Sex on the Beach (Cosmo Red-Hot Reads from Harlequin)

by Delphine Dryden

  “Well, I kind of blew my chance to lead with the large talk.”

  “Why don’t you just say what you were planning to say? Since you apparently rehearsed it and everything.”

  “I don’t have the flowers.”

  She shrugged. “If you were relying on vegetation to make the difference, you must not have thought much of your speech.”

  Jeremy reached to one side, plucking a broad leaf from a hibiscus branch that snapped back with a rustle as the stem released. He presented his botanical prize to her with a wry flourish.

  “For the lady.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “But I do. Aren’t we lucky? Okay, here’s the speech. I came here because it’s neutral territory. Because I was an idiot to leave when I did without insisting that we talk this through, and I thought maybe here we could do that without the distractions of work and wedding plans and family and every other damn thing. I didn’t tell you I was coming because I knew you wouldn’t agree to it. I’ve spent the last year accomplishing even more than I thought I could, but it’s all kind of meaningless because all I do is think about how I want to share it with you. I still love you, I still want to be with you. We are both really smart, and I know we can figure this out if we try. Please just give me these few days to try. And that is what I came here to say.”

  Amanda twirled the leaf between her thumb and forefinger, trying to focus on the texture and the sharp, green smell rather than the way her heart was pounding, her stomach buzzing with emotions she couldn’t begin to identify. The row of cottages rose up before them like a sanctuary, a miraculous diversion from all the junk she was obviously in store for over the course of the trip.

  “That’s my room over there. I’ll be right back.”

  “I’ll be waiting.”

  As if she needed reminding.

  Chapter Three

  Not one word. He’d said his spiel, poured his heart out in his own carefully measured way, and Amanda hadn’t responded at all except to say she’d be right back.

  It could have been worse. She could have told him off some more, shoved the stupid leaf up his nose, kicked some sand on him and called hotel security about the scary leaf-nosed beach-stalker guy. Of course, she might also be in her room packing at that very moment, but he still felt confident enough to hope.

  She looked so good, so good. He’d forgotten, like he always did, how deeply adorable she was. How her expressions sometimes punched him right in the gut, as if the two of them were connected in some weird cosmic way, so he was feeling whatever she felt. Soul mates or star twins or some idiotic thing like that. Mostly, it was all he could do not to grab her and kiss her. Make her understand the strength of his emotion by the time-honored methods of tonsil hockey and groping. Amanda made him stupid and he liked it, every dopey, eager, grunting-caveman second of it. He’d forgotten about that, too, but now he recalled how he inevitably became such a goofy, drooling puppy around her.

  The near year of celibacy probably didn’t help with that. That bright red bikini, either. He pried his mind away from the tantalizing notion of peeling away those vivid scraps of nylon, untying the bright floral scarf that Amanda wore as a skirt, and just...damn. Just going to town, which he knew wasn’t going to happen. Not the way she’d reacted to seeing him. Not the way he’d fumbled the speech.

  I blew it before I even got on the plane. Sure, now he realized that. But it was too late, he was already here and he’d already talked to her, so there was no way out but through.

  When she emerged from the room, the bikini-and-scarf-skirt combo was absent, replaced by a pair of yoga pants, a T-shirt and a hoodie. Armor, Jeremy realized. Fair enough.

  “We could go over to the bar in the lobby,” he suggested. “I think it’s still open.”

  Amanda rubbed the bridge of her nose, drawing his attention to the fact that she’d also taken off her makeup. He liked that look on her, the unguarded clarity of her eyes and the dusting of freckles across her nose and cheekbones. “Yeah, fine, as long as they have coffee and more dessert there.”

  “More dessert?”

  “Don’t judge me.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  In the split second before she turned to start toward the main building, he saw it. The crinkle at the corner of her mouth and eye, the barest hint of a smile. All his reason to hope, right there on her face in one fleeting instant.

