The ocean hums in the distance, waves crashing in time with the pounding of my heart.
I feel him step up behind me.
Heat radiates off of him, his breath warm against my shoulder, his chest solid against my back.
I close my eyes.
This is dangerous.
This is going to ruin me.
But I don’t stop him.
His hands slide up my sides, slow, deliberate, like he’s memorizing the shape of me.
I shiver, my fingers tightening on the railing.
His lips brush my ear, his voice rough and low.
"One more time?”
A tremor runs through me, pooling low in my stomach, spreading heat through my veins.
I let out a breathless laugh.
“This is it. Make it count, Knox."
His groan is soft, deep, full of something I can’t name.
He drags his hands down my hips, his fingers curling around the hem of my dress.
Lifting.
Bunching.
Exposing.
The night air wraps around my bare skin, sending a shiver through me.
"Hands on the railing," he murmurs.
A command.
I swallow, my pulse pounding in my ears.
I obey.
His hand skims up my back, over my shoulder, down my spine.
"Good girl."
Oh, fuck.
My eyes flutter shut, my breath catching, my body reacting instantly.
I feel him press against me, his hands firm on my waist, his breath hot on my neck.
"You ready for me, Sinclair?"
