by Ann Denton
“Why does she need to tell you that?”
I swallow.
But he told me his secret.
I take a deep breath and rip off the band-aid. “When I was twenty-one, I got pregnant. My boyfriend, Michael, started making all these plans. Wanted to settle down and everything. But … I lost the baby.” I glance down at my feet. I can’t maintain eye contact during this next part. My chest tightens. My throat starts to close, and it feels like it’s hard to breathe, but I force the words out. “And when I did, I realized I didn’t want a family. I don’t want to be a mom.”
Danny scoops me up into a hug and just presses me into him. Gently. Comfortingly. He just holds me with one arm and smooths his hand down my back with the other.
The tears well up even though I try to swallow them down. I have to clear my throat before I can talk. But when I do, I say, “My family always expected me to get married and stay home. Have babies. It’s fucking Oklahoma. That’s what you do, right? And I feel like the absolute worst person in the world … but when I lost that baby, I was … relieved. I wasn’t going to be trapped into that life anymore. At first, my boyfriend said he understood. But one day, I caught him poking holes in his condom.”
Danny’s hand stops stroking. His arms tighten around me. “When we get back to Tulsa, I’m gonna bury that fucker—”
Fear lances me. “No!” I pull away and stare Danny in the eyes, ignoring my tears. “No. Revenge is a boyfriend thing. I don’t do boyfriends. Fuck buddies only. Take it or leave it.” I swipe away a tear that’s smearing my vision.
Danny’s face is clearly at war. I can see how badly he wants to hurt Michael. And part of me rejoices at that. But it also scares me. Because if he can’t let it go, I’ll have to walk away. And I really, really don’t want to walk away.
Danny lets out a growl and picks me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. He holds me tight as he storms inside. He uses his leg to kick the door shut and then he slams me up against it. Then he kisses me, hard. His tongue probes my mouth instantly. There’s no soft warm kiss. There’s a hot angry tongue fighting with me without words.
Holy shit. Never in my entire life did I think an angry man would be a turn on. But he’s not angry at me. He’s angry on my behalf. And so, each time he bites my lip or nips my neck I know he’s not punishing me. He’s wishing he could punish Michael. And protect me. But he’s not. Because I asked him not to. A light-headedness that’s similar too—yet completely different from—an orgasm fills me. Because Danny cares enough to do what I want. Every nerve ending in my body responds to that feeling and I’m wetter than I’ve ever been in my life.
That’s a good thing, because Danny-the-fuck-buddy takes no prisoners.
His left hand snakes down behind me and grabs my ass, squeezing hard. Then he lifts me up so my feet dangle in the air. He breaks our kiss and stares into my eyes. His are awash with dark fury in a way I’ve never seen. High voltage hate and lust spark in his eyes. He leans forward so that my body is trapped by his torso and by the hand under my ass. He yanks out a condom and stuffs it between my breasts. Then he yanks down his shorts. He grabs the condom and rolls in onto his length, which is already rock hard. I glance down. Seven inches looks right.
But I hardly get a look before his free hand is back on me. He’s rough as he bats at my dress, pulls it up, then he grabs my lacy panties in his fist. He rips them clean off and throws the panties aside. Then he lifts that hand to his mouth and gives his entire palm a single lick. He swipes the moisture over his hard shaft to help dampen the condom. And he stares at me again.
Then he presses the tip of his dick against my opening. He slides up and down along my lips. Once he realizes how wet I am, he shifts his focus to my clit. The hot head of his dick swipes over and over that spot until I start mewling. Then Danny replaces his dick with his hand and roughly starts to flick my bud. He gets a rhythm going, a quick back and forth. The heat builds between my legs. I start to feel drunk. The room starts to go out of focus as everything in the universe becomes concentrated on one tiny spot. There’s so much pressure. So much tension. So much emotion. There isn’t enough room for it inside of me.
Danny whispers into my ear, “Katie.”
My name. That’s all it takes for me to explode into heat and light and planets and stars… and love. I scream.
