by Sara Cate
“How was your flying lesson?”
I let out a gasp as I pop out of the water, facing Nash who is kneeling down at the edge of the pool watching me float. I try to hide the tension in my face as I answer him.
“It was good.”
“Uh-huh,” he answers. He’s staring at me, his eyes squinted, his lips pressed into a thin line. The white heat of shame courses through me. There’s no way he knows what happened, but it feels very much like he does. Or at least he suspects it.
I should tell him right now.
It’s not like I cheated or anything. Nash and I are not in a relationship. I have to keep telling myself that. But before I can say a word, he peels off his shirt and shorts until he’s completely naked and he dives into the water behind me. My mind is racing.
What do I do?
My eyes scan the ground and the house for Alistair. Is he watching? Can he see me swimming with Nash now? Why do I care?
God, just the thought of Nash touching me sends butterflies to my belly. As he pops out of the water, he swims toward me.
“Who needs a bathing suit when you live on a private island, right?” I ask, trying to kid with him, but his eyes are so serious.
“Tell me about your lesson.” He says, leaning his arms on the pool deck and watching me. He’s teetering somewhere between the laid back casual Nash who binge-watches Netflix with me and the cruel, power-hungry Nash who takes and punishes and satisfies that dark hunger inside me.
“It was fine,” I lie. I can’t do this. I can’t lie to him. I don’t want to be this girl. What the fuck is wrong with me? Emma would have never gotten herself in this situation. I can practically hear her scolding me, her shrieking judgement asking me what I was thinking. Why don’t I ever think before I act? She always yelled at me for that.
As Nash glares at me, his brow furrows. “What’s wrong with you?” he asks.
“Nothing,” I reply, trying to act normal. “What’s wrong with you?”
“You’re acting weird,” he adds.
“The flight was just nerve-wracking, that’s all.” I hate lying. I hate it.
Nash stares at me for a moment, and my heart starts to splinter. I have to push down any feelings for him, no matter how strong they want to bubble to the top. This is just a job, Zara, I remind myself.
“I hated thinking about you with him,” he says, and I swear my heart stops.
“Why? You’re the one who told me—”
“I know. Calm down. I just...never mind.” He swims across the pool, and I watch his bare back glide through the water as my blood pumps furiously through my veins. When his head pops up, I push him for answers.
“What were you going to say?” I ask.
He flips his wet hair back out of his face, and my eyes trail to the muscles of his arms and chest. “Nothing,” he says. “Just that...something about it turned me on.”
I let out a gasp as he dunks his head back under the water and swims across again. What the fuck does that mean? My eyes are wide while I wait for him to resurface, but I can’t help but feel a warmth brewing in my belly. Something about it turned him on? Something about me being with his dad? I bet if he knew what we were up to he wouldn’t be turned on.
He pops up, repeating the same hair flip as I ask him. “Something about me being with your dad turned you on?”
He laughs. “Yeah...like we’re fighting over you or something.”
“I’m not a fucking prize, Nash. This isn’t some primal mating ritual. Neither of you are going to win me.” I’m really trying to puff out my chest here, but he can definitely see through it all. He smiles and saunters over to me, pinning me against the wall. His naked body presses against me.
“You’re not a prize, but you can be bought, Zara. He bought you with money, remember. What can I buy you with?” he asks, leaning his head down while rivulets of water run down the tan skin of his nose.
I will go to hell for this. But at this point, what the fuck do I have to lose? Nash Wilde wants to fight over me with his dad and right now, I want to let him. Maybe he’s only being playful. It’s quite possible that to him, this is all a game and if he found out what Alistair and I really did, he would be livid, but I have to shut down my emotions and get through these next two months. Maybe longer if I can handle it, but I need that money, and I need something to motivate Nash.
“I have a few ideas,” I tease him back, pressing my tits toward his chest.
In one fluid motion, he lifts me and places my ass on the pool deck. The cool air is harsh against my wet skin, but as he tears off my bikini bottoms, the heat pulsing to my core warms my entire body.
As his lips place a sweet kiss on my inner thigh, I’m no longer cold. “Game on,” he mumbles into the wet heat between my thighs before he draws a long line across my folds with his tongue. I let out a groan, falling slowly onto my back as Nash devours me, sending me coursing straight into my third orgasm of the day.
Why don’t I feel bad about this? Because I’m fucked up that’s why. Because any woman would be glad to be trapped on a billionaire’s private island with two incredibly sexy men who both seem to think they own her, and no one could rightly blame me for this.
Just as I let out a loud moan, writhing on the pool deck, I secretly hope Alistair can see this. In fact, I know he has a perfect view from his office. I imagine he’s in there right now, watching Nash tongue fuck me on the pool deck only a couple hours after I came on his lap.
Like Nash said...game on.
21
“Ease it forward.”
The helicopter barely nudges, and I see her fingers tremble.
“Little bit more.”
Her heavy breathing echoes through the comms. Being back in this seat with her bare leg basically pressed up against mine is going to kill me. My dick responded the moment I climbed in. And as much as I want to glide my hand up her thigh again, I’m here to teach her something, and I need her to learn it.
