“Well, now that that’s settled, you better get your ass over to Royal’s cabana and fix this clusterfuck. Your mom is safe, but we only have six days to figure out what the hell we’re going to do about Dr. Carmichael. I’d like to come up with a plan of action before then, and I’d really like you to fix things with my sister before we go. She’s going to need you, man.”
“I know. I’ll talk to her.”
“Good.”
Godfrey left me standing on my porch. I ran my hands through my hair, feeling like shit for how everything went down. I was so angry I didn’t even stop to think. Royal was wrong for not telling me, but if I wanted to convince her that I’m a man and not the immature kid she seems to be fixated on, I’ve got to approach this shit with a level head. We’d get through this. We had to. I wouldn’t accept anything else.
Royal was mine, and Aaron Carmichael was a dead man.
I left the cabana and started walking on the sand, my feet sinking with every step as I watched the waves. Once I got to the knife I’d thrown, I crouched down and picked it up. Rubbing my thumb over the edge of the blade, I watched as blood started dripping onto the metal, beads of scarlet pain bubbling up and sliding down my hand. I was no stranger to pain. No stranger to disappointment. I’d get over this—I had to. Royal might have been used to running, but I was used to chasing after people hell-bent on self-destruction. I just had to catch her first.
I was right when I’d told her she was a blade. Like this damn knife I always carried with me, Royal was a part of me. Capable of offering me comfort or cutting me deep. As long as I got to keep her, I didn’t even care which one she did, I’d take it all.
“You want me to kill him?”
I looked up at where Forty-Three was standing over me. I stood up, facing him. My eyes passed over his tie dye sarong and the one piece bathing suit beneath it. “You kill some Floridian hippie retiree?” I drawled.
Forty-Three snapped the strap of the bathing suit against his shoulder. “A widower from San Diego, actually,” he said, looking down at his neon green toenails. “She poisoned her Hugh Hefner look-alike elderly husband so she could inherit his money. She was a real bitch.”
“Her fashion sense wasn’t too good either,” I said.
He nodded in commiseration. “Ain’t that the truth.”
He was a weird dude.
“Anyway, you want me to kill him? This doctor dude? Because I am for hire…” he said, letting the sentence trail off. “But…”
When he didn’t finish his thought, I cocked an eyebrow. “But…?”
“I’m an artist about these sorts of things. You can’t just stab him willy nilly. Let me do some research. We can murder his reputation, too.”
His words had me curious. “What would you suggest?”
He tugged on his bright green, leafy sarong, messing with the knot at his hip. “I don’t know yet. I just started digging. I’m on vacation, you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah, I can see that. We’re on a fucking private island and you’re wearing that.”
“Unless you want to make him number Forty-Four, you probably shouldn’t insult the hit man,” a voice said behind me. I turned around to find Rachel sauntering towards us with a smirk.
Forty-Three tossed his arm over her shoulder as soon as she was near. “It’s alright, sugar. Mr. Salvador here is just intimidated by my staggering good looks,” he said with a grin. “I could bag his girl if I tried.”
“I’d fucking put you in the ground if you tried,” I growled.
Forty-Three threw his head back and laughed while I glowered and Rachel smirked. “I like your friends, boo,” he said to Rachel before pulling her away. “Now let’s go swimming before I have to go do hit man stuff.”
Rachel’s laugh carried over the waves as I watched them go. I had the craziest fucking circle of friends.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Royal
My heart felt like it was cracked in half. My pride was shattered and pulsing with pain.
I hate her, Godfrey. I really think I hate her. I’ve been trying for so fucking long, but I’m at the point where even looking at her disgusts me.
Luis Salvador hated me. I disgusted him. He was here out of duty to the Heirs but wanted nothing to do with me. I meant to go talk to him, apologize for running and hiding. I wanted to admit my feelings for him and make sure he knew that he was what I wanted. Fuck my granddaddy and Mama. Fuck Savannah. Fuck our age difference. Fuck Aaron Carmichael.
