Chapter 17
SEVENTEEN
Biology makes idiots of men
Patrick
My fingers tangle in her wet hair, grip tightening until she gasps. My other hand finds her waist, slides across slick skin, pulls until there’s no space left between us. She fits against me perfectly, soft curves pressed to hard muscle, saltwater making everything slippery and urgent.
My cock is already straining against wet swim shorts, embarrassingly eager, heat roaring through me like I’ve lost every ounce of control.
Jake would kill me for this. Put me in the ground without hesitation. But I can’t stop.
Because the noises she makes—small, breathy moans, little gasps like she’s startled by her own pleasure—rip straight through me. She doesn’t even know she’s doing it. That’s the worst part. That’s the best part. That’s what’s going to fucking undo me completely.
Her lips move against mine, hesitant at first. Testing. Then her tongue touches mine and she makes this noise, surprised and hungry, and suddenly she’s kissing me back properly. Her fingers dig into my shoulders, sliding up into my hair, nails dragging across my scalp.
I groan into her mouth because it feels too damn good.
I know I’m being rough. My stubble scrapes her jaw. Her hair twists in my fist like I’ve forgotten what restraint even means. But she arches into me instead of pulling away.
She shifts against me, and my cock presses harder against her stomach, nothing between us but wet fabric that makes every inch of it worse. I’m one breath away from bending her over the nearest surface, tearing that soaked bikini off, and pounding into her.
I can’t. I fucking can’t.
I wrench myself away, stumbling back a step. “Sorry. That was completely out of line.”
She stares up at me, lips swollen and red, chest rising and falling rapidly. Water drips from her hair onto her shoulders. Her hands hover in the space where I was, like she doesn’t know what to do with them now.
And I have no fucking idea how I’m supposed to look at her and not finish what I started.
I drag a shaking hand across my mouth, like I can scrub her off my lips. Try to remember what restraint feels like. Try to slow my heart down before it tears out of my chest.
“That was inappropriate of me,” I say, but my voice betrays me, raw with everything I’m trying to swallow down.
Her palms press flat against my chest, and I realize I didn’t step back far enough. She looks up at me, beautiful green eyes blown wide.
There’s nothing coy in it. No game. Just raw want.
Like she’d give me anything I asked for right now.
“Patrick,” she breathes, my name shaking out of her like she’s not sure she’s allowed to say it.
She looks like she’s never been kissed properly in her life. Like I’ve just introduced her to something earth-shattering.
My brain goes straight to how wet she’d be, how tight, her body trembling with that same eager, nervous energy, slick and ready for me to shove those bikini bottoms aside and sink into her.
A growl scrapes up from my chest, my hands flexing at my sides because if I touch her now, I’m done for. “Fuck… you’re so sweet,” I rasp, “so goddamn pretty.”
She rises onto her toes and kisses me again, bolder this time.
I fist her ponytail, not sure if I mean to drag her closer or push her away, but my tongue is already sliding into her mouth again, and I’m kissing her with far too much force and need.
The boat sways under us, knocking me back against the cabin wall with a thud.
She follows, flush against me.
Her nipples scrape across my chest through that damp scrap of bikini, tight little peaks that send a hot pulse straight to my aching cock.
And her stomach—fuck—it presses right into the thick, throbbing length of me, hard and desperate beneath my shorts like it’s already buried deep inside her.
I tear my mouth from hers and slam the back of my head against the wall, dragging restraint out of thin air.
But she doesn’t move.
She stays pressed against me, looking up at me with wide, guileless eyes and parted lips, like I’m the thing she’s been dreaming about in the dark.
I could move her. Push her back to a safe distance.
I should move her.
I don’t.
Her hands skim down my chest, fingers brushing lower until they meet the ridges of my abdomen. She trails along each muscle, dragging her fingertips over the tense lines like she’s worshipping them.
My abs lock under her touch, a groan tearing out of me.
Her hand drifts lower.
Lower.
Trembling now, it hovers just above the waistband of my shorts. One fucking inch from disaster.
My brain is barking orders. Move her hand. Stop this. She’s younger. Jake’s sister.
My cock couldn’t care less.
I just stand there. Useless. Caged in my own body, cock straining painfully.
Her fingers find me—pressing against the thick, rigid length through my shorts—and fuck.
That sweet, shocked little breath will haunt me for the rest of my fucking life.
“Georgie,” I groan.
She looks up, lips parted, staring like she can’t believe she’s touching me.
