He didn’t want to move. Didn’t want this to end. The sex was incredible, but the connection, the tenderness she stirred in his blood, was more potent than he’d anticipated. Or been prepared for. He’d always cared for her. Known she was important. But now—
“You okay?” she asked, her hand pressed to his cheek.
That was the question. If she was talking about this? Yes. “Okay” didn’t begin to describe it. Everything about tonight had been incredible. “Yes.” He smiled, lying by her side and pulling her close.
If she was talking about his heart? He wasn’t so sure. It had taken a hell of a long time to piece it back together. He couldn’t give it away, not without a fight. No matter what it wanted.
…
Nick did his best to act like he didn’t give a shit about the fact that Lane’s hand was sliding along Diana’s skinny legs. She wasn’t his problem. If she was, she wouldn’t be glaring at him like that or giving him the cold shoulder. So why did he feel so damn protective? It’s not like she was Honor. They were not family. Thank God she was not his sister. Having Diana as a sister would be like waking up daily to being kicked in the balls.
“Nick?” Fran offered him her half-charred marshmallow.
“Thanks.”
“I didn’t drop this one.” She giggled, leaning against him. “You want a beer?”
Hell no. He was done drinking. Forever. “No. This is good.” He leaned forward to bite the melty-sticky marshmallow from the skewer.
“Oh my God, Nick!” She squealed as he leaned in to kiss her. “You are covered in marshmallow.”
He hesitated. They’d kissed before, once or twice, but never in public—surrounded by their friends—and never when she was in a bikini. But she was in a bikini, and he was having a hell of a hard time ignoring that fact. Or the fact that her overflowing top was pressed against his arm. And he had some view. His gaze slipped from her face to her cleavage. Damn it. Fran’s breathing picked up, her gaze falling to his mouth—and shooting blood to parts of his body that could make this whole thing way awkward and potentially embarrassing.
Just fricking awesome.
She was kissing him. That was a first. “Missed you,” she whispered, winding her arms around his neck, which put those hella-soft curves against his bare chest.
“Wanna walk?” he asked.
But her eyes went wide. “Oh? You… Walk where?”
He shrugged, draping his beach towel around his neck for camouflage, and stood. “Along the shore.” At least until he wasn’t pitching a half tent.
Fran glanced around the fire, her knees drawn to her chest. “Just you and me?”
He frowned. “Yeah?” That’s when he realized they had an audience. And why Fran was freaking out. Some people might be cool hooking up in the woods when there was a crowd of people close by, but that wasn’t him. Cheesy or not, he wanted his first time to be…cool. But he wasn’t going to tell her that here—now. “For a walk.”
She didn’t believe him. From the giggles and whispers around the bonfire, nobody did. Not that they mattered. Fran did. She couldn’t look at him—she was too busy pulling on her swimsuit cover-up.
What the hell? Didn’t she know him? He wasn’t out to screw her. Is that what she thought of him? That he was like…like Lane?
“Okay.” Fran stood, red-cheeked and nervous.
“Looks like someone’s getting lucky.” Lane laughed.
It took everything he had not to say something. His jaw hurt from how hard he was clenching it. But he wasn’t going to pick a fight, because Lane was an asshat. He’d want to fight here, in public. Make a scene. Make Nick look like a tool. Not happening.
“You okay, Fran?” Diana asked, coming around the fire. She stood there, looking back and forth between him and Fran like Fran needed rescuing.
Is Fran okay? What the hell? He glanced at his girlfriend—sort of girlfriend. She didn’t look okay. She looked freaked out.
And it irritated him. A whole hell of a lot. “Fran, just forget it.” He sounded pissed. And he was, but not at her. Not really.
“Cockblocked!” Lane laughed, louder this time.
“Are you kidding me?” he snapped, rethinking the whole restraint thing. Using Lane as a punching bag sounded pretty damn good at the moment.
Fran grabbed his hand. “Come on, Nick.” She stood, tugging him away from the fire. “Let’s walk.”