But I was too late. I’d heard what he said to Godfrey.
Even looking at her disgusts me.
Now my head was pounding from the two bottles of wine I’d drank.
I spent thirteen hours hiding in my cabana. Thirteen hours ignoring the insistent knocks on the door, and abusing the privilege of the mini bar in my room. Thirteen hours of staring down an empty wine glass swirling with regret. “Royal, if you don’t open this door, I’m going to kick it the fuck down,” Luis growled.
My fuzzy brain was certain that he’d give up soon. I didn’t want to hash this out. Maybe he was right. I was a selfish runner, so determined to escape my own demons that I didn’t care who got trampled in my path to get away.
I wanted to hide because, the moment I opened that door, I knew he’d tell me that he was really and truly done with me, and I wasn’t ready for this to end officially, especially since this had never really started.
“Go away,” I slurred, feeling lightheaded. It was the first time I’d responded.
“Are you drunk?” Luis asked incredulously before pounding on the door some more.
I swayed over to the front door, wearing nothing but Luis’s shirt and a smile. Sliding down the hard wood, I pressed my back against it as I took another swig from the expensive bottle of chardonnay in my grasp. “Maybe?” I replied.
“Mi amor, we need to talk,” Luis pleaded.
“Don’t you mi amor me,” I slurred before taking another swig.
I hate her, Godfrey. I really think I hate her.
I couldn’t even taste the drink anymore. I wondered if it would taste better paired with vodka. “Why are you even here?” I asked.
“You think this is going to scare me away? Am I happy about everything that has happened? No. Am I hurt? Yes. But the only thing I want right now is to hold you, move forward, and be there for you.”
I frowned. That didn’t match with what I’d heard him say to Godfrey. Was he just toying with me now? Trying to get me back? “Maybe I don’t want you to be there for me,” I drunkenly lied.
“Liar.”
“Maybe yo—”
“Will you shut up and let me inside?”
I rolled my eyes, feeling drunk enough to make bad choices and allow the selfish need to be near Luis ruin my better judgement.
Clawing myself up off the floor, it took three tries to unlock the door and swing it open. Luis scrambled to get inside, moving so fast I couldn’t get a good look at him. Or maybe the world was blurry because I was about to pass out.
“You look like shit,” he said while looking me up and down, his heavy eyes landing on where his shirt hit on my upper thigh.
“Oh, do I disgust you? You’re so romantic, Mr. Salvador,” I groaned before walking sideways over to the bed and plopping down.
Luis followed after me, rolling his eyes at the empty bottles everywhere before lifting the soft covers up and tucking me beneath them. Stroking my cheek, he bent over so that we were eye-level.
“I’m going to hold you tonight. And when you’ve sobered up, we’re going to talk. You’re going to stop running, and I’m going to stop lashing out. We gotta break this cycle we’re in.”
The bed dipped beside me, and then two strong arms wrapped around my middle, shocking me. I wanted to respond, but my eyes were heavy, and I was so content suddenly, although it had nothing to do with the soft sheets and plush pillows.
“Luis?” I asked while snuggling closer, pressing my ass against his gr
oin because I was drunk and allowed to make bad decisions.
“Yeah?” he gritted before splaying his fingers out over my stomach to cover as much skin as possible.
“I don’t want you to hate me. I never wanted to run. Running from you hurts.”
He sighed into my hair. “I know, mi amor. I know.”
* * *
I woke up with a pounding headache and drenched in sweat. It was like a furnace was clutching me tight, burning me up from the inside out.
And then came the nausea. “Oh God, I’m going to puke.”
Detaching myself from whatever was holding me hostage, I sprinted to the bathroom and sunk my face into the toilet bowl, just in time for acidic puke to expel out of me like a fucking exorcism.
Why, oh why, did I drink so much?
Calloused hands wrapped around my hair as I purged, holding it back from the liquid assault.
Luis.
“Go away,” I moaned.
“No.”
Another heave.
“We have to have some mystery in the relationship!” I said between gasps of air.
