Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
VALERIE
“IT’S NOT AS big as I expected it to be.” I squint down the strip of glittering sand scattered with brightly colored umbrellas and overly tanned bodies.
Fynn chuckles beside me.
I spin away from where my gaze has caught on a little old man sporting a G-string, to focus on Fynn. “What?”
“Nothing.” He shoots me a grin that makes me sweat even more than the sun cooking into my skin. “Just thinking you might be difficult to impress if you think this is small.”
I chew my lip, worried I’ve offended him by accidentally insulting the place he’s brought me. “I didn’t say it was small. I said it wasn’t as big as I expected it to be.”
The double meaning of my words finally registers, my own naiveté embarrassing me enough that I have to force myself to brazen through. Prove I’m not entirely innocent. I move my gaze down Fynn’s front then back to his face. “Why are you worried I’m difficult to impress? ”
“I’m not worried.” His deep blue gaze darkens in a way that speeds my pulse. “Not even a little.”
Oh my.
Now I’m standing in the middle of a crowded beach wondering exactly how unworried he is. Specifically.
“Shall we pick a spot?” His free hand comes to mine, the other gripping the giant beach tote he bought to carry our towels and sunscreen, along with the unmentionables I stuffed into the bottom after using the store’s dressing room to change into a bikini I’m feeling much less confident about wearing now that I’m in the public eye.
My gaze goes back to the packed beach. “Is there even room for us?” I’ve avoided the beach for just this reason. It intimidates the hell out of me.
But Fynn seems undaunted, his strides long as he leads me across the loose sand. “I’m sure we can find room.”
I hop a little as my steps stir up the surprisingly scalding sand, trying to kick it free of my new plastic flip flops so the soles of my feet don’t melt off. “Why is it so freaking hot?”
“Because it’s summer in Florida.” Fynn stops in his tracks to crouch down and I nearly bump into his big body as I flail around, trying to save my skin. “Hold on.”
I don’t have time to register his words before one long arm swings back to hook behind me, hauling my body halfway up his back. I yelp, automatically wrapping both arms at his neck as he bounces me into place. A big hand plants right against my ass and I hook both legs at his waist, seeking out a little more stability. Fynn continues down the beach, steps even and smooth in spite of the uneven terrain and my added weight.
His head tips, one dark brow angling my way. “Better?”
“Yes.” The word is embarrassingly breathy. Every move Fynn makes rocks my lady bits against his lower back and that small amount of properly applied friction is more than enough to get my motor running. But then the hand gripping my ass flexes, his long fingers dangerously close to a part that’s never been properly serviced by anyone besides me. “Ohh.”
“I’ve got you.” Fynn mistakes my reaction for one of fear and the hand on my backside grips even tighter. “We’re almost there.”
I don’t know if we are, but I sure am.
I’m panting by the time he slows to a stop, letting my body slide down his back as he drops our gear to the ground. Every inch of me is over sensitized and ultra-aware of his closeness as he brushes against me, making sure I’m steady on my feet.
“I told you I’d find the perfect spot.” His voice is low in my ear. “I don’t give up until I find what I’m looking for.”
His words were laced with suggestion and have my thighs clenching tight. I shiver in spite of the heat around me, which is nothing compared to the heat inside me.
Fynn gives me a heart-stopping smirk as he pulls the first of our giant towels free. Like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. Exactly how desperate I am to be touched. Appreciated. Seen .
That was part of the reason this plan seemed so great at first. Like everyone else, I assumed Fynn was all the rumor mill claims. I figured my plan would be an easy sell. Plus, if I was going to sleep with a cheating scumbag, I wanted it to be on my terms. Then I met him and in just one conversation he made me question all I thought I knew. And my plans to find my way into Fynn’s bed have only intensified since then. Both for practical purposes, and my own selfish desires.
By the time he has the first towel stretched out, I’m more than ready to get off the sand, so I drop down to the navy and red terry cloth. It’s already warm from the sun, but still nothing compared to the freaking lava surrounding me, so I’m not going to complain.
Fynn spreads the second, expanding our sand-free space to about seven square feet, then goes to work screwing our umbrella into the ground.
That’s when I notice we’re setting up less than a foot from someone else. They’ve got an angled shade that blocks their view of us, so we’re not currently getting angry glares, but I’d like to avoid that happening. I turn to Fynn, intending to ask if we should scoot over, but the people on our other side are just as close. My stomach clenches. What if they’re irritated that we crammed into this spot? They might yell. Look at me like I’m an idiot. I’ve had enough of that in my life and I’m not interested in suffering through more.
