Chapter 5
Tai
The moment Connor steps out of the bathroom wearing nothing but a pair of board shorts, all logical reasoning in my brain ceases to exist. Every connection short-circuits at once, wiping out a lifetime of carefully developed synapses. The motherboard is officially fried.
My gaze travels slowly from the strong column of his neck down to his impressively built chest. A thick scattering of dark, coarse hair trails all the way down his abdomen.
The sight makes me twitchy, wondering where that tempting treasure trail might lead.
Tightness coils low in my gut as I imagine the whorls of hair covering his thick thighs and the base of his cock.
Who knew I had such a thing for hairy guys?
His belly is softer than I expected, with a layer of cushion sitting over the solid muscle beneath. It creates a soft bulge around his navel before his shorts cut off the view entirely.
“Flamingos, huh?” I ask, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice as I nod toward his neon pink swim trunks.
Connor glances down at the obnoxious print, planting his hands on his hips before spinning in a dramatic runway-model twirl. “C’mon, everyone loves pink!”
I consider the hot pink speedo tucked away in my bag, then immediately push the thought aside.
Even I’m not quite that bold right now. Connor slings a beach tote over his shoulder and tips a straw hat onto his head.
I try really hard to hold back my laughter, but it sneaks out anyway as he slides on his flip-flops.
“Something funny?” he asks, quirking a brow at me over the top of his wrap-around biker sunglasses.
I lose it completely. “You look like the biggest tourist who ever touristed, man.”
With his hand still planted on his hip, that eyebrow climbs even higher. “Touristed isn’t a word.”
“Stop trying to distract me from all”—I wave my hand up and down his body—“this. Add a fanny pack and a few bumper stickers for your minivan, and the transformation will be complete.”
He gasps, pressing a palm over his heart. “Me? A minivan? Tai, you wound me!”
“That was what got you? Not the fanny pack?”
He shrugs. “They’re convenient.”
Chuckling, I gather my long hair into a ponytail. His amusement fades as he watches me, then his expression turns pensive. My outfit is much simpler than his—powder blue swim trunks and my aviators—but I’m suddenly hyper-aware of his eyes on me.
“You’re calm,” he says quietly, almost to himself, as if he’s thinking out loud rather than speaking to me.
My heart kicks into a rapid rhythm as he steps closer, still staring. “Calm?”
“Yeah… you’re calm, and I’m chaos.”
“I like chaos,” I reply, my voice coming out breathier than I intended.
His mouth curves into one of those giant, warm smiles I’m quickly becoming addicted to. “Good. I like calm.”
He steps back and heads for the door, oblivious to having just turned my entire world upside down. When he glances over his shoulder at me, he finds me still rooted in place.
“Coming?”
“Y-yeah,” I stutter, hurrying after him while patting my pocket to make sure I have my keycard. My phone is plugged in by the bed, but after I glance at it, I leave it behind.
When we reach the beach, we find that the resort’s private stretch of sand is mostly empty. Our chairs from last night are still waiting for us, and Connor seems to have the same thought as he heads straight toward them. Before I can sit down, a sturdy hand wraps around my arm and keeps me upright.
“Sunscreen,” he says with no room for argument.
I stick my hand out with an arched brow, and he smacks the tube into my palm. “Yes, daddy,” I mumble under my breath.
Connor goes still for a beat, then crosses his arms, staring me down with mock sternness. The grin tugging at his lips completely ruins the effect. “Didn’t take you to be a brat.”
“Just making an observation,” I reply, tilting my head and fighting back a smile. “No need for name-calling.”
“You’re the one who started it,” he shoots back. “Seems fair, since we’re telling the truth and all.”
I snort softly. “Touché.”
“See?” Connor says, his voice picking up a hint of smugness. “No denial. You already know where brats end up.”
“Oh, I’m dying to hear this,” I say, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice.
He shakes his head, clearly fighting not to laugh. “Keep it up with that attitude, just don’t think for one second that I won’t bend you over my knee.”
I let my eyes drift slowly up and down his frame, lips curving. “Trust me, Connor—if I’m bent over your knee, it’s because I want to be there.”
A surprised exhale escapes him, but he doesn’t say anything else. Unable to read his reaction, I use the sunscreen as an excuse to put some distance between us. If I don’t, I’ll say something even more stupid. I half-turn away from him and rub lotion over my arms and stomach.
“There, happy?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light.
A shadow falls over me, and I jump slightly as Connor’s hand sneaks around from behind and plucks the sunscreen from my grasp. “No. You didn’t get your back.”
