“Your father was in the army?”
“No. No father.”
“Just your mother?”
He put the book down with a sigh. “Could you be any less subtle?”
“You started it,” she pointed out. He’d offered information as a way of drawing her out. “Why don’t you want to talk to me about your past?”
“Why don’t you want to talk to me about yours?”
She glared at him. “Fine.” She turned on her heel and strutted away from him. “Asshole,” she muttered.
“I’m just doing as you asked me to,” he called after her. “You’re saying you’ve changed your mind?”
She turned back to face him. “You should leave.” She wanted to beg him to.
“So you would rather I left.” He stretched back in his lounger.
She sighed—because she couldn’t say such a lie. “You’re so unfair.”
“Life is unfair,” he answered bluntly.
As if she didn’t know that well enough already? Unfair and unpredictable. You never knew how long you had. Never knew what curveball life was going to throw next. But some things she did know—she’d learned. Playing with fire got a girl burnt and she’d have to be a masochist to want to get burned again.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THIS WAS EXACTLY why she’d resisted for so long. This hellish constantly racing pulse, the cold sweats and sleeplessness. She was more than aching now, she was shaking—worse than an addict doing cold turkey detox. She’d been wrecked for every one of the forty-eight hours since he’d walked away from her without so much as a backwards glance. He made her feel too much. All she could think about was how good he’d made her feel.
She’d forgotten how great sex could be. Correction, she’d never known how great it could be and that pretty much broke her heart all over again. The experiences she’d had in the past? The relationships? They paled in comparison and she felt more than fickle. She felt guilty, like she’d betrayed the one person she shouldn’t.
So for almost every one of those forty-eight hours she’d worked—forcing smiles and laughter, doing fancy coffee creations and flamboyant cocktail tricks for the honeymooners. She’d avoided looking at the silent guy who’d sat at the end of the bar each night until the end of her shift. And who’d then left without saying a word.
He hadn’t needed to. The burning look he’d sent her said it all.
During the day he’d walked over to the coffee bar as if he hadn’t a care in the world. They’d exchanged no words. They weren’t necessary. She knew his order. He had nothing else to say. She couldn’t bring herself to make her customer service small talk. Hell, she’d hardly been able to control her shaking hands enough to make his espresso.
But now, two days since that night, as the sun rose high in the sky, she couldn’t handle the tension anymore. She couldn’t cope with him being near, but not having him. She’d get him out of her system for good this time. The second she’d finished her morning shift, she stalked across the sand to his private hut.
He was out the front, sprawled in a lounger in an annoyingly relaxed fashion, reading another book.
Burning with brazen need she marched up, letting her shadow fall over him. “I think we should fuck it some more,” she said baldly.
He didn’t glance up from the book. “Do you?”
His response was teeth-grindingly mild.
“Yes.” Hell yes. She put her hands on her hips and stepped nearer, determined to make him see her.
“Why?” He still didn’t look up from the wretched book.
“Because you were right and I was wrong.” But her heart thundered because he wasn’t moving. Was he going to turn her down?
Of course. He wasn’t about to leap to his feet and do her bidding—hadn’t she learned that already? Nobody told Hunter Shaw what to do. She’d been arrogant to assume he’d just roll over and say yes now…
Or was this like the other night when he’d teased her? Heaven knew she deserved it if he was drawing it out to torment her. She’d messed him around terribly. But at the same time, she’d needed time to get to grips with how intense this was.
She stared at him. Willing him to do something, say something… Why wouldn’t he answer her? Why wasn’t he walking her to his villa already? Why wasn’t he showing any kind of reaction? Did he not want her anymore? Had one night been enough for him?
“Are you punishing me for making you wait so long. Again?” she asked, unable to hold back her insecurity a second longer.
His grip on the book tightened to the point where his knuckles were white. “I don’t punish women,” he gritted.
She shook her head. No, he didn’t. Her legs felt empty and her mouth dried. It was like she had some damn tropical fever. “I’m sorry,” she muttered. “I’m sorry for not being honest.” She blew out a strained breath. “For not being honest sooner.”
Finally he lifted his gaze from the page to her face. His eyes were full of unreadable emotion. “Are you being honest now?”
“Completely.” She couldn’t quite hold his gaze though, dropping her focus to his book. “In regards to you at least.”
“In regards to me.”
“Yes.” She drew breath and forced herself to be brave—the way she pretended to the rest of the world all the time. Usually it was easy. But when it came to Hunter, it was almost impossible. It mattered too much. He made her feel too much. He always had.
“I want to please you,” she whispered. “The way you’ve pleased me. I want to make it up to you.”
He flinched, a tiny movement, but it was enough. She’d gotten under his impassive armor.
“How do you plan to do that?” His voice roughened.
She leaned closer to him. “Any way you want me to.”
He didn’t take his gaze off hers as he slowly shook his head. “You’re cheating again. Leaving it up to me.” He pointedly looked back down to his book. “You come up with the ideas.”
He wanted her to take the lead? A thread of insecurity unwound in a last whisper. “But you want me?”
