Seduction on the Sand (The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay #2)(24)

As much as he didn’t want to, he leaned back, far enough to allow their eyes to focus. “I don’t change. I adapt to a situation. It’s me, all the time, but I won’t deny I know how to work people to get what I want. Is that so bad?”

She smiled, shaking her head. “Only to the people who are being manipulated by you—and I have a feeling I’m one of them right now.”



“You call it manipulated, but I call it really nice and natural kissing.” He underscored that with a longer, deeper kiss, teasing her lips and teeth with his tongue, enjoying a pure rush of pleasure through his body. His hand slid into her hair, easing her even closer. “God, you smell pretty and taste good.”

She let out a little sigh as he dragged his lips across her cheek and along her jaw. “You smell like that soap I used in the bathroom,” he murmured.

“I made that.”

“Mmm. Nice work.”

Her throat caught, making him want to explore that skin with his lips, too, but she backed away.

“And speaking of soap, if I don’t stop making out and start making soap, I won’t have a batch ready for that meeting with Jocelyn Palmer. So…” She was trying to push away, but he did his best to hold her in place.

“Am I really going to lose to goat soap?” he asked.

“Goat’s milk soap,” she corrected. “And, yes, I need to get back to work.”

He let her stand, easily rising with her. “I can help.”

“But…” She hesitated as he got closer, looking up at him as he loomed taller. “There’s nothing for you to do. It’s a one-person job.”

“Then I’ll watch and inspire.”

She made a face of pure disgust. “How on earth am I going to get rid of you? Don’t you have something else to do? Sell buildings? Count your money? Play with your Niners?”

He shook his head, slipping his arm around her. “Nope. You’re all I’ve got this week.”

“Lucky me.” She snorted with derision, but he could tell she didn’t mean it, not the way she was looking at him. “I wish you were real, Elliott Becker. You’re funny and great-looking and kiss like a dream.”

“I am real. What do I have to do to prove that to you?”

She pressed a little more into him, her curves fitting nicely against him, her upturned face as beautiful as any view around him. “Kiss me again.”

“With pleasure.” Lowering his head, he tightened his embrace and kissed her mouth, lifting her up to her tiptoes and into his body. This time he didn’t let go, opening his lips and letting their tongues curl and collide, dragging his hand down her spine to settle low on her back and press a little more.

She let out a tiny moan of pleasure, and her fingers tightened on his arms. Both of their hips rocked imperceptibly toward each other in a natural, ancient, raw movement that neither one could have stopped if they’d wanted to.

Blood thrummed from his head to his lower half, and her body shuddered at the first pressure of his.

Finally, before he grew so hard he couldn’t hide it, he let her go.

“How’d that feel, goat girl?”

“Real.”

He gave a smug smile and took her home.



Chapter Eight

On any other day, Frankie found the process of making soap from her goat’s milk relaxing and pleasurable. Today, with Elliott right behind her, glued like a shadow, taking every chance to touch or bump or make body contact, she was anything but relaxed. Each touch was electrifying.

Ozzie circled Elliott’s feet, staying as close as possible while the goats positioned themselves around the kitchen area of the milking shed, mostly content to watch. Not Elliott. He wanted to be right on her heels—or ass, to be more precise—nosing over her shoulder, asking clueless questions, making her...jittery.

He practically kissed her ear as he leaned over her to watch her stir the lye into the mixture.

“Back away or you’ll get burned,” she warned.

But of course he didn’t. “Is that stuff making the soap hot?”

“Kind of.” Like he was doing to her. Ugh. She had to give him something to do or she’d melt like the waxy soap ball. “What are you good at, Elliott?”

“Besides everything?”

She laughed. “In the soap-making department.”

“Whatever you need me to do, I’m good at it.”

She had to smile at his infectious confidence, inexplicably attracted to it. “You’re probably pretty good at marketing. I need to come up with some catchy names for my fragrances. See that row of bottles?” She indicated the shelf stocked with tiny vials of essential oils she used in the soaps. Go smell them and tell me what they make you think of.”

“Okay. Do you have a certain theme you’re looking for?”

“Something that would capture the essence of this island, I think. Something that has a local flair, so it would be tropical and beachy and sunwashed.”

“Sunwashed?” He gave a soft laugh as he unscrewed one vial and sniffed. “Whoa. Too strong for sunwashing.”

“Well, I dilute them, and be careful, some of them are super potent. It’s best to put a tiny dab on a cotton ball and sniff that.”

After a second, she heard him inhale deeply. “Oh, that’s nice. Smells like a really sultry woman.