“Oh, so there’s a relationship now, huh?” he teased. “Glad you’ve finally accepted that I’m your boyfriend.”
“Shut up.” I was embarrassed for letting that slip. There was no relationship, and we both knew it.
He twisted my hair into a bun like he’d done it a thousand times, grabbing a hair tie off the bathroom counter to put it up for me. He then got a washcloth and wet it with cold water before handing it to me as I leaned back to rest against the wall.
“You’re good at this,” I observed before wiping my mouth.
“I’ve had some practice,” he replied soberly before disappearing into the bedroom.
I listened, feeling a multitude of emotions as he rustled through my room. I didn’t want this for Luis. I didn’t want to be another destructive woman in his life that he had to take care of.
When he came back, he was carrying a tall glass of water and a bottle of aspirin. “Take it,” he demanded while holding it out to me. I obeyed, not sure when he’d finally say he was through with me.
He got up and turned on the shower before taking off his shirt and dropping his boxers. “Wh-what are you doing?” I croaked.
“We’re going to take a shower. I’m going to wash your hair and help you feel human again. Then we’re going to talk.”
Swallowing, I replied, “Okay.” It was selfish and stupid, but I’d take all I could get.
After I brushed my teeth, he helped me to my feet and out of my clothes. There was nothing sexual about it, partly because my libido was too busy fighting off the massive hangover I was sporting to even think about sex. But there was an intimacy about his slow movements and kind eyes that I’d never felt before. This went beyond sex or even friendship. This was something else.
“How is it you look beautiful even with your face stuck in a toilet bowl?” he asked while helping me into the shower. The steam kissed at our skin as hot water fell on our heads like a rainstorm.
“How is it you’re so compassionate even though you h-hate me?” I asked, a sob climbing up my throat.
Luis tsked. “I could never hate you, mi amor. Never. Besides, I thought we weren’t talking about this till after the shower.”
My heart tripped over itself at his words. He didn’t hate me? Confusion warred inside of me, but I was too distracted and sick to work it out in my head. Plus, I had a very naked, very sexy Heir right in front of me, and it was messing with my ability to function.
He took my hair out of its bun and lathered soap in his palm before washing my blonde hair. Scratching his nails on my scalp, every movement was slow and tender. He rinsed it before applying conditioner and then he started washing my skin. Slowly, his ministrations and the aspirin made my pounding head dull into a quiet throb. While he was busy running his fingers through my hair, I poured soap in my hands and started washing his chest. I watched in amusement as his eyes turned dark.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“I want to take care of you, too.”
I rubbed the suds into his shoulders, his arms, his stomach. I kept my movements teasing and slow, hinting at what I wanted to do without lowering my hands to his hardening cock.
I got more soap and ran it along his back while holding him in a hug, tracing my hands along the muscles on his back before sinking to his ass for a brief squeeze that made him groan.
I moved back to his chest. Lower and lower I went until I had his dick in my palm. Luis rested his head on my shoulder while letting out a shaky breath. Our chests pressed together as I stroked him slowly. Up and down. He gasped. Up and down. He groaned.
I squeezed him as I pumped him in my palm, pressing my thumb on the head of his cock before whispering, “Does that feel good?”
I still wasn’t quite sure we weren’t about to break each other’s hearts once we had to face reality and talk, but I was selfish enough to take this moment and use it.
I was an experienced woman, but being with Luis made me feel like a fumbling virgin again, concerned with her performance. He wrapped his hand around mine and started to move me faster and faster, climbing that peak while guiding my movements, “Fuck, mi amor,” he cursed between clenched teeth. “Squeeze harder.”
I followed his instructions, squeezing his cock in my hand and moving up and down just the way he wanted.
His hands came up to knead my breasts, his fingers flicking over my nipples and making them go hard as diamonds. I instantly became wet at his touch, heating up at the way his calloused palms scraped against my skin. My hand kept slipping up and down his dick, the water washing away the last of the soapy bubbles as I stroked him.
