Thirty-Six
Sienna
I’m panting like I just ran a marathon, but the adrenaline flooding my veins says it was worth it.
That’s when Nathan crosses the sand toward me, weaving around a couple of half-buried flip-flops. His hair’s a mess of salt and sweat, and there’s a light flush along his neck that has absolutely no right being so attractive. He stops inches away, letting out a low exhale. Carefully, he lifts a hand, brushing his thumb over a drop of sweat at my temple.
“Tired?”
he asks, his voice a quiet rumble, eyes locked on mine.
I swallow. “A little,”
I admit, trying not to focus on the surge of warmth that follows his simple touch. My chest still heaves from the game, but that’s hardly the only reason my pulse is racing. “We should cool down before we get sunstroke.”
Nathan nods, gaze flicking out toward the crashing waves beyond the beach, then back to me. “Yeah,”
he says, stepping a bit closer. “You’re right. We should cool down.”
My heart thumps again, louder, more frantic. I start to turn, intending to grab some water, but his arm snakes around my waist in one fluid motion. Before I can protest, he’s hoisting me off my feet with a laugh so dark, heat pools between my legs.
“What are you—hey!”
I yelp, arms flailing as he takes off at a jog toward the water. The onlookers let out whistles and catcalls, but I barely register them. All I know is Nathan’s chest is solid against me, his laugh a warm gust at my ear.
“You said we should cool down,”
he teases, tightening his hold. Then we slam into the first rolling wave, salt spray hitting my face. I squeal as the water soaks us both.
He doesn’t let me go. Not immediately. Instead, he stands knee-deep in the surf, holding me so our faces are mere inches apart. The roar of the ocean drowns out the rest of the world, leaving just us and the salt wind, laughter tangling in the air between us.
“Ah,”
I say, grinning. “You finally got me wet this weekend.”
His eyes widen before he throws his head back with a groan and disappears under the water.
∞∞∞
The beach is packed with family and old friends, all milling around in that sun-drunk, lounging state that comes with a wedding weekend in paradise. I can’t decide if I should be grateful for the crowd because it keeps me from mauling Nathan in broad daylight.
We find a spot near the bar. A wave of salty wind ruffles my hair, and I catch a glimpse of Dad in the distance, eagerly corralling people for another volleyball set.
Jesus, does that man ever stop?
I’m still not touching the pineapples on his shirt. I refuse to go there again.
Next to him, Daniel passes the ball between his hands while Jeremy cracks jokes. A stray pang tightens my chest. This is so familiar—the group of us playing beach games, me in the middle, Daniel at my side. Except now, I have a new fake man, and Daniel’s about to be married to someone else.
Although that doesn’t bother me, there’s still a prickle of humiliation clinging to my skin. A sense that somewhere, someone is whispering about how we used to be together.
The relief that I’m no longer with Daniel is overshadowed by the complicated swirl of how everything ended. Part of me wants to bury my head in the sand. Another part wants to prove to everyone—my old friends, especially—that I’m okay, maybe better than okay.
“Hey.”
Nathan’s voice is low, snapping my thoughts to the present. “You good?”
I force a small smile, sipping my fruit punch. “Peachy.”
He nods, not believing me for a second, but Dad’s voice booms from the direction of the makeshift court, calling, “Nathan! Over here!”
Nathan arches a brow at me. “Guess I’m wanted.”
He says it in a half-mocking tone, but I can sense the tension in his stance. Possibly because Daniel’s presence is a glaring reminder of the ex factor. Or maybe because he secretly loves the challenge. With a wry grin, he sets his cup aside. “Wish me luck?”
I smirk, deciding to deflect. “Like you need it. Go get ‘em, big shot.”
He chuckles, ruffling my hair in a way that’s both infuriating and heartbreakingly sweet. Then he jogs off, footsteps kicking up warm sand. My gaze trails him, taking in the broad lines of his shoulders, the ripple of his back muscles.
God, help me.
With him gone, I blow out a shaky breath, sinking into a vacant lounger near where they’re playing. The group from the wedding ring the sidelines, cheering or cackling whenever someone dives too hard.
“Hey.”
A female voice startles me from behind. I turn to see one of my old friends, Erin, nudging a nearby lounger closer to mine. She’s wearing a plain black one-piece and a baseball cap, shoulders a bit sunburnt.
There’s an awkward moment as we stare at each other.
Erin used to be part of my everyday life with movie nights, venting sessions about life, all of it. Then I left for New York, and we never spoke again. She never reached out, and I never reached out, and it hurts more than I want to admit.
“Hi,”
I say, swallowing. “Long time no see.”
She gives a half-shrug, glancing at the volleyball game. “Yeah, well, you kinda disappeared,”
she says softly, not accusing, just stating a fact.
I muster a small nod. “I did.”
“I guess I could’ve done better at keeping in touch.”
The tension stings, but I sense from her tone that maybe she’s been feeling guilty. “I’m sorry.”
“Me too.”