The book thudded on the sand as he leapt up with such force that the lounger tipped over. “I chased you halfway around the damn world for the first few days I’ve taken for myself in years. We’ve had one measly night together. One. Of course I fucking want you, how can you possibly need to ask?”
A flush burned her cheeks as his anger roused hers. “Because I thought that one night might have been enough for you.”
“Like it was for you?” He rolled his eyes, flinging a hand out in irritation. “Your insecurity is appalling. It was never going to be enough for me. I agreed to ‘one night’ because that was your deal-breaker. I always wanted more. Once was never going to be enough for me.”
“I’m sorry.” She repeated as warmth rolled over her. She was so appallingly relieved. “So sorry.”
And he could be fantastically honest when he wanted. When he flipped from silent to talk-mode, he stole her breath completely.
“Don’t be.” He stepped closer. “It is what it is.”
She stared at his rippling muscles.
“Though…” He cocked his head thoughtfully, his eyebrows lifting as he studied her expression. “If you really want to, you can show me how sorry you are.”
Her palms were damp and her heart still skipping, but she was so turned on. His silence heightened the challenge. She realized he was still feeling it—the strain not just from these last couple of days when she’d denied them both, but from the months since they’d first met.
He was angry with her. And that was fair enough. But she knew his anger wasn’t all because of her, there was hurt in him that had nothing to do with her. He was using her to soothe it—like a sexual balm. She understood because it was the same for her. And there was a hunger that only he fed. Lacing her fingers through his, she led him across this sand into his hut, straight through to the bedroom.
“Sit,” she ordered.
She stepped b
ack and in the sublime privacy slowly shimmied out of her uniform. Putting on a performance for him as he watched from his position at the edge of the big bed.
“You’re going to have to work harder to make it up to me,” he said roughly.
She glared at him and grabbed a condom from the box by his bed. She yanked down his shorts only just enough to roll the condom on him. He didn’t help her, not even when she had to start again because her stupid fingers were trembling.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t move. He just sat, gorgeously rigid, his burning gaze never leaving hers. Waiting. Making her take what she wanted.
Because Hunter did show, not tell. He let his actions speak. But suddenly she realized he might need her tell. And that was definitely ‘working harder’ for her.
“I want you, okay?” She told him before kissing him and straddling his lap. “I’ve not thought about anything but you since you walked away.” She positioned herself carefully and slipped down on him, sucking in a breath of delight as she told her secrets. “I can’t sleep at night because I’m so fucking hot for you. I’ve always been hot for you. Since Manhattan.” She slid up and down, slowly teasing them both. “One look, that first night and I wanted you. I still want you. It scares me how much I want and that’s the problem. But I give in, okay? I want to kiss you all over. I want to touch you. I want to feel you underneath me like this. I want your weight holding me down. I want you inside me, fucking me so hard I can’t speak any more.” She gasped as he stood and quickly flipped her so she was flat on the bed. He pinioned her beneath him, locked deep inside her. But she couldn’t stop now—the truth had been unleashed and it was an unstoppable tide. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything and I don’t know when I’m not going to want you anymore.”
Shit. She hadn’t meant to say that last. She looked into his eyes, startled by her own admission.
“Thank you. For finally. Fucking. Admitting it,” he growled. His hips brutally emphasized every word.
He was so deep her eyes watered and she whimpered—because it was so good. So good she wasn’t sure she was going to survive. His hand twisted in her hair, fisting at the side of her forehead. Holding her still so his black eyes burned into hers and she couldn’t turn away. She couldn’t even close her eyes to hide from him.
“Don’t deny me again,” he ordered harshly. “Don’t deny this.”
“No,” she acquiesced on a shaking breath. “Not any more.” She ran her hands down his back, settling on his tight butt. She needed him to understand though. “I needed the time Hunter,” she muttered softly. “This isn’t easy. Not for me.”
He stilled, his muscles straining as he stopped his devastating caresses. “Okay,” he said softly through gritted teeth. “Okay.” But then he clutched her closer, grinding as he whispered back. “It isn’t that easy for me either.”
Something unspoken rose between them, a mute understanding that this was something more.
Except she couldn’t let it become more complicated. There couldn’t be feelings or desires beyond what was happening right now.
“But we can keep it as just this, right?” she gasped.
The corner of his mouth lifted in a crooked smile. “You might want to hang on.”
That wasn’t the answer she needed. But it was what she wanted. Her fingers dug into the taut muscles of his butt as he thrust hard and fast again. There was so much power in his body and right now every ounce of it was driving into her.
“Hunter—”
He silenced her in blistering, fantastic fashion. She never wanted to breathe again, never wanted to break this kiss. His muscles jerked, spasming, as if he couldn’t quite keep them under control—as if they’d been under control for so long, they were rebelling now they were finally freed. So powerful, so forceful. She tore her mouth free and cried out—raking her hands down the strong, muscular breadth of him. He was so big, he claimed every part of her. Every one of her senses was honed to his mastery.
“Oh yes,” she sobbed. “Yes. Yes.”
He came right with her, matching her scream with his roar.
Long moments later he carefully lifted and rolled to his side to face her.
