Chapter 29
SWAYZE
Mia hasn’t said much since last night apart from her messages in the group chat, so I’m not sure where her head’s at.
As soon as we got into our room, she curled up on our bed with a book, flashing me a weak smile. Her usually golden complexion was far too pale for my liking so I know despite her bravado she was shaken after our run in with the douche.
I tried to unpack it with her, but she didn’t want to talk. Hardly a shocker, she always needs time to process things for herself.
Pretty sure we were both grateful for the distraction when our phones chimed with the group chat messages.
It’s not all doom and gloom though. She spent the night curled up in my arms, so I’ll call that a win. I laid there staring at her beautiful sleeping face like a fuckin’ creeper for a good thirty minutes this morning before I dragged my sorry ass out of bed.
The server who delivered our breakfast nods silently, and I close the door behind him softly to avoid waking Mia. I figured I’d start our free day with something nice to make up for last night.
There’s a good chance I pushed her too far in the quiz, but I don’t know how else to prove to her that she doesn’t need to hide.
Not from me.
Now, I’ll just have to hope that if she is pissed at me, feeding her will make up for it.
Granted, I didn’t realize breakfast would be this big romantic flex I’ve accidentally engineered—it’s a honeymoon hotel, though, so that’s on me.
And when I say romantic, I don’t use the term lightly.
There’s a big white heart-shaped tray floating in the pool right now with a variety of different pastries and fruit on it.
Real subtle, Romeo.
My girl’s cute little sneeze rings out from the bedroom. I guess we’re about to find out if she’s gonna kiss the life outta me or dunk me in the pool.
I’d prefer the former for obvious reasons, but we’ll need to figure out if this Wolff’s in the doghouse first.
Shit, she’s walking this way.
I suck in a breath, oddly nervous about her reaction, but immediately choke it back out when she appears in the doorway, all sleepy eyes and wavy bed hair… and she’s chosen to wear another of my fucking shirts.
Of course it’s my Sweet Haven PD one.
So now I’m hacking and spluttering like I’ve forgotten how lungs work while she stands there, looking like my walking wet dream.
Killing it, Wolfman.
“Hey, you okay? Need some water?”
Her violet eyes flick over to me in concern and I shake my head, waving like I’m directing traffic, trying to pull my shit together.
Totally fine. I definitely don’t look like an ass right now.
She disappears inside, reappearing seconds later with a bottle of water she opens and hands to me. After practically downing the bottle in one, I manage to string a sentence together.
“Breakfast there.”
Well, you sure as shit told her.
“You ordered in?” She tilts her head, looking adorable as fuck when her lips part on a surprised gasp, noticing the floating love tray bobbing in the water.
“Oh my god, you got us the floating breakfast? I saw those on their Gram and low key wanted one but thought I’d look like a total loser ordering one for myself before… all this.” She smiles shyly, waving her hand between us.
All this?
Two simple words to describe something so huge to me.
I flew halfway round the world pretending to be yours. Now I don’t remember what it feels like not to be.
Shaking that thought out of my head, I lick my bottom lip which has suddenly gone dry. Her eyes flicker to my mouth before quickly looking away.
“Let me throw on a bikini, then we can eat!” She lets out an excited squeal, running back inside to change and I bite back the protest desperate to fly outta my mouth.
No shit, you can’t demand she keep your shirt on all day every day.
I mean, it sounds like a solid idea to me.
Leashing my inner caveman, I pull my shirt over my head and sit on the edge of the pool, staring up at the sky.
It’s cloudless again, no sign of last night’s storm, though it’s supposed to be back later today, according to the cheerful Greek weatherman on TV.
Jesus fuck.
I white-knuckle the pool edge the second I lay eyes on Mia again.
Today’s bikini, otherwise known as my-own-personal-torture-device, is a tiny red and white polka dot number with a little skirt thing that—I’m imagining since I can’t exactly beg her to give me a spin—frames her ass perfectly.
