“Turnabout is fair play, baby. Give me that sweet smile.” I lean back on the railing and pose for him playfully, cocking one hip to the side and planting my hand on my sarong-covered curve.

“We have to come here often,” he murmurs as he continues to snap photos of me.

“Why?”

“Because I love watching you walk around all day in a bikini. I get to see your tattoos.”

I smile and turn away from him; my left side exposed to him, and raise my left arm up next to my face, looking back at him through the crook of my elbow.

“Take a photo of this tat, and you can look at it any time you want.”

“God, you’re good at this.” He snaps away, his eyes shining with humor and lust, and I smile at him.

“Okay, hold on.” I take off the sarong and let it fall to the floor of the deck and watch his eyes dilate. I love how he enjoys my body. My earlier insecurities have long vanished. I turn my back to him and pull my hair over my shoulder.

My hands are out to my sides, resting on the railing. I know that from this view, he can see the tattoos on my back and my upper thigh. “There you go.”

I hear my camera snapping to life and Luke’s breathing has changed.

“Finished with those?” I ask.

“Yes,” he whispers. I turn back to face him and jump up on the rail, sitting.

“Careful!”

“I’m fine, I won’t fall in.” I scoot so I’m sitting at an angle and pull my right foot up to rest on the railing. My tattoo is exposed. “Snap away.”

He zooms in on my foot and presses the shutter about ten times.

“I hate to disappoint you,” I mutter dryly, “But the last tattoo will have to just remain our little secret.”

His eyes darken as he steps back and takes more photos of me.

“So no one else has seen these tattoos?” he asks, the camera still up at his face.

“Most of them.”

“What does that mean?” He lowers the camera and glares at me.

Crap.

“The one on my pubis is the newest one, and no one but you and the artist have seen it. The one on my back can sometimes be seen when I’m wearing a certain style of top or dress, but no one’s ever asked me what it means. In fact, no one but you knows what any of them mean.”

“And your side and leg?” he asks.

I shrug. “I wasn’t a virgin when I met you.”

He frowns and looks down and I’m desperate to lift this mood.

“Hey.” I hop off the rail and close the gap between us. “The past is over, Luke. For both of us.”

“I know.” He swallows and looks at me with those blue eyes. “It just makes me a little crazy that other men have touched you.”

“Honey,” I smile and run my fingers down his face. “Your touch is the only one that’s ever mattered. You’ve introduced me to feelings I didn’t know existed. Don’t worry about before. You are all I see. Besides,” I take the camera back from him and put the lens cap back on. “You, my love, were certainly no virgin either.”

“How do you know? Maybe I was.”

He chuckles.

“There is no way that you can be as good as you are in bed and be a virgin.”

“Oh? How good am I?” He winks at me and pulls me into his arms, running his hands down my mostly-naked back.

“Hmm… you’re fair.” He laughs as he bends down and places feather-soft kisses at the side of my mouth.

“Fair, huh?”

“Yeah, I endure it. For your sake.”

“You just endure it?” He continues to move those skilled, soft lips across my jaw and over to my ear.

“It’s a real hardship, but somehow I find the willpower.”

He chuckles and cups my face gently in his hands, sweeping his lips over mine, back and forth lightly, then sinks down into me and kisses me deeply, but still softly. Lovingly. Like we have all day. I hold onto his hips, lacing my middle fingers through the belt loops, half of my hand on the fabric and half on his bare skin.

God, my man can kiss.

He pulls back and, still holding my face, gazes into my eyes.

“Wow.” I murmur and his face lights up with humor.

“Did you endure that okay?”

“You are really good at that.”

“So are you. Did you bring a dress?”

I blink at the change of subject.

“Yeah, why?”

“I have something planned for dinner.”

“Oh. I was going to take sunset pictures.”

“You still can. Bring the camera along.”

“Okay. When are we leaving?”

“In a half hour.”

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“It’s a surprise, birthday girl.” He smiles and runs his thumb across my lower lip.

“My birthday is over.”

“This is your birthday vacation, so you’re still the birthday girl.” He kisses me chastely, then links my hand with his and leads me inside.

Our hut, although hut is really the wrong word for it, is absolutely breathtaking. It’s really a bungalow over the water. No little hotel hut would be sufficient for my man.

Our space is large, sporting two bedrooms, a large common area and two bathrooms. The bigger of the two bathrooms has a two person tub that sits right out in the open on a deck, with open views of the ocean. In fact, most of the rooms are open to the outside air with beautiful floaty curtains to pull for a little privacy. The floors are dark wood, but there are glass openings in most of the rooms so you can look down at the fish below.