Pleasure Island (Sex Coach Book 3)

by M. S. Parker

  I opened my mouth, then snapped it shut, because I wasn’t sure I could answer that.

  “If it was you, would you be making a bunch of changes?” Mila pushed when I didn’t answer.

  I couldn’t lie to her. But I wasn’t about to admit she was right either.

  It didn’t matter. Mila saw it in my face and waved a finger in my direction. “See? You wouldn’t go changing your life around either.”

  “This isn’t about me,” I snapped, closing the distance between us. I caught her shoulders and stared at her, hoping she’d understand. “This is about you. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

  “I don’t plan on letting anything happen to me,” she said.

  “You didn’t plan on having somebody break into your place and trash things, either,” I fired back at her.

  “Would you stop?” Mila half-shouted. “I’m not letting this dictate how I live my life! I’m not letting you dictate my life.”

  I spun away, shoving my hands back over my scalp as frustration burned inside. “I’m not trying to dictate your life–”

  “Then yank the stick out of your ass about this wedding. I am not going, so your cousin and his fiancée won’t be in danger because of me. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  I turned back to her, gaping. “You think I’m just worried about Michelle and Jake? This is about you.”

  “And my security team and I will handle it.” She planted her hands on her hips as she squared off with me. “We’ll deal with it. I don’t want Michelle, Jake, or any of the guests knowing anything is out of the ordinary.”

  I narrowed my eyes at her.

  “I mean it!” She flung out her arms. “I’m going to be taking over here. I can’t have my guests thinking that I can’t handle an issue like this, should it arise.”

  “I take it that means you don’t want me telling Jake.” I crossed my arms over my chest as I held her gaze. “The woman I’m sleeping with could be in danger, and you basically want me to forget there’s a threat. You want me to just sit in the corner and be a good little boy while you handle all of this.”

  Mila opened her mouth, then snapped it closed, a growl of frustration escaping her. “Why can’t you let this go?”

  “I just can’t.” Turning on my heel, I strode to the front door.

  “Where are you going?” Mila demanded.

  “Out. I need to breathe.” I yanked the door open. Two security guards stood just outside. The sight of them only made me feel a little better, and I walked right past them while behind me, Mila called my name.

  “You look pissed.”

  Jake settled on the stool next to me at the bar and waved down the bartender. He ordered a beer and turned to face me. “What’s going on?”

  I shook my head.

  I didn’t want him or Michelle worrying about anything when their wedding was tomorrow. I guess a part of me understood Mila’s concern there, but I didn’t understand her overall lack of concern.

  If something happened to her…

  “Trouble in paradise?”

  I glanced up at Jake.

  He snorted. “Don’t look surprised. The only way you two could be less subtle about what’s going on between you is if somebody found the two of you having a quickie poolside.” He cocked his head to the side. “But something’s got you down. Want to talk about it?”

  I opened my mouth, then closed it. After a few more seconds, I said, “Some of it is Mila’s business. Not my place to discuss it.”

  “Think that could be part of what’s bothering you?”

  I looked at him, not following.

  He shrugged. “You’re all tangled up in this girl. Think maybe part of the problem is because it’s her problem…instead of a problem she wants to share with you?” Jake suggested.

  “We’re not really even dating,” I said softly, looking back at the scotch I’d ordered. “There’s no reason for it to be our problem.”

  Tangled up in her, I thought. Yeah, that about summed it up.

  And I had no idea how she felt about me.

  That was a rub too.

  I circled the heel of my hand over my heart before looking back at Jake.

  “Have you told her how you feel?” he asked.

  “I don’t know how I feel,” I admitted. “How can I tell her when I’m still trying to make sense of it myself?”

  “How about I help you out?” Jake leaned in, bumping my shoulder with his. “I think the word you’re looking for is l-o-v-e.”

  I shoved up, shaking my head. “We’re not even dating.”

  “What’s that matter?” Jake asked easily. “You’ve clearly spent time together.” He gave me an eagle-eyed stare as he added, “Lots of personal quality time too.”

  I flushed as I caught his meaning.

  He laughed. “The two of you probably didn’t even wait an hour before hopping in the sack once you got here, kid.”

  “I didn’t know she was here until I ran into her,” I said stiffly. Maybe I wasn’t so uncomfortable with sex now, but I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about it with my cousin.

  “Fine.” He rolled his eyes. “An hour after you saw each other, I bet the two of you were in bed.” He shook his head, one hand upheld. “I’m not asking for details or anything, but the two of you can’t keep your eyes or hands to yourselves. And I see the way you look at her. I know that look.”

  Focusing on my drink once more, I turned the idea over in my head.

  “How do you know when it’s love?” I asked quietly.

  “I think you figure that out when you stop listening to all the noise that doesn’t matter and pay attention to what your heart is saying.” He hitched up a shoulder before taking a sip of his beer. “I knew almost from the beginning that things with Michelle were different. It took me a while to stop fighting it though.”

