by Meghan March
God, wouldn’t Creighton be pissed then?
“You need someone to volunteer to help you with that sunscreen, baby?”
Silencing the giggle bubbling up my throat before it can come out, I nod. “Yes, but I do think it’s time to ditch the whitest white girl on the beach look.”
“You’re not the whitest white girl on the beach.” He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “But you do have a touch of that New York city dweller look to you.”
“I’m a ghost because I stay indoors all the time. As opposed to you, sun-bronzed god over there, living it up in Cali and looking fine.”
One eyebrow rises at my blurted words. “The only place you need to think I’m a god is in the bedroom, baby.”
He looks from one side of the secluded deck to the other. The neighbors’ houses are at least fifty yards away on each side and nearly impossible to see through the thick forest of coconut and palm trees.
“Lose the top. There’s no reason for unnecessary tan lines.”
I don’t have major body-confidence issues, and it’s not like he hasn’t already seen me naked, but something about stripping outside seems so . . . naughty.
Cav’s expression takes on a serious cast I haven’t seen before. “Did you think there was something optional about that? It was an order, Greer. I want to see those pretty tits in the sunlight.”
I blink twice, not sure I heard him correctly. “Wha—what did you say?”
Cav steps toward me, solidly masculine and sexy as hell. But what’s with the bossiness? The sensation of the cool granite on my cheek as I laid over the countertop in my kitchen resurfaces in my memory. He was plenty bossy then. But I thought maybe it was something that only extended to sex.
He stops in front of me and studies me. “You heard me, baby girl. I’ve decided who I want you to be while we’re here. Now you just have to tell me you want it too.”
“Want what?” My confusion comes out in my tone. “I thought this was supposed to be my decision. Whoever I wanted to be?”
“You can still be whoever you want, but this is my layer of . . . extra, that I want.”
Heat flushes my skin and dampness gathers between my legs. Is this really turning me on?
Cav lifts a hand and instead of reaching for the bikini strap, he skims the back of his hand over my very hard nipple that’s obviously poking against the top.
So that’s a yes from my body.
“You want it too, Greer. You want me to tell you what I want from you and make you give it to me.” He steps closer, continuing to speak before I can form words to respond. “You’ve been waiting for someone to come into your life and treat you like the dirty girl we both know you are, haven’t you?”
Skip damp—my bikini bottoms are now soaked, and I haven’t dipped a toe in the pool. How did he get inside my head and pull out my most forbidden thoughts? I think I instinctively hadn’t trusted Tristan enough to give him that kind of power, but with Cav I have a completely different gut-level feeling.
I swallow, trying to come up with a response. My internal struggle must be emblazoned on my reddening cheeks, because Cav lifts a hand to my chin and tilts it up to face him. “All you have to do is say yes, Greer.”
“Where . . . where did this come from? What makes you think I want this?”
A lazy smile spreads over his face. “I know you better than you think. Do you remember the first time I told you to kiss me? You wanted me to take the lead. Make the decision. Tell you what to do. It hasn’t changed a bit.” He releases my chin and trails the back of his fingers across my cheek before burying his hand in my hair. “Tell me what you did when I told you to kiss me. Do you remember how sweet you were? How willing to please?”
The memory comes back as if on his command . . .
Cav insisted we share a taxi home from the bar, and the driver stopped at my place near campus. He got out of the car first, telling the cabbie to wait, and walked me to the front door. When I thanked him for the drinks and the ride, he shook his head.
“I’m walking you to your apartment door. I’m not some punk kid who’s going to leave a girl on the sidewalk.” He looked down at the ink covering his arm, exposed without a jacket. “I may look like a thug, but I’ve got a few manners in me.”
I had just enough liquor to speak my mind without a filter. “You don’t look like a thug. You look . . . sexy as hell.” Once the words were out, I reconsidered my honesty. “Shit, I shouldn’t say things like that. You—”
“Like knowing the girl I think is hot as fuck also thinks I’m sexy as hell.” His grin was wicked, and my body—aka my nipples—took notice and stiffened against my bra. “You’re so damn innocent, but I still want a taste, Greer. Lead the way.”
