The Two Week Stand (Sizzling Beach 1)

Fucking hell.

I can’t exactly force her to get down, and I can feel my dick getting harder by the second. I’m gonna have to carry her back to the villa—quickly—and think of anything but sex the whole time.

I set off swiftly, and she makes a noise of surprise and holds on to me tighter.

I should secure her, so she doesn’t fall off. Hold her or something, but if I put my hands on her … it’s game over. She’ll know exactly how much my dick likes her up here on my body.

Fuck’s sake.

I get us back to the villas in record time. I practically sprinted here. She’s lucky I’m an athlete; actually, it’s me who’s lucky because I don’t know how much of carrying her I could have endured without doing something stupid.

She’s got her head lying on my shoulder now. I hope she hasn’t fallen asleep.

“We’re here,” I tell her.

“Uh, wha …” She sounds sleepy.

“We’re at your villa.” I walk up the steps to her villa—well, I’m hoping it’s hers. “Number seventy-eight. That’s you, right?”

“Yeah.”

She makes no move to get down.

“You got your key?”

“My key?”

“Yeah, you know, the thing that unlocks the door.”

“Oh, yeah, it’ll be in my pocket.” She loosens her hold on me and slides down my body.

I’m a strong man. But fucking hell, that was torture.

She lands on her feet and starts patting at her legs. “Oh.” She laughs. “I haven’t got any pockets.”

“So, where’s your key then?”

“Um … in my bag.”

“You didn’t bring a bag into the bar with you.”

“Oh. Oops.” She laughs again. “Guess I don’t have my key. I’m really tired.” She leans against the door and starts to slowly slide down to the floor.

“Whoa there.” I grab hold of her, keeping her up. “Are you saying you’re locked out?”

“Probably.”

Probably?

“No worries. I’ll just sleep here.”

“You are not sleeping in the doorway of your villa.”

It’s either go to reception and get a key to her place—and that means carrying her back there because I can’t leave her here. Or she stays in my place.

For fuck’s sake.

Sighing, I make a decision. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

“Uh … no sex though. You’re super hot and all, and I definitely would, but I’m tired. ’Kay?”

Chuckling, I say, “Come on.” I pick her up, and I carry her over to my villa.

Reaching the door, I remember my key is in my fucking pocket.

“Get the key from my pocket.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Dillon. Key. In my pocket.”

“ ’Kay …”

Sighing, I balance her on my thigh, get the key from my pocket, and then unlock the door.

Walking inside, I kick it shut behind me and walk straight over to the bed, where I lay her down.

“Oh, hey.” She opens her eyes, looking up at me. They’re glassy but still pretty as fuck.

“I’ll grab you some water and Advil.”

“Hey … you promised more alcohol. And no tablets. Tablets bad.”

“Okay, no tablets.”

“And no water.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll get you some liquor.”

“Ah, perfect. You’re so lovely … and gorgeous …” She pats my cheek with her hand.

Chuckling, I go over to the mini fridge. Grab a glass. Get out a water and pour some into the glass. I take it over to her.

“Here you go.” I hold the glass out to her.

“What is it?” She squints at the glass, attempting to sit up.

“Vodka. Neat.” I’m such a liar, but she’ll thank me in the morning.

“I love vodka!” She claps her hands together and then grabs for the glass.

She throws the drink back, and I wait for her to realize that it’s actually water.

But she doesn’t.

“Man, that’s good! Can I have some more?”

“Sure.” I suppress a grin. “I’ll pour you a bigger one this time.”

“Perfect.”

I go over and empty the bottle into the glass. I am not prepared for what I see when I turn around.

She’s standing up on the bed, and she’s taking her fucking clothes off.

Jesus fucking Christ. I grip the glass so hard that it almost shatters.

“What are you doing?” The words come out strangled.

Her top is off, and there are inches of soft, pale skin.

“It’s too hot!” she whines.

She starts pushing her leggings down her hips, and I’m just standing here, knowing I should stop her, that she’s too drunk to know what she’s doing, but fuck me … she’s hot.

Nope. Stop. She’s drunk.

I avert my eyes when her leggings hit mid-thigh. Putting the glass on the table, I grab the comforter off the end of the bed. I hold it up and wrap it around her body, covering her.

“Hey, what’re you doing? I’m hot!”

“Trust me, you’ll thank me in the morning. Now, lay yourself down.”

“Where’s my drink?”

“Lie down, and I’ll get it for you.”

She does as I asked, thankfully keeping the cover on her.

I get the water and carry it over. I sit down beside her on the bed and hold out the glass. “Here.”