Straining to look up, I found the epitome of a beach babe eclipsing my sunshine and staring down at me on the towel. “That bikini belongs in the Louvre, O.” Frankie whistled. I shot a look at Natalia, who shrugged as Mateo dropped a backpack in the sand and leaned down to kiss her. “You’re like a fucking caricature.” I poked Frankie’s ribs as he fluffed out an oversized towel next to me and sat. The few buttons on the shirt he’d managed to clasp came undone effortlessly with a tug of his fingers. “Whose idea was this?” Mateo complained
