We all caught some sun as it lowered, and full bellies and the sea air made everyone sleepy. When the tide began encroaching on our borrowed strip of sand, it was time to get to the boat.

I couldn’t wait to get everyone on their way so Jack and I could be alone. Back onboard, I pulled my white jean shorts on over my bikini, and then stared at Jack’s face behind my mirrored glasses.

Sometimes to avoid the Jack Eversea, movie-star effect, I had to break his features down into individual aspects of beauty, just so I could see him. The angles of his cheekbones that sometimes seemed harsh, the small crease lines at his eyes, the full lips, and the tiny scar in his left eyebrow that I felt anchored to as a reminder he was a real guy beneath what he projected to everyone else.

We pulled up at a dock. I hugged Devon, Joey, and then Jazz, and Jack and I hopped onto dry land and waved them off.

I looked around the open piney area and saw a golf cart. “That our ride?” I asked, keeping my voice steady through sheer force of will.

The golf cart had the keys in it and a map of the island with a marked trail. We got in and headed down the dirt path through the trees that seemed to run parallel to the water’s edge, even as we got to a bend in the road, where the island jutted out then turned to face the open sound. Here, the trees stood closer together almost hiding a small cottage near the shore. “This should be it,” I said, double-checking the map.

Painted white, and stunning in its simplicity, the board-and-batten cottage looked like a marketing tool for Southern Living Magazine. It had a seamed metal roof jutting over a deep front porch, complete with two rocking chairs facing the sound. A glossy grass lawn ran down to the sandy edge of the water. There were lanterns strung in one of the small, pink-flowered crepe myrtle trees near the house and some hurricane jars with candles set here and there.

“Wow,” I managed.

Up on the porch, we could see inside the glass French doors and the two windows on either side. There was a silver ice bucket with a bottle of champagne and two glass flutes set on a small bistro table by the window.

And I could see a bed. A huge bed. I glanced at Jack, who was wearing a lopsided grin, his eyes cutting away as he turned and knelt down, feeling underneath the mat for the key to the door.

He found the key and stood up, turning to me. The sun was low in the sky over the water, casting a golden glow.

I stepped forward and slid my hand up around the back of his neck and his eyes flickered closed. Pulling his face down, I gently touched my lips to his. My other hand ran down his arm until I reached his hand that held the key. I squeezed and urged his arm up, letting him know I was impatient to get inside with him.

He smiled against my lips and unlocked the door.

Stepping inside the open plan cottage, I breathed in the smell of clean laundry and cedar. A small kitchen area was tucked in the back corner behind the open living room with stone fireplace. The walls were cream painted shipboard siding, lending a casual feel to the elegantly decorated room.

The only windows were the ones facing out to the front porch and the sea beyond, dressed in elegant white ceiling to floor drapes.

I turned slowly and headed to the left side of the open space where a low partition separated the bedroom area from where a large white Victorian clawfoot tub nestled, open to the view.

“Wow,” I said again, and then froze staring at the bedside table. “Oh my God,” I squeaked when I recognized my driftwood lamp-base Faith had sold in her shop.

“What?”

I went over and sat on the edge of the white bed, running my fingers over the lamp gently. “This is mine. Wow.”

“It’s beautiful,” Jack said and came to sit next to me.

I smiled at him. “This place is beautiful. Thank you.”

“You’re beautiful.” He swallowed. “I hope you don’t think it was too presumptuous of me to do this so fast. Just because we’re here, doesn’t mean we have to, you know.”

“I know.” I smiled. He’d said that like three times.

“I’ll bring our stuff in. I think there’s more to the bathroom than just that tub, maybe back behind here somewhere,” he said, indicating the wall behind the bed. “You go investigate. Maybe we can shower then see what we’ve got to eat in the fridge.”

I nodded, and he headed out to the porch.

There was indeed a bathroom back there with a massive walk-in shower lined with white subway tiles and multiple showerheads. I reached in and turned it on, letting the water heat and wandered over to the mirror above one of the marble topped vanities. I was flushed from the sun and my hair, as I pulled it out of a messy bun, was a kinky mess. When Jack told me I was beautiful, I believed him. Fully. I felt beautiful when he looked at me.

His mention of us showering conjured all sorts of images, and while he probably meant we should shower one after the other, all I could think about after our outdoor shower was us in there together.

We had this one amazing night here, away from prying eyes and judgments. I had no idea what our relationship would look like going forward, but we had this moment. Seven long months I’d spent missing him and wanting him and fantasizing about various scenarios. And some had been sexual, there was no point denying it to myself.

I took a deep breath. “Jack?”

He came in, carrying a black toiletries bag and dumped it on the counter. “Yeah?”

“I, I was thinking …” Gah. My throat was so thick with nerves, I sounded like I needed speech therapy. And my cheeks were hot. My eyes flicked over to the shower involuntarily.

Jack followed my look then looked back at me. And I saw the thought cross his mind, his eyes narrowing, his nostrils flaring slightly. His Adams apple bobbed roughly as he swallowed. “What were you thinking?” he said roughly.

My shaking fingers found the buttons of my shorts, and I popped them open, and then shimmied them down my thighs until they dropped. I stepped out of them and toed off my shoes.

Jack’s eyes tracked down my legs then back to my hands, waiting to see what they would do next, I guess. The steam from the warm shower filled the room.

I reached for my t-shirt and pulled it off and stood in my bikini. “I was thinking, you did such a good job of washing me in the shower before, you, you could do it again?”

Jack’s mouth closed in a tight line, and his hand gripped the counter, white knuckled.

“Get undressed, Jack,” I said softly and reached for my bikini tie at my neck.

“Stop,” he said harshly.

I froze.

He let go of the counter, and reaching behind him, pulled his t-shirt over his head. “I want to do that.”

Gulping, I obeyed.

“Get in the shower,” he rasped, his eyes intense.

The hunch that I’d released some kind of animal in Jack was strong. And rather than trepidation, it sent a rush of hot want through every single part of me. I nodded with a small smile as I entered the shower. Stepping under the warm spray, I turned to watch the vague outline of Jack through the foggy glass as he took off his shoes and shorts. Despite the moist humidity and the water streaming over me, my mouth went dry at the sight of Jack stepping into the shower completely naked and aroused.

Wow.

The sight of his muscled form with the hideous tattoo, beautiful but ugly for its significance, caused my nerves to ratchet up. My eyes traveled back up to where he was watching me intently, his green eyes boring into mine.