“Just lying here … contemplating life.”
“You were contemplating life?”
“Yep.”
“How’d that go?”
“Okay.”
“You figure anything out?”
“About what?”
“Life.”
“Oh. Yeah.”
“Was it to lie about watching the incredibly good-looking guy sleeping next to you?”
“Ugh! You’re such a jerk.”
I give him a shove in the chest, and he laughs.
“A hot jerk who’s right.”
“A jerk who’s wrong.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.”
“Just letting you know though … if roles were reversed, I’d have definitely been watching you sleep.”
I stare at his gorgeous face, untrusting of that innocent look he’s giving me. “You’re only saying that so I’ll say I was watching you sleep.”
“No, I’m not. I’m being serious.”
He moves his arm up over his head, and my eyes are drawn to his tattoo. It’s a small cross that’s entwined with rosary beads and surrounded by what I think is holly. Perfect subject change. I’ve never asked him about that or the one on his back before, and now seems like a good time. So we can get off the me watching him sleep subject.
I reach my finger out and touch it. “I like this tattoo. Is that holly around the cross?”
“Yeah.”
“When did you have it done?”
“When I was eighteen.”
“What about the one on your back?”
“Twenty-one.”
“Do either of them have any meanings? I know not all tattoos do, but I know some people get them for specific reasons.”
“I got the one on my back after I was drafted into the NFL.”
“It’s a raven, right?”
“Yeah. That’s my team. The Baltimore Ravens. They drafted me straight out of college.”
“And you still play for them now?”
“Yeah.”
“What about this one?” I’m still tracing it with my fingertip.
“My mom’s name was Holly.”
Was.
“When did she die?” I ask softly. I stop tracing the tattoo and instead curl my fingers around his bicep.
“When I was fifteen. She started getting these headaches. Finally, she went to the doctor. There was a tumor … she was gone six weeks later.”
“West …”
He stares up at the sky. “It was a long time ago, Dillon.”
“I know. But … it’s still shit though. Still unfair.” I take a breath. “My dad died when I was a baby.”
His eyes come back to mine. “I know. You told me that first night.”
“Figures. Did I tell you when and how he died?”
“No. Just that you were a baby.”
“I was eleven months old. He was eighteen. He was on his motorbike on his way to work. A car pulled out, didn’t see him. He died from his injuries while he was in the hospital. He and my mum weren’t together. They’d broken up before she even knew she was pregnant. They were just kids when they had me. But from what I’ve been told from my aunt Jenny, he really stepped up as a dad. I spent more time with him those first eleven months of my life than I did my mum. I don’t think she ever really wanted me.”
“Your mom is a fucking idiot.”
Can’t argue with that.
“Were you close to your mom?”
“Yeah.” A smile touches his eyes. “She was awesome.”
“What about your dad?”
I feel his body tense up.
“I still see him. But we’re not close.”
I can tell there’s a story there, but I don’t push the subject.
“What about brothers and sisters? You got any?”
His lips curve into a grin.
“We’ve had this conversation already, haven’t we?”
“Yep.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I sigh. “And what was your answer to that question?”
“Only child.”
“Same.”
“I know.”
“Of course you do. I wish I had a video recording of that night, so I’d know everything that I told you.”
“I wish I had one too. For a totally different reason.”
“So you could watch it and laugh at me?”
“Yep.”
“Twat.”
He chuckles, and I’m glad I made him laugh since I’d bummed him out when talking about his mum and dad.
“Any clue what time it is?” he asks me.
“No clue. I left my phone back at the villa.” I kind of like that about here. Not needing to constantly have my phone with me. Spending time away from the real world and the pressures of social media.
“Probably well after lunch now.”
“Yeah, probably.”
“You hungry?”
“Not really.”
I’ve eaten and drunk my body weight and probably West’s since I got here. If I haven’t gained weight, it’ll be a damn miracle. I’m just holding on to hope that any weight I might have gained, I’ve sweated out from the insane heat.
“You did eat enough at breakfast to feed a small family, so not surprising.”
“Hey.” I poke him in the side, and he jumps a little. “You’re ticklish.” I grin.
“Of course I am because I’m normal. Unlike you.”
I run my fingernails over his abs and down to the trail of hair that leads to my happy place. I get nothing from that. So, I do the same to his side, where I just poked him, and he jumps again. The hammock rocks a little.
“You wanna tickle me? Fine. But just remember that we’re lying in a hammock together. Any big movements, and we’re both going out of this thing. And when I’m being tickled, I make some pretty big movements.”
I don’t fancy landing on my arse. But tickling him is so tempting.
“Good thing I wasn’t planning on tickling you then,” I lie.
Instead, I decide to do something else. Because he makes some pretty big movements when we do this, too, and I’m wondering if this is also out of the question.
I slip the tips of my fingers into the waistband of his shorts.
I hear his sharp inhalation of breath.
Smiling to myself, I slide my hand right inside his shorts and wrap my fingers around his hot, hard cock. “No big sudden movements, you say?” I move my hand up and down his thickening shaft. “So, I guess sex is out of the question.”
Eyelids half-mast, he hisses out a moan. He rolls to his side. His hand cups my breast over my bikini, and his mouth descends on mine. “Sex is never out of the question,” he rumbles right before he takes my mouth in a deep, sultry kiss.
Lust bolts straight to my center.
“But we could fall,” I murmur against his lips.
“So we fall. Nothing could stop me from fucking you right now.”
“What if I die from the fall?”
“You’d fall onto sand. I think you’re good.”
“It’s a biggish drop though. I could sprain something.”