Be All

by Marie Wathen

  I grin wryly, ashamed of the unusual attraction I experience upon first seeing him, “Hi Morgan, it’s nice to meet you. Anna wasn’t kidding when she said you are a charmer. Apparently, it runs in the Walker family.” Averting my eyes to Tristan quickly, I shoot him a dirty look.

  Morgan is a player and he knows that I am aware. A dark shadow passes across his green eyes, indicating he understands exactly what I am communicating. Still, I do not expect a man from Tristan’s family to be anything other than a gentleman, so I accept his apology.

  Soon enough our dinner is served. It consists of several courses with very decadent plating’s of exotic foods. However delicious, this multicultural, infusion style food is definitely not my first choice. Give me a grilled steak or chicken and I’m a happy girl. I like things simple, including meals. Tonight’s meal resembles the typical caliber of cuisine that Julia expects me to eat in formal gatherings as well as at home. We never eat like normal families. Fast food and junk is forbidden. While raising me, she made it clear that she will never allow me to have anything I enjoy, including food.

  Lingering glances from Morgan accompany dinner, at times making my nerves prickly. The sensation isn’t from attraction; it’s because I’m drawing unwanted attention by being his date. I anticipated this, but it’s still unnerving. Morgan’s eyes aren’t the only ones drawn to me tonight. Men and women from all around the room are watching me. One of the men that came with Morgan sits only a table away and appears to be scanning the room. Every few minutes his gaze will land on me. We lock eyes momentarily, and a silent exchange passes between us. Acting as a soothing balm to my sensitivity, I relax. He acts as if he is security for Morgan, continuing to focus on our table throughout the meal. Whether it is him or his actions, just knowing he is close helps calm me.

  Visiting our table throughout the night, random family members extend their greetings to their European son. Being a secretive person, I stay out of the public eye intentionally. Familiar with most of them, not personally but I’ve heard their reputations, I smile politely. This is a small island and like any small town in the south, we know everyone’s business. It is impossible to keep secrets on Willow.

  Curiosity of me is another reason why they visit. On more than one occasion, I felt as if I were being scrutinized. They know me and the heartache that surrounds my life. By being Morgan’s date, it’s not surprising that I spot many cocked eyebrows and nasty glares from the women here. But it is men that gawk openly at me, some to the point of revolting, that add to my unease. I manage to make it through with mild annoyance at the not-so-subtle attitudes toward me, as if indicating that I may be something more than just Morgan’s date for the evening. Budding stress in my belly causes my anxiety to increase. Soon, I begin a downward spiral into full-blown paranoia.

  Fear

  Tingling sensations begin working from my brain and downwards. Uncertain of the source, I become suspicious of everyone and soon birth a conspiracy theory. Convinced that prior to tonight’s date, Morgan’s told everyone I am his new American girlfriend and that he plans on announcing our engagement tonight. A strangled, giggling noise escapes my throat from my maniacal thoughts. Morgan quirks an eyebrow at me, but I only offer a shrug. I can’t tell him about my crazy thoughts and how I feel like someone or something evil is in the room with us. He’ll think I’m crazy. Not exactly a lie, but he doesn’t need to know details about me.

  Frantically, I look for the man responsible for my earlier tranquilly, but I can’t locate him. Eager for comfort, I begin searching the room in hopes of seeking out the source of the danger that my instincts are warning me about. A light sweat forms on the back of my neck. I salvage my mentality knowing that all I have been thinking is preposterous and this is just another panic attack. There isn’t anyone here who wants to harm me. What the hell is wrong with me?

  Except for the looking like he might devour me, Morgan’s made no indication that he has any interest in me. His suggestive looks are only about sex. He can lust all he wants, but he doesn’t stand a chance and I think he knows it. At least I hope that’s what his frustrated look means. I need to get out of here. I have never been so on edge. For fucks sake!