  “I don’t know if I’m the one fighting things,” I said, staring into my glass of whiskey as if it held the answers I sought.

  There were no answers though. Not even when I tossed the rest of the liquor back and slammed the glass down on the countertop.

  “Well, maybe you should start with that.”

  I shot him a puzzled look.

  “Talk to her. You’re just now having that ah-ha moment. Maybe the two of you need to talk about how you feel and see if that doesn’t clear the air.”

  Talk to her.

  It seemed to be wise advice, although the thought of going back to her while this stalker thing was still unsettled made me even more leery.

  Of course, shying away from the idea wasn’t really ideal, either.

  I heard the echo of Mila’s voice in my ear – that’s running away.

  She was talking about dealing with whoever had been in her bungalow while I was thinking about a different matter altogether, but the same rules seemed to apply. How did running away solve this?

  It pissed me off then because I finally put myself in Mila’s shoes. She was right. I wouldn’t have called off a wedding or any event if I’d been the one in danger.

  Why would I think she’d change anything anyway? Not that understanding that made me feel any better.

  She was strong, stubborn and capable – and she’d just made one hell of a change in her life, one that promised to make her very happy. Maybe I was one of the changes she’d be better off without.

  I didn’t like the way that knowledge settled inside me.

  Not at all.

  34

  Mila

  Mila

  “Liam!” I shouted.

  But he kept on walking. When the door closed behind him, I grabbed a pillow from the couch and hurled it.

  It didn’t go very far.

  It also didn’t make much noise when it fell uselessly to the ground.

  Annoyed with myself, I grabbed the pillow and tossed it back onto the couch before moving over to the door. I grabbed the doorknob, but in the end, I let it go and turned around, my back braced against the
smooth wooden surface behind me.

  Liam and I had just gotten back together two days ago, and we’d already had what was probably our first major fight.

  Long after the door closed behind him, I resisted the urge to go after him.

  I already felt trapped, confined inside the walls of this bungalow. Without him being there, it made it worse.

  The temporary space Millie had given me for living quarters was not small, not by any stretch of the imagination. It was one of the presidential suites, almost identical to the one I’d been using since I moved to the island. With broad, airy rooms and a wide patio that opened out into a terraced garden, the bungalow was luxurious, spacious, and beautiful.

  I might as well have been trapped inside a closet. It was like the walls were closing in around me.

  I understood that Liam was worried.

  I got that.

  And I knew Millie was worried too.

  It wasn’t like I was unfazed by what had happened.

  I definitely wanted to know what was going on. It was unsettling as hell to think that somebody had been in my place, gone through my stuff, touched my things.

  “Stop thinking about it for a while,” I told myself, going to the fridge and opening it. It had already been stocked, and I smiled when I saw a bottle of my favorite wine chilling inside. Millie hadn’t lost her touch.

  A glass of wine would chill me out, I figured, so I poured a glass and sipped at it as I restlessly paced the bungalow. Outside, the lights of the resort beckoned me, and I turned my back on them.

  I didn’t want to go to the main building and fraternize or play the genial hostess. I was pissed and upset and lonely.

  Where was Liam?

  How long would he be gone?

  I eyed the phone, tempted to pick it up and call Liam, ask him to come back here.

  But what was I supposed to say?

  I didn’t want him to know how nervous I was, how scared I was. That would only make him get more overprotective.

  Draining the first glass of wine, I poured a second. There was a fleeting thought that maybe I should eat something – it was well into the evening hours now, and all I’d had at lunch was a salad.

  But the idea of eating anything made my stomach twist.

  Retreating to the couch with my glass of wine, I curled up into the corner and reached for the remote. For a while, I sat there and sipped wine and tried to watch TV, but the fight with Liam kept pressing in on my mind. Why couldn’t he understand where I was coming from? He’d all but admitted that he wouldn’t be changing anything if he was in my position. Why was it okay for him and not me?

  The fact that I had breasts and a vagina instead of testicles and a cock was probably pretty high on the list, and it pissed me off.

  He’s just worried about you.

  I ignored the quiet voice as I stared at the screen of the TV without seeing it. I finished off the second glass of wine and threw down the remote. Getting up, I emptied the rest of the wine into my glass and started to pace the living room, drinking and brooding.

  My head spun a little, but that might have something to do with the fact that I was practically walking in circles across the smooth, polished floors. I felt hot and edgy, desperate for air.

  Unable to take it anymore, I strode into the bedroom and closed the door behind me. A door opened to a terraced garden area that was shared with the other bungalow. I was going to go outside and try to breathe.

  Carefully, taking care not to let the door shut too loudly behind me, I slid onto the patio and left the pretty wooden platform outside my bedroom door, taking the stone path down into the garden that stretched between my bungalow and several others.

  I waited for the vice around my chest to ease up, sucking in air desperately. But the terrace didn’t seem to be much better than inside. I still felt trapped and restless.

  The security guards were still at the front door, and I eyed the gate that opened to the paths.

