Waiting For You

by Ava Claire

  I turned on a quiet street lined with modest homes and palm trees. I glanced at the directions. The house was a block down, painted white with sea foam green shutters. It was a two-story plantation style house with a private studio tucked away at the back of the property. My parking space was marked by orange cones so I hopped out, moved my car into the space behind an ebony Range Rover, and killed the engine. Confirmation in hand, I went in through the gate as specified and maneuvered down the cobblestone path toward the studio. I heard the sound of running water and froze. I don’t remember any mention of a fountain. I rounded the corner and my heart trampolined to my throat.

  The running water? It was streaming from a showerhead…and down the hottest ass I’d ever seen.

  This man was over six feet of tight golden muscle, the planes of his shoulders flexing as he moved his body beneath the water. My eyes traveled down, lust pooling in my panties – his behind looked too good to be true, perfectly carved out of marble. I could imagine my hands gripping it, pulling him deeper inside me.

  Inside me. If his backside was this delicious, I could only imagine how –

  “Aaah!” I gasped as something furry brushed against my leg. A chocolate Labrador stared up at me with big, inquisitive eyes.

  I squeezed my eyes shut. Too late for that. There was no way he didn’t hear me.

  Wincing, I re-opened my eyes and nearly passed out on the spot. My gaze went down the muscular legs, his powerful thighs, and hit the brakes on hardened proof that his front was in fact just as amazing as his ass.

  He cleared his throat and my face tingled with embarrassment. My core tingled with something else entirely.

  My eyes locked on his turquoise colored gaze and lingered before my gaze traveled south to his strong nose, angular jaw, and lush kissable lips. I was in full on swoon mode. Guys like him weren’t supposed to exist in real life. That kind of perfection was reserved for Hollywood and the brooding, handsome men that cast their smoky eyes at you from the pages of magazines. But here he was. A butt-naked, very aroused, very attractive man who was looking at me like I was the sexy one. Who was currently drinking up my curves like a margarita on a hot summer day.

  He raked a hand through his slicked back chestnut hair and strode forward. I didn’t know him from Adam. He could have been some intruder, but I couldn’t make my legs move. And if I was being honest, I didn’t want to.

  The smile in his eyes traveled to his lips and he extended his hand.

  “You must be Melissa. I’m Logan Mason, the owner of the property.”

  Chapter Three

  “Don’t you have a shower in your house? I mean, I don’t know why...I’m supposed to check in...why are you showering outside my studio?!” My words tumbled over each other. I felt like I should apologize, but indignation made my words sound accusatory. I kept my eyes locked on his face even after he’d wrapped his mouthwatering bottom half in a towel as red as my cheeks.

  “Let me grab that for you.” Before I could answer, he hooked the handle of my suitcase and rolled it in the direction of the studio. Tall, devastatingly handsome, and chivalrous. Well, mostly chivalrous, since he didn’t address my questions.

  “Be still, my beating heart,” I muttered sarcastically, trailing behind him.

  “What was that?” He raised an eyebrow over his shoulder.

  “Nothing.” I said quickly. Nothing at all. Pay me no mind as I contemplate all the ways I want to break my ‘no men rule’. All the ways I want to be touched. To be fu –

  I gave myself a mental shake. I didn’t know anything about this man other than his name, the fact that he owned a really amazing house and studio, and that he was the best kind of trouble. He oozed sexuality and power. He could have been in a two-piece suit or naked as the day was long, and you couldn’t help but take notice of him either way. He took all the air from the room. And when he opened the sliding door and flashed me a playful wink, I nearly dropped my panties on the spot. I wasn’t used to guys looking at me like they had to have me; I was used to batting my eyelashes and plying them with attention in exchange for sex and affection. I’d only met Logan a few minutes ago and he made me feel wanted. It was a beautiful feeling.

  And terrifying.

  “I’d sweep you up and carry you over the threshold, but that’s not included in the vacation package.”

  And there went my heart, pounding right out of my chest. Was this what it was supposed to feel like? Easy and consuming?

