Chapter Eighteen
For pure s*x, Jodie had never had such a night…or morning. The predawn glow was chasing the last of the stars from the sky as she lay inside the curve of Stan’s good arm while he slept. A small pile of beach towels had kept them close enough to warm through the night.
If they’d been just teenagers, last night would have made some sense. A contest to see how many times it was possible to screw in a single night. As grown adults, not so much. They’d done it on the grass and again as soon as they could recover.
After she’d taken off his mechanical arm, which had really disturbed Stan until she’d kissed him on that shoulder, they’d gone for a swim. She hadn’t brought a condom out to the central float, but they’d found other ways to entertain themselves.
His missing arm was
