The Billionaire and the Virgin (Billionaires and Bridesmaids #1)(40)

“Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” she told him, and tugged at his hand.

He tossed money down on the table to cover the bill and allowed her to lead him out of the dark, atmospheric restaurant, intrigued by this turn of events.

But a few minutes later, he protested when Marjorie took off her high heels and began to pad through the sand toward the beach. “Oh, come on. You know I f*cking hate the water.”

She only looked over her shoulder at him, her expression playful, and kept strolling toward the beach, her hips swaying with her movements.

And he found himself following her after all. “Are we going to walk on the beach? Because I’m fine with that as long as we don’t go any deeper.”

Marjorie simply laughed, and when she got to the edge of the water, she stripped off her dress. He experienced a moment of shock, then realized she was wearing a bikini.

And . . . damn. When had his modest Marjorie bought a bikini? He stared at the tiny string tied at the center of her back, at the small stripey panties that barely covered her luscious ass.

“Do you want to swim with me?” she asked, easing into the water. Her long legs were gorgeous in the moonlight.

He was glad the beach was empty, because his pants were growing uncomfortably tight across the groin. “If I say no, are you going to get dressed?”

She looked back at him, smiling, and ran her fingers over the surface of the water. “You want to come in here with me. You know you do.”

“This part of me does,” he agreed, pointing at his dick. “This part of me isn’t so sure.” He pointed at his brain.

Her laughter floated up between the crash of the waves. “It’s still warm. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“The last time I went out higher than my ankles, I nearly became worm food,” Rob called out, but he found himself taking off his shoes and socks anyway. Like a dumbass.

“I’ll hold on to you,” she offered enticingly, and then walked further out into the water, until it was up to her breasts. And then she beckoned him. “Come join me.”

Rob sighed. His hands went to his hips and he studied the beach. It was near midnight, the tide high. The moon was shining down on the dark waters of the ocean, and the waves rolled in rhythmically. The beach, normally crowded in the daytime, was completely empty this late at night. It would just be him and Marjorie.

He stalled a moment more. “I’m not wearing a swimsuit.”

“Are you boxers or briefs?” She called out to him, splashing water in his direction.

“Will it bother you if I say neither? I go commando. Always have.”

Her shocked giggle floated through the night air, making his dick even harder. “Really?”

“Really. You still want to swim?”

“I do,” she called out. “I promise not to look.” And she turned her back to him.


Well, dammit, he kind of wanted her to look. Virgin, he reminded himself. With a sigh, he glanced around and then shucked his pants into the sand. This was going to be a huge f*cking mistake, he just knew it. But he was drawn toward the frolicking, bikini-clad Marjorie like a moth to flame.

The water was f*cking cold and he yelped as it hit his bare nuts. “Jesus, you’re a f*cking liar,” he called out. “This is like ice!”

She only giggled, her hands moving through the water as she continued to stare out into the ocean, obediently not looking as he eased into the water. He wished she’d look, though. He wanted her to gaze at him with wondering eyes, to check out his package like she had that morning in the hotel room.

Then again, considering that he was probably shriveling thanks to the cold, it was likely for the best that she didn’t check out his stuff. Yet.

“You’re a horrible, horrible little tease,” he growled under his breath, wading out to her. The water grew deeper, now at his waist, and when the tide rolled back, it sucked and pulled at his legs, and panic stirred in him again. “Come back,” he told her. “Don’t go out so f*cking far.”

“This isn’t far,” she said lightly, dancing a few feet away. “I’m barely at chest height.”

“Yes, but I’m shorter than you,” he said. “I might drown if I go out that far.”

She turned around and splashed him, scowling.

He put up his hands to block the icy water, chuckling. “That got your attention.”

“Cruel man,” she said in a tone of voice that implied he was anything but. Hell, just that teasing note in her voice made his dick get all hard again, icy water or not.

“You’re the cruel one—trying to drown me in the water here.” He skated a hand over the surface. “Do sharks swim at night? Do we need to worry about that shit? What about riptides?”

“It’s fine,” she soothed. “Don’t worry. I’m right here with you.”

“I f*cking hate the water,” he grumbled. “Fucking hate it. Can’t believe you’re making me come out here.”

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” She moved toward him a few feet, close enough that he could see the amusement shining in her eyes, and the water lapping just below her breasts in that tiny string bikini. His gaze kept traveling downward, and he kept forcing it up again to be polite.

At this rate, he was going to need a medal for sainthood.