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“Goodnight, Peaches,” Peaches muttered and huffed out a sigh.

Lotti turned to Sean, who was laughing. “I didn’t train him,” she said. “My dad did. He wanted to drive my mom crazy.” She took in the room and realized he’d incorporated everything she’d had on her clipboard. Sand, surf . . . surfer. And he was most definitely the hottest surfer she’d ever seen. “What is all this, Sean?”

“Since you can’t get to Mexico, I brought Mexico to you.”

“How did you accomplish all this in fifteen minutes?”

“Maybe you’re not the only one with the taking care of everyone else skill.” He lifted a shoulder with a little self-deprecating grimace. “Mine, of course, is a newer skill, so I’m not sure how I’m doing.”

Her heart squeezed. “You’re doing amazing.” And because the answering look he gave her had more than her heart reacting, she went for a distraction. “Tell me that’s strawberry margaritas.”

“It is. And I didn’t do this alone. I had help. Elle, Pru, Willa, and Colbie are real good in a pinch. Especially Elle. She’s a miracle maker. We’re not even sure she’s human.” He poured them each a glass—hers had a little umbrella in it. He gently clicked his drink to hers. “To Mexico.”

She drank to that and then rolled her sore neck.

He gently took her glass and set it on her nightstand. “Take off your sweater and lie down,” he said. “On your front.”

She went brows up. “I don’t think I’ve had enough tequila yet.”

“I’m going to use the suntan oil for all your kinks.”

Her breath stuttered in her throat as all sorts of dirty, wicked images floated in her head.

“. . . In your neck,” he said with a smile that said he knew exactly where her mind had gone.

She’d reached for her drink and taken a big sip when he’d said “kinks,” and she nearly snorted tequila out her nose. “I’m not losing my top before you do,” she wheezed.

Without a word, he pulled his T-shirt off and let it hit the floor. He stood there looking comfortable as hell in nothing but those board shorts riding low on his hips, revealing proof that the lean, lanky boy was now all man. Still lean but oh so many muscles, each delineated in a way that was making her mouth water. She took another gulp of her liquid courage. “You really think I’m just going to strip?”

“That would be my greatest fantasy, but all I asked for was your sweater.”

She took another long sip of her margarita. “Okay,” she said, staring at his chest, the one she wanted to lick like a lollipop from his chin to waistband of those shorts and beyond. “Just my sweater.” But she didn’t move.

He smiled. “It’s not like I haven’t seen it all before.”

“Hey, that was a long time ago!”

He cocked his head, looking her over. “Has anything changed?”

“No.” Well, maybe a little. She wasn’t as skinny as she’d been, for one thing. “Maybe,” she admitted.

“I’ll close my eyes.”

She snorted again and pulled off her top. Beneath she was wearing a plain black sports bra. Not exactly sexy since it had more coverage than a bathing suit top would’ve provided. Feeling safe, she climbed up on her bed and lay facedown. “Do your worst.”

The scent of coconut hit her just before his warm hands did. Coated in oil, they glided firmly up her back and she let out a shuddery moan of pleasure before she could stop herself.

It’d been so long since someone had touched her . . . too long. She wanted him to keep going, wanted him to touch every inch of her and remind her what she’d been missing.

She felt the depression of the mattress when Sean got onto the bed and straddled her for a better reach. Then his amazing hands went to work kneading the knots in her shoulders and neck, and she moaned again.

“You’re a mess, baby,” he murmured, his fingers tangling with her sports bra.

She was a mess and in far more ways than one. Reaching back, she unhooked the bra’s three hooks and Sean stilled.

Buoyed by that, Lotti went through the acrobatic motions of carefully pulling her arms out of the loops without revealing too much or showing him her face, which she knew would’ve been the biggest reveal of all. She was sure her need and hunger was all over it.

“Lotti.” Sean’s voice sounded strained, husky, and she felt herself go damp in response.

“Wouldn’t want to get funny tan lines,” she said.

He let out a low half laugh, half groan, and then his weight shifted. “Tan lines are a bitch,” he agreed. He was at her side again, this time so his hands could glide beneath her skirt. He got ahold of her tights and slid them down her legs, dropping them to the floor.

Now she was the one to freeze. Not because she wanted him to stop but because she was afraid he would stop. She felt his coconut oiled hands on her legs now, massaging his way up from the balls of her feet to the backs of her thighs, just under the edge of her skirt.

“Lotti?” he asked, voice gruff.

She had to clear her throat to speak. “Yeah?”

“How do you feel about tan lines on your ass?”

“Hate them,” she said.

Her skirt was gone before she could blink. By some miracle, she was wearing her favorite pair of purple bikini bottoms.

“Pretty,” he murmured. “But they’ve got to go too.” And then he hooked his thumbs on either side and slowly pulled them down. They hit the floor by her skirt and she held her breath.

As if she wasn’t laid out before him like some sort of feast, he started at the bottom of her feet again, slowly working his strong fingers over the tense muscles. Her calves. The backs of her thighs. Her lower back. Her upper back, shoulders, and neck. Her arms, all the way down to her fingers. And then finally, he made his way down her spine to her ass.

Until now, he’d been silent, giving her the best massage of her entire life. If she hadn’t been so unbearably aroused, she might have fallen asleep. But as he went along, he mixed in a series of knowing touches that had her on the very edge. He stroked the tips of his fingers along her ribs and the sides of her breasts, the tops of the back of her thighs, making sure to graze her butt here and there too.

When he cupped a cheek in each of his big palms and squeezed, kneading, spreading her open, he let out a rough groan at the view he gave himself.

“Spread your legs, baby,” he said softly, and then did it himself. With a hand on each of her ankles, he nudged her legs apart. Then he was between them, going back to massaging her again while she writhed helplessly beneath him, so unbearably aroused she couldn’t lie still. Her nipples rubbed against her blanket, the same blanket that was balled up at the vee of her thighs, teasing her halfway to an orgasm. “Sean—”

“Turn over,” he said, his voice giving her a full body shiver, which was when she realized it wasn’t the blankets at all. It was 100 percent him.

Chapter Seven

Lotti had a choice. Call this off now, or turn over and take what she wanted—which happened to be one sexy as hell Sean O’Riley.

She turned over.

Sean’s dark eyes went molten lava and his breath caught audibly. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he said and it was crazy. Just his words now, with neither of his hands on her, had her squirming.