Page 133 of The Vacation Mix-Up
“Peanut—? How would that help?” Chuckling, Riley clasps my flapping wrists. “Hold still.”
I do as I’m told, my eyelids fused together as he swishes hishands in the water, then gently wipes the pads of his thumbs across the tops of my cheekbones.
“Damn it!” I whine. “I’m going to go blind in Iceland.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Yes, I am. It’s Karma for what I did to Brittany.”
“Not that again. Jesus, Riles, why are you so hard on yourself?”
Slowly blinking, I pry my eyelids open. “I’m not.”
He crouches down, scans my eyes, and then wipes them one last time. “You are.”
“I… I don’t mean to be,” I stutter, a little taken aback.
“You’re a good person, so ease up and give yourself a break.”
Nodding, I hang my head. Perhaps I am too hard on myself. My expectations have always been high, but that’s what happens when you constantly strive for success. If they’re not high, you never rise.
He lifts my chin and gives me a quick peck on the lips. “You don’t have to always impress and please everyone around you. Surely, that’s exhausting.”
“It is.”
“Then stop, and be kinder to yourself.”
I pout. “I am kind to myself.”
“Be kinder.”
Nodding again, I bite the inside of my cheek. “Okay.”
He boops my nose. “Can I remove this shit from my face yet?”
“No.”
Riley grumbles, and I have to give him credit for being a good sport. “Do you want me to do your chest?” I ask, sliding my slimy hands into his.
He throws his arms out wide, flexing his pecs, both of them dancing up and down.
I giggle. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
“Is this white shit good for genitals?”
I playfully slam my palms onto his pecs, delighting in the feelof him as I glide my fingers over every dip, bump, and groove. “Your chest hair is going to hate this.”
“My chest hair loves it, trust me.”
When I’m done, I pry my hungry hands from him and mimic his stance, arms out wide. “My turn.”
Grinning like an imp, he gathers most of the mud I’ve just applied to him, rubs his hands together, and then caresses my shoulders, neck, and collarbones, his fingertips and palms gloriously hypnotic, a low growl reverberating from his throat as his hands dip to the top of my cleavage.
“Behave,” I warn. “There are children here.”
“Believe me, I am behaving.” His hands curve around my bikini until they’re slipping beneath it.
“That’s enough,” I whisper, reaching down to hold his wrists.
