“You sure ran up the hill fast.” His first touch draws a small gasp from my lips.

“Yeah, I guess I just really wanted to jump again.”

I smile to myself. “Right. Jump.”

He chuckles softly.

We fall into a comfortable silence as his hands smooth over my shoulders and down my sides in long, languid strokes, until my entire back is covered. Only he doesn’t stop there. He squeezes another dollop onto the back of each thigh and covers the full length of my legs, all the way from my ankles to the edge of my bikini bottoms, his fingertips sliding down over my inner thighs, teasing me, never venturing where I want them to, making the mild ache between my legs morph into a needy throb.

“Your back is done,” he announces, his voice low and gravelly.

“Do you mind doing the rest?” I roll over, squinting against the sun as I peer up to admire his stunning features.

He licks his lips as his eyes trail the length of my body. Finally he shakes his head and wordlessly squeezes a glob onto my belly button.

I suck in my stomach from the chill, and he chuckles. He begins smoothing the sunscreen over my abdomen, his strokes even slower than before, his face taking on an odd, somber expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing at all. You’re just . . . perfect,” he murmurs, shifting his hand upward, over my breasts, his palm cupping each one, the soft pad of his thumb circling over my nipples a few times. “I still can’t believe you’re here with me. I’m the luckiest guy in the world right now.”

I reach out to drag my fingers against his thigh. “I’m the lucky one.”

“You have no clue . . .” He shakes his head as he shifts his focus, stretching to reach my ankles before moving all the way up each leg, his hands firm and confident. And, once again, he teases me mercilessly, his fingers sliding provocatively as he coats my inner thighs.

I shift my legs apart, just enough that he’ll hopefully take the hint.

He definitely notices because his mouth parts and his gaze shifts to meet mine, allowing me to admire the green-and-gold kaleidoscope of his irises.

Finally, Kyle stretches out to lie beside me, propping himself up on one elbow. “You’re all covered,” he whispers, leaning in to press a kiss against my cheek, his free hand resting on my stomach.

I turn to meet him face-to-face, our noses grazing. “I guess I should do you now?”

He groans and I laugh, angling my head so I can get better access to his lip ring. I flick it with my tongue.

The hand resting on my stomach slides down over my belly, until his fingers are tracing the top seam of my bikini bottoms, making my blood race and heat pool between my legs. Shifting so that he’s hovering over me, blocking out the sun from my eyes, he whispers, “You good?”

I hesitate, reaching up to cup his jaw, my thumb dragging over the light stubble. “I could be better.”

A sexy smirk curls his lips as he leans down to give me one of his signature tantalizing kisses. He breaks free long enough to show me his hooded eyes—and maybe to triple-check what I want in mine—before his fingers are slipping beneath the material, and lower.

A slight gasp escapes my lips as I settle my hand on his shoulder and my legs part of their own accord.

Kyle curses under his breath. “God, you’re so . . .” His voice trails with a hard swallow, and then he’s deepening his kiss as his fingers slip inside me.

I let Trevor venture into my pants only three times while we dated and one of those times, I was drunk. While I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it, it always seemed like he was marking off a box in the foreplay checklist, with the sole purpose of reaching an end result that got him what he wanted. It was all hot hands and fumbling fingers, and never lasted more than a minute before he’d be whispering what he’d rather be doing to me and begging me to unfasten his jeans.

It was all about him.

But not Kyle. He’s in no rush, and he is so far from a fool groping toward the home plate, his thumb dragging over me in soft circles, each stroke bringing me closer to an edge I’ve never gone over with anyone.

Our ragged breaths mix as his hand works over me, my legs falling farther apart, my inhibitions drifting higher away as my body chases a climax I want so badly to experience with him.

And then a bellow of “Freedom!” carries from somewhere above.

I shut my legs on Kyle’s hand and sit up in an instant, the heat of the moment effectively doused just as a loud splash sounds.

A second scream—that of a girl—echoes through the bay as Kyle is slipping his hand from me. Another splash sounds.

I fumble with my top, tying the neck and adjusting the front before the intruders venture this way.

Beside me Kyle lies sprawled on his back, his arms thrown over his face. “I’m gonna kill him,” he mutters.

Maybe it’s a good thing we were interrupted, I think to myself, as I steal a glance downward, to where his clingy—still wet—bathing shorts leave little to the imagination. The sight drives my need for him, my fingers itching to slip beneath his waistband.

It’s only been two weeks and I’m ready to give it all up to Kyle on a hidden rocky plateau in broad daylight. There’s no rush, I remind myself. We still have six more weeks together. And we have next Saturday night, when we don’t have to worry about anyone invading our privacy.

The ache in my body flares with the thought of what might happen.

For now, though, I settle on dragging my index finger along the thin trail of hair below his belly button in a teasing manner. Checking over my shoulder to make sure Eric isn’t in sight yet, I smooth my hand over his hard length, gripping him with my fingers.

“Your turn.”

“What?” He lifts his arms to peer at me. “Now? Seriously?” His eyebrows are furrowed with doubt, but I don’t miss the heat beginning to flare in them again.

I lift up the bottle of sunscreen. “Before you burn.”

His arms fall back over his face with a loud groan.

End of Week Three

“I haven’t received any more calls from your mother, so I assume you’re staying out of trouble?”

My dad’s voice always sounds especially clipped over the phone. I hate talking to him on the phone because of it.

“No trouble.”

“Good. I’m glad to see you finally taking your job seriously.”

I roll my eyes.

“Today’s your day off, right?”

“Yeah.” We saw our third round of campers off earlier. The third week played out much like the last two—tears and amateur gimp bracelets and promises of a reunion next year.

“And where are you now?”

“Just in town, grabbing dinner.” Standing next to Kyle’s car in the parking lot of Tony’s Burgers.

“With who?”

My eyes drift to the green neon sign ahead, and then to the table where Kyle, Eric, and Ashley sit, laughing and picking away at their plates. “Ashley and Christa.” It’s only half a lie.

“Who drove?”

“Christa.” Outright lie. Surprisingly, it rolls off my tongue without issue. It’s been two weeks since my father delivered his edict that I am to stay away from Kyle and, thankfully due to his business trip to Japan and my lack of cell phone reception, I’ve been able to avoid lying to him up until now. The fact that I even have to makes my stomach roil.