My breath hisses out between my teeth. My fists curl hard at my sides, fighting every filthy instinct I have to take control and show her exactly how to do it right.
She freezes, her palm still pressed to me, eyes locked on mine like she’s bracing for me to bark at her.
But I don’t.
I don’t stop her either.
When she starts to move her hand with tentative strokes over the wet material, my head tips back, jaw tight, fighting the urge not to rut into her palm.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she whispers, voice trembling, fingers sliding over me. “I’m not… very experienced.”
“Stop,” I growl. “Stop touching me or I’ll—”
“You’ll what?” she breathes, blinking up at me. “I could make you…?”
That innocent question, paired with her small hand wrapped around my cock, is lethal.
“What kind of question is that? Georgie, if you don’t stop, I’m gonna come in about thirty seconds.”
“I don’t want to stop,” she breathes, and there’s something new in her voice now. Confidence.
“Georgie,” I warn, but it comes out more plea than command.
Her hand slips past the waistband of my shorts.
Fuck.
The first touch of her bare fingers against my cock rips a savage groan from my chest.
“You’re so…” She bites her lip like the words are too dangerous to say out loud.
But I’m a selfish, ego-hungry bastard, and I want them. I want her to choke them out for me while her hand’s wrapped around my cock.
“I’m so what, sweetheart?”
Her fingers glide the length of me. “Oh my god. You’re so big.”
The awe in her face hits me in a place I shouldn’t let it. She’s soaking up every reaction, every twitch of my body, like this is her first lesson in how to handle a man. Maybe it fucking is. Maybe I’m the fucking syllabus.
Her inexperience should be a blazing red flag, screaming at me to walk away. Instead, my cock swells harder in her grip.
She shifts, fingers curling like she’s about to free me from my shorts.
I catch her wrist to still her. “Don’t you dare take it out.”
Her gaze jerks up to mine. “W–why not?”
“Because if you take my cock out, I’m putting it inside you. And that is not fucking happening.”
Her mouth drops open, shock painted across her face.
I huff a dark laugh, my gaze dragging over her flushed cheeks. “How’d you think this ends?”
“I can’t even believe it’s started. I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”
“Clearly.” My cock twitches in her palm, and I grit out the words through clenched teeth. “You’ve never had your hand on something this big before, have you, sweetheart?”
Her throat works. She gives the tiniest shake of her head. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.” My grip tightens on her wrist. “You wouldn’t have a clue what to do with it.”
In retaliation, her fingers flex deliberately around me. Defiance sparks in her eyes. “There’s no need to be an asshole.”
“I’m not,” I growl, my cock throbbing against her palm. “Just stating facts.”
“You could let me try. I learn fast.”
For a long, charged second, neither of us moves. Her hand is wrapped around me, my fist locked on her wrist, the air between us vibrating with heat. Neither of us giving an inch.
I huff through my nose, something between a laugh and a warning. “I’d split you in two.”
She draws a sharp breath at my bluntness. “I trust you not to hurt me.”
That’s all it takes to cut through the heat, the pulse in my cock, the haze clouding my head.
Of course she trusts me. I’m her brother’s friend. Her boss. A man she’s known since she was a girl. Out of all the women in the world, I’ve gone and let myself want the one that’s counting on me in so many ways.
This is wrong. Too fucking wrong.
With more restraint than I thought I had left, I catch her wrist and pull her hand out of my shorts.
“This isn’t happening.” I gently force her back a step, desperate for some space.
Her face crumples. Her arms wrap around herself, making herself small again.
“But you kissed me,” she says, voice small and confused. “You wanted this too. You’re still...”
She glances down to the bulge still straining against my shorts. “The evidence suggests mutual interest.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. Not with you. It’s already gone too far.”
“Why not with me?”
“Why not with you?” It comes out a growl as I yank my shorts into place, palm pressing hard against the ache in a pathetic attempt to tame it. “For every fucking reason that exists.”
Her chin lifts even though her lip trembles. “I’m a grown woman. We’re two consenting adults.”
My eyes drag down her body without permission. “I can see you’re a grown fucking woman in that bikini. That’s the goddamn problem.”
This—right here—is why thinking with your dick is a survival flaw. Biology makes idiots of men. Millions of years of evolution, and all it takes is wet fabric on curves to shut down every rational thought. Doesn’t matter that she’s off-limits.
Rain spits against my shoulders, and it’s the out I need.
“Go get changed,” I say, already turning away before I do something irreversible. “We’re heading back.”