My scream is cut off when Danny smashes into me and forces his thick dick inside in a single thrust. I cry out, but not in pain. I cry out because the line between fucking and something more is getting blurred. Somehow, even though he’s doing exactly what I told him to, Danny smudged that line.
And as I stare into his eyes while he thrusts into me, I realize, I don’t think there’s any going back.
Chapter Twenty-One
Fuck. I ask Danny to leave while I shower. I’m shaken. I don’t know what’s going on. He didn’t do anything wrong. But now I feel vulnerable. Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about Michael. Maybe I should have turned him down. My heart cringes at either of those choices. Shit. I realized how attached I am emotionally already. I have no idea what to do about that. I try to shake it off by focusing on work. That’s something I can handle. Peter is a problem I can solve.
I find the number for the boat company who ferried Alec over after he had to drop off our jet. I get on the phone with them and then an airline and half an hour later, I’ve got departure plans set for Peter Brown.
I knock on his door. He doesn’t answer. I knock a second time and also try around the back, checking to see if he’s used the sliding glass door that opens onto a terrace. Nope. I sigh.
This couldn’t be easy, could it?
Fuck.
I go back to the front and knock a final time. Then I use my universal key and open the door. The villa is trashed. The chairs by the small dining table are overturned. He’s smashed the glass coffee table. Peter Brown is a sore fucking loser. I take a pic of the room and text it to Heather.
Dodged a bullet, I tell her.
I check the bedroom. Peter’s bags are gone. The minibar’s been cleaned out. I’m not sure what the fuck his plan is, because we’re on a fucking island. Go get drunk and complain to the parrots? There’s nothing but this resort. I shake my head and roll my eyes. I figure I better go tell everyone to lock their doors at least until Mr. Pouty Pants is found and evicted. I don’t want ten other smashed coffee tables.
I find Heather and the guys down at the beach. A couple of the men are in the water. The twins are running down the beach to burn off steam. Everyone’s naked. I don’t even bat an eye at all the bojangles bouncing around. Sadly, I don’t even want to stare—not because it would make Danny upset, I tell myself—because I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
I find Heather. She’s sprawled out on a towel, using her phone to take a video of the twins. Thankfully, she tosses on a cover up as I approach so that I don’t have to stare at her tits. I spent way too many hours when she got her first nipple piercing exposed to them, and probably complained about it enough that she’s being decently considerate.
I notice her camera angle has zoomed in to capture the twins from the neck down. “Feeding the cunt monster?” I ask, nodding toward her phone, as I sit next to her.
“You know it,” she winks. “Peter gone?”
“About that. Looks like he trashed his villa and ran away.”
Heather stares at me a second, processing.
I nod to reassure her it’s true.
“What the fuck? Asshole!” Heather springs to her feet and puts her fingers to her lips. Then she lets out an ear-piercing whistle. All the guys turn, as if they’ve been trained. She waves an arm, calling in the troops.
When I explain to everyone what’s happened, BJ jumps to take the lead. He tosses his hand out, karate chop style, emphasizing each part of his sentence with a very distinct chop. “We need to pair off, make sure all the villas are sealed. Then we need to meet up by the pool. We’ll do a group search. No ladies are left alone until thi
s bumble fuck’s found. Clearly, he’s crazy.”
“You think he’s that bad?” I’m skeptical. Peter’s always seemed skeezy—but in a way that made him feel more annoying than threatening. Like those meat salesmen who go door to door. Honestly, I thought Heather would have sent him home long ago. But oral skills … women can be just as deceived by good oral as men can by a good rack. I sigh as my mind brings me back to Peter’s villa and the broken table. Clearly, he’s no simple meat salesman. Though he did sell Heather on his meat. I blink. I realize I’m fucking exhausted. I’m thinking in shit metaphors about random crap when there’s a job to be done. I look up and realize BJ is already leading the team back toward the main buildings.
He’s lecturing everyone as we go, “Peter was my roommate. Thought he was a shoo in. And he has an online poker problem. Or at least, every time I fucking saw him, he was playing.”
Heather just narrows her eyes at that information. “So, he looked at me like a fucking pay day?” She tosses her hair. “He’s gonna be lucky if I don’t punch him in the dick.”
