Adam stared down into Lucy’s pale green eyes and knew he was screwed. There was no coming back from this, no walking away. If those sleek thighs rubbing restlessly together hadn’t tipped him over the edge, then her plea would have.
Still, he tried to fight it, one last push. He let all the reasons he should say no to her fly and slam through his mind. She was his best friends’ little sister. She was too damn young for him. Touching her would be a fucking sacrilege, a demon defiling an angel from heaven. But Lucy wasn’t some untouchable innocent. She was a woman, had been making decisions for herself for a long time, and right now she was standing in front of him telling him she wanted him.
Was he rationalizing this to make himself feel better about taking what she offered? No doubt. But she’d set the ground rules. Rules he could live with…couldn’t he?
Uncertainty had crept into her eyes. She expected him to make some asshole comment, to put distance between them or walk away, his usual MO when he felt himself getting too close to her.
This time, though, he didn’t push her away. He reached down, took one of her hands gripping his shirt, and wrapped it in his. Her fingers were cold. “Let’s go back to the room.” Was that his voice? That fucked up mess torn from his throat?
Her fingers spasmed in his. “You want to go back to the room?”
“Yeah, I fucking do.” He tucked her hair behind her ear, fire slamming him in the gut at the feel of her smooth cheek. God, he wanted to kiss her, but if he did that, they’d never make it back to the hotel and she deserved more than to be fucked up against some building in a shadowy alleyway. He wanted to see her face, all of her when he finally got to touch and taste her. “Let’s go.”
Lucy didn’t say a word as he led her through the crowd and they emerged out the other side to stride along the mostly quiet streets. Her fingers were still wrapped around his so damn tight, like she was afraid to let him go, like she still didn’t believe this was going to happen. Walking away, sleeping in the damn car, sending her on a bus home would be the right thing to do, but he couldn’t do it, not now. He’d go to hell for this, burn for eternity, but it would be worth it for three days with Lucy.
Worth that and a whole lot more.
Lucy smiled at him, and he felt it low in his gut.
She stared out at the water. “It’s so beautiful.”
He wouldn’t know. All he could see was her. All he could think of was the way she’d been this morning while he’d moved inside her. No one, nothing, compared to the woman standing in front of him. This was becoming more and more apparent as the hours ticked by. But he already knew that, which was why every moment with her was equal parts euphoria and agony.
Damn, his throat felt tight as hell. He cleared it. “Yeah, I always thought it was a nice spot.”
She shook her head, glancing at him over her shoulder. “Nice? That word does not adequately describe this place.” She lifted her hand to shield her eyes. “Did you used to swim down here?”
“All the time.”
Her grin was back. “I say we eat then take a dip.”
He didn’t get a chance to answer, because she’d already taken the blanket out of his hand—the picnic blanket—and was laying it out on the ground. Lucy was right, this was romantic. He hadn’t planned for it—didn’t know the damn meaning of the word—he’d simply wanted to show her a place that was special to him before their journey ended.
She plonked down on ground, legs crossed under her. “So what did you get us?”
The light breeze ruffled her dark hair, eyes bright with happiness. It was good to see. She hadn’t looked like her old self since she’d been back. And, fuck, so much had changed in the last forty-eight hours that he’d give anything to know what put those shadows in her beautiful green eyes. Anything, to be the one to seek out the source and fucking annihilate it.
“Dude, I’m dying of starvation here.”
He’d been standing there staring at her. “Ah…yeah, just some sandwiches.”
She patted the spot beside her. “Well, come on then. Hand it over.”
For some crazy reason, he felt nervous. He’d never done anything like this with a woman. He was well aware that made him a major asshole and seriously pathetic. But he was kind of glad the one and only time he’d do stuff like this—romantic stuff—it was with Lucy.
Dropping down on the blanket beside her, he handed over the bag, watching as she pulled everything out and laid it down between them. It was a simple act, but he was damn near mesmerized by her. Gut in knots. They were like a normal couple, weren’t they? This was the kind of thing that couples did. Spent their night together, sleeping together, laughing, joking, fucking. Eating a goddamn picnic lunch together. This was the only taste he’d get of that kind of life. How many times would he hear about Lucy and some other guy after this was all over? How many times would he be confronted with it? Seeing her with boyfriends—one day a husband.