"Let's stop here and get some of this barbecue," I say, pointing at a group of villagers standing around the fire where a pig is roasting.
"No, there's a nice place near here," she says and actually speeds up.
"Why? I could talk some of those dudes into coming to help me dig tomorrow."
"They won't," she says very quietly.
"Let me talk to them, I’m good at talking people into doing things," I say and the sharp look she gives me actually wipes the grin right off my face. Clearly she assumed I'm talking about something other than what I said. Women will do that.
"I mean, you guys and the kids are great helpers, but if we actually want to finish this job fast, we're gonna need some real man power."
She casts me a glance like she's trying to see how serious I am then breaks hard and takes a sharp left into the trees. I'm just about to ask her where the fuck we're going when the jungle opens up into a clearing with a single hut-like structure surrounded by plastic tables and chairs. They have a pig roasting here too, there's music playing, people are dancing, and it seems like we're already late to the party.
"This is the place," she says and smiles at me for the first time since this morning. I wish she'd smile more often. And I want to tell her that, but she'll just take it the wrong way again and stop doing it.
Meat and beer is the only thing on the menu, and apart from a rather scared looking couple at one of the end tables, we're the only non-locals here.
"See, you should've worn a dress," I say, pointing at the two local, middle-aged women swaying their hips to the music like there's no tomorrow. I wouldn't mind watching Chloe do that.
"Yeah, after all that digging, I'm not really in the mood for dancing," she says, just as a waitress brings us each a large plastic glass of beer.
"To eat?" she asks.
Chloe rattles off something in Brazilian before I even open my mouth. I understand Spanish, but the language they speak here is not very much like it. I thought it might be, but I was wrong.
"So, what did you get us?" I ask once the waitress finally retreats again.
"Pork and bread," she says. "Isn't that what you wanted?"
I nod. "So, the digging wiped you out?"
"You're not tired?" she asks, her eyes lingering on my arms long enough to be obvious, and to once again remind me that whatever it is that’s keeping the two of us from having some nighttime fun, while I'm here has nothing to do with lack of attraction on her part.
"There's a lot of digging left to do," I say. "I'll be tired when it's done."
"Do you really not think we can do it by ourselves?" she asks, looking very sad at the prospect.
I take her hand, which she's conveniently laid out on the table. Just touching her skin is enough to make me reconsider all that about being OK with not fucking her. But the frozen look in her eyes makes me release her.
"I can dig the ditches by myself," I say. "It could take a couple of weeks though. You sure you want me around for that long?"
I'm not sure why I even asked her that. I added it as an afterthought, but it's a loud one. She needs me, sure, even came to dinner with me, but that ice in her eyes every time I try to get a little closer is telling me she just wants me gone as soon as possible. And I fucking hate seeing that. It brings up all sorts of shit from my past that I don't want to remember.
"Yes, I do. Why do you even ask that?" She grabs my hand and squeezes, but lets go immediately like it was an unconscious gesture. "I don’t know what I’d do without your help."
"You don't look it," I hear myself say, still not sure why I'm goading her. But she started this whole honesty thing as far as our relationship is concerned, and I do like to know where I stand.
Her face turns red, but the meat arrives just then, which automatically puts me in a better mood. We eat our meal in silence, and after I drink my second beer and clear up her leftovers, I'm perfectly content again. The only thing that would make me even happier would be her sitting on my lap.
"I can pay you for your time," she says after the waitress brings me a third beer and clears away the plates. "A hundred dollars a day, so fourteen hundred for the two weeks."
She sounds like she's been figuring this out all through dinner and getting up the nerve to actually say it. I could use some money, that's a cold, hard fact, but I won't be taking it from her.
"Just seeing the smile on those orphans' faces is payment enough for me," I say instead. Chloe would be a bonus, but I wasn't thinking of her giving herself to me as payment before, and I won't now.
She snorts. "That’s such a cliché, Rider."
I lean back in my seat. "It might sound like a cliché, but I mean it. I grew up in an orphanage a lot like this one. Well, OK, it was in Las Vegas, but we also didn't have much of anything." Though we could've had more if Father O'Reilly didn't drink so much. And here I go again telling her about my past. "So I am doing this for the kids, you can believe that."
The look on her face is something between sadness and wonder, but I think she doesn't really believe me.
"I'm sorry," she says and gives me the same smile I've seen her give the orphans when she talks to them. It makes her look as beautiful as any statue of the Virgin Mary, and makes me want her even more.
"For what?" I ask, since I want her to keep looking at me like that.
"For being an orphan," she says. "It's so sad not having a family."
"My mother's still around," I say. "She's married to some rich dentist and lives in the suburbs of Vegas. She just dumped me off at the orphanage, because I was getting in the way of her achieving all that."
Chloe’s eyes are actually misting over, and everything on her face is telling me she would never do a thing like that. Not to me, not to anyone.
"That's so horrible," she says in a whisper.
