Chapter Four: A Touch Too Close
413 Words
The next morning, the island was buzzing.
The bride wanted a floral arch flown in from Miami. The caterer was threatening to quit over “too many last-minute revisions.” And the maid of honor had misplaced her designer gown…again.
Sasha handled all of it like a general in stilettos—cool, fast, efficient.
Until Julian showed up shirtless.
“Where’s your war paint?” he asked, strolling into the main event tent as if he hadn’t just walked off a GQ cover shoot. His board shorts hung low on his hips, and his abs glistened faintly from a recent swim.
Sasha didn’t blink.
“I wear it under my skin.”
Julian whistled low. “That might be the sexiest thing I’ve heard all week.”
She shoved a clipboard into his hands. “You want to help? Good. You’re now in charge of picking up the bride’s second-choice orchids from the dock and making sure the musicians rehearse before sunset.”
“Bossy,” he said, scanning the list. “I like it.”
“You like being useful,” Sasha corrected, already walking away. “Try it sometime.”
---
By sunset, everything was back on track. The arch arrived. The music was perfection. And Sasha was halfway through her checklist when she turned—and nearly collided with Julian.
He caught her by the waist, steadying her before she could stumble.
Their faces were inches apart. The island breeze lifted a strand of her hair, and Julian gently brushed it back with a touch that lingered far too long.
“Careful,” he murmured, voice husky. “Wouldn’t want you falling for me.”
Sasha’s breath hitched. Her heart betrayed her again—fluttering like it had no damn sense.
“I fall for no one,” she whispered.
Julian smiled. “Then why are you still in my arms?”
She stepped back, cheeks flushed, fingers tingling where he’d touched her.
“Because I haven’t slapped you yet.”
He chuckled. “Progress.”
---
Later that night, as she lay in her bed, moonlight filtering through sheer curtains, Sasha told herself she wasn’t thinking about Julian Wolfe.
Not the heat of his hands.
Not the pull in his voice.
Not the way he looked at her like she was the only thing worth breaking rules for.
She wasn’t thinking about any of it.
But her body was.
And the problem with fire?
It always wants to burn.
- Writer
