“Can’t sleep?” she asks in a whisper, turning her head toward me.

“No,” I growl. Our eyes linger on each other for a long moment. It’s like we’re meeting somewhere sacred, where consequences don’t exist. Where whatever happens in this moment only exists in this moment. This space is safe, silent, ours.

I step up behind her, putting my hands on either side of her body. She shivers against my arms. When I lean my head closer to her face, she looks away. Just when I think she’s resisting the contact, she presses her back against my chest instead. My face falls into the crook of her neck, breathing her in. She smells like the beach, salty and sun-kissed.

The fingers of her hand run along my arms, sending goosebumps all over my skin. The other hand reaches behind her and runs along my stomach. I’m breathless, waiting for her to make contact with this part of me so desperate to know her. When she pulls away too soon, I let out a desperate moan and press her body against the railing, grinding my hips against her backside.

Bracing her hands against the railing, she pushes back. I run my tongue along the skin of her neck, tracing it all the way up to her jaw, where I scrape my teeth against the edge.

We’re both lost in the heat of the moment, our heavy breaths drowning out the sound of the waves across the sand. Neither of us have the guts to take this too far, but when she presses her hips back against my dick again, I can’t resist shoving my hand down the front of her pajama pants.

Her lips find mine as I stroke her, dipping my fingers between her warm folds, soaking her underwear, the scent of her arousal filling my nose and driving me forward.

When I lay pressure into her clit, I feel her tense, barely on her feet now but flat against my body, dangling on her tip-toes. She clings to me as she lets out a strangled gasp, squeezing me so tight it almost hurts.

I push her closer and closer to the edge, burying my face in her hair. My other hand drifts up her stomach, under her shirt and squeezes on her tits, making her whimper into the cool sea air.

She melts into my hands, and I almost carry her into the bedroom. Or fuck it, I could pull down her pants right here. There’s not a soul around.

Just as I have her to the brink, she tenses. “No,” she whispers as she pulls away, slipping out of my grasp so fast it makes my head spin.

“What?” I stutter.

“Good night, Murph,” she says, her voice rushed as she disappears into the house through the patio door.

I’m left feeling stunned and still a little buzzed. It takes me a few minutes before I finally pull myself away from the patio and go back inside. I can only assume she got spooked that we were basically recreating the scene in the tattoo shop. Maybe she was embarrassed. Who the fuck knows.