Forbidden Surrender(30)

“I want to make things easier for you.” He slid his fingers beneath the strings of my bikini top and I could feel him wiping away the coarse sand stuck there, his fingers moving toward the side of my breast. I felt my nipples harden from his touch, barely concealed beneath the thin fabric of my suit.

“I just think it would be better if we take things slow,” I breathed.

“Is this slow enough?” His hands creeped toward my chest, the cool tips of his fingers sending goosebumps across my skin. Just as he was about to cup my breast, he shifted quickly, trailing his fingers lightly down my torso. I groaned in a frustrated desire, wanting him to pinch my nipples between his fingers, take them between his teeth and bite gently.

I reached out to him in spite of myself. My fingers traced the raised edges of a tattoo on his shoulder. “What does this one mean?”

“It’s sanskrit for ‘balance.’ I’m a hard worker, Kristen, but I believe in rewarding myself.” I could feel the bulge of his stirring package beneath his board shorts as he moved closer to me.

“And these?” I crooned as I fingered his nipple rings.

“Something of a souvenir from Fiji.”

“You couldn’t just get a t-shirt?” I leaned into his chest and took his nipple between my fingers, pinching the cool metal ring lightly.

“I wanted something a little more interactive,” he moaned as he grabbed a handful of my hair.

“I knew I felt something hard when I fell on you in South Africa.” The aching throb between my legs had become nearly unbearable and all I wanted to do was pull his board shorts from his hips and take him in my hands. But things were already going faster than they were supposed to and I would have no one to blame but myself if I gave into Vincent and ended up getting hurt.

“What about you, Kristen? Any piercings you’re hiding from me?” The tone of his voice and the ceaseless roaming of his hands suggested he had every intention of finding out unless I put a stop to things.

I tore away from him, mustering all of my willpower to deny my desire. It was hard to ignore just how sexy Vincent was, and I wasn’t sure I believed those surfing lessons he was giving were innocent. It seemed like a flawless plan—the minimal clothing, maximal touching and his persistent charm, any woman would succumb to the seduction. But I wasn’t looking for seduction and if that’s all Vincent was interested in doing then it was better I walked away from our date with my dignity still intact, something my last relationship had taken from me.

Not wanting to cause an argument or dredge up my relationship history I flashed him a doe-eyed look and stepped out of the shower’s stream. “Nothing worth pursuing comes without patience,” I teased.

His shoulders dropped in obvious disappointment but the toothy smile on his face left me hopeful that maybe sex wasn’t his only motive. “I guess that means you want to see me again.”

“Maybe,” I said playfully as I left the stall, “but you’ll have to let me off this island first.”

I made my way to the women’s bathroom and slowly peeled the soaking swimsuit from my body, taking my time as I tried to decompress from the shower. It was ridiculous to try and convince myself I didn’t want Vincent. But whisking a woman off to an isolated island for an afternoon had raised some red flags. Although no one had ever planned such an elaborate date for me, I was starting to think Vincent knew the rules of seduction far better than he knew the rules of dating. I didn’t want to give up on him but I couldn’t let my body get the best of me next time.

Once I had changed and fixed my hair into a loose, damp braid I left the bathroom to find Vincent leaning against the convertible, the deep tan of his skin standing out against his white t-shirt.

He leaned down and kissed me before tugging lightly on the braid. “You look beautiful,” he said.

I blushed, conscious my makeup had washed off and my hair was a mess. “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “All that time in the water wore me out.” He shot me a suggestive grin and I knew he wasn’t just talking about the ocean.

“I’m starved,” I said, but I knew no amount of food could quell my appetite.





By the time we boarded Vincent’s plane, it was evening and I was physically drained. After the hours of surfing, we tried out a Caribbean barbeque place with amazing burgers then drove around the island sightseeing until the sun set. It was a romantic, memorable first date and I found myself hoping it wouldn’t be our last. I’d expected him to be his usual charming and seductive self all day, but he was surprisingly attentive and caring, showing he’d listened when I’d told him about taking things slow. He suggested we stay the night—in separate rooms of course—but I wanted to avoid the possible implications. Resisting him in the public shower was hard enough; sleeping in the same hotel with beds conveniently nearby might’ve been too much for my resistance if he decided to be seductive again. Instead, I’d fallen asleep on his shoulder on the flight back. When he dropped me off at my apartment, we exchanged a chaste goodbye kiss. He promised to text me tomorrow and I promised to tell him what I thought about a second date. I trotted to my room and plopped on my bed, exhausted from the day’s activities.