[Setting: The Private Island of Ailos. The Zarek Estate.]
"Zarek," she whined, burying her face in her folded arms. "You're taking too long. I'm going to burn."
The sun was setting over the Indian Ocean, painting the sky in hues of burnt orange and violent violet, colors that cost money to see.
On the white sand of a private beach that didn't appear on any public map, Roxy lay on a teak lounge chair, wearing a bikini that consisted of three strategically placed triangles of shimmering pink fabric and very little else.
"You won't burn," Zarek murmured, his voice low and authoritative. "Not while I'm handling it."
He was kneeling beside her chair, a bottle of SPF 50 expensive-smelling oil in his hand. His large, calloused hands moved over her back with a slow, deliberate pressure, kneading the muscles of her shoulders, sliding down the curve of her spine, and lingering possessively on her lower back.
