by Kate Kinsley
I’ve never owned a pair of Louboutins. I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to a pair. Being a surgeon, Sierra’s salary is way better than my measly reporter salary. Also, it’s not like I have charity events to go to where I could show these gorgeous shoes off. I’m lucky I own a pair of mediocre priced heels.
Holding them out, she waits until I take them from her. “Th-thank you,” I stutter, still in shock. They’re mesh pumps with gradient crystal accents and a glitter heel. They’re a little higher than I normally wear, so I’ll need to make sure not to walk too far.
“You are going to be irresistible,” she whispers with a smile. “I guess I need to make dinner reservations and make sure you get good use out of this outfit.”
“Where were we going to dinner?” I wonder aloud, still staring at the shoes.
“Nowhere this fancy, but don’t worry. I’ll take care of it.” Picking up her cell phone, she mutters while she’s scrolling, “Go tell the girls to get fancy. It’s gonna be that kind of night.”
Picking up the dress from the bed, me and the Louboutins shimmy back to my room. After hanging the dress up, I go back out to the kitchen. Jillian is on her phone and Shea is watching something on television, complaining about a camera angle. “Girls, how do we feel about sushi?” Sierra sings as she leaves her bedroom.
“Fantastic,” Jillian answers without glancing up from her phone.
“Jillian! We’re on vacation!” Sierra snaps.
“Sorry. It’s like the lab stops functioning when I’m not there,” she mutters before putting her phone down. “There. Done.”
“You too, Shea. Turn the television off.”
“Fine,” she huffs as she reaches for the remote. “And I’m with Jillian. Those camera angles were all wrong. My assistant producer is either high or not on set.”
“You can fire her when we get home,” Sierra points out. “But today, we’re getting dolled up. Wait until you see what Beca is wearing for her date with the hottie.”
“Ohhh,” Jillian blurts, spinning around. “Let’s see!”
“Later. We still have time to relax before we get ready.”
“Not anymore,” Sierra points out. “The sushi place is on the mainland, and we’ll need to ferry over.”
“How much time do we have?” I ask.
Looking at her watch, Sierra answers, “We need to leave here in an hour.”
“Shit!” Jillian utters as she jumps up from the couch.
“I hope that’s enough time,” Shea says as she hustles to her room.
“Now, let’s get you looking fantastic,” Sierra proclaims, motioning to her room.
Here goes nothing.
Jase
Taking a sip of my martini, I check my watch for what seems like the hundredth time.
Eight fifty-six.
One minute later than the last time I looked.
For fuck’s sake, why am I so nervous? If things go south, she lives on the other side of the continent. It’s not like I’ll see her again.
But I really want to.
And it scares the shit out of me.
I look at my watch again.
Eight fifty-seven.
Glancing around the bar, I observe the clientele. It’s not crowded for this time of night, but definitely not dead. Every seat at the bar is taken, with the exception of the cushioned stool next to me. Either it’s obvious I’m waiting for someone, or I smell. Most people opt to sit on the couches and tufted chairs in the center of what used to be the library. Or, so I overheard.
Both men and women are dressed to impress – no one came off the beach in their sarongs to have a cocktail. The ambiance screams classy, with the dark wood floors contrasting the stark white walls and bookcases. I’d be embarrassed to walk in here in shorts.
I glance down at my watch.
Eight fifty-nine.
“Is this seat taken?” a sweet voice whispers from behind me.
“As a matter of fact, it is,” I answer, turning my head toward her voice. “It’s yours.”
She steps out from behind me and comes into view and my heart stops. I have never in my life seen anything as stunning as the goddess standing in front of me. The way her hair falls around her shoulders and her eyes shine. My mouth goes dry – saliva turning into glue. And the way the dress hangs off her hips…Goddamn, it has my cock dancing in my pants. I shift, hoping she doesn’t notice.
“What kind of martini were you drinking?” she asks, looking down at my now empty glass.
