Bonus Scene
brIDGER
Turks and Caicos — That Damn Room
I step into the room and instantly regret breathing.
The air’s thick with ocean breeze and sunscreen, but it’s not the tropical scent that’s fucking me up—it’s her.
Neve. Bouncing across the tile floor barefoot, tanned skin glowing, hips swaying like some kind of divine punishment wrapped in a very small, very pink bikini.
There’s not enough fabric to cover anything on her.
And her ass? Fuck. That bikini bottom is illegal. Has to be.
She kicks her flip-flops off, glances back at me with a smirk like she knows exactly what she’s doing, and says, “You taking the floor, or am I?”
My brain short-circuits. Words, Bridger. Use them. I wave my hand randomly. “I’ll take the couch.”
She arches a brow and does a slow 360. “What couch?”
There’s no couch.
Just one queen-sized bed, too many damn pillows, and one very smug woman who is absolutely going to ruin me. I rub the back of my neck and look anywhere but at her. “I’ll take the floor then.”
“You’ll break your back.”
Better than breaking my resolve.
“We’re adults. We can share.” She hums and turns away, giving me a full view of that heart-shaped ass as she leans over her suitcase, digging through it. I try not to look. I fail spectacularly.
She’s too young. This is Neve for fuck’s sake.
She’s way too young for me. Too wild. Too much.
And, fuck my life, I want her anyway. I want every fucking inch of her.
I sink onto the edge of the bed, hands braced on my knees, jaw locked so tight I might crack a molar.
I shouldn’t want her. I’ve told myself that a hundred times.
A thousand. But then she throws that smirk at me like it’s a weapon and I’m a goddamn target.
“Relax,” she says without turning around. “It’s just a bed. I’m not going to bite… unless you ask nicely.”
I groan, low and sharp. “Neve.”
She finally faces me, arms crossed, bikini still clinging to all that golden skin, and tilts her head. “What?”
“You’re not making this easy,” I say.
She takes a slow step forward. Then another. Stops a foot in front of me, close enough to taste. I can see the freckles scattered across her collarbone. I can feel the heat coming off her skin. Her pulse flutters like a dare. “Maybe I’m not trying to,” she whispers.
My fingers twitch against my knees. God, I want to touch her.
Drag her down onto this bed and kiss that mouth until she stops being so damn teasing.
Until she’s gasping. Begging. Until I make her completely mine.
But I don’t let myself take what I want.
I just sit there, staring up at her like a man at the edge of a cliff.
But, fuck, she’s right there.
And I swear I feel like I’m about to fall.