  I’d told Liam I’d keep the security personnel with me, but I felt like if I didn’t get away from all of this, I might go mad.

  Maybe I’d already done it.

  Madness and a whole bottle of wine might explain why I slid outside into the twilight. Alone.

  Logic told me I should get back to the bungalow, get the security personnel to go with me, but the fight with Liam had left me unsettled, and I felt like I was going to come out of my skin.

  I knew the island better than almost anybody.

  If I wasn’t safe here, was I safe anywhere?

  Instead of finding that thought reassuring, it left me feeling uneasy, and I paused in the middle of the path, looking back in the direction of the bungalow – the guards.

  Damn it, I’d left New York to get away from this sort of shit.

  Was it really following me?

  It was that thought that made up my mind, and I spun away from the bungalow, taking the first path that veered off to the right.

  I was going down to the beach.

  It would be quiet this time of day – a storm front had moved in, turning the air chilly and most of the resort guests would be spending time poolside or partaking in other amenities offered by the resort.

  It was a perfect time for a walk to clear my head.

  The sound of the water crashing on the beach was normally a sound I found soothing.

  Tonight, the surf sounded angry, as frustrated as I was.

  A wind whipped off the water, and I wrapped my arms around my midsection, wishing I’d brought a sweater. The cool air did help somewhat though. The fog brought on by wine and not enough food started to clear from my head.

  Sand inside my shoes scraped against my feet, and the wind blew my hair into my eyes.

  Shoving the loose strands back, I turned and faced the water. I could see the spot on the beach where Liam had placed me after he pulled me out of the ocean.

  I found myself thinking about the glint in his eyes, the worry that had sharpened his voice as he yelled at me.

  Shivering, I rubbed my hands down my arms, but it didn’t do much to help warm me. The chill sank deeper and deeper inside me, and I cast a look back toward the resort.

  Normally, just looking at the place made me smile. The lights that came on at twilight always made it look even more welcoming than usual. At least, normally.

  But the lights seemed hard and bright now and awfully far away.

  I needed to get back to the bungalow.

  Coming out here had been an attempt to clear my thoughts, but they kept returning to Liam.

  To my father.

  To the chaos that had been unleashed on my room while I was in session that afternoon.

  It still didn’t make sense.

  Maybe what I needed to do was call my father and push him for more details on why he thought I might be in danger. Maybe the two of us could figure this mess out.

  With little else offering a solution, I sighed and started back toward the resort.

  A low noise came to my ears as I moved forward.

  I paused.

  I didn’t hear it again.

  But as soon as I started walking, I heard that faint noise again…pfft, pfft, pfft…the whispery soft sound of footsteps in the sand. It wasn’t just my feet moving along the beach just then.

  I cast a look behind me but saw nothing. Uneasiness crept through me as I stared out into the deepening twilight. Heavy shadows lay across the beach, and I could make out the endless black of the ocean, but beyond that, I saw nothing.

  Setting my jaw, I swung my head around and started to move along at a quicker pace.

  Again, I heard the echo of a second set of footsteps.

  Somebody was following me. I was out here alone on the beach, and I hadn’t told anybody where I was going.

  Just a few hours ago, somebody had trashed my bungalow, and now I was out here alone on the beach, still more than a bit tipsy after drinking a bottle of wine.

  And somebody was following me
.

  I started to walk faster. By the time I reached the path that opened up onto the beach, I was running.

  35

  Liam

  The talk with Jake had given my temper a chance to cool down, although I was still frustrated and pissed off.

  Mila’s stubbornness was one of the things I appreciated about her, but right now, it wasn’t doing anything but making things worse.

  You’re not helping. Try to understand where she’s coming from.

  I wanted to silence the voice, but I couldn’t.

  I did get why Mila wasn’t happy, maybe even more than she did. Mila appreciated being in control, in being able to control the things around her. Now she was in a situation that was completely out of her control, and there was only so much she could do.

  As somebody who appreciated control myself, I could understand how that was frustrating to her.

  On top of that, the helplessness she probably felt was only going to make it worse.

  I sure as hell had some of those feelings of helplessness surging inside me, along with a whole bunch of what ifs. What if I’d been a little faster getting to the bungalow? What if Mila had gone back there, unaware of the danger, and the guy who tossed her place was lying in wait?

  What if we weren’t able to find who was responsible before he went after Mila again?

  The answers to those scenarios did nothing to help calm my thoughts, and I made myself stop the what-if game.

  There was no winning that game, and all it would do was complicate matters when I needed them to be terribly simple.

  I needed to go back to the bungalow and talk to Mila – talk, not dictate.

  And somewhere along the line, I needed to figure out how to tell her what I’d just figured out.

  I’m in love with her.

  I didn’t know when it had happened. I don’t know how it happened.

  But it had happened, and now I needed to figure out how to handle what I felt for her and still be objective enough to take care of her. Personally, I’d be fine with locking her in a room and lying in wait for anybody who didn’t belong to dare come near her.