Page 35 of Almost Enough

“Good.” His approval sends another wave of heat through me. “Just like that.”

He slides a hand up my ribs, brushing along the sensitive skin beneath my bikini top. When I squirm against his touch, his eyes narrow.

“Hold still,” he commands, voice sharp enough to cut through the haze of desire. “Keep your hands where they are.”

I bite my lip, fighting the urge to move as his fingers find the tie at my neck. One gentle tug and the knot comes undone, the fabric loosening.

“Eyes on me,” he orders when my gaze starts to drop. “Don’t look away.”

I allow him to pull the bikini top away completely. The cool night air hits my exposed skin, my nipples tightening instantly.

“Perfect,” he murmurs.

His eyes drop to my chest, dark with hunger. The water laps gently around us, the steam rising between our bodies as his hand slides up to cup one breast, thumb brushing over the hardened peak.

He leans forward, his breath hot against my throat. When his lips finally make contact with my skin, I nearly come undone. The gentle scrape of his stubble, the wet heat of his mouth as he trails kisses down the column of my neck—it’s everything I’ve imagined and not nearly enough.

“Beau,” I gasp, fingers digging into his shoulders.

“I said don’t move,” he reminds me, teeth grazing my collarbone in warning.

I whimper, struggling to stay still as his mouth works lower, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. When his lips close around my nipple, I cry out, arching into his mouth, my entire body trembling with the effort to obey. His tongue circles the sensitive peak, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp. He holds me steady as he lavishes attention on one breast before moving to the other.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he groans against my skin. “Talking all the time. Asking questions. Never stopping.” His voice drops to something barely human, rough and wrecked. “You know what you’ve done to me?”

I can’t answer. My throat is sealed shut.

“You’ve made me wonder,” he says, pulling back to look at me, his eyes black and burning, “what I could use to distract you.”

My breath catches. His thumb traces my bottom lip, pressing down just slightly.

“My fingers?” He slides them from my mouth to my neck, trailing a slow path downward. “My tongue?” He leans in, his mouth hovering over my collarbone. “Or my cock buried so deep inside you that you forget how to form a single goddamn word.”

Oh.

Oh, that’s⁠—

I make a sound I’ve never made before. Something between a whimper and a plea. My thighs clench around his hips involuntarily, and the motion drags his length, making us both groan.

“Don’t,” he warns. “I told you not to move.”

I’m so sensitive, so ready for him that even the gentle lap of water against my core feels overwhelming.

“Please,” I whisper, not even sure what I’m begging for.

His eyes lock with mine. “Please what?”

“Touch me,” I breathe. “Please.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a dangerous smirk. “I am touching you.”

His hand slides down my stomach, fingers tracing the edge of my bikini bottoms. “Here?” he asks as his thumb brushes over the fabric covering my center.

“Yes,” I gasp.

He pulls his hand back suddenly, and I nearly cry out at the loss.

“No. That’s not how this works.”