I rest my head tentatively on his chest. It feels so nice. Nicer than you’d expect a wall of muscle to feel. “Then go…do them or something,” I grumble.

His voice tickles the hair at my temple. “Do them? In the order I want them?”

My toes curl when he grins.

“I don’t…” I shake my head.

I’m not sure if I’m shaking my head at him, or at the dull throb he’s causing between my legs. He smells of expensive cologne.

I glance up at him as he watches me patiently. “Saint wants me to stay away from you.”

All my hesitations flee when he gives me his wickedly devious smirk, and says, “I don’t think I will.”

His embrace tightens a little too noticeably around me, and he lifts my face. “My first priority is to look at you. Then I’m going to touch, and then I’m going to taste.”

His eyes darken. He studies me for a reaction, and his smile fades as if he’s seen something that he doesn’t want to see. He wipes the tear from my cheek and then edges back. His nostrils flare, and he’s frowning, deep in thought.

I groan in frustration. “Let’s do something other than watch me cry. Any ideas?”

“Plenty.”

He smirks as he pops open the top button of his shirt. My heart stops as he continues down the line, one by one.

“I was joking.”

“I’m not. Come on, you’ll look gorgeous naked.”

“Close your eyes or it’s not happening.”

I ease off my dress. He pretended to turn away but I can feel him looking at me. I avoid his gaze. Oh god. Please, moonlight, be nice to me!

Why do I care what he thinks?

I walk to the water as fast as I can and notice his head tilt—he is looking at me fully. Completely. I feel his stare.

I dive in, and I gasp at the freezing water.

I rise to the surface to see him wading in, his eyes glimmering in the moonlight. I can feel his hunger calling out to me. I expect him to reach out and do something wicked. I’m prepared to stop him but I still want him to try.

“Why?” I blurt out.

“Why what?” His voice is thick against the crashing waves.

“Why haven’t you made a pass at me?”

He sinks into the water and swims close to me. “You’ve been hurt before. I’m not a guy who can make a woman like you happy.” He clenches his jaw and glances back at the party. “I don’t get it. Being faithful to a woman your whole life like that.”

“And here I thought you wanted me,” I scoff.

His eyes darken. He cups my face. “Too much to fuck you up.” He strokes my lips with one thumb.

I scowl. “The guy sitting at the table behind me was making eyes at me all night. I could go find him.”

“Yeah, you could. And I could go after the girls who were looking at me and get more action than I’ll get with you.”

Neither of us moves though. We stay in the water for an hour, and when I crawl out onto the sand, he sighs and drops beside me.

We talk a little, but mostly we just stare at the sky. The bright stars shine above us but I barely notice them. I’m too aware of his hot wet body lying barely an inch away from mine. And his breaths, slow and even, both comforting and seductive.

We end up in his room, which is closer than mine. I slip into a plush resort bathrobe and he eases into his slacks, then joins me in bed. I can smell the vodka on his breath as I lift my head to look at him in the dark. He’s so gorgeous and feels so predatory now that we’re alone in his room. I can’t stop staring at his rugged features. And he’s staring right back.

He said he’d look and touch and taste…

“Do you want me?” His voice sounds brusque, and a little low, uneven. He looks at me with an intense gaze. “Do you?” His hand curls possessively over my hip.

In his eyes, there’s a war. He’s debating whether to make a pass at me. Whether to fuck me.

Do you want me? his eyes ask.

“No,” I lie.

His eyes are dark and disbelieving for a moment. He nods and clenches his jaw. He pries himself away, rises, and puts on a shirt.

“Rest, call me if you need anything.”

He sets the cordless phone on the bed, within my reach, and walks to the door.

He’s going to see one of the other girls. I know it. And I stay in his bed, wondering if it’s the vodka’s fault that I care.

Hands on my breasts.

Wet lips on my neck.

Fingers try to tug my panties down my legs.

“Wait.”

I stop his hand, bringing our make-out session to an abrupt halt. I’m pretty sure I’m ready to kick Trent out of my bed. It feels so wrong. Why does it feel so wrong?

“What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were into it?”

“I wasn’t…” Oh god, why wasn’t I? “Look, you’re a really nice guy but I’m not into one night stands, not really.”

When he looks at me incredulously, I groan and rub my temples. Shit. He seems…a little too drunk to make sense of it.

“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” I ask him, and when he only stares at me, I sigh. “You can spend the night but…no spooning or cuddling or even breathing my air, okay?”

He’s asleep within minutes, but I can’t close my eyes. I’m afraid I’ll see the blue eyes that I can’t get out of my mind—the ones that have been popping into my dreams.

Why did I bring him to my apartment? No guy has ever been here. This used to be Rachel’s and my sacred space, only Malcolm Saint dared venture here—and I hadn’t been too happy about it.