“Let’s do it every way we can think of,” she panted, delightedly, wriggling her toes, practically floating in pleasure.
“In for a penny, in for a pound?” His half-laugh, half-groan was the sexiest sound she’d heard in her life.
Yes. If she was doing this, she was going the whole way—burning him from her system. “Lots and lots and lots, okay?” She didn’t care about aches or lack of sleep. She wanted to overdose, to gorge herself until she simply couldn’t take anymore.
“I should’ve packed vitamins,” he said dryly.
“I think you can handle it,” She turned, hungrily admiring his body. “I know you can.”
His eyes narrowed on her. “So far, so all-or-nothing.”
“Just kiss me, okay? Kiss me and keep kissing me.”
“Because that’s all you want from me,” he said.
Because he did it so damn well. Because she didn’t want to talk anymore and let more foolish truths slip out.
“And it’s all you want from me,” she said. “You said it first. That was your deal-breaker. You didn’t come here to ask questions or find answers. You came here to fuck me. So get on with it.”
“Wow, feisty.”
“Honest. Not holding back.”
“Holding so much back, you’re full of shit.” He flipped her onto her back again.
“Not half as much as you,” she argued. “But it doesn’t matter does it? Neither of us are here for that.”
He ripped the used condom off and snapped a fresh one on. To her astonishment he was hard again, his cock straining to the ceiling. The man wasn’t human. And she liked it.
All those months ago he’d watched her working at the pop-up pizzeria. He’d silently leaned against a post as she’d worked in the late hours and ensured her safety. He’d stayed until she’d closed up and gotten her ride home. He hadn’t once offered to help her. He’d known she’d refuse. But he’d kept watch over her.
And she’d let him. More than that, she’d watched him too—until she’d had to leave the city altogether. Because she’d gotten too tempted. She’d imagined it so many times… imagined walking up, wrapping her arms around him and planting a kiss on his somber lips. She’d burned to know what his reaction would be. But she already knew—because she saw it in his intense eyes. The way his focus followed her. He’d wrap his arms around her in return. And he’d never let her go.
Okay so that last was total wish fulfillment. She was projecting on him, wasn’t she? The fantasy of a strong silent type who’d protect her. Care for her. Keep her safe for ever and ever and ever… It was pure fairytale and it wasn’t about to come true. She didn’t need it. She refused to let herself need it. Because it was impossible.
And that was her trouble. He was the kind of guy who she’d want to keep her close forever and ever. But she couldn’t keep him. She wasn’t the woman for any guy in that way. Not Hunter, not anyone. With her history, it wouldn’t be fair.
And the truth was, Hunter didn’t want her for anything more than the physical release she could give him. He was muscle-for-hire. They were like kindred spirits—people who didn’t settle down. Loners. He was just more honest about it than she.
Nothing in life lasted. This she knew. So she couldn’t stay scared. She couldn’t keep wishing for the impossible.
Hunter had to be harmless and fun—and what better distraction for the next few days? Couldn’t sleeping with him stop her from worrying about something about far more important? That one thing that she never, ever let herself think of? Her trip home, her way overdue appointment at the hospital.
“I finish here in a fortnight,” she said as she ran her hands over his body in the way she’d dreamed of so many times.
He said nothing.
“This is only until either you or I le
ave, right?” She needed him to understand that. “This is a vacation fling. You don’t want anything more than that either.”
“You’re making rules again,” he finally spoke.
“I’m being realistic.”
Her new plan clicked into place. If they didn’t get out of the damn bed. If they didn’t discuss anything other than the heat of the sun… if there was nothing but this—hot, fast sex—then it would burn out quickly. They’d get bored. Or he would at least. And then he’d leave.
CHAPTER NINE
TWO DAYS LATER it was other guests who left. Almost a complete changeover as honeymooners were ferried out and new ones arrived a few hours later.
Hunter, however, appeared to have settled in for the foreseeable future. Relaxed, he’d quietly settled into an easy routine. He swam first thing in the mornings, then worked out on the beach. After breakfast he read. Then swam again. Then watched her work. But it was different—he wasn’t watching for danger. He smiled more and looked less tense around his eyes.
She, on the other hand, couldn’t stand to watch him—she’d catch glimpses of him from the prison of her coffee bar. He’d be stretching out on the sand, the perfect specimen of masculine sensuality… and all she wanted to do was be with him. For the first time ever she resented her work.
“You don’t want to explore the other islands?” she asked him softly in the afternoon when she had her two hours free and he’d made every one of her cells sing in ecstasy.
“I’m happy here,” he sent her an ironic glance. “Never far from the bedroom.”
But it was more than afternoon delight—he was good company. Actually quite chatty, they traded novels and debated the best plots. Because she liked fantasy books too. And then there was the kissing—long, lazy kisses that melted her bones and made her giddy.
In the evenings she returned to work at the bar. He sat at one end of it, enjoying the music and conviviality of the others. But she was conscious that even as he spoke occasionally and inconsequentially with the other guests, he was always watching her. There was something so seductive about the way he was so aware of her needs. And she was just as aware of him, just as intrigued.
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