That One Summer: A Collection of Steamy Contemporary Romance

Chapter 6

Pausing our game doesn”tappear to be Graeme”s goal, as he helps me off the dinghy when we hit the shore and doesn”t let go of my hand. Florian leads the way with Sally, so neither is aware of the playful twirl Graeme makes me turn and I suppress a giggle as my skirt rises to the occasion.

”That dress needs to go, asap,” Graeme whispers to me as he lets go of my hand.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, and I press my hat to my head, out of breath with joy and lust.

The steward rushes past us and ahead, to where he sets up a make-shift office with camping chairs and a fold-up table under the patchy shade of some palm trees.

”Welcome to your office for the day, folks.” Florian smiles and places his laptop bag on the table. ”We”ve only seen a plethora of photos of this place. Time to explore.”

We pile our things with his and then with a wave he leads us on a tour of the island, which is much bigger than I realized. Soon everybody takes off their shoes to walk the full circle of the island”s pristine beaches. We crisscross to the other side, through tropical bush, grass, and shrubs.

”I feel like a cast-away,” Sally murmurs as sweat mushrooms on her lips and forehead.

”This is going to be a hell of a job,” I mutter back as it dawns on me that island cast-away glamour shack is the essential brief and that every single thing we do will have to be two hundred percent correct. Job from hell is more accurate. There”s no scope for error when every nail, plank, couch, and kettle need to be chartered in by boat, helicopter, or seaplane. Just the idea hurts my own pocket.

When we finally settle at the makeshift meeting desk where some drinks and snacks await, Florian and Graeme bounce ideas around as if they”re kids playing with a balloon. Sally fires up her laptop and takes notes at speed, and as the ideas start to flow, I add my own. I visualize neutral colors, based on the creamy sand, with undertones of dark palm wood browns and splashes of aquamarine to deep turquoise, to bring the outside in.

We talk about everything—from the floor plans to the lights to where to procure the building materials and Anderson”s preferred supplier of exclusive, bespoke furniture.

”If we can get the initial design drawn up, how long do you need for your proposal, Tessa?” Florian asks.

I need floor plans, dimensions, and a lot of other little details to start my own process but this project was a huge win for me and everything else will play second fiddle until it gets on its feet. With Sally helping with the legwork and if I don”t sleep... ”Four weeks?”

”Good. You can have two weeks from our design delivery date. It”s after all only eight bedrooms. We are going to go at this as soon as we land in San Francisco so that production can do their drawings. Anderson is very specific, but he likes to work from a solid starting point. He isn”t very patient on a good day.”

Sally shoots me a nervous glance and I shift in my seat. Bring it on, Anderson.

”We”ll have to meet a couple of times over conference calls before we present to Richard,” Florian says and stifles a yawn. ”For which you”ll need to come to San Francisco.”

”Those meetings better be in person, don”t you agree, Florian?” Graeme suggests, ”Since this is our first time working together, it”s better to be hands-on...” His gaze lingers on me, and my dozing arousal stirs to life at the idea of Graeme”s hands all over me. ”Yes, definitely hands-on, with this process.”

”We”ll see more of you then, Tessa.” Florian smiles and closes his laptop screen.

Graeme just opened the calendar for us to continue our affair, which hasn”t even launched itself yet.

”Now, we”ve got half an hour left before we need to leave here.” Florian stands up and strips off his polo shirt in one go. ”Let”s take a dip.”

Sally, sweating in her shirt and slacks, blushes at the sight of Florian”s chest, clearly maintained if a bit hairy with gray patches.

”You guys go for it, I don”t have a bathing suit on,” Sally says and stands to stretch.

”So? Swim naked.” Florian unbuttons his chino shorts and walks away from the table. ”Keep your panties on if you are shy!” he calls back as an afterthought. He drops his shorts next to a pile of beach towels I notice for the first time. He saunters off to the ocean in a pair of multi-colored designer jocks with horizontal stripes and doesn”t look back.

”Oh my god.” Sally”s consternation beams fire truck red from her face, but she looks equally teary-eyed at the prospect of missing out on this private island swim. ”Did he just suggest I skinny dip?”

Graeme chuckles. ”Florian grew up on the French Riviera. Nothing fazes him.” He stands and starts to unbutton his shirt. ”We”ll go around the bend if you want to swim, Sally?”

Sally”s eyes are glued on Florian, but I can”t take my eyes off the smooth skin Graeme exposes button-by-button. His hardened pecs, darkened nipples, and the trail that makes my mouth salivate at the thought of where his hands will lead if they keep their downward path.

”Do what you want, Sally, don”t mind me.” I swear, from now on and forever, Sally isn”t going anywhere without a bikini scrunched up in her purse.

Graeme hooks his shirt over the back of his chair and with a subtle nudge egg me on to follow him. We grab towels and jog away, leaving Sally behind where she”s chewing her lip indecisively.

I glance back one last time when we round the bend out of sight of the yacht and Sally. Florian is long gone into the crystal waters, carefree.

As soon as the coast is clear Graeme grabs my hand and pulls me to a stop. My chest rises with the exertion of the sudden run and the building tension between us.

”The dress.” His voice is edgy as he lets go of my hand to pluck my sunhat off my head. ”Strip, Miss Brooke. And make it quick.”

His gaze burns mine for a moment before he looks to where my hands reach for the tie-front to tug at the bow. I slow down my movements, wanting him to watch as the thin shoulders straps slip down my arms. Two buttons on the front of the dress do the rest and the fabric glides and pools at my feet.

With the dress gone, I”ve exposed the fullness of my breasts and my hardened nipples, pulling even tighter under his relentless inspection. There isn’t much fabric, and the three triangles barely cup my breasts or cover my mound. The strings tied over my hips are the ultimate invitation to tease the whole lot apart and have me naked.

Graeme only stares and after a minute, whispers hoarsely. ”That”s one cheeky bikini, Miss Brooke. But the curves—fuck. You”re beautiful.”

His words make me glow and I lick my lips in anticipation for him to step up and kiss me, to fiddle with the frivolous bikini strings and loosen them one by one.

I see the struggle reflect in his eyes. He wants to touch me, as much as I want to be touched.

We might be around a bend in the middle of nowhere, but there are four other people that can walk in on us.

Something caves as he reaches his hand to my collarbone and with a single finger traces the strap”s line down the slope of my breast. The delicate slow trail leaves me breathless, and I press forward in a silent plea for him to touch more of me.

With a groan, he hooks his finger under the fabric and in sweet torment, circles my nipple with his fingertip. The sensation cascades down to my sex, where I contract with need.

For a moment it looks as if he is going to take his hand even lower, maybe slip it between my legs where I need it most, but his lazy gaze shifts to look somewhere behind me.

He drops his hand with a frustrated sigh. ”Sally is coming around our bend.” He turns and in a fluid motion adjusts himself from where his cock strains his shorts. ”You know what we”d be doing if we had more than half an hour and this beach was less crowded, right?”

I close my eyes and bite down on the ballooning need to have him inside my body, rocking us to bliss. There was only one way to break the tension. ”We”ll be having sandy beach sex and I”ll be washing the sand out of my butt and fanny for the next week?”

Been there, done that.

He cracks up with a deep laugh. ”Don”t forget the sandy ears and hair.” He glances at the ocean and then down to his crotch. ”Race you there, and we”ll see if some lukewarm water can tame this beast.”

We are like children storming the sea for the first time, our laughter filling the air as we hit the water and make it splash.