Her hair is up in a messy bun just begging for my fingers to sink in and pull the strands free.
Wolfman, you better stop before something else breaks free.
I hold out a hand, inwardly preening that she takes it to lower herself beside me.
Fuck me, she smells good. Too good. Mouthwatering, which is gonna be a whole-ass problem.
When the soft skin of her thigh accidentally brushes against mine, I’m forced to grit my teeth to stop the guttural sound I almost let slip. My control is so frayed, I quickly slide into the water because I can’t trust myself with what comes after if I don’t.
I’m desperately tempted to feast on her buns instead of the breakfast buns the nice man delivered.
“You want me to bring the tray to you there?”
I squint up at her, realizing too late my sunglasses are on the table.
“No. I wanna get in too. You want me to grab your sunglasses, though? You look a little squinty.” She flashes me a cheeky grin, not waiting for my response before she immediately spins to stand up again.
That ass I was imagining? Yeah, as suspected, grade A, five-star rump steak, begging for my teeth.
This time I’m not quick enough to stifle the groan.
She sashays back to me, holding out my sunglasses, entirely oblivious to how her little red bikini has triggered the big bad wolf.
“Sorry, did you say something?”
Yes, I want to devour you.
Sucking in a breath, I rein in the beast she keeps trying to pull out of me, reaching out to take my sunglasses from her.
The second our fingers brush, my skin buzzes with awareness.
“Ouch! These flip-flops gave me an electric shock. Sorry, Wolfie.” Huffing out a frustrated breath, she kicks off her footwear in annoyance.
Cute, but I’m not sure it was the flip-flops, Angel. I’m sparking like a goddamn live wire over here.
I slide the sunglasses up my nose, hoping they’ll act like some kinda barrier, reducing the potency of this woman.
Fuck.
Like she was sent to solely test my limits, she holds a hand out to me from where she’s settled on the pool’s edge.
Please don’t tell me she wants me to lift her in.
As badly as my palms itch to touch her, if she wraps her legs around me, she’ll feel things she shouldn’t.
Hell, I’m feeling all the things I shouldn’t. Especially since we haven’t even talked about yesterday.
As if I wasn’t struggling enough with this stupid dynamic I let myself get dragged into, I’m pretty sure that quiz unlocked something inside me while I watched her reactions.
That flicker of hope I thought I saw.
But I can’t be sure. And I’m smart enough to know assumptions don’t solve a case. I need hard evidence that she’s ready to be mine—not just a hard dick.
I can’t keep touching her, fooling myself into believing it’s more.
As if you’re strong enough to say no to her.
Apparently not, because, oh look, I’m already standing between her thighs, hands wrapped around her waist.
Holding my breath, I lift her off the side and lower her into the water in front of me, careful to keep her far enough away to avoid indecent exposure.
Best laid plans and all that.
She didn’t get that memo though, taking me by surprise when her arms curve around my waist and she presses her beautiful face into my chest.
“Thank you, Swayze, this is really sweet.”
She springs back, cheeks flushing, the second her thigh brushes against my—what’s the opposite of a floatation device?
“You need to eat.” I step back, voice a solid octave lower than considered polite over breakfast with friends.
Redirecting my attention away from the sight of her teeth sinking into her plush bottom lip and onto safer topics, I pull the tray over to us and start uncovering the food. They’ve even added a little bottle of hand sanitizer to the tray, which is a nice touch.
“Brings a whole new meaning to five-star luxury, right?” I wiggle the bottle at her before spraying my hands.
Really, bro? Your big flex is antibac?
“Sure does.” She laughs, taking it off me, repeating the motion.
“It all looks so good. Thank you, Swayze. What prompted this little treat? Not that I’m complaining.” She’s smiling widely and a lesser man would think she was thrilled, but I can see the nerves clear as day in her eyes.
Is she nervous because this is too much and she doesn’t want to reject me again?