"I was seven years old when she left me at the bus stop in front of Father O'Reilly's church, saying she'll be back, and if she wasn't that I'm to go into the church and give them the letter she left with me. I sat on that bench from noon until eight PM when Father O'Reilly finally came out to see, if I was alright. I kept waiting for that bitch to come get me for the next eight years until Father O'Reilly died, and I went out on my own. She never did. She didn't even have the guts to abandon me properly. Just left me sitting on a bench in the middle of the city telling me she'll be back. They shut down the orphanage after Father O’Reilly died, but I didn’t want to go into the foster system, so I just set out on my own. And I've been riding ever since. Floating from place to place, never setting up home anywhere."
I told her the full story, since it's been floating around in my mind all day. I don't think I've ever told it to anyone before. But Chloe looked like she might understand. But after it's all out of my mouth, I realize I've just dumped a whole shitload of personal crap on her, and I've known her for less than a day. She struck me as someone who might understand and listen without judging. I’m good at getting the measure of people fast, had to learn how to read strangers, because I’ve been on my own since my teens, and I’ve never met anyone as naturally honest, giving and caring as Chloe.
"But that was more than fifteen years ago. I'm over it. Been over it for a long time," I add. "I just wanted you to understand that I really do want to help your orphans."
She nods, that saintly look still on her face. Our conversation flows better after that, and I get no more frozen looks as she explains about her work at the orphanage and where all the kids there come from. Sad stories, every last one of them, much sadder than my own.
"And why did you come here?" I ask, since I do want to hear her story too.
"I wanted to help. I’ve always wanted to do what I can for the orphans and the less fortunate of this world."
Like me. And I know just what she could do for me.
I'm tipsy enough to think it, but I won't say it. She sounds completely honest, and I believe she really does want to help. And in this world that's so full of fake, self-serving
people, that's a very refreshing thing.
She waves the waitress over to pay. "We should go back and get some rest."
She lets me pick up the check, but not without arguing.
And the conversation keeps flowing easily right up until we're standing in moonlit silence in front of the garage back at the orphanage.
I want to kiss her. More than ever.
And since I'm no good at not doing exactly what I want to, when I want to, I lean in and pull her to me and do just that. She tastes about as good as the first girl that let me kiss her, only better, since that time it was mostly about the kiss, and this time it's all about the girl. And the best part is, she's returning my kiss, her hands resting on my waist, and her tongue very friendly with mine.
I'm just about to lift her up and carry her somewhere more comfortable, when she pushes me away.
"No, we can't do this," she whispers, shock plain on her face.
"Why the hell not?" I ask, grinning, since I'm still lightheaded from the touch of her lips.
"Just no, OK," she says. She sounds like she's pleading.
"Give me one good reason," I coax, then remember I might get the lie about the boyfriend, and add, "But make it a true one. I know you want this as much as I do."
"No, I don't," she says sternly. "Good night."
And then she just stalks off, leaving me with a raging hard on and no kind of fucking answer.
"I asked for the truth, Chloe," I call after her. "And that was a lie."
I follow her, could overtake her, but decide not to try when she starts walking even faster. I stop once she jogs up the stairs leading to her bungalow. And, yeah, the alpha male in me wants to go after her, kick down her door and show her exactly what she wants. But she's not ready for that kind of treatment yet.
So instead I spend the next several hours cleaning the mud off my bike until it's gleaming like new, and I'm calm enough to try and sleep. I'll respect her wishes, but it'll take a monstrous effort now that I've gotten a taste of her.
CHAPTER 5
CHLOE
I didn't get much sleep after that kiss. The kiss that I very nearly let lead to something a lot more. My whole body was screaming for it, but my mind wasn't on board. I have so many fears when it comes to sex, stuff people don't understand when I try to explain, but I lost everything, because I forgot to be smart in a moment of passion, and that can happen again.
What if, despite his very sad story, which I think was all true, he just wants to fuck me and will ride on out of here as soon as I let that happen? Two weeks of hard labor is a lot to be doing for free. He seems to be a generous, kind man deep down, but he still doesn't strike me as a guy who does a lot just out of the kindness of his heart. He's a biker. A real-life motorcycle gang member. I don't know much about those, but I know they're bad news.
Thinking about all that kept me up half the night. Though that was mostly because of the kiss. The kiss that had me struggling not to go visit him in the middle of the night, so he could kiss me again.
When I went to wake him in the morning, he wasn't there. That scared me, and it wasn't just because me, Olivia and Ed would have to dig the ditches ourselves if he did leave. It was also because I'd never get that second kiss.
So I was relieved when I found his bike still in the garage. It was clean as a whistle, not a trace of the mud left. And my heart made a couple of somersaults in my stomach when I found him already digging, shirtless, the morning sun glistening off the beads of sweat on his back, and on his forehead, as he bid me a very curt "Good morning". He took the breakfast I'd brought him and ate it in silence. Then we spent the next few hours digging in silence. Ed joined us too, equally silent.
"It's going really well, don't you think?" I finally asked him, while he was taking his first break around noon.
"Sure," he replied and picked up his shovel to get back to work.
