Chapter 9
NINE
Meadow
The sun is already high above the horizon when we step onto the dock for our first morning at the resort.
The ocean sits a few feet beneath us, reaching out into the distance in a blanket of turquoise, disappearing and blending seamlessly with the sky. The water is so clear that I can already see the reef below, scattered shadows of coral breaking through the blues.
Our first excursion is snorkeling out along the reef, an activity Owen booked when he first scheduled the trip. He’d briefly told me about it weeks ago, his eyes lighting up as he mentioned how pumped he was to snorkel.
I remember smiling to myself, thinking it was adorable how much he was looking forward to getting up close and personal with sea life.
Wood creaks beneath our feet as the boat we just climbed off rocks gently against the pilings. A small radio from inside the boat plays Island In The Sun by Weezer, the iconic song drifting onto the dock and setting the scene for a perfect day in paradise.
The guides had us strip off our cover-ups and clothes, asking us to stash them in our bags before disembarking to keep us from carrying too much onto the deck.
Once again, Owen and I are standing inches away from one another, in nothing but our swimwear. I tug at the hem of my lilac bikini top, feeling entirely too exposed standing this close to Owen with my tits and ass out in broad daylight.
Last night, the onyx sky had felt like a cover. A shield the night provided me as a kind favor.
Now, there’s nothing between us but humidity and salty air. The scorching sun might as well be a spotlight against my pale skin.
I risk a glance at Owen and instantly regret it.
All of him is on display.
Every heart-stopping inch.
Sunlight spills over his sculpted chest and abs, highlighting every lickable line.
His swim trunks sit low on his hips, drawing my attention to the sharp V that disappears beneath the waistband.
Fine blond hairs dust his arms, catching the rays and shimmering in a way that’s sending my Twilight-obsessed self into a full spiral.
And when he pushes a hand through his golden hair, causing the muscles in his arm to flex with the movement, I drool.
I actually fucking drool.
I quickly swipe the back of my hand against my lips, wiping away the evidence.
God.
One glance at him, and I’m already making a complete ass of myself.
I force my eyes away as the snorkeling instructor claps his hands together.
“Alright, folks,” he calls out, cheerful and loud. “Time to secure your masks and fins. Once we’re in the water, stick close to your buddy and stay within the marked area. And remember, no touching the coral.”
To try to calm my racing heart, I focus on adjusting my fins and tightening my vest. My fingers tremble with nerves as I fumble with the straps.
I’m sure anyone watching me right now would think I look ridiculous. This is just snorkeling. I’ve done this before, years ago, on a family vacation when I was in high school.
But this time feels completely different. I’m all grown up now. A touch-starved woman with raging hormones, standing next to a man who looks like sex on legs.
I look down at the crystal-clear water, close my eyes, and inhale a deep breath.
You got this, Meadow.
Just get through this excursion, then reward yourself with an ice-cold margarita at the pool bar.
On second thought, maybe I should reconsider that plan—alcohol and unresolved sexual tension could be a dangerous combination.
“You ready?” Owen glances over at me, his mouth lifting into a charming grin.
“Yup,” I force a smile, hoping my voice sounds steadier than I feel.
As we shuffle toward the end of the dock, my mind replays last night in 4K clarity.
Our night swim.
Owen’s calloused hands cupping my shoulders.
The way his voice deepened to a low, sexy vibrato when he said my name.
And how he almost fucking kissed me.
Oh my God.
I still can’t believe Owen Brooks was seconds away from kissing me .
I’d gone back to my room afterward and stared at the ceiling for over an hour, my heart racing and skin buzzing from his touch.
Every time I closed my eyes, I replayed the way Owen looked at me when he saw me in my bikini for the first time. He looked at me like he… wanted me. His gaze was dark, unguarded, and full of a hunger I’ve never seen in him. He looked like he wanted to freaking devour me.
I’ve tried to talk myself out of it. To make it seem like I’m just misreading the situation, but there’s no other way to see it. There’s no misconstruing it. I’m not stupid; I know when a man is turned on. And Owen was on fire for me in that moment.
Maybe it’s just the fact that he’s a heterosexual man and was staring directly at my boobs and ass, or maybe something finally shifted in him.
Could it be that he was seeing me differently, really seeing me , for the first time? Not just as the girl he has fun working with, but as someone he wants just as badly as I want him.
And don’t even get me started on Vance.