I try to answer, but I’m frozen – my lips failing to move.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Focus, Jason.
Open your mouth and speak!
“Uh, it’s their signature drink. Called a, um. It’s a—”
“Vesper, ma’am,” the bartender saves me from my stuttering idiocy.
“What’s in it?” she inquires, leaning her folded arms on the granite bar top. Raising a brow, she waits for a response from either one of us. The bartender looks at me and I shrug. I’m still tongue-tied. Knowing what she’s done to me, her face stretches into a Cheshire grin.
The way that one adorable dimple crinkles.
The way her teeth are perfectly aligned.
A deep curve on her lips makes the world stop around her.
It’s the type of smile that could light up the entire room, and I’m infatuated with it.
“Pretty simple,” he answers, dragging my attention away from her beautiful form. He grins, then shakes his head with a chuckle. “It’s a James Bond classic: Gordon’s gin, vodka, and Kina Lillet.”
“I’ll try one of those,” she giggles. “Shaken. Not stirred.”
With a nod, he moves to make her drink. She drags the stool closer to me with her foot and sits. “You like what you see?” she teases as she twirls her long, amber hair.
“You look breathtaking,” I breathe, finally able to speak.
“Thank you,” she answers, her tone suddenly shy.
I opt to lighten the mood. “You clean up nicely.”
Her lips twitch. “I could say the same,” she quips.
The bartender places her drink on a napkin in front of her, and one in front of me – even though I didn’t order one. “Put that on my bill, please,” I tell him without taking my eyes from the gorgeous form in front of me.
“Of course, sir.” Out of the corner of my eye, I catch him wink before he wanders to the other side of the bar.
“A toast,” I offer. Picking up my now full martini glass, I hold it in the air. “To chance meetings at hotel pools.”
She follows suit and raises her glass. “To a week of sun and unexpected pleasant surprises.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I mutter as we clink glasses.
A few martinis later, we’re both relaxed and the words are flowing freely. She told me all about her job as a freelance journalist at the Wall Street Journal, and how her ultimate goal was to win a Pulitzer. I told her about some of the tamer assignments I had while I was in Afghanistan. She was entranced with my stories.
If she only knew about the ones that I couldn’t talk about.
The ones that were off the books.
She might not be sitting and smiling next to me.
I can’t talk about those.
I can never talk about those.
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the bartender mopping the floor. Holy shit, the bar is closing around us!
“Wow, it’s one already?” I mutter, checking my watch.
Yup. Twelve fifty-eight.
“I didn’t realize it was that late,” she agrees with a smile.
I wave to the bartender who’s now wiping down bottles on the other side of the bar. “Check, please?”
He nods and moves to get it.
“Can I walk you back to your villa?”
“I would expect nothing less,” she says with a shy smile.
I’m handed a black check holder. After signing my name, I escort B
eca out of the bar and down the steps to the beach.
We stroll side by side, slow and silent. There’s a full moon, and it lights our path as it reflects off the still ocean. There’s a calmness in the air – a calmness that almost cancels out my racing heart.
I don’t want this night to end, and I have to wonder if she’s thinking the same. This has to be one of the best nights I’ve had in…well, ever. She’s so easy to talk to, like I’ve known her my entire life. She’s funny and witty, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I don’t understand how a woman this fantastic is still single.
As we walk, her hand occasionally brushes against mine, and each time she touches me my dick twitches. Fuck, if she was mine, I’d have a constant hard-on. I have the urge to reach out and clasp her hand, but I can’t bring myself to do it…not yet.
She wasn’t kidding when she said her villa was close to mine…it’s practically next door. Which is convenient, to say the least.
I stop just short of her door. Turning toward her, I ask, “I was hoping I could see you tomorrow?”
“I was counting on it,” she answers, moving closer to me.
“I thought maybe we could meet up for dinner?” We’re standing just inches away from each other. If I listen hard enough, I could hear my heart pounding in my chest.
