“I’m going to do more than just hold you, Gracie.” He wasn’t pussyfooting around the fact that he wanted her, not his style. He snaked his hand over her and then under the blanket that separated them. His palm landed on the strip of skin between her thong and tank top. Soft, flat, firm skin. He was going to officially dip his toe in, to test the heat of the current between them. He caressed upward, his hand filling the expanse of skin beneath her breasts to the top lip of her panties, then waited for a response, a word, a tiny movement, something that would reveal her willingness to ride through the whitewater rush that was carrying him. The quick rise and fall of her labored breathing was the only indication she’d heard him. He pulled a short ribbon of hair away from her neck and pressed his lips there. “I don’t know whether what stands between us is just sex, or more than that, but I’m going to find out.” He spoke the words against her skin. Goose bumps formed underneath his lips and a shiver vibrated down her spine.