  Slow down, Melissa, he’s not proposing marriage. It was fairly transparent what he was proposing. He hadn’t even batted an eye when he noticed that I’d been watching him. Logan knew the effect he had on women. His eyes made promises that I knew he could deliver. I imagined he could easily offer cover clutching, nail-raking, multiple climax escapes. He wouldn’t need a map or bullet point instructions. He was a man who knew what he wanted and how to get it.

  I wrung my hands, my teeth sinking into my bottom lip. I’d never done the one-night stand thing. My cheeks darkened when I realized I was already off to a good start since my body was screaming at me, ordering me to go to him, drop to my knees, and let the lust take over.

  His gaze shifted, studying me intently. “I’ll get out of your way. If you need anything--”

  “Wait,” I interrupted, panic reminding me that I knew how to put one word after the other and hold a conversation. “I don’t…I mean…I do--” I stopped, inhaling and exhaling, gathering my wits about me. I took a step toward him, my eyes flickering down to the knot that secured the towel slung low on his hips. His toned pelvic cut teased and my core throbbed, no, ached, to see it again. When I met his gaze and noticed his raised eyebrow, obviously taken aback by my blatant ogling, I apologized.

  “I’m sorry! I swear I don’t do this.” I pulled at my hair, twisting the golden locks over one shoulder. Usually that action relaxed me, but it was no use.

  He was deadly silent, still evaluating me with – interest? Annoyance? He was probably deciding that whatever unspoken romp he had been hinting at earlier was a bad idea. Hurt exploded in my chest, remembering Jason’s excuses. Every rejection, every chaste kiss, every disgusted look when I asked him for more, harder…that pain was still fresh. I wouldn’t wait for this guy to reject me.

  “Maybe you should go.” I said bitterly.

  I expected confusion, maybe a little anger, but I found neither. He smiled and in his eyes, I saw challenge. Like he was impressed by me somehow. He didn’t make a move toward the door. He took a single step toward me.

  “You don’t want me to leave.”

  I didn’t, but how did he know that? “W-what? Look, I’m flattered, but I … I’m not sleeping with you.”

  His lips quirked into a dangerous smile. “I didn’t say anything about sleeping together, Melissa. Though men like me and women like you were made for each other, I’m a patient man. But I will say this. I will make you a single promise: before day three of your vacation, you will beg me for it.” He wet his kissable lips. “You will beg me to take you.”

  Indignation curled my lips into a snarl, combatting the heat his words elicited. “Beg you for it?” His cockiness was already getting on my nerves. “I’m not sure what arrangements you have with your other renters, but you don’t know me. I don’t beg anyone for anything.”

  Not exactly true. My dad raised me as a single parent, but work kept him from doing much parenting. Running Kaleidoscope was his life, making it successful his top priority. I begged him for time and affection, but he barely took notice of me until I majored in Marketing and Communication in college.

  I begged Jason for more. More passion, more aggressiveness, just…more. And after spending most of our lives fighting our chemistry before finally giving into it, he fell for someone else.

  But this trip was about new beginnings. A new, improved Melissa. And as tempting as it was to surrender to Logan, I deserved more than to be a notch on his bed post.

  I put a hand on my hip and rose to eve
ry inch of my 5’7 frame. “Are you refusing to leave? Because per our rental agreement--”

  He held up a hand to silence me. “I’m fully aware of the terms of our agreement, just as I am fully aware that you will be mine.”

  That should have been appalling. That ‘Me Tarzan, You Jane’ caveman mentality usually drove me crazy, but want simmered to a boil inside me. He was so deliciously alpha. All man. All confidence.

  And all trouble, if you wanted to keep your fragile heart in one piece.

  “Logan…” Words failed me as he split the remaining distance between us. He wound an arm around my waist and crushed his mouth against mine. He tasted like pure sex. No flowery caresses and soft strokes. His tongue thrust into my mouth, tasting me with a moan that I involuntary echoed.

  One kiss, and I was putty in his hands.

  One kiss, and I knew he was right.

  I was going to beg.

  Chapter Four

  I knew that Logan wasn’t home, but I still paused after I opened the sliding door, checking to see if he was waiting to pounce. Wanting him to pounce.