  The night air was full of life, the constant susurration of the tide and the influx of heady aromas on every breath of wind. Even the colors seemed brighter than back home. Cool, moonlit blues were broken by flashes of scarlet petals in the foliage, torchlit ambers flickering along the pathways. Despite the humid coolness, the general impression was sultry. Ludicrously tropical, flagrantly sensual.

  The lobby seemed a little too bright and crisp after the walk, lacking in nuance. Jeremy steered Amanda toward a choice, dimly lit booth in the almost empty lounge area. A waitress appeared before he could backtrack to the bar to order, and at first he thought they were screwed because she said the kitchen was closed. Then a few words and a look of deep, girlie understanding passed between Amanda and the waitress, and suddenly a room-service menu was procured and some sort of confection ordered that involved chocolate ganache and macadamia nuts.

  “And probably enough calories to feed a small country for a month,” Amanda said once the order was in progress. “But it’s a vacation, so fuck it.”

  She pressed the bridge of her nose again, and Jeremy recognized her headache grimace. He’d taken the seat next to her in the booth, and it was automatic to reach out and palm the back of her neck, press the spots at the base of her skull where he knew some of the pain lived.

  Her groan struck him hard, not just the sound but the way the breath caught in the back of her throat as the tension seeped from the tightly strung muscles under his hand. His touch had magical headache-curing properties, she’d explained more than once, some combination of the size of his hand and the heat and pressure that she’d never been able to duplicate. It made him feel useful and important, knowing he could help.

  “Did you already take your stuff?”

  Words broke the spell, and Amanda tightened up again. “Yes, when I was changing. I should be fine in a few minutes.”

  If she’d caught it early enough. If it was just tension, eyestrain and sinuses, and not an actual migraine. “I’ll stop if you want me to. I wasn’t trying to start anything up, it was just habit.”

  After a few seconds, she shrugged, wincing at the movement. “No, it’s fine. Um, thanks, I guess.”

  “Well...put your head down. And try exhaling.”

  She folded her arms on the table, lowering her head to her wrists with a sigh. Too tired to argue, it seemed. Which also explained the coffee and even the chocolate, which might trigger headaches for some but had always been curative for Amanda. Assuming she’d eaten enough protein at dinner, otherwise the sweets would make her throw up. He hoped that wasn’t on the agenda for tonight.

  “I probably ought to be telling you to go perform a sex act on yourself right now,” she muttered a short while later, “but that feels too good. Damn you.”

  It took superhuman willpower not to mention the other thing he used to do to help with her headaches. Volunteering to get her off for the endorphin hit was absolutely not allowable under these circumstances, and he knew that. No matter how willing he was to be selfless in that regard. Nothing orgasm-related was ever completely selfless, and his dick reminded him of that in clear terms that made him very glad he was sitting down and wearing loose shorts.

  Down, boy. That isn’t what we’re here for.

  He was having trouble remembering what he was there for. Touching Amanda—even if it was just on the neck—had turned everything physical, visceral. All he wanted now was to wrap
her in his arms, hold her against his body. To sink into her, soul deep. He wanted to get that place of connection where words no longer applied.

  Words were what he needed, though. They were the only way to reach that other, better place. He hadn’t planned anything beyond his initial speech, though, a horrible and uncharacteristic lack of preparation on his part. Maybe if he just started talking, eventually he’d say the right thing. Looking around for inspiration, his gaze lit on a row of giant banners on the opposite side of the lobby, larger-than-life photos advertising all the ways guests could spend more money and call it adventure.

  “So this place is pretty great. I was thinking tomorrow I’d go on that thing where you look at sea turtles.”

  “The kayak tour?”

  The picture was blurry, as if the turtle were being viewed through a window, so he’d been thinking scuba. But maybe... “Oh. Glass-bottomed boats.”

  “Yeah. The kayaks.” With obvious effort, she turned her head, resting on the other cheek so she could face him. “It was in the brochure.”