What did that even mean, he still wanted a taste? And I wasn’t that innocent. I wasn’t a virgin or anything. I just didn’t fuck on the first date. My thoughts were coming in jumbled riots as I led him to the elevator and up the hallway.
I stopped in front of my door. “This one.”
Cav held out his hand. “Keys.”
“You’re bossy.”
A crooked smirk twitched the corner of his mouth. “You have no idea, baby girl. You have no idea.”
I didn’t know what that meant, but I handed over the keys and watched him unlock my door. I stepped over the threshold, but Cav wrapped a hand around my arm to stop me.
“You’re gonna kiss me first, and then you can go to bed.”
“I’m gonna kiss you?” Surprise filtered into my tone at his bossy statement.
“Like you’ve been waiting weeks to do it.”
Which was the God’s honest truth.
I stared up into his changing hazel eyes. In this light, they were bluish-gray. How was I supposed to just . . . kiss him?
“Well, this is awkward,” I murmured.
“Doesn’t have to be awkward at all. All you gotta do is exactly what I say.”
He walked me through it, one step at a time, exactly how he wanted me to kiss him. Both hands on his chest, pressing up on the toes of my boots until our lips met, and then he took control.
I knew it at that moment—Cav Westman’s dominant streak ran hot.
“I remember,” I whisper. “But—”
“But nothing. I want you to let go, Greer. Let me take the wheel for a while. I swear you’ll enjoy the hell out of it.”
I know what my answer is, but instead of speaking the words, I reach for the ties on my bikini top and tug them free. The hot-pink material slides away and I drop it on the lounge chair beside me.
Cav’s eyes heat with lust. He reaches up and cups my breast, leaning down to whisper against my lips, “Fucking beautiful. And all mine.”
A thought strikes me. “What about Rea and Juan? I don’t—”
“I told her we’d take care of making our own lunch. Neither of them will be coming in the house until tonight.” His thumb brushes across my nipple, taunting it into a harder peak. “You think I want to share you with anyone? This is all for me and no one else.”
The possessiveness in his words unknots the ball of anxiety twisting in my belly. Maybe I can ask for what I want just like he’s demanded exactly what he wants from me.
Soon. Later. Once I’ve had time to properly construct the words and analyze all of the responses he could give me. Why is it I can be completely impulsive with some things and then absolutely analytical in others?
Oh, that’s right. Alcohol. Speaking of which . . .
Cav reads my mind. “Let’s get this sexy skin protected from the sun, and then I’m going to make us a round of drinks. I’m gonna eat your pussy while you drink it.”
“Say what now?” I squeak.
“Your pussy. You woke me with your mouth on my cock, and I’m feeling deprived. Call it my midmorning snack.” His wicked grin ensures my stiff nipples aren’t disappearing anytime soon. “Now, lay down on the lounge chair so I can take care of you.”
I follow his directive
, lying first on my stomach and letting him cover me with sunscreen. Cav’s wide hands take only seconds to cover the expanse of my shoulders, back, and legs.
When I roll over and try to grab the sunscreen from him, he holds it out of reach. “Really, Greer, you think I’m going to pass up any opportunity to get my hands all over you?”
“Do I get to return the favor?”
A smile curves lazily along his lips, and the urge to kiss him beats strongly within me.
“Absolutely.”
I smother my moans as Cav takes his time covering every inch of my skin with sunscreen. Kneading my breasts and rolling my nipples is unnecessary, but a completely welcome addition. By the time he’s finished, I’m bucking my hips against the knee pressing between my legs.
“You tempt the hell out of me, baby girl.” He shifts his knee, replacing it with his palm between my legs, pressing the heel of his hand into my clit. The focused pressure is exactly what I need. I’m shameless, grinding myself against him, my orgasm just out of reach.
