Page 32 of The VIP Package

Nor do I.

But I stroke her damp back as her tight little walls keep clenching around me. “Novelty,” I offer. “Vacation sex is always better, right?”

She sits up on my cock to look at me. A smile plays over her flushed face. “Did you get that from the Crystal Bliss brochure?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?” Surely there’s some psychological phenomenon she could cite. “That’s all it is.”

“Of course,” she says, licking her lips. “What else would it be?”

I have no idea. As I draw in a shuddery breath, I cup both her hips in my hands. “Lust,” I murmur. “Powerful stuff.”

Please let that be all this is.

CHAPTER 7

CAMILLE

We slather each other with more sunblock, which, naturally, leads to more groping. Not that I’m complaining. Having Ashton’s hands on my body and touching his smooth, broad chest, isn’t exactly a hardship.

I don’t bother putting my bikini back on, in deference to my skinny-dipping fantasy. Ash pulls on swim trunks, insisting one of us should be clothed in case the Coast Guard needs to rescue us.

He points to a spot of crystal-blue sea where it’s safe to dive into the water. “There’s no coral reef there,” he assures me. “I’ll toss down a life ring so you’ve got something to hold on to while I lower the tender into the water.”

“Tender.” I grin up at his serious face. “Come on, Ash—what do wereallycall it?”

He clenches his jaw, feigning annoyance like a champ. “You’re not getting off this boat until I call it a dinghy, are you?”

“Correct.” I laugh as I step to the edge of the deck. Just before jumping, I turn back to face him. “Thanks for this, by the way.” I bite my lip. “For knowing I need to do this alone.”

“Dive off a boat?”

“I know it’s probably one of those things you do all the time. I mean, you own a freakin’ yacht.”

His expression shifts to deep bemusement. “Actually, I never have.”

“Jumped off your own boat?”

“Perhaps I’ll remedy that at some point.” He tugs at a rope that’s holding the tender—the dinghy—in place. “But please, be my guest. Dive to your heart’s content.”

Some over-explainy urge prompts me to say more. To make sure he understands. “I just need to do it by myself. Jump off the boat? Not holding hands with the hot billionaire I’m banging on a vacation fling.” I should stop talking, but I need him to know we’re on the same page. That we’re both committed to not making this more than it is. “Just me in my birthday suit, soaring through the air, diving into the Caribbean Sea by myself.”

“I understand completely.” Ash frowns. “Though, if you want to get technical, this is actually the Strait of?—”

“Goodbye, Ash Hole.” I blow him a kiss, then swan dive off the side of the boat.

For four or five seconds, time stands still. I arc through the air like a professional diver, though I probably look more like a kid doing her first launch off the high dive at a public pool. Turquoise water sparkles below and the wind whips my hair. I feel powerful and free as I slice through the water, then paddle my way back to the top.

“Wooo!” I shout as I come up for air.

The first thing I see is his face at the edge of the boat, looking surly and overprotective. “Next time,” he growls, “don’t stay underwater so long.”

“Yes, Daddy.”

He winces, then goes back to unhooking the dingy. “Stay close,” he mutters.

And I do. I paddle around in the crystal-clear water, loving the ripple of waves caressing my body. It’s the perfect temperature, cool enough to feel refreshing, but warm enough I could swim here all day. I roll onto my back and float for a while, exposing my belly and breasts to the sun. Gentle waves lap at my ears as I bob on the surface and forget all my troubles for a few blissful minutes.

It's been way too long since I did anything like this. Unlike Sara and Eve, I didn’t grow up steeped in purity culture. I skinny-dipped plenty in high school and college, and it was never a big deal.

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