Page 40 of Hired By the Enemy
Matthew’s eyes skim down my body. “I’m fully prepared to concede I will never have your body, Liam.”
He looks up, and his gaze is so heated that I can’t help moving forward to swipe a kiss from him. Our kiss deepens briefly before I remember our circumstances and pull back.
Matthew’s slightly breathless, and the bewilderment on his face forces me to explain myself.
“We still need to convince everyone we’re a couple,” I say.
“Oh yeah. Right.” He swallows. “Very convincing.”
My argument is weak because none of the other couples are paying attention to us. While we’ve been talking, they’ve started building their sandcastles, so we’re behind already.
“Right. Let’s win this thing,” I say.
True to my word, I go into a sand-digging frenzy while Matthew works out the proportions, and pretty soon, the shape of a dog emerges from the blank sand.
We’re both quickly covered in sand because it appears sandcastle building is a fully immersive experience when Matthew and I do it.
I should have realized how highly competitive Matthew and I both are. Neither of us ever backed down from a challenge against the other. We don’t have much in common, but that trait is definitely something we share.
But while we’re taking it seriously, there’s something almost…fun about building a sandcastle with Matthew.
It’s fun to mock what a perfectionist he is when he starts fretting that our sculpture looks more like a Labrador than a golden retriever.
It’s fun when we decide at the last minute to add a waterbowl for Max, and I dig it out while Matthew works out a way to keep water in it.
And when a small boy walks by and exclaims, “Look, Mommy, it’s a doggy!” I can’t help catching Matthew’s eye, and we both break out into proud grins.
But the funniest part of the whole afternoon is seeing Paul’s face when the resort’s designated sandcastle expert judges that our sculpture is the winner.
“We really are the Picassos of the sandcastle world,” I crow as we head back to the villa together after we’ve humbly accepted our prize.
“Did Picasso actually do any sculptures?” Matthew asks.
“Seriously, Matthew? Do you need my bragging to be factually accurate?”
“Factually accurate is my jam,” he says.
He gets out his phone and googles it before lifting his eyes to mine. “Picasso did actually make nearly three hundred sculptures during his lifetime.”
“See? Maybe I’m just so artistically talented that I’m naturally in sync with Picasso.”
“Or maybe it was just a lucky guess,” he counters with a smirk, and I can’t help but grin back.
Winning must be an aphrodisiac because as soon as we’re back inside the villa, we’re all over each other.
Matthew draws back from kissing me. “Do you want to head to the shower?”
“The shower?”
“I’m thinking we’re all sandy, and we can combine fooling around with getting clean.”
“I’m all about time efficiency and helping Hawaii’s water management,” I say as I grab his hand and tug him toward the bathroom.
We both strip and jump in the shower. Matthew presses his body into mine, and we kiss as the hot water beats down on us.
I stroke from the small of his neck down his spine to the curves of his ass. He shivers under my touch and then pushes me against the shower wall, deepening our kiss.
I love the push-pull of the dynamic between Matthew and me. The way sex between us seems like a battle over who can blow the other's mind the fastest.
