Page 68 of Bad Boy Crush

“Thank you for bringing me.” She wound her arms around his waist, pulling his attention from the water. Then she began dragging him toward the bed. “What will we do with this much space to roll around on?”

“I have a few ideas.” He kissed her, his thoughts about houses worth millions of dollars and her affluent upbringing receding into the distance. Tongue to tongue with her had a way of erasing his worries. He lifted the hem of her T-shirt and grazed the soft skin of her stomach with his fingertips. Desire was a knife to his gut.

“I need a shower,” she said between kisses.

He smiled against her lips. “How about a tongue bath?”

He laid her back on the puffy comforter, put his lips on her stomach, and kissed his way south. Her hands drove into his hair while she hummed her approval in the back of her throat. He unbuttoned her shorts next, his mouth literally watering. Inches away from heaven, the doorbell rang.

Her denim waistband trapped between his teeth, he let out a protesting growl. She lifted her mussed blond head and bit down on her bottom lip. God damn. He wanted her. Badly.

“The movers?” she guessed.

“If so, they’re early.” The doorbell rang again and he dropped his forehead onto her stomach. “If it’s Miles, find a place to hide a body.”

“I promise we’ll pick this up later.” She ruffled his hair.

“Holding you to it,” he told her before pushing off the bed and walking downstairs.

* * *

By Saturday afternoon, Lou had finally allowed herself to relax. After being on the road all day Thursday, and Ant supervising and helping the movers carry his sculpture upstairs shortly after, they’d retreated to the bedroom for the sex they hadn’t had a chance to start.

Turned out they’d made very good use of the oversize bed and better use of the shower. After a hot, soapy, sexy shower, she’d gone to bed and died until about nine the next morning. She’d woken to coffee on the nightstand and a kiss on the forehead, which she happily accepted in place of morning sex. She’d simply been too tired.

They’d taken the speedboat out after breakfast, which Aless, via Miles, had given Ant permission to drive. She learned that Ant had met the older man before when he’d visited the Cove. That was how Aless had viewed Ant’s work and had ultimately commissioned a piece.

She’d never met the man, but in her mind, Alessandre sounded like a living legend. Or James Bond. She wondered if he was a millionaire or a billionaire.

“I’m going to leave Aless a thank-you note for loaning us his…palace.” She was on the beach outside of said palace, resting on a lounger. Ant was lying on a towel on the sand, because of course he was. On his stomach, he tipped his head to take in the house and then her. His golden-brown eyes squinted against the bright sunshine, and she admired the rough patches of stubble pressing against his jaw despite shaving this morning.

She’d lain in bed and watched his profile as he applied shaving cream and then meticulously shaved his face. Liam had used an electric razor, so watching Ant’s process had fascinated her.

Propped on his elbows now, sweat glistened on the top of his chest and dotted his back. The ocean rolled over in the distance, providing a soundtrack for the vision before her. If they had privacy on this beach, she’d roll him over and lick a trail down to his swim shorts.

“You’ve turned me into some sort of sex maniac,” she pointed out.

“Yeah?” He grinned, proud. “Nice.”

“I should have repaired our friendship a long time ago. If I’d known…”

“You’d have taken my pants off sooner?”

“Definitely.” In addition to their physical attraction, she’d noticed an emotional one. On the heels of their friends’ engagement, her imagination had been working overtime. She hadn’t thought much about marrying again, but when the thought occurred, she had to ask herself…would she? She wasn’t sure. Liam had scared her down to her mermaid-blue pedicure. The truth was she felt something for Ant that was stronger than friendship, but she wasn’t sure what. Love seemed like a leap, and the thought of saying it out loud was frightening.

As far as she could tell, he had no idea she’d been suffering from labeling-them-itis. For all she knew, he didn’t care. They were sexually compatible and having a great time. It was safe to assume he was content with the arrangement for the foreseeable future.

She hoped.

Her phone rang, the jingle causing Ant’s eyebrows to climb his forehead. “Who’s that ominous music for?”

“My mother.” She reached into her beach bag for her cell.

“My mom’s ringtone is windchimes.”

“Your mom is nicer than mine.” It wasn’t that her mom wasn’t a good person, but they for sure had differing opinions about what mattered in the world. Her parents’ wealth and status happened to be at the top of their list.

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” he said as she read the text in silence.