  After we kissed yesterday, I’d been ready to beg then and there, but he’d ended the kiss, fixed his towel (and showed me just how much he enjoyed kissing me), then did exactly what I asked. He left.

  It took every ounce of self-control I had not to go after him, or worse, pull out my trusty vibrator to finish what he began. It would have just made me want him even more. That kiss had everything I’d been looking for, starving for: passion, need, uncontrolled desire. If I nearly came from his kiss, what would the rest of Logan do to me?

  Absolutely nothing. The rational part of my brain took the wheel. Logan Mason is off limits. He’s…he’s…exactly what I’ve been waiting for.

  I knew it was crazy. This kind of thing took time, right? Even if I had a bad case of lust at first sight, I knew myself well enough to know that it would be impossible for it not to become something more for me. Some people could hook up and check their emotions at the door, but I hadn’t mastered that ability. Logan would rock my world, and even if we agreed it was casual, with no strings attached, my heart would get in the way. I wanted his body, but I also wanted to know his story. Where was he from? What things drove him wild? What things did he hate?

  And that was exactly why I was doing recon before I went to the beach for the day. I couldn’t risk running into him when he’d gotten under my skin. Telling him to go the first time had been easy, but that was before the kiss. It would be impossible now.

  The coast was clear, so I pulled my beach bag over my shoulder. I closed and locked the sliding door behind me. According to the information book in the studio, the neighborhood was safe so I didn’t have to lock up, but I was from Sacramento. It wasn’t much, but my laptop was my life and I didn’t want some beach bum to break in and hawk it on Craigslist.

  I rounded the corner, eyeballing the hot tub with disdain. When I’d first booked the studio with me and Jason in mind, I’d had plans that involved his body and my body –

  I banished the thought with a sniff. My fantasies would have been dashed anyway. He’d be too tired or not in the mood, and when I looked disappointed, he’d make me feel even worse by whining about how much pressure I put on him.

  My heart was filled with lead as I remembered his favorite line: I love you, Mel. Isn’t that enough?

  I pulled my shades from the crown of my head and dropped them over my watery eyes. As soon as I stepped through the gate and got on the street, the ocean air flooded my system. My tears dried. March was the perfect time to come here. It wasn’t high season so the streets were clear, with only a local or two walking past with their pets or surf gear. The sun warmed my skin and the breeze kissed my flesh. My swimsuit was beneath my cardigan, my oversized jeans rolled up mid-calf. I saw the water, blue and vast, in the distance. I snapped a picture with my phone, entertaining the thought of sending it to Jason, but then I talked myself out of it. I’d ignored every other attempt to re-open the lines of communication, and I needed to keep it that way.

  I sent it to Stacia instead. Her reply was swift.

  Stacia: Jealous! Slept with any surfer guys yet?

  I laughed out loud and quickly typed a reply.

  Me: Absolutely not.

  I almost told her about Logan, but I knew her. She’d tell me to screw him ASAP, and the devil on my shoulder needed no encouragement. I tucked my phone back in my bag as I crossed the street. Pleasure Point, in a word, was breathtaking. The sun glittered like diamonds on the water. Frothy white waves rose and fell as surfers bobbed and paddled, fading into the blue sea. I followed the stairs to the beach, kicking off my flip-flops. My feet sank into the sand, the golden brown particles squeezing between my toes. I watched the surfers ride the waves, envious of their agility. I could swim well enough not to drown in an emergency situation, but it was nothing beautiful or effortless looking. And if you added a surfboard? Yikes.

  I watched them for a few more minutes, walking to the edge of the water, then I moved back up the stairs. Benches lined the sidewalk and I picked one in the sun. I’d sunbathe for a bit then head to Capitola Beach and whip out my blanket and umbrella.

  I closed my eyes, dueling warmth and chill rocking me gently until unconsciousness swallowed me whole. In my dreams, Jason was pulling me into the water, ignoring my words. We were going too deep, too far from the shore. He let me go and I flailed, my body sinking into the dark water. The soft blue darkened to navy, then pitch black. His voice was as cruel and dark as the water.