  “I have two tickets, if you want to go.” Where the fuck had that come from? He didn’t even have one ticket. He didn’t even know if he could get a ticket. Not that it mattered, because there was no way that Amanda would want to go kayaking with—

  “Sure. I like turtles. And my plan for tomorrow is pretty much shot now, so whatever.”

  He scanned the posters, wondering what other activities he could schedule to occupy her time. Anything to keep her with him. If she forgot, even for a moment, that they weren’t still a couple, he’d consider that a win.

  Chapter Four

  Caffeine, chocolate and approximately forty-five minutes for the drugs to kick in. That was all she needed, and also all the time she meant to give Jeremy. No matter how good his hand felt on her neck.

  Two cups, one empty plate and an hour or so later, the waitress was eyeing the clock over the bar and Amanda was rethinking her vacation plans.

  Jeremy had played very nice, easing her headache and offering to take her on a wide range of adventures over the next few days, just to “reconnect” and have fun together. Kayaking, hiking, surfing, even a Segway tour if she was interested. And sure, obviously the catch was that he’d be there, too. But she had remembered about halfway through the cake how easy he was to spend time with. How comfortable they were, how in sync. At least about the moment-to-moment stuff. If only the same had been true about the things that really mattered.

  She couldn’t change any of that now, however. What mattered most right now was getting through the rest of the trip, hopefully salvaging some sort of recreational value out of it. Sadly, she realized that her idea of hitting on Alan was now officially a nonstarter. She’d thought about it for a few mad moments, just throwing caution and decorum to the wind and going after him anyway. After all, Jeremy hadn’t been invited, he’d given her no warning, and he probably deserved whatever he ended up witnessing.

  But that wasn’t Amanda. It also probably wasn’t Alan. In truth, none of them were likely to get any action that weekend because none of them were the casual-hookup type.

  “Or we could try horseback riding. I think there’s a whole trail system.”

  “Mmm? Oh, horses. Sure. I think the bar is about to close.”

  “Really? It’s only nine.”

  It seemed much later. It was a weeknight, however, and they had apparently shut the place down. “We’ll have to take this somewhere else.”

  “Hey, all right, then.” Jeremy leaned in, leering, one hand slipping around her waist. She saw the shift in his eyes the split second it happened, the sudden panic when he realized what he’d done. “Oh, fu—”

  “It’s okay.”

  “No, I’m sorry, I really didn’t mean to—”

  “Jeremy. It’s okay.”

  He slid from the booth and stood up, fumbling with his wallet until he found a twenty to drop on the table. “Not remotely okay. You’re not feeling well, you’re vulnerable, I’m a jackass for being here in the first place. Then I go and do something like that?”

  “I can’t argue with the jackass part, but I’m fine. It was just a headache and it’s gone now. And you just did it out of habit. No harm, no foul.” She stood up and stretched, noting the quick motion of his eyes as he started to check her out then caught himself.

  “Well, I’m glad you’re feeling better, at least.”

  She did feel better in a sense. In other ways, she felt edgy and raw, a bundle of agitated nerves in dire need of soothing. She’d had only one goal for the trip, and achieving it might have gone a long way toward softening that edge. Knowing it was off the table was hardly helping her get into the vacation spirit.

  Except...

  She couldn’t believe she was even contemplating it. But Jeremy seemed so amiable and genuinely eager to please, and it had been so long, and he looked so good. Even his hand on her neck had felt amazing, better than any medicine. And the sex had always been great between them. Really solid, A-plus recreational activity. Highly enjoyable all around. Best. Sex. Ever.

  And now Jeremy had that butt. Those shoulders and thighs. And again, that butt. She tried not to look to the side while they were walking back toward the cottages, but then he pulled ahead to open a gate for her and there it was, in all its newly muscular splendor. Hidden for the moment under a loose T-shirt and shorts, of course, but she remembered it quite clearly from his more snug-fitting swim shorts earlier and it was imprinted on her mind’s eye like burn-in on an old computer monitor. She was familiar enough with the original model to extrapolate a vivid image of the upgrade, so he might as well have been naked. His formerly decent ass was now spectacular and she wanted to dig her fingers into it. Feel every well-defined muscle at work. Possibly bite it for good measure.

