The sun hung low in the sky, a molten gold coin melting into the horizon, painting the endless stretch of sand in shades of amber and rose. The air was thick with salt and the distant, rhythmic crash of waves, a lullaby that did nothing to soothe the fever pitch of Aria’s blood. She sat on a driftwood log, her toes buried in the cool, damp sand, a half-empty bottle of hard lemonade warming in her hand. The beach was nearly deserted at this hour, the day-trippers and families packed up and gone, leaving only the stragglers and the lovers.
And him.
She watched him from beneath the shadow of her wide-brimmed straw hat. He was maybe twenty feet away, standing at the water’s edge, the foamy surf licking at his ankles. His name was Liam, and he was her best friend’s older brother. Which, in the unwritten laws of the universe, made him absolutely, unequivocally off-limits. A fact her traitorous body had been ignoring with increasing vehemence for the past three days.
He was built like a swimmer, all lean muscle and long lines, his back a sculpted map of sinew and bone that her fingers ached to trace. The setting sun caught the droplets of water on his skin, making him glisten as if he’d been dipped in liquid bronze. His hair was dark and wet, plastered to the nape of his neck, and when he turned his head slightly, she caught the sharp, clean line of his jaw. He was wearing a pair of low-slung board shorts that did nothing to hide the powerful cut of his hips or the strong thighs that flexed as he shifted his weight.
Aria took a long, deliberate sip of her drink, the sweet, tart liquid doing little to quench the thirst that had nothing to do with the heat. This was a bad idea. A terrible, awful, wonderful idea that had been brewing since the moment he’d picked them up for this weekend getaway. He’d been quiet on the drive, his eyes meeting hers in the rearview mirror a beat too long, a silent question there that she hadn’t dared answer. Every touch had been accidental, every glance a spark in the dark.
He turned, then, and began walking toward her. His stride was unhurried, confident, the kind of walk that knew it was being watched. Her heart hammered against her ribs, a frantic, trapped bird. She could feel a flush creeping up her neck, a betraying heat that had nothing to do with the fading sun. She looked down at her hands, at the condensation beading on the glass bottle.
“You’re going to miss the best part,” his voice was a low rumble, close enough now to feel the vibration of it in her chest. She looked up, shielding her eyes with her hand. He was standing over her, a dark silhouette against the dying light.
“The best part?” she managed, her voice a little breathless.
“The green flash,” he said, and a small, crooked smile touched his lips. It was a smile that did things to her insides, a slow, liquid heat pooling low in her belly. “Right as the sun disappears. If you’re lucky.”
He dropped down onto the sand beside her, close enough that she could smell the ocean on his skin, mixed with something darker, something uniquely him—sandalwood and salt and a faint, clean sweat that was maddeningly arousing. He stretched his long legs out in front of him, his knee brushing against hers. It was a casual touch, a nothing touch, but a jolt of electricity shot straight up her spine.
“I don’t believe in luck,” she said, her voice steadier than she felt.
“Neither do I,” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the horizon. The silence that fell between them was thick, heavy with everything they weren’t saying. Aria was acutely aware of the space between them, the few inches of sand that felt like a chasm. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, a potent, magnetic force.
“Liam…” she started, not sure what she was going to say, only that she had to break the tension before it suffocated her.
He turned to look at her then, his eyes dark and intense, the color of the deep sea. He didn’t say a word, just looked at her, and in that gaze, she saw the same hunger, the same desperate, forbidden want that was clawing at her from the inside out. It was a collision course, and they were both barreling toward it at full speed.
“I know,” he said, his voice a rough whisper. “Believe me, Aria, I know.”
He knew. He knew it was wrong. He knew she was his sister’s best friend. He knew the explosion it would cause, the drama, the fallout. And he didn’t care. The realization was a heady, dangerous drug.
His hand moved then, slowly, deliberately. He reached out and took the bottle from her fingers, setting it down in the sand. His fingers brushed against hers, and the contact was like a flame to dry tinder. She gasped, a soft, involuntary sound, and his eyes darkened further.
“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he confessed, his voice tight. “All weekend. The way you look at me. The way you smell.” He leaned in, his nose nearly grazing the curve of her neck. He inhaled deeply, a low growl rumbling in his chest. “Like honey and sunshine.”
Her breath hitched. No one had ever spoken to her like this. His words were a physical caress, a promise of things to come. Her skin prickled with a delicious, terrifying anticipation. She should stop this. She should get up, run back to the house, and lock herself in her room. But her body was no longer hers to command. It was his, and it had been from the moment he’d first pinned her with that intense, unreadable stare.