  Happily, all discussions remaining between Morgan, Tristan, and Anna revolve around Walker family tales and their family business, allowing me to remain silent. Music begins playing as the dessert plates are retrieved, and eager couples quickly rise from their seats, crowding the floor immediately. Escorting a bubbly Anna, Tristan takes her hand and fluidly guides her around the floor. Watching them move together while looking so happy settles my nerves and once again I am in control. Laughing, I watch Anna bump his hips playfully with hers then snake around his body seductively to Suit & Tie.

  She has smooth moves unlike her dance partner, but he wisely uses this dance as an opportunity to gain some ground with erotic teasing. Placing his large hand around her neck, he runs his thumb over her exposed collarbone, sliding it down her arm slowly. Grasping her hand playfully, he twirls her once, finishes in a deep dip then tops it off with a lingering kiss.

  Scanning the dancing couples, I recognize the good-looking guy and the brunette that came with Morgan. Swaying in the shadows of the dance floor, they appear to be struggling to retain the last bit of decency in their dancing, but no one seems to be noticing. Living life to the fullest, everyone is preoccupied with drinking, indulging, and dialoging, as though every word is a priceless commodity. I am entirely out of place here.

  In my roaming, I notice the young blonde. She’s pressing her body against a muscular blonde man that looks twice her age. He touches her too intimately to be anything other than a lover. It’s disgusting and Morgan notices my unease.

  “Are you okay? I hope you’re enjoying yourself tonight, Breesan,” he says. Attempting to lighten my mood, he flashes a seductive grin.

  “It’s fine,” I say wryly.

  As if she feels me staring, the blonde suddenly glances in my direction. She and the blonde man are looking at me with an odd glare that ignites the tingling again. Now this is peculiar. What does her look mean? Staring alluringly at Morgan when they arrived, she obviously has a crush on him and sees me as a threat. Venturing a guess, I’ll bet that he is most likely sleeping with her. And if so I don’t understand why he would need me to be his date tonight. But now I am extremely confused by her display with the older guy, unless she’s trying to make him jealous. The whole idea is ludicrous.

  Honestly, if she wants him, I won’t be upset if she entices Morgan away for the remainder of the night. If given the chance, I may just slip over and suggest that she dance with him or something. That is an easy enough fix, but what of the older guy? Why is he staring at me? I don’t know him, or maybe I do, I just can’t place him. Uncomfortable with me observing, he quickly drags her over to the open bar. Effectively blocking my view of them, my nerves finally settle. However, I didn’t miss the odd flash I saw in his eyes just before dragging her away.

  Intrigue

  Chapter 3

  Morgan

  Growing up in England and living life as a jet setting bachelor is the fucking good life, to say the least. I’m invited to the best parties and enjoy the company of the most beautiful women. Love is not in the cards for me. I tried that route once and failed miserably. Luckily, before I got in too deep the bitch dumped me. Playing the game is more my style.

  Honestly, the only worshipping I want from a woman comes while I fuck her and she praises me at the top of her lungs. I love life, and at this point a great sex life is all I am committing to. Savoring every experience that comes my way, I can’t be tied down to one woman. Recognizing that I am a narcissistic jerk, I’m not surprised when women occasionally call me a real bastard.

  Moving back to the town where I was born to work in the family business puts a damper on some of my enjoyment. Becoming successful is the ultimate goal in my life, so I’ll adapt. Expecting to take control of the Walker Corporation one day, I’ll be damned
if I let love get in my way.

  I am stunned by the beauty of the woman who is my blind date this evening. Expecting something less intriguing than this exotic creature, I brought Waverly, my stand in sex snack, as back up for later. However, if I play my cards right, which I always do, I will be sharing Breesan’s bed tonight.

  Breesan Maxwell is exquisite, but she doesn't flaunt her looks, unlike most women I date. She is petite and toned, displaying sexy curves and a generous bosom, almost more than I prefer. Obviously, staying in shape is a concern and I’m desperate to discover the lengths of her flexibility. She is sexy, and like most gorgeous young women, I am attracted to her, but dammit my game is off tonight. She’s not responding to my charm and it’s driving me mad. What the hell?