We head off toward the main buildings. I warn the staff about the rogue harem candidate and Kenneth and Danny join me in checking all the staff areas. No luck. We get the place locked up and head out as a team. Somehow, I end up in the middle of the guys as we walk down the path.
Everyone else comes back empty-handed, too. Peter’s not anywhere in the main part of the resort. Great.
I stare up at the sky and give the universe a sarcastic thank you. It just shit on a stick, called it a lollipop, and shoved it down my throat. Just what I need on an exhausting, emotional-turmoil filled day.
I drag out the energy drink in my pocket and down it because I’m drooping, and apparently Peter was enough of a dick to go hide in the swamp-ass tropical forest. With the spiders and snakes.
I grimace as I swallow the nasty-ass, cough-medicine-flavored drink. Kenneth takes the empty drink cannister from me, tucks it in his pocket, and says, “Next time, if you’re tired, ask me and I’ll make you some caffè mocha.”
“Which is?”
“Basically, hot chocolate with a shot of espresso.”
Sold. Shit. I want that every day. Just because. “Call off the search,” I joke. “Open the kitchen. That sounds fucking amazing.”
Kenneth grins but keeps walking.
On my other side, Danny asks, “What the hell is he thinking? That somehow he’s gonna get to stay?”
I shrug.
At the front of the group, BJ shakes his head. “I’ve seen guys flip out. Bad. When they thought they had something on lock, then lost it.” He shakes his head. “Peter’s flipped his switch, guarantee it.”
Fuck. “Do I call the cops or something?” I ask.
Kenneth shakes his head as he pushes aside a fern. “Nope. Private island. No country claims this one.”
I stop dead. I hadn’t realized that in my research. The travel agent never said anything about that. “You mean, this island doesn’t belong to the U.S. or the U.K. or something?”
He shakes his head.
The realization makes me nervous. “So, there’s no laws if he tries to kill us?”
BJ looks over his shoulder at me. His face is grim.
Danny laughs and puts an arm around my shoulder. “Don’t scare her man. Geez.” To me, he says, “Peter’s just pissed.”
I nod. But my stomach’s still all jacked up on nerves. Or maybe energy drink and nerves combined. I have to clench my fists to stop the shaking. Danny tugs me into his side as we walk, and I try to ignore how much that warms my heart.
We run into Alec on the main path and my jaw nearly drops. My body immediately hums like a magnetic field, crackles like a lightbulb, moans like a porn star.
Danny looks down at me and I realize the moan was out loud. He doesn’t look defensive. He just chuckles and releases me from his tight hold.
That only gives me more opportunity to ogle Alec. He looks like he’s been jogging. Unlike the twins, he doesn’t jog naked. But he’s only wearing sports shorts. Sweat drips down his tanned chest. He has the biggest pecs I’ve ever seen. Bulky and ripped, they’re the size of the huge-ass plate overflowing pancakes at Phil’s Diner. And now, thanks to Kenneth, part of me wants to see if Alec tastes just as good with syrup as those pancakes do.
Alec comes to stand right in front of me.
“What’s going on?” he asks me, those deep, intense eyes boring holes into my sense of propriety. For a second, I can’t remember if it’s acceptable to pinch your own nipples in public.
Danny and Kenneth have to explain because I can’t. My mouth isn’t working. Alec’s bare chest is right in front of my eyes. And if I drop my eyes a little, there are abs. Toned, defined, delicious abs. There’s one jagged vein that zig-zags down Alec’s left side like a lightning bolt. I want to lick it and the droplets of sweat that are trailing down his body. I’m caught up in a lust-filled haze. Thank God we’re in a group and that other people can keep their wits about them. Because mine have dried up and blown away like a boll of cotton. All that’s left of me is throbbing need.
Fuck. I just had fucking sex with Danny. We’re in the middle of a crisis, I tell my stupid horny self. I wrench my eyes away from Alec and force myself to search the foliage for Peter.
