Slow Heat

And best yet, Bailey had never felt better.

Knock on wood. Everything was okay in their world. Hence the long, lazy days at the beach spent snorkeling with colorful fish that poked her face mask and made her gasp and laugh and nearly drown herself. Luckily, she had her own personal rescue squad in the form of one tall, dark, and relaxed Hudson Kincaid.

He nuzzled his face at the back of her neck and made her squirm in the very best of ways. When she snuggled her butt into his crotch, she felt him smile against her—he hadn’t shaved all week and the delicious scruff he had going, along with a dark, perfect tan, damn him, made him her very own pirate, and he had pillaged and taken and conquered her, heart and soul.

“Again?” he murmured, his hands sliding up from her hips to her breasts, barely contained in the itty-bitty bikini she wore.

“Yes.” Knowing that their captain and staff had discreetly vanished to give them a private picnic dinner at sunset, she only gasped when his fingers slid beneath the triangles covering her breasts. Gasped and then moaned. “Here?” she whispered hopefully, turning in the circle of his arms, moaning again because the sight of him in nothing but low-slung board shorts stopped her heart.

“The Greek Islands,” he murmured, cupping her ass, lifting her up so that she could wrap herself around him. “That’s on your list, and never let it be said that I’m not a thorough man.” He turned them and laid her out on their towel.

“I do love a thorough man,” she managed breathlessly, and reached up for him.

Towering over her, he smiled. Lowering himself to her, he stroked back the wispy and completely uncontrollable hair that had grown in. She was a little self-conscious about it but Hud seemed to love it, always sifting his fingers through the wayward strands. “We’re going to do this,” he said. “And it’s going to be good.”

She smiled and welcomed him into her arms. “It’s going to be wonderful.”