Page 115 of The Bronze Garza
With a rare smile, he gets to his feet and pulls me up. Tugs me to him by the waistband of my bikini bottom, grips my chin and kisses me hard, deep, and dominant. By the time he tears his mouth from mine, I’m breathless, all the oxygen siphoned from my lungs.
There’s no time to recoup, because in the next second he’s dragging me below deck. How did I ever think I could keep up with him? He’s gentle one minute and a beast the next. Not that I’m complaining. Both sexual sides of him are delicious.
Turns out we saved the best for last; number seven is like watching fireworks on New Year’s Eve while on ecstasy plus a shot of morphine.
When we collapse together, fighting for each other’s air, he breathes out, “Earth-shattering.”
Chest heaving, I sluggishly turn my head to him. “What?”
“The earth moves when I’m inside you,” he tells me, voice gruff, deep, possessive. “Think that’s what’s called ‘earth-shattering.’“ He hauls me on top of him, pressing his face into my sweaty skin like a man crazed. “Fifty notches above mind-blowing.”
ChapterTwenty-Eight
“Will you take care of it?”
Lyra
Fifty notches above mind-blowing.
The words bounce around in my head as we dock at the marina, dizzying me with glee.
Torin helps me down off the boat with a strong, firm hand, his handsome features bathed in the orange glow of the fast-fading sunset.
“What are you so smiley about?”
You.“It was just a really good day, that’s all,” I say. “I’m...happy.”
He snakes an arm around my waist. “Glad I could be of service.” As we amble up the boardwalk, he jerks his chin to the marina restaurant ahead. “Think you’re up for a fish dinner?”
I lean into him. “I could try.”
When we’re exiting the boardwalk toward the restaurant, an embracing couple bumps into me as they’re stepping up onto the boardwalk.
“Whoa, sorry,” the man mumbles sheepishly. “My girl’s had a little too much to drink.”
Giant sunglasses cover his girlfriend’s face, but judging from her quasi-catatonic posture, she’s beyond “a little too much to drink.” She’swasted.
“Oh, no problem,” I say, shifting to give them better passage to the boardwalk. “Have a good evening.”
“You, too.”
“Ly!”
The familiar voice has me glancing around. Beyond the weathered wooden railing of the deck of the marina restaurant, I spot a chaos of short, auburn curls and a frantically waving hand.Holly.
Her curls bounce as she weaves around the tables and rushes out of the restaurant to meet us.
With a squeal, she throws her arms around me.
“Holly, hey.”
“Ly—”
We’re both abruptly pulled off to the side by Torin. “Stay here,” he orders in a tone that brooks no argument. “Don’t move.”
Before I can inquire what his deal is, he strides off, casual and unhurried, hands slipped loosely into the pockets of his board-shorts.
From my peripheral, I notice a man in black drifts close to us. Whipping my head in his direction, I’m about to ask him what the hell he wants, but then stop and sigh instead. Because I’d seen this same man outside the restaurant where Torin and I had dinner at last night.