“Liam, we can’t,” she whispered, the protest weak, a flimsy shield against the overwhelming tide of her desire.
“Can’t we?” he challenged, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin just below her ear. A shiver wracked her body, a seismic tremor of pure pleasure. “Tell me to stop, Aria. Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll walk away. I’ll pretend this never happened.”
But the words wouldn’t come. They were trapped in her throat, choked by the lie they represented. She didn’t want him to stop. She wanted him to touch her, to taste her, to consume her whole. Her silence was her answer.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes searching hers. He saw the surrender there, the raw, naked need that mirrored his own. His hand came up, his thumb stroking her cheekbone, a touch of such tenderness it made her chest ache. Then he was closing the distance, his mouth claiming hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle.
It was a kiss of starvation, of three days of agonizing restraint finally snapping. His lips were firm and demanding, tasting of salt and longing. He angled his head, deepening the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of her lips until she opened for him with a moan. He swept inside, tasting her, dueling with her tongue in a slow, erotic dance that sent waves of dizzying pleasure straight to her core.
His hands were in her hair, tilting her head back, giving him better access. He kissed her like he was drowning and she was his only source of air. Aria’s hands, which had been frozen at her sides, finally came to life. She clutched at his shoulders, her nails digging into the hard muscle of his back. The feel of his bare skin under her hands was electric, a sensory overload that short-circuited her brain.
He broke the kiss, both of them gasping for air. His forehead rested against hers, his breath coming in hot, ragged pants. “We should go inside,” he rasped, his voice thick with need. “Unless you want to give the seagulls a show.”
The suggestion, the raw, possessive look in his eyes, sent a fresh wave of heat through her. She nodded, unable to form words. He stood, pulling her to her feet. His hand was warm and strong around hers, a lifeline in the swirling chaos of her emotions. He led her away from the beach, up the weathered wooden stairs to the rental house, their bare feet silent on the steps.
The house was dark and quiet. Jenna, her best friend and Liam’s sister, was out with friends for the evening. They had the place to themselves. The knowledge was a potent aphrodisiac, amplifying the illicit thrill of their actions. The moment the sliding glass door clicked shut behind them, the spell of the beach was broken, replaced by a more urgent, primal need.
He didn’t even turn on a light. In the dim glow of the moon filtering through the windows, he backed her against the wall, his body pressing into hers, all hard planes and hot skin. His mouth found hers again, this time with a desperate, bruising intensity. His hands roamed her body, mapping her curves, his fingers trailing fire over her exposed skin. He cupped her breasts through the thin fabric of her tank top, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, which pebbled instantly into tight, aching buds.
A low moan escaped her, and she arched into his touch, her hips grinding against his. She could feel the hard, insistent press of his erection against her stomach, and a wave of pure, feminine power washed over her. She had done this to him. She had made this controlled, stoic man come undone.
“God, Aria,” he groaned against her mouth, his hands moving to the hem of her shirt. He pulled it over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside. His gaze was hot and heavy on her bare skin, a physical touch that made her feel both vulnerable and incredibly sexy. He lowered his head, his mouth finding the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder, biting down gently. She cried out, a sharp, sweet spike of pain that morphed into exquisite pleasure.
His lips blazed a trail down her collarbone, across the swell of her breasts. He unclasped her bra with a practiced flick of his fingers, and the scrap of lace fell away. He took a moment to just look at her, his eyes dark with wonder. “You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, the words a reverent prayer. Then his mouth was on her, his tongue swirling around one taut nipple, while his hand kneaded the other. The sensation was electric, a direct line to the throbbing, empty ache between her legs.
She was mindless with need, her fingers tangled in his hair, holding him to her. “Please, Liam,” she begged, her voice a desperate, breathy plea. “I need…”
“I know what you need,” he murmured, his voice a dark promise. He scooped her up into his arms as if she weighed nothing, carrying her down the hall to his bedroom. He laid her on the cool sheets of his bed, his body covering hers. He kissed her again, a deep, drugging kiss that stole her breath and her reason.
His hands slid down her body, his fingers hooking into the waistband of her bikini bottoms. He paused, his eyes meeting hers, asking for permission. She lifted her hips in a silent, urgent yes. He slid the fabric down her legs, leaving her completely naked and exposed beneath him. The vulnerability was thrilling, a complete surrender of control.
He knelt between her legs, his gaze raking over her