Or because she might be starting to want what I’m offering on a literal heart-shaped pool tray and it scares her?
I gotta be smart here. I don’t want to send her running for the hills again.
“No reason. I was hungry, thought you would be too. I didn’t realize the only in-room option was a floating one, though. That’s new.” I shrug, super chill. The exact opposite of how I am around her.
Laughing in relief, she grabs a croissant off the tray and takes a bite, a moan ripping out of her throat and hitting me square in the dick.
Oh, come on. Have some fucking mercy.
I grab the first thing my hand lands on and cram it in my mouth. Of course it’s some kinda raisin bun, and I hate raisins.
“I thought you ha—never mind.” Mia shakes her head, a tiny smile playing on her lips.
You idiot.
“It’s good.”
Lie. It tastes like a shriveled nutsack—not that I make it a habit of eating those.
She laughs, shaking her head again. My girl knows me, she can see I’m lying through my damn teeth.
“Try the croissant, they’re to die for. You’ll love it.”
Leaning forward, our gazes lock while I sink my teeth into her flaky pastry and take a bite.
“Shit. Yeah, you’re right.” I moan, head lowering on instinct to take another.
“Hey no, that was a one-time offer. Get away.” Squealing, she backs up and slips, but I launch into action, thanks to my quick reflexes, and haul her into my arms before she and her pastry get dunked.
“Thanks for the assist, even if it was your fault to begin with, you turd!” She slaps me on the shoulder with a laugh, looking entirely unaffected despite every inch of her skin now pressing against mine.
“You’re welcome. Now about my reward…” I murmur, voice gruff.
Her eyes drop to my lips again, only for a second, but it’s enough to heat my blood.
Goddammit. No.
This isn’t about sex. I don’t want her to think I did all this to get into her pants for fuck’s sake.
I lean forward, not missing the way her breath hitches, but swerve at the last second, taking a second bite of her croissant instead.
“Hey! Bad dog. Bad, bad dog.” She pushes out of my arms with a laugh, grabbing the second one from the tray, double-fisting them.
“Don’t be greedy, Angel. Is that how you reward your man for saving your life? You could’ve drowned and, worse, ruined the world’s best breakfast pastry.” I smirk, stepping closer to her, hand outstretched in a grabby motion.
“Oh, that’s charming. You sound more bothered about the breakfast pastry’s demise than mine.” Glaring at me with mock outrage, she takes another bite of our croissant.
“Well, it doesn’t answer back, brat, now give me that.”
I dive under the water, reappearing directly in front of her to grab the second one she stole, sinking it between my teeth. Wrapping my palms around her waist, I pick her up again and spin her around, the sound of her laughter sending warmth through me.
Stopping before we both get dizzy, she wraps herself back around me like a koala, finishing up her food in my arms.
“Need some help eating that, smartass?” Her eyes sparkle with mischief when she tugs the croissant back out of my mouth, taking a bite.
“Hey, that one’s mine,” I protest, my fingers inadvertently digging into her ass.
“Fair’s fair. Besides, your hands are a little busy right now… what you gonna do about it, Wolfman?”
I growl, my hands gripping her tighter, and I catch the little flare of arousal in her nostrils.
She shakes her head, giggling, then holds it up to me to take a bite.
I readjust my hold, keeping her pressed tightly against me, shivers snaking down my spine at the sensation of her nails dragging through the hair at the nape of my neck.
Does she know she’s doing that? Does she want to keep touching me?
Scanning her face for any signs—hoping for something, anything, that proves she’s in this with me—I’m momentarily distracted by her slowly bringing the croissant back to my lips.
Our gazes lock, the air thickening with unspoken tension as she holds it there, feeding me the remainder, her finger accidentally slipping into my mouth with the last bite.
I freeze.
She freezes.
For a second, neither one of us breathes, before she slowly slides it out.
Yep, new core memory unlocked.
She’s feeding me like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like what we have is real. Maybe that’s the problem… it’s starting to feel like it is.