Eunice woke up to the sensation of being on fire.
She groaned, shifting on the teak lounge chair. The tropical sun, which had felt so lovely and warm an hour ago, now felt like a thousand tiny needles prickling her skin. She had fallen asleep after the "pickle and peanut butter" lunch, exhausted by the swim and the emotional rollercoaster of the morning.
"Ouch," she hissed, trying to sit up. The strap of her red bikini dug into her shoulder, sending a sharp sting across her back.
"Don't move," a deep voice commanded from the shadows of the villa.
Hart Matthew walked out onto the deck. He was back in his white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up, looking cool and unbothered. In his hand, he held a green bottle that was frosted with condensation.
He stopped at the foot of her chair, his eyes scanning her exposed skin with clinical disapproval.
"First-degree erythema," Hart diagnosed, shaking his head. "Sunburn. I failed to factor in the UV index at this latitude. I am negligent."
"I fell asleep," Eunice defended, wincing as she moved her arm. "It's not your fault, Hart. I should have put on more sunscreen."
"You couldn't reach your back," Hart countered. "And I was too busy analyzing... poultry... to assist you."
He walked around the chair. "Sit forward. Lean against your knees. I put the aloe vera in the refrigerator. The cold will vasoconstrict the capillaries and reduce inflammation."
Eunice hesitated. "I can do it myself."
"You cannot reach your shoulder blades, Eunice," Hart said patiently. "Do not be stubborn. You are in pain. Let me fix it."
Eunice sighed. He was right. Her back was throbbing.
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, exposing the expanse of her reddened back.
"It's going to be cold," Hart warned.
He squeezed a dollop of the clear gel onto his palm. He rubbed his hands together once, then placed them on her shoulders.
Eunice gasped. "Cold!"
"Breathe," Hart murmured.
His large hands began to move. The gel was freezing, but his palms were incredibly warm. He spread the soothing balm over her shoulders, his thumbs digging gently into the tense muscles at the base of her neck.
"Better?" he asked, his voice low and right behind her ear.
"Mmm," Eunice hummed, her eyes fluttering shut. The sting was fading, replaced by a strange, melting sensation. "Much better."
Hart's hands moved lower. He traced the line of her spine, applying the gel with long, firm strokes. He wasn't just applying medicine; he was massaging her.
"You carry a lot of tension here," Hart noted, his fingers working a knot near her shoulder blade. "Is it the pregnancy?"
"It's the stress," Eunice murmured, her head dropping forward. "It's Vanessa. It's your grandmother. It's... everything."
Hart stopped moving for a second. His hand rested flat in the center of her back, a heavy, grounding weight.
"I told you," he said quietly. "I handle them. You just carry the babies. That is your only job."
He resumed the massage, his hands sliding lower, reaching the tie of her bikini top.
The red string sat right in the middle of the sunburn.
"The strap is irritating the burn," Hart stated, his voice losing its professional detachedness. "It needs to be loosened."
Eunice's breath hitched. "Hart..."
"Trust me," he whispered.
With deft fingers, he untied the bow. The bikini top loosened instantly, the fabric falling slack against her front. She caught it against her chest with her arms, clutching herself to keep covered.
Her back was now completely bare to him.
Hart didn't speak. He squeezed more gel onto his hands. He smoothed it over the pale strip of skin that had been hidden by the strap, the contrast between the white skin and the red burn stark.
His touch became slower. More deliberate. His fingers grazed the sides of her ribs, dangerously close to the front.
The air on the deck felt thick and charged. The sound of the ocean seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of Hart's uneven breathing behind her.
"You have a freckle here," Hart murmured, his finger tracing a spot near her lower back, just above the waistband of her bottoms. "I never knew that."
He leaned down. Eunice felt his hot breath against her skin.
For a terrifying, exhilarating moment, she thought he was going to kiss the burn.
She turned her head slightly, looking back over her shoulder.
Hart was staring at her skin as if it were a map of the world he wanted to conquer. His eyes were dark, dilated, and full of a hunger that terrified her.
"Hart," she whispered.
He snapped out of his trance. He straightened up abruptly, pulling his hands away as if he had been burned.
"That should suffice," Hart said, his voice rough. He recapped the bottle with a sharp snap. "Let it dry before you dress. I... I need to check the perimeter security."
He turned and walked back into the villa, his stride fast and rigid, leaving Eunice sitting half-naked on the deck, covered in cooling gel and burning with a completely different kind of heat