  Getting hard from dirty thoughts repeating, I visualize pressing my firm body into her luxurious one and it’s confusing the hell out of me. I don’t fantasize; I take. Lines are blurring and I’m just fucking going out of my mind.

  Blaming the daydreaming on the large amount of alcohol before dinner, I envision wrapping her coffee colored hair around my hand, yanking her against me, pushing my face into it and finding out how fucking soft it is for myself. I’m consumed with the thoughts of all the things I could do with that little body underneath mine.

  Watching her relentlessly biting on that plump bottom lip, she’s just begging me to drag her out of her chair so that she’s straddling my lap and riding me in front of everyone here.

  Dammit.

  That’s it; I’ve clearly had too much to drink. Not that it would take me getting drunk to enjoy the pleasure of a woman’s body, but it is completely out of character for me to envision sex acts. The uniqueness of this situation is making it hard, damn I mean, difficult for me to focus on anything but romanticize about becoming familiar with every inch of that soft ivory skin.

  To the casual observer she might look ordinary, just your everyday beautiful woman, but something about the confidence she displays is addicting. If confidence were a flavor, she would be the most delectable, sinful chocolate known to man. An opportunity to taste such delicacies from such a sexy creature could quite possibly be the death of my blissful bachelorhood.

  Confidence is the sexiest thing a woman can exhibit. Needless to say, as a playboy I have been with a great number of women and nothing arouses me more than a woman who knows what she wants. My curiosity is piqued and there is no doubt that I want her.

  Usually very forward with my actions as well as my intentions, for now I resolve to remain in control, especially after Tristan’s threats to kick my ass. Keeping my hands to myself during dinner, I proudly succeed at preventing my thoughts from becoming reality. The way I am shamelessly staring at her and appreciating her uniqueness makes me wonder about her reaction to me. While curbing my desires to ravish her has been a challenge at times, I pride myself on maintaining self-control, but it appears she senses my inadequacies; she’s caught on to my games.

  Twisting my mind by simply existing, I want to discover all of Breesan’s hidden secrets. That’s not entirely true; she has a multitude of virtuous secrets that I want to learn.

  Maintaining cavalier throughout our meal is more than tested when I steal glances and receive scorching, sexy glares from her. Sensing the moment my eyes land on her luscious curves, she glances at me and either smiles or shakes her head at my brazenness. Having her catch me more than once, I opt to forgo the self-control and become a cad as I blatantly stare at her exposed neck. Studying the pulse hammering out a rhythm, I imagine placing my mouth on that spot, feeling the beat increase drastically.

  Glancing up, I notice her staring suspiciously at me. Does she recognize my seduction methods? Has she ever been seduced? Is she a good girl? There’s no damn way that a striking beauty such as this one has not caught the attention of every man she’s encountered. They would be foolish to pass on an opportunity to possess her. Grinning with the knowledge that I am the man that will possess her tonight, I’m pleased.

  Possessing her hasn’t always been my goal. After hearing about her for years from Tristan and Anna, I was intrigued. Living most of my life abroad, I only return home for the summers, thereby limiting my chances of meeting her. Beginning to think that it would never happen, I felt cheated by her not being here every time. No, it wasn’t a cheat. It was a fucking tragedy. Arriving on Willow Island every May, I would discover that the mysterious Breesan Maxwell had once again eluded me. With my high expectations met and exceeded tonight, I confidently check off step one in my plan. Next step, turn on the charm, make her desire me, and then take her to bed.

  I finally catch a bit of a break from my tortuous thoughts when our chaperone escorts his girlfriend to dance. Some privacy will allow me a chance to get to know my sexy date. She appears distracted by something, or someone, from across the room. Wanting her full attention now that we are alone, I slide my chair closer to hers. Now our thighs touch slightly. Placing my arm on the table I lean against it, allowing me to draw nearer to her.

  “Are you okay? I hope you’re enjoying yourself tonight, Breesan?” Giving her a seductive grin, I hope small talk will ease the tension.

  “It’s fine.” Her voice is restrained annoyance.