My guys update Alec on Peter’s stupid stunt. It takes me a second, and then I realize I just mentally called Kenneth and Danny my guys. Fucking shit. Heather’s right. I’m already starting to think of them as my harem.
Alec joins the group, nudging Kenneth over so he can walk next to me. A few minutes later, we reach the Cross-Fit obstacle course. It blocks the only path on the island that goes up the mountain. It’s the only path leading to a small waterfall and freshwater stream, the only hydration options available on the island for idiots who’d rather pout into the woods than stay at the resort until their ass gets flown back to civilization.
BJ looks over his shoulder at Heather. “Afternoon challenge?”
She nods. “This and an escape room.”
I sigh. “Well, there goes that surprise.” Not the biggest deal, but now all the guys won’t be thrown off by any of the obstacles. That’s assuming we find Peter Brown before the competition is supposed to start. We’d better, because I’m gonna be ticked if I have to sweat away my whole day tromping around looking for him.
The guys study the obstacles with interest. The very first one is a mud pit that stretches across the path and fills every available space. It’s filled with water so that the competitors will have to jump at the very start of the challenge. The Cross-Fit guy assured me it would make everyone commit better, instead of pussyfooting around the obstacles.
“We need to turn around—” I tell everyone, because that pit is three feet deep and nine feet across. It’s not something you could easily jump. It’s designed to make sure most people fall in. We need to go back and take a side path—
But Jeremiah says, “I see him!” and points.
Sure enough, Peter is hauling a dripping, mud-covered duffel. His entire body is coverd in sludge from head to toe. He looks like a poop monster.
Heather has the same thought. “You look like a shit that stood up and walked. What the fuck are you doing Peter?”
Peter turns and something glints in his hands.
“Gun!” BJ yells.
Alec’s off like a shot. He takes a running leap over the mud pit. He clears it easily, landing on the ground just past it. “Get down,” he screams back at us. Kenneth yanks me down into a crouch, but I crane my neck up to watch Alec as he uses one arm to lift himself as he jumps the low walls that are the next set of the course.
Peter sees him coming and startles, turning to run away. But Peter’s at a point in the course where there’s a cargo net stretching thirty feet into the air. His options are to climb, to try to run around it, or to turn back. He ducks and runs sideways. But I figured most competitors would do that, so the net extends at least twenty feet into the trees on eit
her side, through incredibly thick brush. Peter doesn’t make it five feet into the brush before he gives up on that strategy and starts to climb.
Meanwhile, Alec’s moved on to the ninja walls. They’re six foot ‘A-frames’ set up on either side of a trench so that competitors have to leap sideways from one to the next, using their feet and their momentum to stay up and avoid a trench below. Alec leaps from one to the next like a fucking pro. He looks like a movie stuntman.
The twins decide they should try and help Alec out. But neither clear the mud pit and we’re all sprayed with a volley of brown muck.
They don’t stop, however, helping one another climb out of the pit and clumsily following in Alec’s wake. On the first ninja wall, Rubin or Revel ends up slipping and sliding on his butt down into the trench, just like a toddler on a slide.
Male pride kicks in with the other competitors. Jeremiah Bible and BJ decide they can’t be left behind. They both take running leaps. Jeremiah falls short and his face smacks into the edge of the pit. He falls backward on his ass with a splash.
Andrew argues with Heather about joining them, but she points at Jeremiah saying, “If someone’s hurt, they’re gonna need you.” Andrew helps Jeremiah out of the mud, but the poor man is groaning.
Andrew leads him away down the path. Jeremiah’s got a cut on his forehead that’s bleeding something fierce, but he says, “I don’t need your fucking mothering.”
“You need stitches, asshole. I’m not gonna feed you and wipe your ass.”
I don’t watch them bicker because my eyes are naturally drawn back to Alec. He hits the rope climb section, where a single rope dangles twenty feet in the air. Competitors are supposed to shimmy up to ring a bell. It’s the last challenge before the cargo net, which Peter is just topping. Instead of racing past the rope, or climbing it, Alec grabs it and walks backward until the rope is taut. The he runs forward and uses the momentum to launch himself at the cargo net—like motherfucking Tarzan.