“I don’t fucking care,” he said breathlessly, trailing his hand over my foam-soaked bikini top. “Admit it, you like the thrill of it all just as much as I do.” He grabbed my hand and brought itdown by his thigh before he jerked his head to the side. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“No tequila?” I smirked.
“Oh, there’ll be tequila.”
I had no idea what he meant, but I found myself giggling like a schoolgirl anyway as he led me down the foreign streets of Mykonos, his strides so long and quick, I struggled to keep up. He let me go for only a few minutes when he left me outside an all-night store, before he came rushing out with a bottle of tequila in his grip.
“You’re insane.” I found myself laughing even harder as he, once again, picked my hand up in his and began dragging me down the street. I tried really hard not to focus on how much I liked him leading me places.
We soon arrived back at our apartment complex, and Henry made a point of stopping by my favourite flowers, spinning me around in front of them, then pressing my body against the collection of pink petals so they framed my head like a fluorescent halo. He stepped back, taking me in as I looked up at him, somehow feeling adored by a man I barely even knew.
Even knowing we weren’t made to last, I took what I could of his adoration anyway.
“Don’t move,” he said, digging into the pocket of his shorts, pulling out his phone, and raising it to take a picture of me without warning. The flash went off, temporarily blinding me, but when I focused back on Henry again, he stared at the screen with a serene smile on his face. “Damn.”
“What is it?”
“You’re just… hot as fuck.” He turned his phone around to show me the picture.
Flushed cheeks and a happy smile took centre stage, my eyes almost seductive as I stared into the lens, as though enticing this man closer with my pigtails and wet bikini. The sight of itmade my cheeks blush because that didn’t even look like me. The woman in that picture seemed confident, daring, bold—a total contrast to the woman who’d stumbled onto that plane only a few days ago.
Did Henry really hold that much power over me already?
If so, what the hell would I look like by the end of this holiday?
I glanced up at him, feeling needier than ever for his touch. “What are you going to do with me now?”
He pushed the phone back into his pocket and brought his free hand around the back of my neck, pulling me to him. “Make you pay for calling me Cohen all night long for starters.”
“Oh.” I sighed dreamily. “That.”
“Yeah.” He smirked. “That.”
We’d laughed quietly the whole way to his apartment, him with his masculine half-smirks telling me to “Shh”. Me, having to press my hand over my mouth while he encouraged me to move faster so he could have his way with me sooner. The door had barely slammed shut behind us when he placed the bottle of tequila on the countertop and turned to me, breathless from the way he’d raced up the stairs to make it to his room unnoticed.
But the moment we were alone, our quiet laughter and cheek-aching smiles gave way to heavy breaths, parted lips, and an air of expectation that became suffocating. We were two live wires ready to cause a catastrophe, not caring about the aftereffects, only caring about basking in the spark that came to life.
He walked over to me slowly, taking me in while taking his time. When he came to a stop only inches away, he reachedaround to the strings at the back of my bikini and carefully untied them, letting both ends fall down by my hips, before he did the same with the string tied behind my neck. The material fell away to the floor, as though it, too, was scared to break the sexual tension with even the faintest of sounds.
Henry eventually glanced down at my sticky breasts, raising his palms to push up against them, running his thumbs over the puckered nipples carefully, painfully, causing me to inhale a stuttered breath as a jolt of white-hot pleasure shot straight to my groin.
“Shower with me?” he whispered.
I nodded my consent, unable to look away from him as he grabbed my hand and guided me to the bathroom. Henry didn’t bother to turn the light on once in there, allowing the constant echo of the moonlight to hold court above all else, casting shadows among us like we were two pieces of art being defined by lines, light, and darkness.
Without saying a word, he flicked the shower on, then started peeling himself out of his damp, sticky clothes, while I stood there wearing nothing but my denim shorts, waiting. Staring. Soaking every part of him in. The strength that oozed from his body. The fire that shone from his eyes when he dropped his T-shirt to the floor and began to lower his shorts. The way his dark hair stuck up at certain angles, reckless yet perfect, like the two of us in this secret affair we’d somehow forged out of hatred and loneliness.
When he pushed his boxers down, letting his cock spring free, I wasted no more time in letting him know my intentions. I unbuttoned my shorts before I pushed them and my bikini bottoms down my legs, watching as Henry’s tongue ran out over his bottom lip the moment he saw me straighten up in front of him, totally naked.
It was the first time we’d seen each other this way, no barrier between us.
No clothes.
No swimwear.
No ocean hiding our sins.
No foam cloaking our desires.