Reaching out, I trace her bottom lip with the tip of my finger. It pouts slightly, and I have the sudden urge to bite it. They feel soft under my feather-light touch. Unable to contain myself any longer, my other hand drifts to the small of her back and I tug her closer. She inhales sharply, her limp body beginning to tremble underneath me. Her petite hands splay across my chest, which spur me on.
I angle my head to the side as my mouth inches closer and closer to hers. Our eyes lock, and her gorgeous green eyes – the color of green when the earth comes back to life after an unforgiving cold – have me at her mercy. Dropping my head, I press my lips to hers. She sucks in a breath as I open my mouth and drag the tip of my tongue across her bottom lip. Her lips are warm and taste of gin and lime.
They’re delicious.
Giving in, her mouth opens and her tongue meets mine. She lets out a moan as I deepen the kiss. My hand rests below her ear, my thumb caressing her cheek as our breaths mingle. A warm and magical feeling flows through me – like I’m walking on air. It’s a wave of warmth that fills me up, spilling out from my heart and the warmth of Beca’s lips on mine that rushes to every corner of my body. I’ve never felt anything like it before.
Our lips begin to move in perfect sync, slowly, cautiously. I exhale through my nose, not wanting to let go.
My entire body had been taken over by the overwhelming feeling of lust.
Or love.
I’m not quite sure which.
I move my hand from the small of her back to the back of her head, my fingers tangling in her long, fiery red hair. I pull her into me, adding more pressure to our lips which deepens the kiss.
We break away after what seems like ages. As we part, I gaze into her eyes. They sparkle and her lips curve up into a smile. “Until tomorrow?” she whispers as she tries hard to subtly catch her breath.
“Absolutely.”
Beca
I wander back into my villa in a complete daze. Each second I spend with Jason, makes me want him more.
When his fingers grazed my lip, my body heated as though I’d combust. His skin is softer than I would have imagined. I loved the way my body melted into his. And his mouth… oh, how I wanted to kiss that mouth. I’ve been thinking about it since I first saw him staring at me at the pool.
Our lips fit together like two puzzle pieces.
In that moment, my senses had been seduced and I could no longer think straight.
It’s minutes later and I’m still seeing stars. My heart is racing as if I’d run a marathon. Butterflies are still trying to escape my stomach.
It was the perfect first kiss.
I couldn’t have asked for any better.
“So,” Shea prompts. “How was it?”
Shit. I was so absorbed in myself, I didn’t see her lying on the couch. Jeez, was she waiting up for me? “It was—”
“Why are you back so early?” Sierra interrupts as she sashays out of her room.
“Quiet!” Shea orders. “She was telling me about her evening.”
“Well, if it was good, she’d be at his place,” Sierra answers, raising a brow. Shea narrows her eyes at Sierra, who just shrugs.
“For Christ’s sake you two! Give it a rest.” I walk past Sierra and flop down on the oversized leather chair.
“Ooooh, she’s back?” Jillian shouts from her room. Great. Now I have an audience. Her door opens and she scurries out. “Did I miss anything?”
“No,” Shea and Sierra answer in unison.
Jillian shuffles over to the couch and plants her ass next to Shea. All three heads turn toward me, waiting for an answer.
“He was a complete gentleman,” I say with a coy shrug.
“Stahp!” Shea mutters rolling her eyes. “I can’t believe a guy like that wouldn’t try something.”
“Well, he didn’t. But,” I add. “We did kiss.”
“Just a kiss? Girl, have I taught you nothing?” Sierra preaches as she shakes her head in disapproval.
“I didn’t say it was ‘just a kiss.’” I sit back in the chair and cross my legs. Now I have their attention.
“Do tell,” Jillian says all excited, bouncing up and down on the couch.
Uncrossing my legs I lean forward, resting my elbows on my thighs. With a smile, I sigh. “It was the most amazing, the most…perfect kiss I ever experienced.”
Sierra whistles. “Damn. That good, huh?”
“It was better than good,” I mutter.
“Were there butterflies?” Jillian asks, still bouncing.
