Page 131 of The Vacation Mix-Up
His hands creep up my back, holding me firm, histongue sweeping mine. I grip his hair, then suddenly rear back, realizing what I’ve just done, my arms shooting into the air. “Oh no! I just contaminated your hair.”
“I don’t care.” He palms my shoulder and urges me close again.
“But it’s…. Apparently, it’s really damag?—”
“Touch whatever you want to touch.” He playfully waggles his brows then slides his hands down my back, cups my ass, and guides my legs around his waist.
I wince, fearing he’ll regret his decision, but I don’t argue, because holy moly his body pressed to mine feels exquisite. “Don’t blame me if you end up looking like Edward Scissorhands then,” I say, threading my fingers back into his hair.
“I won’t.”
“Knowing you, you will.”
He nips at my chin. “Ahh, see? You do know me.”
“I’m beginning to.”
“And?”
I shrug. “So far so good.”
He clenches me tighter, his fingertips kneading my ass, pleasure surging to my core and undulating my hips. My eyelids flutter, and a delicate moan escapes my mouth. “Slow down,” I rasp out, desperately needing to settle my amorous body and all the sexually explicit things it quite obviously wants to do.
Riley instantly relaxes his hands, rests his forehead against mine, and takes a deep breath. “Good idea.”
I suck in a lungful of air too. “Yeah.”
He nuzzles my shoulder. “Slow.”
I breathe out. “Yeah.”
He closes his eyes. “Steady.”
I bite my lip. “Yeah.”
Gently panting, we search each other’s eyes before I unwrap my legs and step back to allow our bodies to settle to a rhythm more suitable for a public setting. A rhythm that, hopefully, won’t escalate too soon and lead to confusion and regret.
From the corner of my eye, I spot a hut where a woman with a bucket is scooping out white mud for people to lather on their faces, so I turn away from him and head in her direction.
“Where are you going?” he calls out. “I won’t bite. I promise.”
Needing a little breathing space, I call back, “Mud mask. It’s part of the experience.”
He follows me as I make my way through the plumes of steam toward the hut, where I hold out my hands for the woman with the bucket.
“Halló,” she says as she slops a scoopful into my palm.
I twiddle my fingers. “Hello.”
“Leave on for ten minutes then wash off in water. Do not get in eyes. And do not eat.” She pulls the universal “yuck” face.
I nod. “Okay. No eating and no eyes.”
“Já.” She goes to scoop some out for Riley, but he shakes his head.
“No thanks. I’m good.”
“Oh, come on,” I goad. “It’s just silica and minerals. It’s good for your skin.”