Finally, the aircraft pitches forward.
“That’s it, baby.”
A smile cracks across her lips, and I stare at her profile set against the bright sunlight through the window.
“Promise you won’t let go,” she squeals as she moves us forward a little. We’re not far off the ground today, but this exercise is just to let her get the feel for the controls. I have the cyclic, and I swore I wouldn’t let it go while she got her practice in.
I’m also keeping my hand safely off her leg this time. In fact, there has been no more touching or kissing since our last lesson four days ago. She got in my head that day. Not only in the helicopter but then with that fucking display on the pool deck with Nash. I know what she’s playing. And I’m not here to play games. I’m too fucking old for games.
Of course, none of this has stopped me from thinking about her every fucking second since. God damn she felt good in my arms. Her soft lips against my tongue, her thin waist in my hands, those soaking wet panties in my lap.
Fuck, focus.
After a few more rotations and exercises, it becomes unbearable, and I’m desperate as fuck to get out of this cockpit. Carefully, I bring the bird to the ground and cut the engine. There’s a thick silence as soon as the blades stop turning.
“Zara,” I say in a warning. “What happened the other day…”
“Was amazing,” she finishes for me.
“Won’t happen again.” I have to look away. My body can’t be held responsible for what it wants to do while she’s looking at me like that, and I need to show some fucking restraint.
She doesn’t respond. I need her to agree with me right now. I desperately need her to say she never wants me to kiss her again and then get out of his helicopter so I can hide in the hangar like a teenager and jack off to the memory of her tight pussy around my fingers again.
But she doesn’t. She stays quiet, and it leaves me no choice but to look her in the eye again. Which is a big mistake because the second I do, it makes everything I just said sound insuffi
cient.
The look between us says we will absolutely be doing it again.
She’s the first to move, leaning forward and wrapping her hands around my face to pull me in for a kiss. Our lips lock, and I let out a groan when I feel her soft tongue press into my mouth.
Everything about Zara is delicious. The softness of her lips and the smell of lavender on her skin. She’s devouring me as fast as I’m devouring her. With her hands still on my face, my fingers become desperate to touch her, and they snake their way down to her blouse. It’s a loose-fitting tank top, so one swipe of the strap, and it falls off her shoulder. Her bra follows close behind, and before I know it, I’m holding her perfect tit in my hand, and Zara lets out that high-pitched moan of pleasure.
My girl likes her nipples played with. Fuck, that’s going into the memory bank for later.
“Let’s go inside,” she gasps.
It’s like ice cold water down my spine. We can’t go inside. We can’t be doing this anymore at all.
Reluctantly, I pull away. My hands already miss the soft warmth of her flesh, but I pull up her shirt to cover her anyway. When she reaches for me, I hold her hands in mine instead of letting her touch my face again.
My temper starts to build up as the urge to carry her to the bedroom and fuck her until she can’t walk straight makes it harder to make any rational decisions. I refuse to be fucking powerless because of this girl.
“Goddammit,” I mutter.
Her face falls, and I hate the look of defeat there, but she doesn’t fight it. She knows that whether or not she’s Nash’s girlfriend, I can’t interfere with her relationship with him.
She keeps her hands in mine while we sit for another moment in this now-uncomfortable silence.
“What would you do if I crawled into your bed in the middle of the night?” she mumbles, and it feels like a dagger to my chest. She has no idea what the question does to me, the things it makes me feel. But she wants an answer, and I’m more than ready to give it to her.
“You really want to know what I would do?” I grit out through clenched teeth.
Her lips part as she inhales, her cheeks flushed and her eyes dilated. That’s enough of an answer for me.
“I would strip you of every single piece of clothing and stare at your naked body in my bed, committing it to memory forever.”
I watch as she swallows but doesn’t look away. Her hands squeeze mine, urging me for more.
“I would kiss every single inch of your body. Then I would make you come as many times as I could in one night—with my hands, my mouth, and my cock.”
There’s a hitch in her breath as I say that word, but she doesn’t take her eyes away.
“What else?” she asks breathlessly, and I know I’m done for. Zara has ruined me for all women forever, with that one little breath I know there's not a woman on earth who could make my heart stop and my dick move like she does.
“Then, I would fuck you, Zara. I would fuck you hard because I know that’s how you like it.”
Her lip lifts in a quirk, and I rub my thumb across the back of her hand.
“I would fuck you hard because that’s how I like it too.”
She melts right before my eyes.
“Then, I’d hold you all night. I’d close every damn shutter in the house and pretend night never ended so I could hold you more.”
“If you don’t kiss me right now, I think I might die,” she gasps, and I can’t help myself. I pull her toward me again, devouring her mouth, tasting every corner, every crevice of it. Biting her lower lip between my teeth to see how she’d react. She responds by biting me back, which doesn’t surprise me.
When she pulls away, she keeps her head against my neck and our bodies close like she needs to catch her breath.
“When did this happen? I never saw this coming,” she whispers.
I want to tell her that this happened a long time ago for me. Four years to be exact. The first time she stepped foot on my island, I was ruined. I made a promise to myself that I would never touch her because I knew then she’d fucking ruin me. She would be my downfall, my biggest distraction, and I was right. Even before we touched, I was helpless.
