d spent awake worrying.

He’d go by her cabin and see, he decided after a moment. If she was awake, he could just grab his toothbrush and a change of clothes, and then go back to his place to sleep.

There were no lights on in Lucy’s cabin, and Bryce’s shoulders sagged. Well… he could still get a shower and just sleep in the nude, he supposed. They hadn’t stripped his old bed, at least. He was turning to walk away when a voice said his name softly.

“Lucy?” He turned back, squinting.

“Here.”

She was in his hammock, he realised as she lifted a hand, a tiny citronella candle burning on the rail beside her to keep the mosquitoes at bay.

“You should be resting.” Walking up alongside her, he looked down, trying to make out her expression. She was on the wrong side of the cabin for the bright moonlight to illuminate her features, and the candle’s glow was too small to be helpful.

“Couldn’t sleep. How was the dive?”

“Nothing out of the ordinary. How was your evening, after I left? Did Luke stay?”

“He did, and he was wonderful.” She sat up, lurching to try and get out of the hammock, giggling as it swung wildly. Bryce chuckled along with her, leaning down to grab her and lift her to her feet. She clung to his shoulders, gripping the snug material of his T-shirt, clinging to slightly damp skin.

“I came to pick up my toothbrush and some clean clothes,” Bryce said after a moment of tense, singing silence.

“You have to sleep here,” Lucy blurted, and he raised his eyebrows.

“Excuse me?”

“Justine went to bed early. Jet lag. She’s quite likely to be up at the crack of dawn and perfectly selfish enough to come looking for me. If she finds you not sleeping here, well… all the hard work we put in today would be wasted, wouldn’t it?”

“Lucy.” He stopped after the single word, stalling out. Then restarted again. “After earlier, is that a good idea?”

“Earlier?”

“Yes, earlier, when we damn near ripped each others’ clothes off!”

“Oh. That.”

They were almost nose to nose. Bryce’s hands shook with the effort of not reaching for her, not grabbing her and dragging her hard against him.

“I want you,” he said raggedly. “I’ve spent damn near every minute since that kiss here earlier thinking about it, thinking about you. About how much Ididn’twant to stop.”

The silence seemed to go on forever. Bryce died a little inside as Lucy just stared at him, wide-eyed. And then she said;

“So this time, let’s not stop.”

This is going to complicate things, Bryce thought as Lucy’s arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled his head down. But then her soft lips pressed against his and he stopped thinking about anything except the way she tasted.

* * *

For an awful moment, Lucy thought Bryce wasn’t going to kiss her back. Then he made a rough noise in his throat, arms wrapping around her tightly to lift her off her feet. She felt him step back, kicking the screen door open before he carried her into the cabin and lowered her to the bed, lips still fused with hers as they drank each other in.

She wanted to feel his skin against hers, tore frantically at his T-shirt until he reared back off her and ripped it off. The moonlight pouring into the room limned his lean, strong torso in a silvery halo, brightening his blond hair. He looked almost like an angel there above her, but no angel would be cupping her breasts through her dress, thumbs teasing her nipples to hard, aching peaks.

Bryce was kneeling on her dress; frustrated beyond measure, Lucy shoved at him. “Off,” she demanded.

“What?” He froze, hands still on her breasts.

“Get off! I need to get my dress off!”

---