5- Lagoon Kiss
835 Words
- Ellie
This trip was supposed to be about forgetting my problems. Doing something spontaneous. Having new experiences.
I might have been bold enough to agree, but I didn’t trust myself without some kind of barrier with this man.
The boy shorts and halter-top swimsuit I picked covered me pretty well. DJ didn’t seem to mind. In fact, it seemed to pique his interest even more.
Strange. A good strange.
The way he was right there, but not overbearing. Always looking, but never leering.
Regardless of him being a decade younger than I was, his comment about my never having met a real man sat heavy on my skin.
I wouldn’t call it cockiness. DJ was grounded in a way that made you believe he was born knowing exactly who he was. That kind of certainty was intoxicating.
Conversation flowed like warm honey, easy and thick between us.
He listened when I talked. Really listened.
When we veered off safe topics—work, hobbies, favorite foods—he immediately redirected, respecting my boundaries like they were sacred ground.
It should have felt like a red flag, but it didn’t. It felt like grace. Like air.
Finding out we had so much in common was a catch-22, to say the least.
I didn’t come looking for a bad time. I just never expected it to be this good.
It didn’t hurt that he was delicious to look at either. I’d been far less discreet checking out that shirtless torso all day than I cared to admit.
But I wasn’t using him for s*x. And I didn’t feel like he was using me either.
We were both treating each other like fantasy candy. Eye s*x with a little zing. An emotional amuse-bouche.
Only, the day was making it impossible to keep those boundaries.
He wasn’t just a twenty-something hunk of meat on a stick. He was funny, charismatic, and intelligent.
I usually felt odd around strangers. Deflective. On guard.
As a single mom and a woman with baggage, I was used to being defensive.
But this guy… he made me feel safe. Calm. Courteous. Dangerous in all the right ways.
Oh, Ellie. What had you gotten yourself into?
After a day in the sun, with generous applications of sunscreen and his laugh echoing in my ears, the whole not going there rule was out the window.
Especially after dinner, with the sun dipping past the horizon and DJ pulling me into a plan he’d clearly been holding onto all day.
A secret lagoon. A cove only reachable by water.
We swam together, cutting through the cool surf under the glow of early stars.
And just like a movie, once we surfaced, it was magic.
Pumice stones. Shallow falls. Coral glowing like underwater fire.
But the real breath-taker was above us—a ceiling of glowworms so tiny they looked like thousands of stars.
"It’s stunning," I breathed.
"Took the word right out of my mouth, Dove."
I glanced over, expecting him to be as taken with the view as I was.
But he wasn’t looking up. He was looking at me.
My breath hitched. That golden light caught in his eyes, and I knew it was the end of my feigned resistance.
He lifted me with absurd ease, setting me on a smooth boulder so I was eye level with him.
Despite our height difference, he found a way to make the world fall away.
I was captivated. Not just by the scenery, but by this man who saw me in a way I forgot I wanted to be seen.
His fingers brushed under my chin. A soft tilt. Not controlling, but coaxing.
My blush threatened to burn through my skin, but he didn’t tease. Didn’t press.
He waited. Until I looked back. Until I let him see the want I couldn’t hide anymore.
His fingers trailed behind my neck. Warm. Steady.
It set my nerve endings on fire.
My chest rose and fell, synced with his. I couldn’t hear anything but my own heartbeat.
Then, he leaned in—and still waited.
That slow-motion moment you only got once in a lifetime.
The kind of kiss you could never plan, only fall into.
So I leapt.
Our mouths collided, and it was heat and hunger and home.
His lips were soft, sinfully plush. My teeth nipped at his lower lip, and the growl he let out vibrated against my spine.
I whimpered, full-bodied, reckless.
This wasn’t a kiss. It was a surrender. An opening.
My body ached with the truth that I’d break every rule for this man.
The three- to six-month rule? Out the window.
Hell, six hours was enough to unravel me.
And I knew—in my bones, in my blood, in the deep, wet ache growing between my thighs—that I wouldn’t be stopping at just a kiss with this demigod of a man.
Not here. Not now.
Not when every inch of me was screaming to be touched by him.
- Writer