“You wanna come?”
“Yes,” I whisper, rocking against him.
“Are you gonna come hard?” He rolls my nipple between his fingers, and spears of pleasure lance through me. I’m so close.
“Yes,” I promise.
“Then come for me, baby. I wanna hear you moan my name. And then I want your pussy in my face.”
His dirty words unleash another layer of sensation, and I’m teetering on the edge.
“And while I eat this sweet cunt, I’m going to play with that tight little asshole, stretch it out so you’re ready to take me. I will have every part of you, baby. Mouth, pussy, ass. Might fuck these gorgeous tits and make you swallow my cum again.”
“Ahhhh, Cav.” I moan his name as my climax breaks free, my entire body shaking against his hold. It rolls through me, wave after shimmering wave until I finally still.
Cav lowers his head and tugs my bottom lip between his teeth. “I fucking love watching you come. Every day, as many times a day as you can stand it.”
His hand skims down my body and finds the ties on the sides of my bikini bottoms. With a tug, one side falls free.
“Now it’s my turn.”
I’ll never get enough of Greer. I know it as she’s smothering her screams with a hand, my mouth on her clit and one finger teasing her ass. Fuck, she’s perfect. She’s everything I wanted her to be three years ago, and the loss of time haunts me, even though I know I had no choice.
After she collapses, spent, on the lounge, I rise and adjust my cock in my board shorts. Not fucking her right now takes an inordinate amount of restraint, but this is about her, not me. I want her thinking about all the dirty promises I just made her. I want her thinking of me as much as I’m thinking of her. It seems nearly impossible because she’s infiltrated my thoughts on every level.
“You look like you could use a drink, baby,” I say as I watch some of the pink flush fade from her cheekbones.
Greer nods. “Please. Anything. You want some help?”
“Not necessary, but if you want, I’ll take your company.”
She reaches for her bikini top with a smile, but I’m quicker.
“No top. I want your tits out for me.”
The flush of her cheeks is back in an instant. Greer is strong-willed, opinionated, and not someone most people would suspect of having a submissive streak. I saw it early on, and even though part of me thought it was simply wishful thinking, a little time proved me right.
Regardless, each time I give her an order when we’re not fucking, it unbridles a struggle within her. I don’t think it’s that she wants to say no, she just fights against her independence every time she says yes. It’s a beautiful struggle and one I’m incredibly grateful to receive the benefits of. She always thinks about telling me to go fuck myself—I can see it. But it turns her on even more to obey. I want that from her because every time she bends to my will, her addiction to me grows.
When she stands, slipping into her bikini bottoms but leaving the top behind, I know which part of her mind won the battle. Grabbing her by the hand, I pull her into the house toward the kitchen.
Fresh pineapple is wrapped up in the fridge from breakfast, along with pitchers of fresh pineapple juice and orange juice. I grab the pineapple and direct Greer to the well-stocked liquor cabinet. Three kinds of rum splash into the blender along with the pineapple, juice, and ice. As our drinks blend, Greer stands beside me with my arm wrapped around her shoulders.
Her voice is quiet when she speaks. “You asked who I wanted to be . . .”
I glance down at her face to see her worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
“And?” I wonder where she’s going with this because her posture is rigid. I only have to wait a few more beats before she speaks again.
“What if I want this?”
“What do you mean?”
“This easiness. Like those years haven’t passed without us being together, and this is just our regular vacation. No ad, no press hounding us, no brother sending us away. Just . . . us. Being us.” She covers her face with her palm. “God, now I’m just babbling. Never mind. Forget I said anything.”
Warmth gathers in my chest, something I didn’t actually know was possible. I want what she wants. No guilt, no lies, no secrets. Just us together, and even better, pretending this is our normal. Our life. Fuck, I’d kill for that to be the truth.
“I’m not forgetting shit, because I want that too. You can have whatever you want, Greer. And if that’s what you want, then it’s all yours.”