"We're gonna act like ten year olds over this?" I asked rather exasperatedly.
"I don't like being lied to, Chloe," he said, eyeing me over his shoulder, his emerald green eyes catching the sunlight and gleaming like real jewels.
I did lie, I couldn't argue with that. Because I do want him.
I just turned and left after that, because he sounded genuinely upset, and I didn't know what to tell him. Yes, I lied, yes, I mistrusted him, and no, I never want him to know that.
Ed came down while I was giving the kids their English lesson, tried to get me to tell him what that was all about, but I didn't want to get into it with him either.
I let Ed prepare dinner, while I went to my bungalow to try and figure out what the hell is going on. Ended up falling asleep, since I haven't gotten much of that these last few nights.
But my head is clear when I wake up. Rider told me his whole story, and he'd been honest with me from the start. I've pretty much only lied to him.
I need to fix that else he'll leave because of my lies, and I'll have caused my worst fear. I practically run to his bungalow and knock on the door without thinking twice. Because if I did, I'd change my mind again.
But it's very late, and I only realize that after he opens the door, his eyes slits.
"What's wrong?" he asks.
That simple question breaks a dam in my mind. So much is wrong. My world shattered when an ex-boyfriend uploaded the sex vids we made to porn sites after I broke up with him. The videos went viral, and I was kicked out of school, random strangers in the street would feel me up and want me to fuck them on tape, my dad was getting emails with the link to the videos. Everyone thought I was a porn star wannabe, even some of my closest friends, and most of them didn't approve. I'd been hanging out with guy surfers since my teens, we were friends, but after that they all wanted to get laid. Gangbangs were mentioned. Filming them was too. The only way out of it that I could see was to leave it all behind. And now this life I've built, helping these poor orphaned kids, is falling apart too. It's not just the flooding, the cartel is trying to run us off too, and then where will I go? How will I protect these kids? The orphanages in the cities are awful. They shoot kids that no one wants in this country. I need to save the ones I can. And I don't know, if I have it in me to start over again if I fail.
And while all that is rushing though my brain, I'm completely silent, just looking into Rider's eyes, which are now open all the way. I can't tell him all that.
"Lots is wrong," I whisper instead. He pulls me to him by my waist, getting the wrong idea, but only slightly.
"Let's fix some of it then," he says and kisses me.
And the panic I felt just a second ago looses its sting. His kiss is hard and hungry, yet gentle and considerate too, and I surrender to it. Let all my worries, fears and inhibitions just float away until nothing but the fluttering butterflies, and the liquid warmth his kiss is flooding my chest and belly with, remains. It's easy to just let it happen, I don't have to force it at all.
He pulls me into the room, slams the door shut behind us, and then we're just kissing in near perfect darkness, two strangers coming together for a night of pleasure. Only I see him clearly despite the darkness, see him with my mind, and he's a beautiful being of golden light just as I am.
His lips find my neck, his hands sneaking up under my shirt, grabbing my ass, and mine are just as adventurous on his body. I've wanted to feel those biceps of his since I saw him that first night in the bar, and they're as hard and coiled as I imagined they would be. And his washboard abs might as well be made of metal they're so hard and unyielding.
He takes a step back and lifts up my shirt. I raise my arms and let him undress me. Slivers of moonlight are coming through the cracks in the walls and the shutters on the windows, and his body is slashed with light, illuminating all the important parts. His eyes are glowing green like a cat’s, and his boxers, which are the only thing he's wearing are tenting up. He grabs my breasts, squeezing them together as he gives me another hungry wet kiss.
I undo the string holding my shorts up, let t
hem fall to the ground. He wastes no time, his fingers sliding under my panties and connecting with my clit, sending sharp currents of electricity all through my body. He pushes a finger into my pussy, adds another before I’ve fully adjusted to the first. Yet he has me moaning and wriggling as he opens me up with his fingers, screeching as he starts pumping them in and out faster and faster. He’s kissing my neck, my breasts, nipping and sucking on my nipples, his thumb rubbing my clit in just the right way, bringing me closer and closer to that sheer earth-shattering bliss I've denied myself for so long. Right now, I have no idea why I swore off sex, because this is heaven.
I slide my hand down the hard ripples of his abs, but I don't stop once I reach the end. Instead, I continue down the front of his boxers, close my palm around his throbbing cock. Or try to, since my fingers don't reach all the way around, and I have long fingers. He groans as I grip his cock, his fingers buried deep in my pussy but no longer moving.
I stroke his shaft up to the head, realize it's long too, not just fat, and alarm bells are going off in the back of my mind. But they have no chance of stopping my body's need to have this monster inside me.
"I was right, you do want it," he says hoarsely, and removes his fingers from my pussy, pushing me down to my knees with his other hand. I go gladly, lick the head as soon as my mouth is level with his cock.
"Go on," he urges, and I open my mouth wide and take him in my mouth. He pushes in, letting out a very long breath, which sounds a lot like relief.
Tropical Tryst: 25 All New and Exclusive Sexy Reads Page 21