Chapter 1 #2
"Pretty humble too." She finishes her drink and smiles at me, and I just know, with every fiber of my being, this smile is burned into my retinas. It's the last thing I'll think about before I sleep tonight. "How should I thank you?"
So many inappropriate thoughts spring to my mind—things between her moaning my name or being buried inside her, but I don't say any of those. My own staff will kick me out if I do. Nevertheless, I can't resist a bit of teasing and see if she bites. "Preferably with a kiss. But no pressure."
Hannah almost chokes on her drink. Actually, almost snorts it. The laugh that follows is full and loud and completely unselfconscious.
That laugh is going to kill me.
"You don't waste time."
"I'm efficient, and life is short."
"Is that what we're calling it?"
From behind the bar, Eli makes a sound that might be a scoff. I ignore him. That guy almost poisoned me with his new drink. He has no say in my life.
I'm about to answer Hannah when she threads her fingers through her hair and tosses her head back, her smooth, slender neck on full display.
If someone asks me whether I'm a tit or ass guy, I'm going to say neck.
Because I have never been this consumed with the need to plant soft kisses and suck the spot behind someone's ear.
Hannah is making it hard to think. Right now, I am no different than Chad or Brad or Kyle. My mind spins with all sorts of wicked ideas, and I cannot shake them off.
"You say you own this place, right?" She wipes a bead of sweat along her collarbones, and I lose my train of thought.
"I did?"
"Yeah, so why is the guy behind the bar making faces at you?"
I turn to look at Eli, who's not even bothering to hide his shit-eating grin, and grab the plastic napkin holder and throw it at him. It's a good throw. Accurate. He dodges it with a smile and two thumbs up. Fucking prick.
"His name is Eli, and I really should have fired him a long time ago."
"Is he your brother?"
The look of horror on my face only makes her laugh. "Hannah, I know this is our first time meeting, but please don't insult me like that."
"But he keeps staring at you."
"Don't let him fool you. He's collecting material to embarrass me later."
"What kind of material?"
"The kind where I'm talking to the most interesting woman I've ever met and trying not to stare at her mouth."
For the record, I did not mean it to sound like that. Just like the kiss-as-a-thank-you comment, this was supposed to be somewhere between a joke and the truth.
Instead of a laugh or even a smile, Hannah drops her gaze to MY mouth instead. Her lips part, her tongue peeking at the corner of her mouth, before she sucks her bottom lip between her teeth.
Just like that, my cock throbs … again. The world slides to a stop around us, and all I see and hear is her. She flashes me a hot glance, and when she speaks, her voice is lower. "Trying not to?"
"Failing spectacularly."
"Is this part of your excellent customer service?"
I let my gaze linger on her mouth. "No, ma'am. It's exclusive for you." Before I lose my nerve, I add, "Tonight, there's a 1960s surf party. Themed drinks, swing dancing, the works. Very tourist-friendly."
"Will you be there?"
"I'll be working. But I might take a break to dance with my fake girlfriend … if she shows up."
"She might … if she can find something appropriate to wear."
"What do you have so far?"
"A polka dot bikini. Very Marilyn Monroe meets Beach Blanket Bingo."
"Jesus, how old are you? Why do you know that movie?"
"Why do you?"
Images of her in a bikini slide into my mind, and a surge of heat, violent and sudden, courses through me. The floor under my feet is gone, and I'm this close to rubbing a hand against my cock. "I'm an old soul, Hannah."
"Or just old."
"I'd be very careful if I were you. Delilah doesn't take kindly to anyone insulting me."
Hannah smiles and shakes her head. "We'll see. I might chicken out."
"Why would you chicken out?"
"I don't usually do themed parties. Or parties in general. Or anything that requires talking to new people."
"You're talking to me."
"You rescued me from a weirdo. That's different."
"Fair point. But you should come. The island throws a good party."
Hannah checks her phone. "I should go. I promised myself a walk on the beach before sunset."
"South or north?"
"Which do you recommend?"
"South. Less crowded, better shells. There's a tide pool about half a mile down that's worth the walk."
She stands and slings her bag over her shoulder. The movement makes her shorts ride up, and I get a flash of more skin and the curve of her ass. Fuck me. I want to sink my teeth into those globes.
Instead, I grip the arms of my chair to keep from reaching for her.
"Thanks for the rescue, Logan."
My name sounds so different on her lips.
"Anytime, Hannah."
She heads for the beach, and I watch her go until she's just a pink dot in the distance. I'm still recovering from the whiplash that is my entire conversation with her.
"Well, that was painful to watch."
Eli crosses his arms over his chest and doesn't even bother trying to hide his amusement.
"What?"
"You, trying to play it cool. It was like watching someone pretend they're not on fire."
"I was being friendly."
"You were practically panting. I thought you were going to follow her down the beach like a lost dog."
The thought occurs to me that I still could. Make some excuse about checking on the tide pools. Accidentally run into her while she's walking. You know, customer service.
But I've got work to do, and Hannah is a tourist. I've always felt bad about any islander falling for a tourist. It rarely works because they always leave. Always.
It's the same thing with Hannah. In a few days, she'll go back to her life, and I'll be nothing more than a fun but distant memory. I really should just save myself from the heartbreak.
I try to work and go over last-minute details for the surf party, standing on the beach outside Shore Thing, supposedly checking on the patio setup even though my mind is somewhere else entirely.
"Logan!"
The voice comes from behind me. I turn, and Hannah walks toward me with purpose. Jaw set, hair flying, eyes bright. She looks like one of those movie actresses in freeze-frames—devastatingly beautiful. So beautiful it knocks my breath out of me, and I'm not even doing anything.
"Hi." Hannah reaches me and grabs the front of my shirt.
Then her mouth is on mine.
Soft lips, warm tongue, the taste of rum and something sweet. Salt air clings to her skin too. Waves crash a few yards behind us, but all I hear is the way she sighs into me, that breathy moan vibrating against my mouth and shooting straight to my cock.
God, she's soft everywhere. Those full curves press flush against my chest, her hips slotting against mine, her fingers twisting tighter in my shirt.
My own hands find her waist, sliding over the warm fabric of her top to feel the heat of her body underneath. I tighten my grip, pull her closer, deeper, until there's no space left between us, and the beach around Shore Thing might as well not exist.
Hannah whimpers, and my control slips. One hand slides up to tangle in her hair, that black mass already half-wild from the humidity, and I angle her head just right to deepen the kiss.
My tongue sweeps against hers, tasting every inch while my other palm stays firm at the small of her back, holding her right where I want her.
Fuck, I shouldn't be doing this. But her body fits against my longer frame like she was made for it, all soft heat and freckled skin, and I can't stop thinking about how she'd feel under me, how she'd sound if I'm buried to the hilt inside her.
When she finally pulls back, we're both breathing as if we've just run a marathon.
I have never been so hard in my life.
"I changed my mind about the thank you," she says and kisses me again.
Softer, this time.