Sara’s hand traveled across his shoulder beyond his collarbone. Smiling tentatively, she bit her lower lip. “Hmm, I noticed you shave your chest.”

Ryan, smiling lopsidedly, told her with a glance it was quite a change of subject. “Yes, I do. I read that most South American men consider this…strange and would never do it.”

“I haven’t seen it before. Most men like that mass of hair as if it makes them more…manly. Stress their heritage or their male accessories. I don’t see it that way. A man shouldn’t be judged by his hair…or lack of it.” Sara giggled. “May I?”

“Touch my chest? Do you think you need permission after we’ve already played in the water?”

Sara smiled and gently reached out to touch him with her fingertips.

Ryan cocked his head, lowering his chin to give her an inviting grin. “Now, that was kinda shy. May I ask you again—will you touch me? And put a little feeling into it?”

Sara flicked her tongue across her lips, brows arched. “Are you…shaven someplace else? Beyond your face?”

Ryan hesitated, evading her glance once again. “Yes.”

She put her hand over her mouth, holding back her words, but with a sparkle of curiosity asked, “Why?”

Again, Ryan hesitated.

“Too personal, hmm?” Sara flinched. “Sorry. Sometimes my mouth is faster than my brain.”

“It’s just a good feeling,” Ryan said quietly. “I like it that way.”

Sara nodded, inching closer to put both hands on his chest, gently caressing him up to his shoulders. In slow-motion, she sat on his lap in a way that sped up his pulse immediately. His mouth was dry.

“Would you mind me…?” She stopped, searching his face.

Ryan swallowed, putting down the bottle. The tension had been building, and still a part of him didn’t want to follow the feeling. His voice was breathy. “You want permission to have a look? Or more?”

“I’d go for more.” A smile curled the corner of her lips sans lipstick. He found her lovely just the way she was. “And I bet I won’t be disappointed.”