Pulling her face away from mine, I hold her by the cheeks and kiss her softly. God I wish I could take my time and get to know every single reaction and sound she makes in bed. I wish I could take a full-time class in Zara’s body until I knew it by heart.
My head and my body want two different things, and they are very much at war with each other at the moment. I feel myself slipping though, like she’s making me want to spill my guts to her, letting all of my walls down.
“When I’m with you, it doesn’t hurt so much,” she whispers, and suddenly I’m swallowing knives.
She’s in my goddamn head, stealing the words off the tip of my tongue. The pain never fully goes away, but it is eclipsed by the brightness of her eyes.
“I know, baby.”
This is going to hurt like a bitch later, but for now, it’s almost nice. It’s worth it.
Finally she leans back in her seat, and we eventually climb out together, heading toward the house.
“Oh, I forgot to tell you. We’re going to your parents’ for Thanksgiving,” she says as we reach the garage, and she says it like it’s nothing, but I stop in my tracks.
“Wait, are you serious?”
She simply nods, her eyes a little wide.
I don’t want to know what she did to make this happen, and I really fucking hope it wasn’t some sex bartering thing, but I can’t help the flood of hope that consumes me. My son hasn’t seen my parents in a long time.
“I wish you were coming,” she adds.
There’s something heavy weighing on my chest. The thought of her meeting my parents, sitting around the table with us, sitting next to me or making faces at me from across it, curling up next to her by the fire.
Fuck, what is happening to me?
Instead, it will be Nash who takes her home. Nash who sits next to her, who cozies up to her, but the fact that she’s getting him to go at all is proof my plan is working. She’s helping to heal my son, and if that’s the case, then I really have nothing to be upset about.
If he needs her, then he should get her. Every single time.
22
There’s something about Nash flying this helicopter. It could be that this is his first time flying in almost two years or that the inside of the helicopter has turned into some instant turn-on for me, but there’s a tremor of excitement under my skin.
Nash gets in and starts up the engine like he hasn’t missed a day. He’s a natural, and it’s a sexy process to watch. A sense of pride washes over me, proud of him and proud of me. Something good is coming from this. I got him here.
My rational mind remembers clearly that in two months, this is over, and I go back to my life in the city a little bit richer and probably heartbroken. I have to prepare myself for that.
The flight is about two hours long, and about halfway through, I drift off into a dreamless sleep, my head resting gently against Nash’s shoulder. When he nudges me to wake up, I open my eyes to see vast, green fields with no end in sight. Just past the road is a large ranch in the middle of a giant green square. There are a couple horses running around the pasture, seemingly disrupted by the helicopter, which starts to land on the black helipad behind the house.
“It’s beautiful,” I mumble sleepily into the headset as we start to touch down.
The house is a large ranch-style home with a giant porch. It’s not as big as the house on Del Rey but it’s homier. There is a welcome sign on the door and white rocking chairs on the porch. A man with gray hair and a thick mustache stands from the chairs as we land. He stands at the top of the steps and watches us with his hands on his hips. There’s a worried grimace on his face.
Next to him, a woman with long brown hair braided over her shoulder stands with a bright smile and waits with him.
“Here we fuckin
g go,” he mumbles.
I glance back at Nash and spot the small tick in his brow. There’s so much tension on his shoulders, so I reach out a hand, gripping his tightly. His eyes meet mine for a moment before he flips off the engine and opens the doors.
As I climb out of the helicopter, I wait for him to come around and take my hand so we can walk up together. It occurs to me that Emma might have come here. I didn’t think to ask. Bracing my shoulders, I mentally prepare myself.
“That was some good flying, son,” the old man hollers as we walk toward him. He has the same wide smile as Preston.
“Thanks, Gramps,” Nash says with a smile as the two men collide in a strong hug. By the way the man holds onto him, it’s the first hug in a long time. I notice the way the woman watches them with a broad smile, waiting her turn before she can hug her grandson.
“Hi, honey,” she says to Nash as she comes in for a tight embrace.
She puts her arms around him like she never wants to let go. Like she’s hugging more than just Nash.
“Um...you remember Zara?” he says as she finally pulls away.
They both look at me with hesitance, and all of the awkward sadness lands heavily on our introduction. Of course the only time we have seen each other in person was at the funeral, and we didn’t speak one word to each other. They probably see her when they look at me.
“It’s nice to see you again, Zara,” the old man says, pulling me in for a hefty hug. “Call me, Frank.”
I savor the feel of his tight embrace. It’s the hug of a dad, and as he pulls back, I search Frank’s features for signs of Alistair, suddenly wishing he was here.
When Nash’s grandmother turns toward me, I notice the smallest squint in her eyes, like she’s searching my features for signs of recognition.
“Welcome to our home,” she finally says with a warm smile. Then she takes my hand and leads me up toward the house. “We’ll let the boys get the bags.”
The inside of the house is cozy. Unlike Del Rey, it doesn't look to have any housekeepers to constantly keep every surface area dusted and clutter-free, but still it’s clean and smells like pine and something baking in the oven.