Maybe we should move. Or better yet, maybe we should come back another day. I was really excited to finally dig my toes into the sand and feel the waves against my skin, but it can wait. It’s not a big deal. The ocean isn’t going anywhere. “Fynn, maybe we should—”
A head pops out from the tent-ish structure at my side. An older woman sporting a hat, sunglasses, and a thick layer of sunscreen looks me over before breaking out into a wide grin. She calls back over one shoulder, “Hey, Sharon. We’ve got neighbors.”
A second woman peeks out at me, the expression on her barely wrinkled face warm and friendly. “Well, aren't you a pretty thing.”
I’m not sure what to say so I settle for, “Thank you?” It sounds like a question and I inwardly cringe at my awkwardness. I came here to be my own person and it’s turning out I kind of suck at it.
“You look thirsty.” The first woman disappears behind the shade and comes back with a hard seltzer. She shoves the can into my hand with a wink. “Nothing better than an ice-cold White Claw on a hot day.” One slightly crooked thumb goes over her shoulder in the direction of the other woman. “That’s Sharon and I’m Sylvia.”
I smile, a little less worried over our close proximity. “I’m Val.”
Fynn finishes with the umbrella and drops down onto the towel next to me. Sharon’s penciled brows climb her forehead. “Well, hello there.”
He gives her a panty melting smile as his long fingers work the buttons of his shirt. “I see you’re making friends, Valerie.” He peels the linen fabric down his arms, baring his upper half .
I open my mouth but nothing comes out because the sight of shirtless Fynn has stupefied my brain. Last night he was wearing a pair of slacks and a button up with the cuffs rolled over his corded forearms, making it easy to tell he was in shape. Between that, the photos I saw of him online, and the runs he takes past my apartment every morning, I was for sure expecting a certain level of fitness.
But this…
This is just ridiculous.
Every inch of the man is defined, from the bulk of his broad shoulders to the cut of obliques dipping into the waistband of his trunks. His abs might as well be etched in freaking stone and even the scattering of hair across his pecs does nothing to hide how solid they are.
A bony stab pokes into my ribs, dragging my attention from Fynn to find Sylvia staring at me with wide eyes. She looks pointedly at my drink then back at my face.
Thank you, Sylvia . I probably shouldn’t stare at the man I’m hoping to rope into a sham wedding like he’s a piece of meat. At least I don’t think I should. My knowledge about the opposite sex is admittedly lacking. It took everything I had to hold it together last night in the bar and I’ve clearly used up any moves I might have accidentally had.
I crack the can open and swallow as many gulps as I can stand before the icy liquid starts to burn my throat. Sylvia’s grinning at me as I swipe across my lips. “Fuck yeah.” She holds her own can out. “To making new friends. ”
I tap my can against hers and drink down the rest because I’m going to need some liquid courage. I’d convinced myself our gains in my proposed arrangement would be equal, but now that I’ve seen the body he’s got, I’m not so sure that’s the case.
Sylvia takes my empty before shoving another in my hand with a smile. She wiggles her brows at me. “We’ll let you two get situated.”
I panic a little when she and Sharon disappear, because now I’m alone with Fynn hot-as-hell Hadaway and all I have to work with is a pasty ass and too-big tits shoved into the demurest bikini the shop had. Based on their available selection, most of Sweet Side’s beachgoers prefer to wear tooth floss.
I take a deep breath and turn to find Fynn spreading sunscreen down his arms and across his perfect chest. My eyes follow every move he makes, imagining…
Filth. I’m imagining filth. Every bit of it involving him.
His blue eyes lift to mine and he holds the bottle my way. “Do my back?”
Holy Kelly Clarkson. He wants me to touch him.
I’ve never moved as fast as I do when I shove the base of my second drink into the sand, wedging it upright before turning to take the sunscreen. Fynn angles away from me, presenting me with the broadest back I’ve ever seen. I fumble the bottle, dropping it between us. He peeks my way over one shoulder. “Everything okay?”
“Fine.” The word is a squeak, so I clear my throat and try again. “Fine. Just dropped the bottle.” I take a steadying breath, making sure I keep a good grip on the tube as I squeeze a healthy dose into my palm. Rubbing my hands together, I stare at the expanse of skin in front of me.
Then I rub them together a little longer. I’ve never touched a man like this and I’m caught somewhere between terror and excitement.
And horniness. Definitely horniness.
