Page 81 of Arranged To Be Mine

She groaned. “If you suggest meditation, I’m leaving. I don’t meditate.”

I laughed and pushed myself up from my chair. “How about we go for a swim before you have an anxiety attack?”

Her eyes widened slightly. “The water looks cold.”

“It’s not that bad. Come on. Physical activity might help burn off some of that nervous energy.”

She hesitated, glancing between me and the waves. Then she stood, reaching for her beach bag. “Fine. But you need to put sunblock on me first. I burn like a lobster.”

“It will be my pleasure.”

She pulled out a bottle of SPF 50 and handed it to me, then turned her back. I watched her reach for the hem of her cover-up and pull it over her head.

My brain exploded.

She wore a deep blue bikini that was technically modest but it did nothing to squash my memories of what things looked like under that blue fabric. I knew the color would make her blue eyes pop. It also made her skin look like porcelain.

“Beau?”

I blinked, realizing I’d been standing there with the sunblock bottle in my hand, completely frozen.

“Right. Yeah. Sunblock.”

I squeezed a generous amount into my palm and rubbed my hands together to warm it like a professional masseuse. Then I stepped closer, starting at her shoulders.

Her skin was soft and smooth under my fingers. I worked the lotion across her shoulder blades, down her spine, taking my time. She made a small sound in the back of her throat when I hit a particularly tense spot near her neck.

“You’re tight here,” I said, pressing my thumbs into the muscle.

“I’m tight everywhere.”

“Don’t I know it.”

I heard her gasp. We both knew exactly what I was talking about.

I moved lower, spreading the sunblock across her lower back, my fingers dipping just beneath the waistband of her bikini bottoms. She shivered despite the warm sun.

“Cold?” I asked innocently.

“No.”

I knelt down, applying lotion to the backs of her thighs, her calves, taking my time with every inch. She made another sound, something between a sigh and a moan. I felt my shorts tighten in response.

“You keep making those noises and we’re going to have a problem,” I said, my voice rough.

“What kind of problem?”

I stood, turning her to face me so I could do her front. “The kind that involves me dragging you back to my bedroom instead of going for a swim.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she rolled her eyes. “Focus, Blackwell.”

“I’m very focused.” I spread lotion across her collarbone, down her arms, trying not to stare at the swell of her breasts in that blue bikini. Failing miserably. “Extremely focused.”

I worked the sunblock across her stomach, feeling her muscles tense under my touch. Then up to her chest, my fingers skimming the edge of her bikini top. Our eyes met.

The air between us crackled.

I stopped breathing. Her lips were slightly parted, and all I could think about was kissing her. Tasting the salt on her skin. Pulling her against me and⁠—