I think of our conversation from dinner last night. His confession still makes my stomach squeeze tight.
He’s had dirty dreams about me.
There’s my answer—at least on some level, he wants me.
So what’s holding him back?
I consider the question as we finish breakfast and make our way to the lobby to go on our excursion. I’ve changed into shorts and a tank top with sensible sneakers and a baseball cap. Noah flicks the brim as we wait to board the bus behind the other guests from the hotel. We’re all heading out as a group.
I thought I came prepared, but I didn’t anticipate Tulum’s tropical climate. Almost as soon as we make our way off of the bus and down the winding path toward the entrance of the preservation site, the sky opens up and torrential rain starts to pour down on us.
Noah and I glance toward one another in utter defeat. I have no jacket, no poncho, and neither does he. He reaches down and takes my hand, and we start to run through the mud toward a dry spot under a canopy of trees.
We laugh and shake off our limbs, trying in vain to dry ourselves off. Smart tourists pass us by with their huge umbrellas and rain boots. Noah and I groan about them to make ourselves feel better while we stand under the trees and wait out the storm.
It doesn’t take long for the rain to stop. Almost as soon as it starts, it eases up, shifting to light sprinkles that drip off the heavy green fronds of the trees protecting us.
I turn to Noah, and he shifts to look down at me.
“You’re sopping wet,” I point out helpfully.
He tips his lips up in an easy grin. “So are you.”
As if to prove his point, he reaches out to grab my tank top in his hands so he can gather the material and wring it out. Water pools at my feet, but I don’t pay attention. I’m too focused on the feel of his fingers as they accidently skim my bare skin. He drops my shirt back in place and I look up at him.
His brown eyes hold mine captive, and we seem to be having a silent conversation that feels so utterly important I’m scared to blink.
“I wanted you last night, Lindsey,” he admits, stepping toward me so his body blocks mine from the path of tourists.
My heart skips a beat as I wet my lips, trying to come up with a response that would make him just as uncomfortable. He doesn’t get to keep saying things that make me blush. Eventually, I’m going to fight back.
“Then why didn’t you do something about it? You said I was a good girl, but I’m not, Noah. I’m flesh and blood, impatient and needy, just like you.”
I step toward him and grab his t-shirt to wring it out, the same way he did with mine—but instead of dropping it back into place, I slide my palms up over his chiseled stomach, triumphant when I feel him flinch in surprise.
“Are you scared of hurting me?” I ask, leveling my gaze on his lips.
“I’m scared you don’t see what I’m truly after.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
“Something more than just casual sex in a tropical villa. More than a few nights in Mexico.”
The familiar roadblocks flit through my mind: Natalie, Connor, work.
They’re the same things I’ve worried about for so many years, the same things that have held me back from admitting my feelings for Noah since the beginning.
“What happens when—”
He steps forward so his chest brushes mine, cutting me off. He crowds my space and backs me into the tree behind me until I have nowhere to go.
“I’m saying I don’t care ‘what happens when’,” he says, lifting his hand up so his finger can trace my jaw. “There’s nothing that is going to stop me from taking what I want. Not anymore.”
His thumb drags across my bottom lip as his dark eyes narrow.
“Say no, Lindsey,” he says, lowering his head down toward me. “Say no now or—”
Before he can finish, I arch up onto my toes and seal my lips to his.
No is not an option. No was gone the moment I first laid eyes on Noah. Lindsey, this is my brother. Noah, this is Lindsey. Be nice to her!
And to his credit, he has been—so, so nice to me. Over the years I’ve known Natalie, Noah has always acted like the perfect gentleman. Waving at me when our paths cross in the halls of the hospital. Including me whenever he has Connor and Natalie over for dinner. Never crossing any lines. Never making me feel anything other than perfectly respected.
Until now.
Six
We make out pretty hardcore under that tree, so much so that we’re politely asked to separate by some embarrassed worker who’s unable to meet our eyes.
We burst into fits of laughter as we run for the entrance of the ruins, our clothes and shoes still soggy from the rain. Though I’m tempted to plead with him to take me back to the villa so we can finish what we started, a small (sensible) part of me still realizes we’re in a place we might never see again, and it’s really a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I’m glad we push through the initial urge to go back to the resort, because the ruins are beautiful.
The walled city was built right on the cliffs of the ocean by the Mayan people, complete with watchtowers and temples. So much of it still stands today, and we curve through the gravel path that leads tourists around the ancient city. We’re even able to walk through a few of the structures. We take photos, especially because we know Natalie and Connor will be curious to see them. Noah stands beside me for a selfie, and I make a cheesy face right before he turns and presses a kiss to my cheek, snapping the photo in time to catch my unabashed delight. I’m embarrassed when we look down at it afterward, everything I feel for him evident on the screen. I want him to delete it. Crop me out. I want to yank the phone out of his hand and toss it off the cliff into the ocean.
He looks at the picture and then over to me.
I start to walk away.
He reaches out to grip my elbow and tugs me back toward his chest.
“You’re into me, aren’t you?” he teases, whispering the words into my ear.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“You want me,” he insists, so cocky and arrogant I’m tempted to lift my foot and stomp it back down on top of his just to get him to release me.
But his next words catch me off guard.
“How long have you been suffering?” he asks, his words soft and empathetic. “As long as I have?”
He squeezes my elbow then drops his hand, curving around me so he can keep walking up the path. I’m left staring after him, absorbing his words, fighting back a smile.
Seven
When we return to the hotel, we order lunch down on the beach. We eat fresh ceviche and guacamole and sip on ice-cold palomas as the sun beats down from overhead. I eye the ocean, knowing it’ll feel good once I cave and go in.
I lean back in my chair and glance over at Noah. He hasn’t been shy about eyeing me in my bikini. Even now, his gaze is eating me up from head to toe. I stretch one leg down the chair and prop my elbows over my head, closing my eyes and basking in the feeling of having his attention pinned on me.
His chair creaks, but I keep my eyes closed as I listen to him approach my chair.
He sits on the edge, his swim trunks brushing my thigh. I’m braced for more physical contact—a kiss at the forefront of my mind—but instead, he reaches up with one finger to slowly trace a line down my bikini strap and over my breast. I shiver as goose bumps bloom in his wake.