Chapter Twenty-Three #2
Instead of being annoyed by his judgmental tone, I have to agree with him. “It’s the worst. I’m not on it either,” I say. Until I remember. “Oh wait. I am.”
He smiles. “Don’t worry, I won’t hold it against you.”
“You might want to. I have no idea what my idiot brother and horny best friend are posting.” Andrew raises his eyebrows, so I explain. “They’re running things while I’m gone, and there’s a good chance he’s photoshopped my head onto some supermodel’s body.”
“That would be unnecessary,” Andrew says. And it takes me a second to realize what he means. I immediately feel warm and tingly when I catch him glancing down at the bikini that isn’t covering much.
“Thanks,” I say, catching his eye, but my voice sounds gravelly. I wonder if he can tell that I’m turned on by him checking me out.
Andrew changes the subject, but I notice his hand still lingers on my leg. “I have some good news.”
“They’re canceling the rest of the show?”
Something passes over his face suggesting he wishes that were the case, but instead he says, “I convinced Kristina you were too injured to participate in this afternoon’s very special challenge.”
“Oh my God, thank you!” Without thinking, I wrap my arms around his neck in a hug.
His deep laugh reverberates against me in a satisfying way as he hugs me back.
But once I’m pressed tight against him, the smell of his cologne combines with our several body parts that are touching to give me inappropriate thoughts.
I quickly let go of him and lean back casually like I wasn’t just visualizing other scenarios in which our bodies would be touching.
He raises his eyebrows. Of course he’s on to me. It’s like he’s attuned to any change in my heart rate. But I don’t meet his eye. I’m not giving him the satisfaction.
After a minute my curiosity gets the best of me, though. “Do I even want to know what the challenge is?”
He shrugs nonchalantly. “It depends. How do you feel about stripteases?”
My eyes shoot to his, and suddenly the air between us is charged, like the pressure drop before a thunderstorm. Static travels through my synapses, making every cell in my body hum.
If I thought I was turned on before, my brain has now gone completely haywire. I can’t help but picture what it might feel like to give Andrew a striptease. And how easy it would be to remove this skimpy bikini.
I realize I’m biting my lower lip. And Andrew is looking at me with the same intensity he was earlier. He lifts his gaze from my lips to my eyes, and I wonder if we’re picturing the same thing.
He exhales and says, “You make it hard for me to do my job.”
“Because of the paperwork?”
“Because I want to kiss you.”
Ciara and Madison must be rubbing off on me because I decide to be brave and confident. I lean back on my elbows, letting my arm brush against his, with his rolled-up sleeves that drive me crazy, and say, “So do it.”
I hold my breath. Andrew doesn’t just stare at me, he smolders. Then he leans over me, his body hovering above mine. The electricity between us is palpable. I have never wanted anyone more, and judging from the heated way he’s looking at me, he feels it too.
I can’t help myself. I toy with the collar of his shirt, slowly pulling him closer to me without breaking eye contact.
He presses into me and his weight feels exactly right.
I groan as he kisses his way from my collarbone to my shoulder.
Then he bites the strap of the bikini, letting it snap, and I inhale sharply.
He grins at my response and continues kissing up my neck to my jaw.
I can’t believe this is finally happening.
After dancing around it for days. I close my eyes and feel Andrew’s lips gently brush mine.
But then I hear, “Fuck.”
My eyes snap open, and I see the warring emotions all over his face. He growls in frustration as he rolls off of me and lies on his back in the sand. We’re both breathing heavily, and neither of us speaks. My heart is racing faster than when I was trying to climb over the hurdles.
After a minute he breaks the silence. “Employees aren’t allowed to kiss contestants. I signed the nonfraternization agreement.” He gives a bitter laugh. “I fucking wrote it.” He runs his hands through his hair, frustrated.
I lean on my elbow facing him. “You could always quit your job,” I tease.
He turns to face me. “I wish I could,” he says, more seriously than I would have expected.
“If I had known all it took to get you to stop threatening to sue me was to wear a pink bikini . . .”
He laughs. “It was your performance in the obstacle course that really sealed the deal.”
I smile at him. “You must have a thing for underdogs.”
“I think I’m starting to,” he says, doing nothing to help my racing pulse.
We lie in the sand looking at each other. Me in a pink bikini and Andrew in suit pants and a collared shirt. All the blood must’ve rushed to my swollen ankle because I absentmindedly say, “You have nice forearms.”
He looks down at his rolled-up sleeves and grins. “If I had known all it took to get you to stop yelling at me . . .” We both laugh. He sits up and brushes the sand off himself. “You want to try to hobble up the beach or should I get the medic cart?”
“I’ll hobble,” I say, sitting up. Andrew carefully brushes sand off my arms and back. I don’t think he even realizes he’s doing it, whereas I am acutely aware of every place on my body he touches. He offers me his hand and pulls me to my feet.
“I could just throw you over my shoulder and carry you,” he offers.
“I’m good.”
He grins. “Really, I wouldn’t mind.”
I shake my head at him. “Madison and Ciara would have a field day. I can’t give them that kind of ammo. I’ll hop, thanks.” He laughs and puts his arm around me, taking the brunt of my weight and carrying the ice.
“You want to get lunch or rest?” he asks as we slowly make our way up the beach.
“I think I’ll hide in my shack until the meme of my banana fail stops entertaining everyone.”
Andrew’s eyes sparkle with mischief. “We’re only filming for a couple more weeks. You’ll have to come out eventually.”
I smack his stomach in response and immediately regret it. I don’t think I can handle abs and forearms.