  Stiffening, she straightens her spine and drapes her arms around herself protectively. She slides her leg away from our touch, causing my smile to expand. Small talk with her could be more of a challenge than I originally thought. I wonder if this reaction is from our close proximity or if whoever is across the room is to blame for her abrupt tension. Glancing around to survey the room, I notice a couple near the bar seem to be the source of her distraction and become agitated.

  Waverly

  Refusing to let Waverly distract me, I touch my hand to the top of her arm and proudly watch the goose flesh rise on her flawless skin. “I was hoping for better than fine. Perhaps you would like to dance?” As I slowly stroke the back of my fingers down her arm, I glance up to see the answer written on her face before she shakes her head communicating no. Responsive and guarded, I need to change my approach before I lose her.

  “You graduated with Tristan a couple of weeks ago, correct?” Staring deep into her eyes now, I attempt to coax her into relaxing by steering the conversation toward her.

  Learning even the most mundane information will assist me in making this enjoyable for her. Tightening her arms across her body, she warns that she is creating a haven and battling her instincts of flight.

  “You are correct.” Rolling from her mouth with agitation, her words mirror her physical tension. I am encouraged seeing her body wound up tight by my closeness.

  Shifting away, she turns her back to me. I allow my eyes to travel from her neck, all the way down her sexy back to the edging of the dress, just barely covering her ass. My mouth goes dry simply from the amount of soft flesh bared. Like a thirsty man desperate for water, she is an oasis that I need to savor. As I devour her with my eyes, I realize that neither of us has spoken for a while. She glances over her shoulder, grabbing my attention.

  “Which university will you attend next semester?”

  Shifting around, I move closer to her, creating a partial enclosure behind her. My legs are spread on either side of her body. With her back inches away from my chest, I battle an overwhelming desire to take her in my arms and punish her smart mouth but resign the thought and observe her reaction to my touch. The deep shade of her mane distracts me from our conversation causing me to become momentarily sidetracked.

  Continuing an attempt at small talk, I reach up to her hair hanging over one of her soft shoulders. I draw a strand away, lacing it around my fingers. Closing her eyes, she draws in a slow breath. Her hesitation on answering has me wondering if she is chewing over controlling her body’s reaction to my seduction or if she’s contemplating a way to escape me. She’s so damn difficult to read clearly. Releasing the breath, she shifts her body around slightly and turns her head to face me.

  Peeking through long dark las
hes, she shoots me a sexy ass smirk. "If you really want to know, I will be going to my dad’s Alma mater in Florida," she states proudly, impressing me with her response, my smile broadens.

  I tug slightly on the strand of hair tightly laced through my fingers. She responds with a sexy moan. Tilting her head back, she exposes the tenderness of her neck and I lick my lips with expectancy. My cock pulses in response and I slide forward to press against her backside. Darting her eyes around the room, she’s either checking to see if anyone is watching us or searching for an exit.

  "Florida, really?” I whisper near her ear. “A sexy young woman moving out of state alone, that is rather independent wouldn't you say?" Zeroing in on my target, I move my mouth close to her exposed neck. Just as I place my lips on her sweet flesh and taste, she begins laughing. If a laugh can be sarcastic she successfully mocks me, ultimately disrupting the seduction.

  Pulling away from my grip, she calmly snaps, “Yes, really!” She is controlled chaos in response to my question. Turbulent storms brew in her gray eyes. Raising her voice, she continues being defensive.

  She pierces me with an angry glare. “You can’t seriously be questioning my plans? You don’t even know me.” Huffing out her breath, she draws her chair away from me and turns quickly, her body now directly facing me.

  Her eyebrows draw down, forming a crease in her forehead. “Correct me if I’m wrong but didn’t you just move to another continent to attend college?” she points out with crossness. Is she expecting me to match her equally in attitude and fight with her?

  “Yes, I did. I don’t mean to upset you, Breesan,” I grin, amused by her hostility.

  As her anger increases, I watch her eyes darken from gray to black and her mouth is a full pout. Dominating control over her body, she slides her hands over her arms attempting to settle the prickly bumps my touch causes. Mygod she looks even better angry.