I have to press my thighs together when I even think of how Owen turned into a jealous barbarian the second he saw Vance’s name flash across the screen. Fuck, remembering the way his jaw tightened as his fingers clenched around my phone has my heart skipping beats.
He looked possessive. Dangerous. Like he was two seconds away from getting on a flight to Chicago and ripping Vance’s throat out.
Call me a masochist, but it was hot as hell.
What Owen doesn't know is that he got much closer to kissing me than Vance ever will.
God, that almost-kiss was the worst tease of my entire life. I can’t stop thinking about how perfect his body felt pressed into mine, solid and warm. I can still feel the heat of his skin sliding against my bare ribs.
I can still taste his minty breath on the tip of my tongue, remembering the way his lips trembled like he was fighting to hold himself back.
I hadn’t even realized I was doing it when my fingers dug into his thigh, gripping onto him for dear life. I shiver when I think of how his muscles went rigid beneath my touch, how his whole body reacted like my hands alone were enough to unravel him.
We were so close.
An inch apart. Maybe less.
One thing I know for sure, if his mouth had touched mine, I wouldn’t have stopped him. I wouldn’t have hesitated for a single second.
I would have let him kiss me right there, consequences be damned.
Standing here now, with the ocean rocking lazily beneath us, Owen close enough to see the hairs on my arms standing straight up—I know that whatever almost happened last night is still very much alive.
We both feel it now.
There’s no denying the tension brewing between us.
Seconds later, we’re lowering down into the water in full snorkel gear. The water feels cool and refreshing, calming my limbs. I just float for a moment, letting the ocean soothe me, before turning my head to look at Owen.
He’s right beside me, mask on, honey-brown hair slicked back by the water. The Caribbean sun illuminates his face, making his green eyes look majestic against the teal-blue ocean.
God, he’s so beautiful.
He lifts a hand and gives me a thumbs-up to check in.
I mirror it, smiling behind my mouthpiece.
We sink under the water together, and the reef explodes into color below us. Schools of fish dart past in flashes of yellow, silver, and blue. Coral formations jut and curve into stunning shapes and patterns, resembling an underwater city.
It’s so peaceful. A completely different world under the surface.
At one point, a huge fish darts past my face and startles me so bad that I yelp into my mouthpiece. I flail for a second before regaining my composure, hoping no one saw my dramatic freak out.
Because the universe hates me, Owen swims up next to me instantly.
He definitely saw.
His long fingers close around my forearm, anchoring me in place. He leans in close, his mask inches from mine, eyes crinkling at the corners with unbridled amusement.
“You good?” he mouths, holding back a chuckle.
“It’s okay, you can laugh,” I roll my eyes, smiling despite myself. “And yes, I’m fine.”
He lets out a low chuckle and playfully squeezes my arm before letting go, leaving an invisible handprint where his touch was. I try to focus on the reef and immerse myself in the excursion, but it’s useless.
My body is so tightly wound up for Owen that even the water gliding over my skin feels like too much.
By the time we climb back onto the dock, I’m completely spent, my exhaustion having nothing to do with snorkeling.
After the excursion, we’re both sunburnt and could probably use an afternoon nap. But first, we decide to stop by the pool bar and have a couple of drinks. I order a pina colada, the glass sweating in my hand, while Owen goes simple with a local beer.
We sit next to each other on the swim-up barstools as the bartender places our drinks in front of us. I’m kicking my feet back and forth beneath the water when Owen casually bumps his shoulder into mine.
“Hey, I’m gonna run to the bathroom real quick,” he says. “Be right back. Guard my drink for me, yeah?”
“With my life,” I quip, raising my glass in mock salute.
He smirks and clicks his tongue.
“Alright,” he grins before standing from the stool. “It’s settled then. My beer is safe with you.”
“I can’t promise I won't steal the lime, though,” I call out as he turns his back to walk away.
He chuckles and shakes his head, walking backward as he turns to face me. “Don’t push it,” he warns, tossing me a wink.
He flashes me one last grin before disappearing into the restroom that looks like a tiki hut.
The moment he’s out of sight, someone else takes his place.
An older man—late forties, maybe early fifties—slides onto the exact barstool Owen was just sitting on. He’s handsome in a sophisticated way, the kind of man people call a silver fox. He has thick black-and-gray hair, a sharp jawline, and an intimidating presence, to say the least.