The damn thing sparkles under the sunlight.
Her soft lips part with a gasp. It’s a tiny thing. Barely audible. But it warms me all the same.
All the stupid shit in my head disappears. For a moment, all I want is the wonder in her eyes.
Then she leans a little farther, enough her dress falls down her chest and all I want is her groaning my name.
Her pastel pink bra demands my attention.
The floral lace spreading over the cup—
Fuck.
I turn to the window. Try to focus on the ocean. This is the Banderas Bay. Part of the Pacific. Of an ocean that connects continents.
It’s not interesting compared to her.
I fold one leg over the other. Shift to the side. Recall my last tattoo. The pain of the needle against my skin. The places near the bone are the worst. They’re agony.
Guys act all tough, like it doesn’t hurt, but that’s fucking ridiculous.
It’s a needle. It always hurts.
Thankfully, I’m not into pain.
My cock cools it enough to survive three more minutes on the highway.
We turn onto a side street. Toward the Romantic Zone. It’s part tourist trap, part quaint beach town, part party central, all cobblestone roads.
Daisy falls back into her seat.
I catch her reflexively.
She mouths thanks. Tries to hide her blush.
I try to focus on the bumpy road. On the sun-bleached buildings. On the tourists walking the narrow sidewalks.
My eyes keep drifting back to her thighs.
To our legs connecting.
The hem of her red and white dress.
The bright blue of my shorts.
My tan skin against hers.
Her dress sliding up her legs.
Higher and higher and—
Mercifully, we arrive before I come in my shorts.
The driver parks in front of a house on a hill. I get out of the car. Hold the door open for her.
Try to do anything except watch her hips sway as she walks into the house.
Fail completely.
Chapter Nine
Holden
After we tour the four-story loft, we head to separate bedrooms (there are exactly four), unpack, change into beach gear.
This place is nice. Huge. Modern. Open. Yes, there are four separate bedrooms, but the outside walls are glass and the inside walls are thin.
No one is bringing home a fuck without the rest of the house knowing.
I’m half-impressed with Oliver, half irritated. A week without sex is a lot for him. But this attempt to protect his sister’s chastity—
He needs to grow up.
His bedroom is next to mine. Under his sister’s. We’re on the third floor. Luna and Daisy are on the fourth.
They’re next to the rooftop pool. And the amazing view of the town, the sky, the ocean. We’re only a few blocks from town. Maybe a dozen from the beach.
I grab a towel from the linen closet in the hall. Head downstairs.
The first floor is just as gorgeous as the rest of the house. Modern couch, huge TV, solid wood dining set, kitchen with stainless steel appliances and filtered water, fridge stocked with condiments and plastic bottles.
It’s everywhere, the reminder to skip the tap water. Apparently, ice is okay. Freezing water kills the parasites that cause Montezuma’s Revenge.
There’s an unsexy thought.
The perfect focus for the afternoon.
I hold on to it as I down a glass of filtered water (the sink and the fridge have filters).
My thoughts dissolve as footsteps come closer.
Luna jumps off the second step. Tosses a towel over the chair. Stretches her arms over her head.
She’s in a bikini top and those high-waisted shorts. She looks good. Like she’s going to pop out of those triangles.
But my eyes still go to Daisy.
Gauzy white fabric drapes over her body. It’s not quite see-through, but it’s close. I can make out the shape of her figure—slim curves, round hips, long legs—and the pastel pink of her bikini.
Fuck.
I refill my glass. Offer it to Daisy.
She nods thanks, downs it in three sips, refills it, hands it to Luna.
“You hungry?” I nod to the fridge. “We can grab lunch. Pick up groceries on the way back.”
Daisy’s lips curl into a frown. It’s a quick second, then she shakes it off. “I am, but beach first.”
“Beach now.” Luna calls up the stairs. “You have one minute, Oliver. Then we’re leaving.”
“I’m coming.” His deep voice booms around the house. Reminds me of how well sound carries in the open space.
“Is that his line?” I tease. “Guess it’s a classic.”
Luna laughs.
Daisy turns bright red. “Please do not talk about my brother’s sex life.”
“Not sure there’s much to say. He’s probably too drunk to bring any skill to the table,” I tease.
Oliver’s footsteps move down the stairs. “It’s sad.” He moves into the staircase connecting the first and second floors. “How insecure you are about your sexual abilities.”
“Oh?” I raise a brow.
“Always mocking everyone else, because you’re not sure you have what it takes.”
“Is that right?” I ask.
He nods hell yeah. “I know you ask him for advice about sex.” He turns to Daisy.