Rick offers me his arm, like a true gentleman. "Shall we go?"
I finally notice he's wearing flip-flops too and a pair of sunglasses. "Yes, let's get a move on. I want to dive into that crystal-clear blue water with you. Like, right now. So hurry up, huh?"
Since I grin when I say that bossy part, he knows I'm teasing. But I'm sure he also realizes I do want to dive into the water with him—naked.
He snags a big umbrella, two big towels, and a bottle of sunscreen on our way out of the ginormous closet. I grab sunglasses for me and take the stuff he's carrying too so he can haul an armload of snorkeling fins and masks. He also picks up funny-looking little thingies that he tells me are earpieces to let us communicate while we're underwater.
A few minutes later, we're on the beach. Rick has laid out our towels, side by side, and jammed the umbrella's pole into the sand so the little canopy shades our towels. Palm trees surround us, and the scent of tropical flowers drifts on the breeze. The air always smells so nice in the Caribbean. Dr. Solberg scolds me for being unscientific in my analysis of the air, but I tell that girl to shut her mouth. This is my vacation. Screw the scientific method.
Rick holds up the sunscreen bottle. "Why don't I put some of this on you? Don't want all that beautiful skin to get burnt."
His smirk suggests he's less concerned about sunburn than about feeling me up from head to toe. I want that too, especially if it leads to more hot sex. But that will only happen if I can prove to him that I'm not sore.
I lie down on a towel on my stomach, propped up on my elbows, and glance at him over my shoulder. "I'm ready for that rubdown."
"Not a rubdown. It's a necessary application of sun protection." He's smirking again, so I figure he's being sardonic. He's definitely teasing me with that hot voice of his. "If you get aroused by this, it's not my fault."
"Uh-huh. Do you want me to sign a waiver? If I get hot and bothered, I absolve you of any and all responsibility for making me wet. Something like that?"
He stares at me from behind his reflective sunglasses. I can't see his eyes, but the fact he's staring is obvious, at least to me. I swear I can feel his sultry gaze on my skin. My scientist side, that annoying Dr. Solberg, balks at my claim.Shut up, Doc. Maddie is enjoying her vacay and doesn't need your input.
"Should I draft that waiver for you?" I ask.
"No." He kneels beside me and squeezes the sunscreen bottle, drizzling the cream onto my skin, painting a cool trail down my spine. "I like you wet, Maddie."
"But we agreed not to have sex."
With both palms, he rubs the sunscreen into my skin, spreading it all over, his hands warm and strong but his strokes gentle. "I want to make love to you again, believe me."
"Good. I want that too." I moan softly because his hands feel wonderful on my skin. "If you ever give up on publishing, you could have a solid career as a masseur. You'd have a line three blocks long full of women clamoring to get your hands on them."
He stops moving his fingers. When I glance back at him, he's scrunching his lips.
"Everything okay?" I ask.
"Yes, fine. Not a fan of professional massage, that's all." He goes back to rubbing that sunscreen all over me. "I appreciate the career advice, but I don't need a crowd of females. The only woman I want to get my hands on is you."
While he slides his palms up to my shoulders, I lay my head down on my clasped hands and close my eyes. Everything he does to me feels incredible. And I'm on vacation, so why shouldn't I revel in the pleasure of a sexy man massaging me all over?
For once, Dr. Solberg and I agree.
Chapter Sixteen
Richard
I couldn't pass up the chance to rub my hands all over Maddie's sensual body. The bikini she chose today is even sexier than the one she'd been wearing on the day we met. Was that only two days ago? I've lost count of the hours, the days, and everything else since I first saw her. I plan to relish every moment with her, in the moment, and let the future sort itself.
When I squeeze more sunscreen out of the bottle, letting it drizzle onto her shoulder, she shivers faintly.
"Too cold?" I ask.
"No, that's not why I shivered."
"Why, then?"
She opens one eye to look at me. "Because I'm turned on. Duh."
"Oh, I see." I'm getting turned on too, by the look on her face and the feel of her skin. "Would you rather do this yourself?"