XANDER
As the sun sets, I’m still hyped on adrenaline from snuba diving, the turtle incident, and the drinks we had by the pool before we headed back to our room.
All is back to normal between Sam and me.
I only thought about her body against mine seven times today, which is impressive. Tomorrow, I know I can get it down to six, until eventually, I’m not thinking at all about how snugly my—
“See you tomorrow for hiking?” Sam asks, heading to her room.
I stop with my hand on the doorknob and turn to her, nodding. “Can’t wait to see what derivative of a snack you’ll bring with you,” I toss back, recalling that she offered me dried pineapple chips earlier.
I know this island is practically made of pineapples, so I shouldn’t be surprised that such a thing exists, but I was. Even worse was that she used the fruit’s richness in fiber and enzymes, which are good for the digestive system, to convince me to eat it.
I ate a few of the damn rings just because of how adorable she was while reciting the facts, and admittedly, they weren’t half-bad.
“Just for that comment, I’ll be sure toaccidentallyforget your peanut butter and jelly sandwich.”
“In that case, I’ll forget the bug spray.”
She squints her eyes at me, obviously fighting a smile. “Well played, Logan.”
I exaggeratedly take a bow.
She drops her hand from the door and points toward the sitting room. “I’m still pretty wired. Want to watch a movie or something?”
“You read my mind.” I eye her bright expression, the tip of her nose tinted red. This island is a damn good look on her, and no matter what lines we crossed yesterday, I’m glad we’re here together. “I just need to change first.”
“Me too. My bikini has worked overtime this week, and it shows.” She shimmies, and then in a fashion very unlike anything I’d expect from her, she pulls out a wedgie. “It had to happen.”
I shake my head, laughing—and trying not to stare at her backside as she disappears.
Make that eight times.
Blowing out a frustrated breath, I enter my room, and even though a nice, hot shower sounds fan-fucking-tastic, a cold one would be smarter.
I’m overdue for a wise decision, so I deeply inhale as I step inside the freezing-cold tiled shower—which does not have gold flakes in it, by the way.
Sam’s ridiculous.
And smart.
And damn sexy.
The way she whimpered while I held her in my arms was like music to my ears. The keys of a typewriter. The rainbow after rain.
Samantha is unlike any woman I’ve ever met, and it took a trip halfway across the world to make me realize it.
Like I said, I’m not the smartest screenplay in the slush pile. Maybe that’s why no self-respecting producer accepts any of my work.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
This cold shower was supposed to help, but I’m harder than my sea turtle enemy’s shell.
Clamping my chattering teeth down, I quickly dry off and throw on the electric-blue T-shirt I bought at the gift shop, along with the matching pants. The cashier insisted it was a set that could not be separated.
I really wish I had time to stop by my apartment before we flew out of LA like the apocalypse was coming, but then again, spontaneity is far more fun.
“Wow.” Sam stands outside my door as I come out. “I was coming to see if you want popcorn, but now I’m wondering if you might like to strut your stuff first.”