Behind me, the quiet swish of his hands rubbing together is barely audible over the steady rhythm of the waves. He steps closer, and my heart thunders in my chest as I fight to keep my body’s response under control.
“I can’t have you burning again, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low beside my ear. “May I?”
“Sure,” I whisper, swallowing down a rogue whimper the moment his calloused palms land on my shoulders.
Despite my rule about not discussing work, it’s obvious he works with his hands.
The weathered texture of his skin and the faint scars tell a story of hard labor, and the quiet strength behind his touch is unmistakable, even through the gentleness.
He rubs the lotion in slowly, starting at the base of my neck and working his way down my spine.
When his hands reach my lower back, my cock flexes hard behind my shorts, and I blow out a shaky exhale.
His fingertips drift dangerously close to the curve of my ass as he swipes along the edge of my waistband, and the pressure building inside me feels like a shaken soda can ready to burst.
Does he have any idea what he’s doing to me?
As soon as he pulls his hands away, I miss his touch. He rubs more sunscreen between his palms, but I don’t turn around. I keep my face toward the ocean to keep from flashing him the bulge in my shorts.
“Do you mind?” he asks from behind me.
“Hmm?” I hum, my mind still full of distracting thoughts, and I glance over my shoulder as he hands me the bottle.
“My back,” he says as he turns around.
I exhale a quiet sigh of relief that my over-anxious erection has a moment to calm down. I squirt a generous dollop into my palm, staring at the expanse of his shoulders. “Where’s that magic word?” I tease.
His head twists slightly, meeting my eye from the corner of his. “Please?”
The needy way he says it nearly punches the breath out of my lungs. I force myself to swallow past the thick tension hanging between us.
I’m imagining this, right? It’s the echo of loneliness inside me, twisting his friendly gestures into something far more flirtatious than they actually are. I need to get out of my head and enjoy his company without making it weird.
His skin is already hot from the sun as I spread the sunscreen over his back. Despite my internal conflict, I grin when the lotion catches in the thick hair, coating the coarse strands in white.
“Anyone ever tell you you’re hairy?” I tease as I work my way lower, watching the way his defined muscles shift and roll beneath my fingers.
He plants his hands on his hips and clicks his tongue at me. “Are you making fun of my angel wings?”
“Angel wings? Is that what we’re calling this? And here I thought you were just paying homage to your Bigfoot brethren from the shirt you wore yester—” My words dissolve into a surprised shout as he spins and throws me over his shoulder like I weigh nothing at all.
“Bigfoot, huh?” he demands. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was an insult.”
“Just another observation,” I respond, watching his ass flex with every step as he carries me toward the water.
“Are you saying I’m a big hairy beast?”
“Listen, it’s not your fault you were born in the wrong millennium. Your Stone Age roots are clearly very strong. There’s no shame in that.”
“Sassy,” he mutters as he charges into the ocean.
I fling the sunscreen toward the chairs, watching it land like a javelin in the sand. “Put me down!” I shout as he wades deeper, slapping my palms against his back.
“Not until you apologize.” The water is waist-deep now, and the tips of my hair dip into the ocean as I howl with uncontrollable laughter, kicking my feet uselessly behind me.
“What was that? Did you say something, Tai? I’m pretty sure I heard the words ‘I’m sorry for being a brat,’ but I can’t be sure. ”
“Actually, I said I’m sorry you’re a walking hairball,” I fire back, “but I understand your hearing might not be very good at your age. Next time I’ll remember to yell.”
He gasps dramatically. “Now I’m hairy and old?”
“You said it, not me!”
“Better hold your breath,” he warns, just a split second before he drops his feet out from underneath us.
We plunge into the ocean. When we break the surface again, I’ve slid down his front until we’re face-to-face.
My legs wrap around his waist while my hands grip the back of his neck.
We both drip with salty water as his fingers flex against my thighs, holding me in place.
Only inches separate us in a moment that feels frozen in time.
Crystal droplets roll down his nose and cling to the dark stubble along his jaw, and it only highlights his rugged good looks.
“Hey, Connor?” I ask softly.
His eyes lock onto mine, and his throat dips in a swallow. “Yeah?”
I smirk even as my heart thrashes wildly behind my ribs. “Better hold your breath.”
I throw my weight backward with my legs locked around him. He lets out a surprised yell as he loses his footing and falls forward with me. We crash into the water together, both of us sinking beneath the surface.
The ocean consumes us, and as his arms tighten around my body, I think I might be perfectly content to stay right here with him and drown.