When she made that soft sound in her throat as he tongued her again? He nearly fucking lost control. With a groan of his own, Rob rolled their bodies on the beach, and then Marjorie was underneath him, her back on the sand, and he was pressing her down onto the beach. His knee moved instinctively between hers, and he felt her shift against him; all the while her lips clung to his and her tongue continued to sweetly brush and flick against his own.

He wanted to touch her everywhere. To drag her back to his hotel room, strip her out of the wet clothing, and run his tongue all over her skin, until she was making more of those soft noises in her throat. What would she sound like when he put his mouth on her pussy? He couldn’t wait to find out.

His hand strayed to the waist of her jeans, testing her, and immediately, her hand covered his, stopping him.

Not yet. Okay. He’d take that . . . for now. They were on a beach.

Rob lifted his head and pressed one last kiss to her now-swollen lips. He glanced around, but the beach was now deserted. Logan and his woman had likely seen them making out and steered clear—just as he’d planned. Perfect. He leaned down and kissed Marjorie again, his entire focus on her once more. “Come back to my room with me.”

Her hands pressed to his chest in a subtle refusal. “Rob.” She licked her lips, making them even wetter, and the sight of her tasting him made him even more aroused. “I . . . I’m not very experienced.” She said this like it was the end of the world, a depressing fact to be conveyed before intercourse. He’d heard much worse, though. Things like you should know I have herpes and I’m still with my ex. Things that made his dick shrivel and made him send the girl packing. This? He didn’t care. “I’ll try not to hold it against you,” he told her, leaning in for another kiss.

She pushed at his chest again. “Rob,” Marjorie said softly. “Wait.”

He waited.

“I’d love for us to start over,” she said softly. “But I think you should know the truth about me. All the truth. I’m a virgin, I’ve only dated two guys, and I’ve never been further than second base.”

She called it second base still? Okay, that was kind of cute. “I’m willing to tutor,” he told her, leaning in to kiss the tip of her adorably freckled nose.

“Yes, but . . .” she bit her lip again. “Since I’ve waited so long, I think I want to wait until I’m in love.”

“That’s no problem. I’ll just make you fall in love with me.”

Her eyes widened, and she thwapped his arm with her hand again. “That’s not how it works!”

Rob grinned down at her. “Isn’t it? You’re setting your boundaries. I’m fine with that. I’d rather you tell me your hard limits now than me find out when my dick is an inch from sinking inside you.” Her scandalized little gasp told him she was picturing that, too. “Here’s my confession. I don’t know if I can love anyone, Marjorie. I’m a jaded fuck, and it takes a lot to impress me anymore. But I’ve been fucking crazy over you since the day you dragged me out of the water and put your mouth on me, and I’m determined to make you just as crazy about me as I am about you. And if you’re fine with that, then I’d love to see you again. The real you, not the one you think you need to be.”

She shifted under him, gazed up at him with a slight frown on her face. “Are you telling me that you want to still go out with me thinking that you’ll somehow convince me to sleep with you?”

He thought about that, then shrugged. “Pretty much?”

Marjorie laughed again. “Wow, this is an honest conversation.”

“I’m not promising anything,” Rob said, gazing down at her. There was a bit of sand on her cheek and he brushed it off, then caressed her jaw, enjoying the simple pleasure of being able to touch her. “I’m definitely not promising anything after two terrible dates. But I like you and I want you, and I think we should take it day by day.”

Her smile softened a bit more. “I think I can handle that.”

“And my nuts are fucking freezing on this beach.”

She laughed again. “I’m pretty cold, too. Should we call it a night?”

“Only if you’ll promise to see me again tomorrow,” he told her.

“Tomorrow?” She gave a small shake of her head. “I have lunch with the bride and another fitting.”

“Exactly when is this wedding?”

“A week from today. We’re just all here early as an all-expenses-paid vacation and to help Brontë out with any wedding stuff that she might need help with. I think it’s so she doesn’t have a nervous breakdown over place cards or something.” Marjorie fiddled with the front of his shirt. “She’s really stressed. The guy she’s marrying is super rich and super important, and Brontë’s afraid she’ll mess something up.”

He didn’t blame her. Logan seemed like a real dick. “Your wedding fitting can’t take all day. Neither can lunch. Should be plenty of time for me somewhere in there.”

“Somewhere,” she agreed, a bit breathless. “Want me to text you?”

Letting her call the shots? Hell, why not. “Sure. But if you don’t text me by three in the afternoon, I’m going to think you stood me up—”

“I would never!”

“—and I’ll send you dick pics.”

Her laughter echoed across the quiet beach, so happy and carefree that he found himself laughing, too.

***

That evening, when Rob went back to his room, he turned on the shower, undressed, and climbed in so he could jerk off.

His cock was as hard as a rock after his little aborted date with Marjorie. So it hadn’t gone so great in the beginning. That didn’t matter. What was important was that little talk on the beach afterward, and their kiss.

Good god, that kiss.

He couldn’t get it out of his mind: the soft, dazed expression she’d had as he’d dipped his tongue into her mouth, the feel of her long, slim body pressed against him, the way she’d licked her wet, swollen lips and made them gleam in the moonlight.

Goddamn. He squirted a handful of conditioner into his palm and began to work his cock, one hand braced against the wall. It didn’t matter that she’d told him that she wouldn’t sleep with someone if she didn’t love him. She’d come around to seeing things his way. And in the meantime, there were kisses and more dates to be had.

He had a week to romance the hell out of Marjorie Ivarsson, virgin.

His cock gave an aching throb as he continued to stroke his conditioner-greased palm up and down his length. Marjorie was a virgin, and she was shy, but she was also eager. He’d seen the way she’d licked her lips and then looked back up at him. She’d wanted to keep going. He’d let her make all the first moves, of course, but until then, he had his hand.

And so he pictured Marjorie in a variety of ways. Up against the wall of the shower with him, clinging to his back as he drove into her. Under him on the bed, tall shoes making her impossibly long legs even longer. Marjorie tonguing his cock with those wet, wet lips. Marjorie’s mouth nibbling on his sac—

He shot his load in record time. But it didn’t help. When he went to bed that night, he was still semi-hard just thinking about her.

Marjorie might be dazed with the flush of infatuation, but Rob was a jaded piece of shit. He didn’t get infatuated. What he was feeling for her right now? Rob was in love. Insta-fucking-love. Who’d have thought that he’d be one to get all sappy over a chick the moment he saw her?

All he knew was that polka-dotted swimsuits had suddenly gotten extremely fucking sexy to him.

Chapter Twelve

The next day, Rob was feeling pretty damn pleased with himself, all things considered. The date had been a disaster, but afterward . . . yeah. Afterward was good. And this morning? He was feeling even fucking better. Things were looking up. He sat on the balcony of his suite, enjoying a tequila sunrise and the cool breeze that rolled off the ocean. There was breakfast on his plate, but he wasn’t hungry. Instead, like a spider, he sat in his web and managed his prey.