I open my mouth, too desperate and eager, and like I’ve opened a floodgate, his mouth takes hungry possession of mine. I press my body flush against Tristan, thrilled to find a growing hardness pushing against my stomach.
His hand grips the back of my head as his tongue invades my mouth with urgency now.
My thighs part and I wrap my arms around his muscular waist so I can press his bulge closer against me. Oh, that feels like something I want.
In response, he groans into my mouth, kissing me like he hasn’t kissed a woman in years. Then as quickly as it starts, he breaks away, looking at me for so long I think he’s going to say goodnight and leave me here.
I stare back at him with unashamed begging in my eyes.
“Would you like to come back to my hotel?” he asks quietly. “There’s a private beach. We can go for a walk on it. I can get you back safely here afterwards.”
“Sure,” I choke out. “Walking is fun.” My head warns me not to follow a strange guy to his hotel, but my body is ready to mount him like a jockey.
He takes my hand and leads me through the streets towards the posh side of town. The Athena is about twenty minutes away and, as we walk, his thumb draws teasing circles on my palm. It is a delicate movement that sends shockwaves directly between my thighs. By the time we reach the Athena, I’m at boiling point. I’m barely able to focus on what he is saying.
The Athena is perched high on a hill overlooking secluded beaches, blending in seamlessly with the landscape of whitewashed houses dotted along the Mediterranean coastline. Golden streetlights bounce off the water and the buildings in the darkness, creating shades of orange.
I gasp. “I wish I had my camera with me.”
“I doubt you’d get a good shot in this poor light though.”
“I invested in a good lens for night photography,” I explain. “I did a photography evening course last year at uni and I’ve been chasing the perfect night photo ever since. It’s one of the reasons we decided on the Greek islands, it’s such a beautiful landscape.”
“I would love to see some of your photos sometime.” Sometime hangs in the air. “Translator, trainee lawyer, photographer, a woman of many talents.” His eyes crinkle. “Maybe not bartending.”
I slap him on the chest. “You haven’t seen all my talents yet,” I return, winking. Christ, Megan would be proud of that one.
Caught off guard, his brows rise. “Come on, trouble, I’ll show you the best beach on the island.”
“Holy shit!” I say too loudly as he leads me through the hotel lobby. A few hotel staff look on, disapprovingly. “This place…I can’t imagine staying here.”
We walk out the exit door to the secluded beach where dark waves are crashing in the moonlight. I make a mental note to tell Megan I’ve found the perfect beach for nooky.
“I prefer the sea at night,” I muse. “Megan and I did a night kayak when we first arrived. It was amazing. You must spend all your time in the water here.”
He shrugs. “I haven’t been in yet.”
“What?” I shriek in horror. “Are you crazy? If I had this on my doorstep, I would be swimming morning, noon and night.” In fact… “We have to go for a midnight swim!”
“What?” He snorts, crossing his arms over his wide chest. “Absolutely not.”
My heart hammers and I don’t know if it’s the darkness of the night or the tequila shots I had earlier, but I decide to be brave. “Fine,” I reply, shimmying out of my jeans.
“What are you doing?” he demands, as I pull my T-shirt over my head.
“I’m going in,” I say before I can chicken out.
“Those waves are rough tonight,” he growls. “You are not doing this.”
My brows shoot up. Is that an order?
He stares down at my cotton bra and panties.
I race towards the sea until I’m submerged waist-deep, acclimatising. It’s not freezing but it’s cold enough for my nipples to peak. Turning back to the beach, I see him glaring at me, his arms still folded.
“It’s warmer than it looks,” I shout to the shore, my voice drowning in the sea sounds.
Waves crash over my shoulders, pulling me under. Unfazed, I dive under the current. Growing up twenty miles from a beach and despite the Welsh weather, I’ve been swimming for years. The mistake many people make is freaking out, opening their mouths, and swallowing gallons of water.
As I glide along the seabed, strong arms pull me out of the water.
“What the fuck, Elena?” He pulls me to standing and glowers at me as the waves crash around our waists. He has stripped down to his boxers. His chest heaves up and down, his dark hair wet and clinging to his forehead.
Goosebumps break out along my skin and I’m not sure if it’s the water temperature or the growing heat between my thighs, or maybe both. Damn, he’s sexy when he’s angry.
“I thought you were in trouble,” he mutters. “You could have told me you swim like a mermaid. I nearly had a heart attack.”
“At least it got you in the water.” I bite my lip.
His eyes darken as he fixes them on my chest with Clark Kent heat vision and a low grumble escapes his throat. I’m starting to worry I’ll burst into flames.
I glance down, shivering. My cotton bra has turned transparent in the water. My nipples protrude like bullets. I might as well be topless.
My gaze follows the treasure trail of hair down his delicious V-tapered body. The water moulds his boxers around his growing hardness like a wrapped present just for me.
Time stands still as we brazenly devour each other’s bodies with our eyes.
Yes, please.
“I’m so turned on just looking at you,” he whispers hoarsely, eyes meeting mine. He swallows hard, his Adam’s Apple bobbing up and down. “It’s embarrassing.”
Stepping forward, I run my fingers over the wet sculpted muscles on his broad chest.
Delicious.
“Now you have me in the water,” he murmurs. “What are you going to do with me?”
My fingers trace down his chest to his stomach, dancing above his boxers. He gives me an arrogant smirk while he gauges whether I have the guts to go lower. His eyes urge me farther and all my remaining inhibitions drown in the water as my hand slides down his lower stomach into his boxers.
Wrapping my hand around his hard length, I let out a delighted gasp at what I find.
He’s massive. And so ready.
As my grip tightens around him, he groans, and I begin to stroke up and down his swollen hardness.
Hell, yeah, this feels good.
I need to see him. All of him. I lower his boxers, and his erection springs free.
I stare down, half terrified, half in awe.
“It’s okay,” Tristan says softly, reading my face. “We don’t need to do anything you don’t feel comfortable with.”