Making it this far as a virgin was purely by accident. None of the guys I dated stuck around long, so I was eighteen before I even had my first kiss. I’ve always struggled to feel comfortable around people. To relax enough to be myself instead of trying to be what I thought they wanted me to be. It resulted in an inability to portray myself as flirtatious or sexy, and is to blame for—
Wait.
Realization hits me like a ton of bricks. What if my awkwardness wasn’t the real reason I struggled to form any sort of relationships, physical or otherwise?
What if my virginity was actually by design? What if my father thought I’d be more marketable if I was untouched?
It takes me all of two seconds to know that’s exactly what happened. I was just too na?ve to see it before. To imagine another person, especially a parent, would do something so terrible. Now I know that wouldn’t be much of a stretch for him. He’s done way worse.
The reminder has me grinding my molars and pressing my hands to Fynn’s warm skin, even more determined to find a way to make this work. Fuck everyone who treated me like a puppet. Choreographed my whole life for their own benefit. They can all kiss my ass. An ass that will hopefully be in the air soon as Fynn pounds away the virginity everyone found so fucking valuable.
I slide my lotioned-up hands down his spine, spreading the white cream as I go. I can feel every freaking muscle on him as I work my way up again, smoothing the sunscreen over his delectable back.
Twice. Just to be sure.
I’m at his shoulders, gliding my fingers higher to stroke over his neck when Fynn grabs my wrists, stopping my movements. He uses his hold to tug me closer, reeling me in until my front is pressed tight against him. I’m sure all the sunscreen I smeared on his skin is sinking into my T-shirt, but I can’t find it in me to care.
Especially when he tips his head and his navy gaze meets mine. “My turn.”
My stomach flips as he twists to face me, and I swear I forget how to breathe. “You want to put sunscreen on me?” It’s a cliché—something I’m sure I’ve seen in any number of movies and television shows—but who needs originality in a time like this?
Not me.
Fynn moves close, his voice low, breath ghosting across my skin as he leans into my ear. “Val, I would commit unconscionable crimes for the opportunity to put sunscreen on you.”
I whip off my shirt embarrassingly fast. So fast one boob threatens to go rogue and nearly springs from its side of my halter style bikini top. To hide the near malfunction I flop to my stomach, presenting him with my back. I nearly choke when he squeezes out some of the lotion, works it between his palms, and then puts his palms on my body.
He starts at my lower back—a perfectly appropriate spot—but I’m so wound up he might as well have his hands on my tits. Every slide of his strong hands against my skin curls my insides tighter. By the time my back and shoulders are protected from the sun, I’m ready to snap.
When he leans down and says, “We can’t forget your bottom half, Val,” I nearly pass out.
Sweet Baby Spice. I think this might be foreplay. If it’s not, it should be.
I’m such a quivering mess that unbuttoning my cutoffs to give him access is an ordeal, but I finally manage to get them undone and then wiggle around, trying to work them down. It would have made a whole lot more sense to stand up to remove them, but I doubt my abilities to stay upright, so I keep wrestling with them.
And failing.
“Here. Let me help.” Fynn grips the waistband. “Ass up, Val.”
I’m so affected by the demand I automatically obey, curving my spine to lift my hips off the towel.
"Good girl. Just like that." Fynn works the shorts down my legs, but I don’t even notice because my brain is still stumbling over the hushed words that just came out of his mouth.
I’m not completely na?ve. I know about the whole ‘ good girl’ thing. I just never expected to like something like that. And boy oh boy do I like it. A lot.
Once Fynn has the shorts folded and tucked into our bag, he goes back to the sunscreen. “Can I put this on your legs?”
I think I’m going to melt and become one with the lava sand. Turn into a pile of quivering goo Sharon and Sylvia will have to step around when they pack up. “Please do.”
“So polite.” There’s a pause as he squeezes out another dose, and then Fynn’s hands are on me again, starting at my calves. They’re so large they practically wrap around each one as he works the cream over my skin. “Tell me if I do anything you don’t like.”
I’m floating along on a happy little cloud as he skims higher, kneading my thighs a little as he goes. “I don’t think you could do anything I wouldn’t like.” My eyes snap open wide because I can’t believe I said that. I also can’t believe how low and sultry my voice sounded. Almost sexy, which is very unlike me.
Fynn’s touch reaches the top of my thighs, thumbs skimming the underside of my ass cheek where it peeks out of the less than full coverage bikini bottom. “That’s good to know.” He picks the bottle back up from the towel. “Let’s get the rest of you done so we can go get wet.”
A laugh sneaks out, and I swear on all that’s holy, my mouth works all on its own when I say, “One step ahead of you.”