  Horniness had clearly driven her insane. Every stupid rationalization for sex she’d ever scoffed at from somebody else started to make sense. Ex-with-benefits sex. Revenge sex. Spite sex. Vacation fling sex. Purely physical this-doesn’t-mean-anything sex. All the justification sexes. Logically she still knew those were variations on the theme of bad-idea sex. But right now her logic was overrun by the slick, hot thrum of neglected yearning between her legs, and an almost existential desire to feel another person’s bare, warm skin against her own. And here was Jeremy, familiar and safe and contrite and, above all, convenient.

  But how to approach it? Jeremy was working extra hard to be polite, almost formal with her. When they reached Amanda’s door, his hands were literally clasped behind his back, demonstrating tangibly how determined he was not to overreach. And she couldn’t deny that his effort, his forbearance, made him even more attractive. Sadly, it also made it harder for her to figure out how to jump his bones. She had no idea how to get there from where they were.

  “So. Kayaking in the morning, huh?” She would go. She might as well. She’d at least have a good night’s sleep beforehand to give her plenty of energy, and it wasn’t as though she had anything more pressing to occupy her time.

  “If you want to. And we could talk.”

  “We talked before you left California.” She swiped her key card and opened the door but turned back to Jeremy instead of going in. “It didn’t seem to help. You still left.”

  “And you still didn’t come with me.”

  “And that was pretty much the problem in a nutshell. I’m not sure what it will accomplish, having that talk again. Seems like it’s going to end up in the same exact place as it did all the other times.”

  Jeremy pursed his lips, clearly contemplating the wisdom of his response before going for it. “In hot, angry doggy style on your living room floor?”

  “That was one time.” She felt the blush creeping over her face. Her first instinct had been to grab him and head for the floor to demonstrate, so it felt like she’d been caught in
illicit lusting. “And maybe that one other time.”

  “Is Julie in there?” Jeremy leaned around her, bracing one arm on the doorjamb and scanning the portion of the room visible through the partially open door. She could smell his deodorant, spicy and warm, the same scent she used to steal his shirts to enjoy. Inches away.

  “I don’t know any more than you do. I don’t think so. It’s early, and she was planning to...well, she had some plans for the evening. Hey, Jules?” She looked over her shoulder, glad for an excuse to look anywhere other than at Jeremy. No sounds of running water. No movement in the room, no answer. Amanda hadn’t expected one. Julie was probably meeting Mr. Right about now. Or at least whooping it up with Alan on the dance floor. “Nope. So I can go in and have the place all to myself. I’ll probably watch a movie, raid the minibar, get to sleep before midnight.”

  He nodded, looking down and rubbing his toe against the concrete of the patio much as he had done in the sand earlier. “You didn’t have any plans?”

  Meaningless, rigorous sport-bonking. “Whatever they were, they’re sorta blown now.” He-he...blown.

  She shouldn’t have been so hasty about not packing a vibrator. Sure, maybe TSA would’ve found it, resulting in some level of humiliation. But maybe not. And even if that had happened, she still would have had the vibrator at the end of the day. Which might have allowed her to think straight tomorrow. As it was, she had so little hope of that. Only one remaining hope, really.

  Jeremy shrugged and started to back away. “Okay. Well, I guess I’ll say goodni—”

  “Do you want to mess around?”

  “Yeah, I really do.”

  “Great.”

  Before either of them could back out, she grabbed his shirt and tugged him down, planting a determined kiss on his lips. He was right there, no surprise, no hesitation, pressing her lips open with his and breathing her in. His hands framed her face, warm and demanding. With his palms over her ears, she could hear the ocean almost as clearly as she had down on the beach. The sound came with the same sense of size and inexorability as the tide.