Page 7 of The Getaway

Being in this man’s presence makes me realize that I have never been the one to initiate sex. Not just with Paul, but with anyone. If anything, I could easily have gone weeks without it.

My body has never buzzed with attraction like this.

Needing to actually sit, and stop staring at this man, I place my hand on the back of the stool and clear my throat. “Is this seat taken?”

Muscle Man lifts his head and shakes it once before tipping his beer back and glancing at me from the corner of his eye.

“All yours,” he says in a low, warm voice that shoots straight to my core.

Fuck, even his voice is sexy.

Smiling softly in response, I focus on taking a seat. From the corner of my eye, I notice his beer bottle freezing midway to his mouth. Risking a quick glance his way, my cheeks turn molten when I find his attention still on me.

It took longer than I’d like to admit to convince myself that I looked good, despite not having my normal full face of makeup on.

For once, I didn’t see the point of putting on layers of foundation, concealer, eyeshadow, or lipstick. My normal day-to-day appearance did not feel fitting considering the beachy atmosphere of the resort.

Instead, I hopped in the shower to wash off the day of travel and all my makeup. Then I let my hair air dry and didn’t bother trying to straighten the waves away. I only put on a single coat of mascara and a simple light pink lip gloss.

It felt wrong to not spend over an hour getting ready.

The sight of my naturally wavy red hair and bare face made me pause. I couldn’t help but question everything about my appearance and if it was good enough for going out tonight.

So now, with this handsome man’s attention fully on me, I can’t help but wonder if I ended up being wrong and should have put more of an effort into my appearance this evening.

Glancing down, I tuck a stand of hair behind my ear and double check that my boobs are both tucked into my swimsuit top.

It was dinner time when I left my bungalow, and while I didn’t plan to go to the pool tonight, I wanted to come prepared in case I couldn’t resist a quick, late-night dip. My black one piece is unlike any swimsuit I’ve ever owned before. Instead of my old ones, which are all flowy and hide my curves, this one hugs them.

The sides are open, held together by three twisted black knots and the deep cut of the top dips down to my sternum. My new see through cover up isn’t baggy, but also not skintight. Together they give a teasing appearance to the outfit and are still covering more than what most of the women here are wearing.

Hell, more than half the people here are wearing swimsuits that leave nothing to the imagination.

Running a hand along the strap on my shoulder, noting that everything is in place and covered how it should be, I raise my eyes back to the man only to find him still staring at me. Only now that I’m paying attention, it’s clear to see that his lingering attention isn’t out of disgust or because of a wardrobe malfunction.

The beer bottle still hangs in the air, frozen halfway to his gaping mouth. My eyes drops at movement on top of the bar, where his free hand is clenching tightly into a fist.

Raising a brow, I wait for him to look back up to my face. My body scorches under the weight of his heated gaze as it trails along my body, but I stay still.

“Something wrong?” I say with a smirk when his darkened eyes finally meet mine.

He clears his throat, shaking his head before looking away and bringing his beer to his lips.

“No, sorry ma’am,” he drawls out, a slight Southern accent poking through. A smile tugs at my lips as his voice makes me think of my Ma.

When I called off the wedding, she had only one thing to say to me. Her words now play through my mind, “Well, maybe now you can move down here with us and meet a good southern man. They know what they’re doing.”

Unable to control it, I snort at the memory.

While my Ma and Pa were sad to find out that I was so unhappy for so long, my Ma took full advantage of my breakup. During our weekly phone calls, she always finds a way to make her pitch on why I should move back to South Carolina with her and Pa.

Once my youngest brother graduated high school, our parents wasted no time in buying the surrounding property around our childhood home to fulfill Ma’s dream of owning a vineyard. It’s the reason I originally went to college to get my business degree, so that I could help them run the tasting room and store front.

Shaking those thoughts away, my blush spreads down my neck when I realize that I accidentally laughed out loud.

Muscle Man’s head whips back in my direction, but I shrug it off and stare ahead.

His stare burns the side of my face. With a newfound confidence, I lean forward in my seat. Bracing my elbows on the edge of the bar top, I dramatically arch my back while snagging the attention of the bartender.

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