“You’re not heavy.”
He deposits me on the white marble island in the middle of the open kitchen and tugs my hips forward so that I’m sitting on the edge of it with my legs slung over his hips. He rocks up against me and pushes my long skirt up my thighs.
“Sam, this isn’t resting. You’re supposed to be taking it easy.”
He reaches for my face and pulls it to his. “I can’t think of a better way to relax.” He presses his lips to mine and kisses me slowly, stroking my tongue with his until I’ve completely melted in his arms. I’m at his mercy. He moves, I move. He pushes, I pull. The call to nurse him back to health is suddenly silenced by the overwhelming need to extinguish the fire that’s consuming us. He tugs his shirt off, wincing when he raises his arms above his head, and the caretaker in me returns.
“Sam, stop, we shouldn’t—”
He silences me once more with another passionate kiss and tugs my crop top down, exposing my bare breasts.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry,” a delicate British accent says, and I shriek.
Sam curses under his breath and I scramble inside his arms to pull my top back up.
“I’ll just be in the foyer,” she says, spinning around quickly.
“Who was that?” I ask with wide eyes as I adjust my top and try to compose myself.
Sam pulls his shirt back on and shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He takes my hand and leads me into the foyer, where we’re greeted by a graceful smile.
“Hello.” The woman stretches her small manicured hand out to shake Sam’s. “I’m Jacinda. I work for Paradise Properties.” She smooths a few stray hairs that have worked their way out of her tight top knot and straightens her crisp white skirt. “I take it no one mentioned that I’d be here to familiarize you with the home and ensure you have everything you need for your stay with us.” She gives an apologetic smile and I see the blush in her olive-colored cheeks.
“No,” Sam says to her.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“That’s okay,” Sam says, unfazed by the interruption.
“Not to worry, though. This won’t take long.” She winks and the blood burns in my heated cheeks. “Shall we begin?”
I swallow the awkward lump in my throat. “Sure.”
Sam gives me a sly grin and follows her into the living room, where she begins to run through a list of instructions for the amenities. Then she takes us on a tour of each room.
By the time we make our way back to the kitchen, I feel like I probably should have been taking notes.
“Per your request, the kitchen has been fully stocked,” she says dutifully. “But your chef will arrive at these times to restock and prepare any meals you’d like.” She hands Sam a printed schedule. “Your cleaning services will take place during these times,” she taps the paper with her shiny fingernail.
I shoot Sam a worried look. “They’ll be here with us?”
“Not to worry, Lucy,” she says gently. “Your privacy is our utmost concern. You can relax here, I assure you.”
“So, you won’t say anything, then…about earlier?”
She gives me a warm smile and says softly, “Of course not.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, if you need anything at all, my number’s here. You’re my top priority for the next three weeks, so please don’t hesitate to call. My job is to make sure you leave here happy, well rested, and ready for your next big match.” She winks at Sam.
He smiles and nods. “You spoke to Miles.”
“Yes. He’s gone to considerable lengths to ensure you’re well taken care of here.”
I smile at Sam and wrap my arm around his waist.
“You, as well, Lucy.”
“Oh.” I bob my head and smile graciously.
We follow her to the front door.
“Thanks for showing us around,” Sam says to her. “I think we’re going to settle in just fine,” he adds, giving me a wink.
“My pleasure. Talk soon.”
Sam closes the door behind her and flashes his unique eyes at me, and his dimples almost make me forget the embarrassment of being topless in front of our welcoming committee…almost.
I purse my lips over a smile. “I take it Miles forgot to tell you she’d be here to greet us?”
He pulls me into his arms. “Well, either that or I’ve taken one too many hits to the head.”
“Sam, that’s not funny. And since when does Miles care so much about my well-being?”
“Since your well-being is directly tied to my well-being. If you’re not happy, neither am I.”
I look up at him and exhale the worry I’ve been holding in for the last few days. “I’m really happy.”
He drops his hands to my waist and lifts me up again.
“Sam, don’t!”
He ignores me, wraps my legs around him, and hugs me tight. “I’m happy too,” he says against my lips, before enveloping them in his.
“Let’s go the bedroom,” I mumble against his mouth.
“Lucy, there’s no one here.”
“You might have convinced me of that before Jacinda saw me topless. But I’m not likely to forget it anytime soon.”
He puts me down. “Come on. Follow me.” He takes my hand and leads me through the house, pushing the giant glass doors open and pulling me through them until we’re standing outside next to the infinity pool that seems to disappear into the turquoise horizon. He stands behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “What do you see?”
I gaze out at the crystal blue ocean, searching for signs of life, but the only thing I see is the fading wake of a boat that must have been Jacinda’s transport off the island.
I turn around in Sam’s arms and say, “Okay, you’ve made your point. We’re alone.” I reach for his hand and spin around to go back inside, but he plants his feet and pulls me back to him, his lips landing on mine again.
He reaches for my skirt, gathering it around my waist, and groans against my neck. “I want you,” he grumbles between his eager lips, which leave blazing trails on my heated skin. “It’s been days. I can’t wait any longer.”
Sweat sheens my forehead and beads down the back of my neck, dampening the strands of hair sticking to it. It’s so hot, I might melt before he has his way with me. “It’s so hot out here.”
“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs, his sticky wet lips finding their way back to mine, and the way that his dewy skin rubs against me makes me forget that I care. I want to melt, if it means melting with him.
I reach behind him and run my hands under his shirt and over the thick muscles in his back until I’ve carefully removed his shirt over his head and pulled it down his tattooed arms. It falls to the travertine tiles at our feet. I run my hands over his round shoulders and across his broad chest, reflecting on the words tattooed beneath his collarbone: Pain Is Fleeting.
I smile softly and look up at him. “It really is, isn’t it?”
His hungry eyes soften and he shows me his dimples, which are accentuated by the flush of the Caribbean heat in his rosy cheeks. “It’s relative, but for the most part, yes.”