Luis lifted a hand to my jaw and tipped my head back. “I want your mouth,” he said huskily, and when I stood on my tiptoes to kiss him, he chuckled and shook his head, stopping me. “Not there.”
My cheeks heated, partly from embarrassment at my misunderstanding, and partly because I was so turned on.
His dark eyes were locked on me, doing a cool sweep from my head to my toes. “God, you look sexy as hell all wet like this,” he said, his voice barely loud enough to hear over the water.
I didn’t tell him that his body was mouth-watering. That the V and the lines of his abs had me salivating. That I wanted him to lift me up in his lean, muscular arms and fuck me against the wall. Our bodies fit perfectly together, and every time I breathed in, he breathed out, like we were sharing air.
With my hand still around him, I dropped to my knees and looked up at him. His brown eyes flared. “You bowing on your knees for me, Majesty?” he teased.
I nodded at him before leaning forward to lick the droplet of precum gathered at the tip. He sucked in a breath between his teeth, and his hands immediately came to wrap around my hair. I closed my mouth around him, letting my teeth lightly scrape his velvety skin. He jerked in my mouth, making his hips jut forward and his cock go deeper. I sucked him down, letting him hit the back of my throat, and Luis groaned my name.
The sound of the water rushing over us, the heat, the steam, the warmth between my own thighs, it all added to the experience. And every time I bobbed down his cock, my tongue swirling around him, his grip on my scalp tugged just a little bit more, bringing that delicious edge of pain that I realized I liked with him. Luis’s strong grip on my hair reminded me of our mutual control—our give and take. Our trust.
I was on my knees before him, and he was holding my head and fucking my mouth, but I was the one who felt powerful. It was my name he was moaning. It was me bringing him this intense pleasure. It was me he trusted to scrape my teeth along his most sensitive parts.
“I’m gonna come, mi amor,” he said, tapping my cheek with his finger in warning.
I pulled off with a pop and then pumped him with my hands, my tongue darting out one more time to lick him before his whole body tensed. He came with a grunt, streams of cum landing on my breasts.
When he was done, he released my hair to brace a hand against the tiled wall, his chest rising and falling in rapid succession. With his other hand, he pulled me up to stand, his eyes roving over me. He reached out and started painting me with his cum, spreading his seed around my breasts, circling it around my nipples. When he took some on his finger and brought it up in front of my lips, I kept my eyes on his as I opened my mouth and sucked on his finger, his saltiness soaking into my taste buds.
His eyes darkened as my tongue swirled, and then he pulled his finger out of my mouth and plunged it deep into my pussy. I cried out, my eyes squeezed tight as he pumped one, two, three fingers into me. His thumb circled my clit, his other hand continued to rub his cum all over my breasts, and I came embarrassingly fast, like a strike of lightning leaving the ground pulsing and raw.
When my own breathing had settled down, Luis cleaned me off, and then we both got out of the shower, and he wrapped me up in a plush white towel before tugging me back to bed. He sat me down before yanking on his clothes again and rifling through my drawers, tossing me a shirt and panties. I cocked an eyebrow at the lack of bra and pants but didn’t say anything.
When I was settled back against the headboard, Luis sat next to me. “You’re aspirin’d, cleaned, and you even got an orgasm,” he said with a smirk. “Now it’s time to talk.”
“You first,” I said with a deep swallow, nerves crawling up my spine. This was it. This was the part where we were going to break for good.
“Nope. No more running. Say what you need to. Take charge,” Luis said in a stern voice. His tone wasn’t cold, but there was steel in his words that I wasn’t expecting, especially considering how tender he was in the bathroom.
“I’m sorry,” I croaked, already having tears trickle from my eyes. “I shouldn’t have let Aaron pressure me into…” I couldn’t voice what happened; it made me sick. “I was scared. I know you hate me now, but I want you to know how sorry I am. So, so sorry.” I sobbed. It was one of those painful cries, wracking my chest and making my throat burn.
Wild: Savannah Heirs Page 21