stayed focused on making her point instead of pointing that fact out to him.
“Adam, it’s a beach. There is sand involved,” she’d said, switching to her most soothing voice.
“I hate the beach,” he’d grumbled.
It had taken everything inside her not to go and kiss him. His petulance was oddly endearing, as was the churlish way he’d stood and hobbled toward her with one combat boot on, the other off, and grabbed the flip-flops from her.
“If it’s any consolation,” she’d said, unable to stop herself, “you look adorable.”
His icy glare had been his only response. He wore much the same expression now, though it was aimed at Armando and not her. Armando was close to her, but there was nothing bothersome about his closeness, at least not from Sloan’s perspective, or at least not until she looked at Adam and saw the berserker look on his face.
“You know how to paddleboard?” Armando asked.
He didn’t seem in any hurry to let her go, and Adam got a little closer.
“I’m more than capable of ensuring my fiancée’s safety,” he said.
Casual enough words if one ignored the undertone in them. But while the words had been calm if a bit surly, all Sloan had heard was, “I’m going to rip your fucking head off if you don’t leave now.”
Apparently Armando had heard the same, because in the next breath, he had his arms back at his sides, and more importantly, away from Sloan. “I hope that the lady and gentleman enjoy the afternoon. Find me if you have any questions,” he said.
Then he disappeared, gone to chat with Dirk and Candy, who stood about twenty feet away.
When they were alone, or as alone as they could be out in the open on the beach, surrounded by nearly a dozen other happy couples, he refocused his glare on her.
“Well, do you board?” Sloan asked.
The expression on his face almost made Sloan laugh out loud, but she fortunately suppressed that desire. It probably wasn’t smart to push him, but petulant Adam was amusing, and Sloan just couldn’t help herself.
“What do you think?” he asked as he came to stand behind her and put his hands exactly where Armando’s had been.
Sloan’s reaction to Adam’s touch was completely different. Where before she had been focused on movement, keeping her balance, all she felt now was his hands on her, the cage of his body in the warmth of the afternoon sun, his heavily muscled chest just barely grazing her back.
She wanted to press herself flat against him, lean into his embrace, but he wasn’t her real fiancé, so there could be none of that there. She needed to be a responsible adult and ignore the fact she wanted to mount Adam right here on the middle of the beach.
“Can I let you in on a little secret, Adam?” she asked, her voice a little lower than she wanted.
He tightened his grip on her hips. “You can,” he said.
“I’ve been paddleboarding since I was eight. I could probably teach Armando a thing or two,” she said.
Not that Armando had paused long enough to even ask. He’d taken one look at curvy Sloan and dived headlong into his basic lesson. Sloan had gone along with the lesson, figuring Adam could use the time to investigate. He’d stayed planted where he’d stood, though, and hadn’t, as far as Sloan could see, looked at anything but them.
“You won’t be teaching Armando anything,” came his response a moment later.
Still, he kept his hands on her hips, adjusted her body this way and that, ostensibly continuing with the lesson. She’d gotten used to his touch, welcomed it, despite the fact she knew the desire he so expertly stirred would go tragically unfulfilled. Still, the warmth of Adam’s hands on her was almost enough to make her orgasm.
A moment later, she turned, looked at him and saw the frown still plastered on his face, though there was a hint of pleasure. It made her hopeful, and that hope made her wary. No one was watching them, not too closely, anyway, so there was no reason
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