  “For once, I have to do what makes me happy.”

  “Melissa?”

  The voice wasn’t Jason’s. It was...Logan?

  My eyes flew open, locking onto Logan’s intense evergreen gaze. My shirt was open in the front and he was flicking his eyes from my face and chest, but it wasn’t in an erotic way.

  He winced, his eyes narrowed in concern. “How long have you been out here?”

  My head was still foggy with sleep so I frowned, not understanding. “What? I--” My mouth hung open in a silent cry of agony when I moved. My skin was tight…no, that word didn’t seem right. Tight would have been bearable. This felt like my skin had been pulled like a rubber band stretched to its breaking point. This was a deep, paralyzing pain that consumed my face, neck, and chest. I looked down and confirmed the obvious. My skin was an angry red. How long had I been out here? Gritting my teeth as I moved, I rummaged through my tote bag. I woke up the screen of my phone. I'd been asleep for over an hour!

  I glanced peevishly up at Logan. It seemed like there were only two emotions that reigned when he was near. Either I was so aroused I couldn’t stand it, or I felt so awkward and gangly that I was embarrassed. At the moment, I could tick the ‘embarrassed’ box.

  “I’m such an idiot,” I groaned.

  His eyes softened. “Yeah, but you make it look incredibly adorable.”

  I blushed. Or I think I blushed. It was hard to feel anything but pain.

  He held out his hand. “Luckily for you, I’m kind of amazing when it comes to these delicate situations.”

  “When people burn themselves to a crisp?” I quipped.

  “Helping a damsel in distress.” My eyes narrowed defiantly and he chuckled. “Let me help you, Melissa. No strings.”

  I accepted his hand, even though I knew it was too late for all that. Electricity shot through me in a powerful, undeniable current when we touched. I was already tied up and bound to him.

  Chapter Five

  I told Logan walking me to the door was more than enough, but he was adamant, gently guiding me to the main house. My beach studio was nicer than my one bedroom apartment back in Sacramento. It had hardwood floors throughout and a tropical meets industrial vibe with plantation shutters, exposed wooden beams, and all chrome appliances. It wasn’t like an interior design magazine’s center spread; gorgeous but sterile. Instead, it was chic yet warm and inviting. It spelled home away from home.

  T
he main house was the same but on a grander scale. Everything gleamed and glittered, and I quickly kicked off my flip-flops even though he made no such request. I knew that he was wealthy; he carried himself in the confident way of someone who came from money, but being in his space, surrounded by gorgeous, expensive things reminded me of just how out of place I was. I grew up somewhere between middle and upper-middle class. I never wanted for anything, within reason. Logan strode to a fridge with a touchscreen on the front and tapped out a request, which the machine echoed in that perfect machine-like voice. I had a feeling he never wanted for anything, period.

  He passed me the water and clinked our glasses together. “Bottoms up – and then we can get down to business.”

  I nearly choked. “Is everything about sex with you?”

  His eyes twinkled deviously. “I’m fairly certain I haven’t mentioned the word ‘sex’ once.”

  “You don’t have to say it out loud.” I took a solid gulp for strength and put it down, eyeing him defiantly. “You say it with your eyes. You say it with your--” I cleared my throat and glanced at his crotch. He was in khakis, but he may as well have been naked. I could make out every swollen contour of him.

  He cocked his head to the side, peering at me curiously. “Is it so bad that I’m attracted to you?”

  “Yes. I mean, no. I mean...I just got out of a relationship, and I don’t want to be hurt again.” I moved to twist my hair. Big mistake. As soon as my hair touched my sunburned skin, daggers of pain sliced through me. “Ow,” I moaned, going rigid. I didn’t want to move or breathe for fear I’d make it worse.

  “C’mere.” He beckoned at me to follow him. “I have something that will work wonders.”

  “Is it your penis?”

  He let out a chuckle that was dripping with amusement and a sexual current that made me tingle. “But I’m the sex obsessed one, eh?” Before I could make a face, he continued. “It’s a cream for sunburns. I swear by it.”