My hands shake as I bring them to his collar and fumble with the buttons. Again, he’s right there with me, reaching around to untie my halter strap, tugging the top of my dress down until my bra is exposed, still kissing me like his life depends on it. We’re both nearly frantic, and I pull too hard on his shirt and pop the final button at the same time his hand moves under the cup of my bra. He’s palming my breast as I push him up just enough to grab his belt and undo the buckle and—

“What’s going on out there?” a man’s voice calls.

A light flashes, and we scramble apart like two teenagers caught behind the bleachers. A figure holding a flashlight, walking toward us. Ryan tucks me behind him as I pull the top of my dress back up. I’m breathless and shaky, the blood rushing back to my head as it hits me: We were taking our clothes off. In the middle of a public beach.

“Sorry, Officer,” Ryan calls out. “We didn’t—”

“Aren’t you one of the Lawson boys?” asks the man—a cop, apparently.

Ryan coughs. “Uh, yes, sir. I’m Ryan, the youngest. I apologize for—”

“No, no, this is great. I mean, not on the beach, but from what your mother’s been saying, this is a long time coming. Just, you know—get a room.”

A laugh bubbles out of me, and I stifle it. Ryan sighs. “Yes, sir. Sorry again.”

The cop chuckles as he heads away. “You two have a good night.”

When he’s gone, Ryan turns to face me. His hair’s a mess, his lips swollen, his collar half popped. I reach up and touch my hair: tangled, gritty with sand.

“Holy shit,” I say, still breathless.

His eyes widen. “I didn’t—that wasn’t all me, was it? You had a lot of champagne—”

“That definitely wasn’t all you,” I say, and he’s visibly relieved. Yes, I’m tipsy, but I was in full control of my faculties.

Only now my brain is catching up, and I’m mortified at my behavior. My desperation. The sounds I made.

“I—I don’t usually do things like that,” I say.

“Me neither.”

I’m trying to keep my eyes on his face. But his shirt is open, and his chest is exposed, and my god, it’s beautiful. Thick and muscled, but not too cut, slightly soft around his navel, with a trail of dark hair disappearing into his pants.

His pants that I tried to take off.

“I should get back,” I say, scrambling to my feet. “To the room. My room.”

He stares up at me for a beat before nodding and standing, buckling his belt.