She sighs, fiddling with the brim of her cap. “The group was in a weird spot, you know. Daniel stayed, you left, and we all got stuck in the middle. That doesn’t mean I couldn’t have shot you a text.”
I exhale, some relief mingling with sadness. “Life gets complicated, I guess.”
“Yeah.”
She glances at Nathan, who is now bounding across the sand for a spike. “So, you’re…with that guy? Nathan, right?”
Her eyes flick over his broad shoulders, the way his swim trunks ride low on his hips. She whistles under her breath. “Wow, Sienna. Didn’t realize you’d upgraded to Greek God mode.”
A laugh bubbles out of me before I can stop it. “He’s…something.”
I cough, refusing to clarify that “something”
might mean dangerously addictive. “We’re just—” Fake. Faking it. “—you know, seeing how it goes.”
“Uh-huh.”
Erin’s grin edges into a smirk. “Well, judging by the way you’re blushing—and it’s not from the sun, by the way—I’d say you’re seeing a lot of things you like.”
I fidget with the tie of my bikini, not sure what to say.
As if on cue, Nathan leaps up for a vicious spike, slamming the ball across the net. Jeremy dives to save it, but it’s out of reach. A round of cheers goes up, interspersed with giggles from some older ladies near the sidelines. My mother, among them, is fanning herself.
I cringe. “Oh God,”
I mutter to Erin. “He’s turning half the family into drooling idiots.”
Erin snickers. “I mean, can you blame them?”
She cocks her head. “He’s definitely got that primal Me man, I kill ball vibe. And hey, it’s your wedding date, so you’re the real winner here.”
Winner.
The word pangs in my chest.
“Yeah,”
I say, forcing myself to keep my voice even. “Lucky me.”
I’m not sure if Nathan has ever played volleyball a day in his life, but he’s good at it. I think this man approaches everything with the same determination he uses to fuck.
My cheeks flame.
Stop it, Sienna. Do not recall that night.
Erin elbows me. “You really are bright red. Want me to get you some water?”
Before I can respond, we hear my mother’s voice from the sideline, wiping at her forehead. “Jesus Christ, he’s inducing a menopausal flush.”
“Mom,”
I growl under my breath, face flaming. Erin stifles a cackle behind her hand.
Luckily, the game wraps up a moment later. I wasn’t paying enough attention to know who won that one.
Nathan heads our way, chest heaving, sweat beading on his temple. My mother fans herself more vigorously. Grace’s mother, equally entranced, murmurs something about “the posture on that man.”
He drops onto the lounger beside me.
My mother swivels to me. “Sienna, you’d better put on more sun lotion. You don’t want tan lines for the wedding tomorrow.”
Nathan’s already picking up the bottle from the small table.
I eye him.
Really?
He sets a knee on my lounger, his legs bracketing me.
If I start moaning, I can’t be held accountable.
I feel his fingers skim my shoulder blades, hooking the tie of my bikini top again. He hesitates for half a beat, glancing around as if to check who’s watching. I grip the front of my top, not wanting it to slip. My entire body is hyperaware of his closeness, his heat. He squirts lotion onto his hands, warming it with a quick rub. Then those hands meet my skin.
Instant meltdown. My mind nearly short-circuits as he works in smooth, deliberate strokes, kneading out the tension in my shoulders while also layering on sunscreen. My breath is locked in my throat. This is intimate. Too intimate.
He drags his palms down the ridge of my spine, careful not to dislodge my bikini top fully. My head tips back, eyes squeezing shut. Heat flutters low in my stomach, a coil of arousal that intensifies with every pass of his fingers. I half expect him to whisper something dirty in my ear, but he keeps it clean, focused, tension thrumming in his posture.
When he finishes, I’m borderline trembling. He re-ties the top with a deft tug.
“All done,”
he says, his voice a bit ragged.
I swallow, forcing a shaky exhale, and manage a nod. “Thanks,”
I whisper.
My mother, apparently satisfied, bustles off.
Nathan slips back onto the lounger behind me, his muscular thighs caging me in. I look over my shoulder at him. Our eyes meet, and for a single heartbeat, everything else vanishes. It’s just us. All I can think about is that kiss after he dropped me home last night, the tension in the elevator, the hotel suite. All of it.
Jeremy jogs up, interrupting. “Hey, dinner’s in a couple hours. We should probably shower off this sand and get ready.”
He shoots me a teasing glance. “Try not to get second-degree burns, sis.”
I force a laugh. “Will do, Jer.”
He traipses off, and the beach crowd starts to disperse.
I stand, brushing sand off my thighs.
“Guess we should head in,” I say.
Nathan nods, pushing to his feet.
The sun dips lower, painting the resort in soft orange hues. We walk side by side, shoulders brushing, neither of us sure what to say. The tension between us surges with each step.
If this weekend is any indication, we’re one or two slip-ups from crossing lines that might tear our entire arrangement to pieces.
And a quiet, traitorous part of me wonders if maybe that wouldn’t be so bad after all.