Page 98 of Redemption

Her hair brushed my jaw, the smell of it filling my senses. I clenched my fists so I wouldn’t grab her and pull her in for a searing kiss.

“Sloan,” I cautioned under my breath.

“Sorry, but…” She cupped her hand to my ear. “I couldn’t resist. Besides, aren’t we supposed to be a couple when we go ashore?”

She settled back to the floor, looking rather pleased with herself. I didn’t bother mentioning that I’d had the same thought earlier. Instead, I narrowed my eyes at her. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Me?” She held a hand to her chest, her eyes wide with mock outrage.

“Yes. You.” I smirked.

“Can you blame me, though? You got a tattoo for me.”

“Mm.” I wrapped my arm around her shoulder. “You like that, huh?”

“I’m honestly still so blown away by it.”

“Sloan.” I gripped her chin, forcing her gaze to mine. “I would cover my entire body in tattoos dedicated to you if it meant you’d give me another chance.”

She blushed, and she looked so beautiful, I was tempted to kiss her. But I didn’t. Not yet.

“Even your—” She gave my crotch a pointed look.

“Even that,” I said, not wanting to imagine how painful it would be. But if that would convince her of my love, I’d do it.

“Let’s not go too far,” she said. “I like that, and your face, as they are.” She patted my cheek, and I laughed.

“Good to know you like something about me,” I teased as she headed for the counter to check out.

She turned and smiled at me over her shoulder. “There are many things I love about you, Jackson.”

Her words made me stop in my tracks. It wasn’t a declaration of love, but it was definitely a step in the right direction. And for the first time, I felt hopeful. Hopeful that Sloan would give me a second chance.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Sweat dripped down my forehead, and I wiped it away. The sun was beating down on me, but I wasn’t going to give up. Jackson and I had been practicing my self-defense maneuvers every day since the morning after we’d arrived in Turks and Caicos. It had been three days now, and every day showed me just how out of practice I was.

And just how horny I was. The past three nights, Jackson and I had slept in the same bed, but our clothes had remained on. He’d been opposed to sharing a bed at first, but I’d promised to follow the rules, frustrating as they might be.

The no-sex rule was both great and terrible. Great because it had given us time to reconnect as Jackson had suggested. To deepen our emotional bond. But also terrible for obvious reasons.

For instance, how was I supposed to resist this man when he was shirtless and his skin glistened from the sun and exertion?

Though he wasn’t exerting himself nearly as much as I was. Jackson looked hot, while I was a sweating, panting mess. My face was probably red, my hair sticking to my skin. And he still looked amazing.

So unfair.

“Sloan,” he chided. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “You know what?”

“I’m sorry. I was just…admiring the view.”

“Admiring the view is what landed you on your back last time.”

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” I said.