Page 48 of Marc

I try to return the massage, but my small hands struggle to wrap around his large muscles. Using my thumbs, I press into the muscles along his spine and drag my fingers up to his neck.

He groans. “Damn, that feels amazing.”

I know what would feel even more amazing than this, but I keep those thoughts to myself.

Needing to cool my raging hormones, I step away. “All done.”

We grab a couple of beach towels from the shelfin the bathroom and head down to the beach. After setting up our towels, Marc lays down to work on his tan and I head into the water.

Applying sunscreen to one another was very sensual and left me craving his touch in other areas of my body. I dunk myself under the water, letting the ocean water cool me down.

If I don’t do something to calm my feelings for Marc soon, I’ll probably do something to embarrass myself.

My gaze makes its way back to Marc, where he is lying peacefully on his beach towel. A lingering question comes back to the forefront of my mind.

Two people who are fake dating can have platonic sex, right?

Chapter Twelve

MARC

The problemwith fake dating is that you don’t have the same benefits as you do in a real relationship.

In a real relationship, I’d give in and kiss her whenever I wanted or playfully grab her ass when she walks by.

But with Staci, I can’t.

I look over to the other side of the bed, where she is still sleeping peacefully. I place the notepad on my pillow, letting her know that I am going to the beach to workout.

After the long, sleepless night with a raging boner, I could use the workout. And the temporary distance from her.

Sure, she might have initiated a kiss with me twice, but yesterday she was emotional, and I didn’t want to use that to my advantage.

I slip the room key into my pocket, tuck mytowel under my arm, and quietly shut the door behind me before heading to the stairs.

The cardio will be good to help get my heart rate up.

I stand on my tiptoes to stretch my calves for a few seconds before jogging down the stairs.

Since most people tend to take the elevator, I have the stairwell to myself. I continue to jog through the parking lot and around the building as I make my way towards the sand.

When my heart is pounding and my breathing becomes ragged, I walk out onto the sand and pick a spot that is far away from the water, as well as far from other people.

I stretch my arms out to the side and make circles with them for a few seconds before dropping to the sand to do push-ups.

Digging my toes into the sand, I bend my elbows as I lower myself towards the sand. When I am a couple inches from the ground, I push myself back up into my starting position.

I repeat the motions and let my focus brush all thoughts of Staci to the back of my mind.

Down and up.

Down and up.

I don’t have a certain number of pushups I want to complete. I want to keep going until my muscles are too exhausted to hold my weight.

As the sun warms and rises in the sky, more people stake their spots on the beach.

Women stare and gawk at me as children build sandcastles.

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