“Lots of them.”
“Heart pounding?” Shea asks as she leans in closer toward me.
“Yup,” I nod.
“That settles it,” Sierra divulges. “Our girl’s fallen…and fallen hard it appears.” She crosses her arms and asks, “Are you thinking about him right now?”
I look up at the ceiling, trying to avoid the question. “Rebecca?” Shea asks, enunciating the letters. It appears I’m busted.
Slowly peeling my eyes from above, I hunch my shoulders and glance in their direction. “Uh-huh.” The smile that appears on my face is a dead giveaway.
“Yup. She’s doomed.” Shea nods her head in agreement with Sierra.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I scoff.
“That means,” Shea answers, “you’ll never look at another man the same way.”
“What if I don’t want to look at another man? Huh?” I challenge.
“Didn’t you say he lives in California,” Jillian asks.
“Yeah, but he’s military. They move around all the time.” I stand and walk to the kitchen. Pretty sure I’m going to need a glass of wine for this. Moving toward the dry bar, I reach up and slide a glass off the rack.
“But your job is in New York,” Jillian points out.
I turn and place it on the counter. “I freelance. I can technically write for anyone who will pay me.” Grabbing the first bottle of open white I find from the fridge, I pour that shit right to the top.
“So, let me get this straight,” Sierra blurts. “You’re willing to pick up and move over a guy you’ve known for ten seconds?”
“I didn’t say that,” I correct, then take a large sip of wine.
“She’s just saying that she could if the circumstances were right,” Shea translates.
“Exactly.” I take a long sip of my mine. “We have six more days on this island. Most of that time, I’m spending with my besties.” Another large gulp. “The time I’m not with you, I plan to spend with Jason. Do you girls have a problem with that?” Placing the glass on the island counter, I look at all three of my friends with a raised brow.
“Nope,” Jillian an
swers quick. Shea and Sierra, are a bit slower.
“I think it’s fantastic, however,” Sierra comments. “I don’t want to see your heart broken.”
“Sierra, leave her be. Maybe this could be like a fairy tale and they’ll live happily ever after,” Shea muses.
“Holy crap. Can you guys just let me live in the moment? I’m not thinking about next week or even next month. Can’t I just get past tomorrow?”
“I’m going to bed,” Jillian says with a yawn. “I’ll see you guys in the morning.”
“Yeah. Me too,” Shea adds as she rises from the couch with Jillian.
Once the two girls have closed their doors, Sierra rises. “Looks like it’s just me and you,” she says as she moves to my side of the island. Opening the cabinet, she retrieves another wine glass. “Pour me one of those,” she commands with a wiggle of the cup.
I need to be topped off as well, so I oblige.
“So, you really like this guy?” she asks as I slide her glass across the granite.
“I think so.” Pulling out a stool, I take a seat. I place my elbows on the counter and lean my chin on my weaved fingers. “He’s just so easy to talk to.”
“It doesn’t hurt that he’s a hottie,” Sierra adds and sits next to me.
“Ohmigod! He’s fucking gorgeous!” I smile, just thinking about his sun-drenched body. Then, I recall his pick-up line. “And he’s funny, which is sexy as hell.”
Shea tries to hide a groan. Her tight-lipped smile and knitted brows are giving me cause for concern. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” she mutters. A ghost of a grin crosses her lips and her eyes grow soft. “But, I know you well enough to know it doesn’t matter what we think. You’re going to do what you want, anyway.” She shrugs her shoulders, then takes a sip of her wine.
Sierra was always the “mom” of the group – the one with the solid advice and her head square on her shoulders.
She was also the cynic.
But, I know she loves me and only has my best interests at heart.
I turn so I’m facing her. “Aww, I appreciate the sentiment. And I always listen to the advice you give me…but you’re right.” Taking a sip of wine, I add, “I’m not going to count my chickens, but just go and have a good time. If anything comes of it, that’ll be great. If not…well, it is what it is.”