“You don’t think that makes me sound crazy?” She seems shy and unsure, not at all like the confident Greer I see most often.
I squeeze her against my side. “I think it makes you sweet and fucking perfect.”
I turn off the blender and pour our drinks into two glasses. Handing one to Greer, I raise mine in a toast.
“To us.”
Her smile flashes brilliantly now as she clinks her glass against mine. “To us.”
Sometimes leaps of faith are rewarded with the best possible outcome you can imagine. Apparently being brave and telling someone what you want can actually be a good thing.
As I stand in the kitchen helping Cav make us lunch, my skin warm from the Belizean sun, I feel like I’ve gotten my reward. I finish chopping up veggies to toss in the salad, and he pours the shrimp he sautéed into a bowl. Let’s just say if I hadn’t already staked my pretend claim on this man, watching him cook would have the words tumbling out of my mouth.
“Another round of drinks?” he asks.
I’m already halfway to day drunk, so I’m more than on board. “Definitely.”
With efficient movements, he blends another pitcher, and I carry the salad and heaping bowl of shrimp out to the table on the patio. The Caribbean Sea is calm today, but that’s largely due to the barrier reef that’s not far offshore.
I can’t help but send a mental thanks to my brother for setting this up. I wish I knew whose house we were crashing, but I can’t get details right now. I checked my phone earlier, hoping the NO SERVICE label would have magically changed. It didn’t. No Wi-Fi connection either. I’m taking that as a blessing in disguise. Being completely cut off from the world is somehow liberating. It’s just Cav and me, on our own.
He joins me with the drinks, and we pile our plates full.
“How about we go out and explore the village for dinner?”
Taking a sip of the tropical drink—ah, heaven—I nod. “I like that idea.”
“I like the idea of being able to go out in public with you and not having to worry that either of us will be recognized. We owe your brother a thank-you, although I’m not sure he’s going to want to hear it from me.”
I reach for my fork and spear into a shrimp. “He’s probably already congratulating himself on this being an amazing idea because it gets me out of the way so effectively. Creighton doesn’t miss any chances to validate his genius.”
“You get along with him, though, don’t you?”
Chewing my mouthful of lunch, I pause before I answer. “Absolutely. He’s the most important person in my life. My aunt flakes out a lot, but I blame that on my uncle.”
Cav pauses as he reaches for his drink. “What’s your uncle’s story?”
I shake my head. “It’s a long one. Besides . . . he, um, took a leave of absence to go to rehab.”
I know my statement is going to raise more than one question, but it’s unavoidable. I can’t exactly tell Cav that the mob made my uncle disappear as a favor to my brother, and no one really misses him much. Not exactly casual lunch conversation. Besides, the family mob connection isn’t one that I’m even allowed to speak about. It’s been kept under wraps for over thirty years, and no one is going to bring it to light now.
The rehab story was the best solution for my uncle’s absence. Everyone knows he was a functional alcoholic, and it was only a matter of time before he lost the “functional” piece. It’s a measure of exactly how little he was liked that no one questioned it or asked for an address so they could visit.
“That must be hard on your family,” Cav says, his tone sympathetic. “I remember you saying your parents had passed when you were a baby?”
“Good memory. I didn’t know either of them. I was mostly raised by nannies, and occasionally my aunt. Creighton came home as much as he could, but he was away at school. I don’t think he ever would have come home, though, had it not been for me.”
“That explains the headlines a while back when things went to shit between your uncle and your brother.”
I ate another shrimp before replying. “No love lost there, that’s for sure.” Understatement of the century. “But I’d rather talk about you. My life is boring, and you’ve heard most of it already.”
“It’s not boring. I want to know you, Greer. This isn’t just us fucking.”
My heart clenches when he says exactly what I want to hear. But how much of it can I trust? He pulled his own disappearing act before, and I still haven’t worked up the guts to demand the full explanation. But I will. I need to know, need to understand, before I can trust him again. And I want to trust him so badly, I can taste it.