The Beach
I turn to Noah, and he shifts to look down at me.
“You’re sopping wet,” I point out helpfully.
He tips his lips up in an easy grin. “So are you.”
As if to prove his point, he reaches out to grab my tank top in his hands so he can gather the material and wring it out. Water pools at my feet, but I don’t pay attention. I’m too focused on the feel of his fingers as they accidently skim my bare skin. He drops my shirt back in place and I look up at him.
His brown eyes hold mine captive, and we seem to be having a silent conversation that feels so utterly important I’m scared to blink.
“I wanted you last night, Lindsey,” he admits, stepping toward me so his body blocks mine from the path of tourists.
My heart skips a beat as I wet my lips, trying to come up with a response that would make him just as uncomfortable. He doesn’t get to keep saying things that make me blush. Eventually, I’m going to fight back.
“Then why didn’t you do something about it? You said I was a good girl, but I’m not, Noah. I’m flesh and blood, impatient and needy, just like you.”
I step toward him and grab his t-shirt to wring it out, the same way he did with mine—but instead of dropping it back into place, I slide my palms up over his chiseled stomach, triumphant when I feel him flinch in surprise.
“Are you scared of hurting me?” I ask, leveling my gaze on his lips.
“I’m scared you don’t see what I’m truly after.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“Something more than just casual sex in a tropical villa. More than a few nights in Mexico.”
The familiar roadblocks flit through my mind: Natalie, Connor, work.
They’re the same things I’ve worried about for so many years, the same things that have held me back from admitting my feelings for Noah since the beginning.
“What happens when—”
He steps forward so his chest brushes mine, cutting me off. He crowds my space and backs me into the tree behind me until I have nowhere to go.
“I’m saying I don’t care ‘what happens when’,” he says, lifting his hand up so his finger can trace my jaw. “There’s nothing that is going to stop me from taking what I want. Not anymore.”
His thumb drags across my bottom lip as his dark eyes narrow.
“Say no, Lindsey,” he says, lowering his head down toward me. “Say no now or—”
Before he can finish, I arch up onto my toes and seal my lips to his.
No is not an option. No was gone the moment I first laid eyes on Noah. Lindsey, this is my brother. Noah, this is Lindsey. Be nice to her!
And to his credit, he has been—so, so nice to me. Over the years I’ve known Natalie, Noah has always acted like the perfect gentleman. Waving at me when our paths cross in the halls of the hospital. Including me whenever he has Connor and Natalie over for dinner. Never crossing any lines. Never making me feel anything other than perfectly respected.
Until now.
Six
We make out pretty hardcore under that tree, so much so that we’re politely asked to separate by some embarrassed worker who’s unable to meet our eyes.
We burst into fits of laughter as we run for the entrance of the ruins, our clothes and shoes still soggy from the rain. Though I’m tempted to plead with him to take me back to the villa so we can finish what we started, a small (sensible) part of me still realizes we’re in a place we might never see again, and it’s really a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m glad we push through the initial urge to go back to the resort, because the ruins are beautiful.
The walled city was built right on the cliffs of the ocean by the Mayan people, complete with watchtowers and temples. So much of it still stands today, and we curve through the gravel path that leads tourists around the ancient city. We’re even able to walk through a few of the structures. We take photos, especially because we know Natalie and Connor will be curious to see them. Noah stands beside me for a selfie, and I make a cheesy face right before he turns and presses a kiss to my cheek, snapping the photo in time to catch my unabashed delight. I’m embarrassed when we look down at it afterward, everything I feel for him evident on the screen. I want him to delete it. Crop me out. I want to yank the phone out of his hand and toss it off the cliff into the ocean.
He looks at the picture and then over to me.
I start to walk away.
He reaches out to grip my elbow and tugs me back toward his chest.