I nod, swallowing the burning sensation that’s rising in my throat.
I look over the woman’s shoulder and see Ivy, frozen in place on the beach. Then I watch her lean over, hold her stomach, and wretch into the sand.
When she sees me, she tries to run, but her feet give out from under her and she collapses.
“Ivy!” I make my way over to her and put my hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”
Her body is silently shaking. She’s almost in hysterics.
“Do you need help?” the lifeguard asks, no doubt seeing her pale face.
“No. I’m good. She’s just upset by what she saw. Thank you.”
She watches, her body heaving, as the paramedics wheel the girl away through the property.
“It’s okay,” I say. “The girl is going to be fine.”
“The mother,” she says with a shaky voice. “I wonder if she has any idea what you saved her from.”
“I think she does. When she came up to me, she said I’d just given her her life.”
Ivy nods over and over, tears falling onto the sand beneath her. Then she looks up at me. “I wish someone could have given me mine.”
All of a sudden, my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach and my throat burns. “Oh, Ivy. Did you …” I can barely get the words to come out. “Did you lose a child?”
She swallows hard as her eyes close. “Not just one,” she says, choking on her words. “I’ve lost two.”
Her body wretches with sobs, as if saying those words was the hardest thing she’s had to do.
She goes limp in my arms and I pick her up, carrying her through the grounds of my resort as I try to navigate the sidewalk through my blurry vision.
When I get her to my room and put her down on my bed, she cries. She cries long and hard. I’m not sure what to do. I’ve seen profound loss in my job, but I’ve never experienced it. I’ve never witnessed the extent of pain that I’m seeing right now.
I get in bed next to her, pulling her back against my front. I rub a hand along her arm then through her hair. I try to comfort her with a soothing touch, knowing she’s probably dying inside. And she lets me hold her. She lets me hold her until she falls asleep from exhaustion. Then I hold her some more. I hold her until the sun comes up twelve hours later.
Chapter Twelve
Ivy
I squeeze my eyelids tightly shut, trying to stave off the light that’s coming through the window. Something feels different. Something smells different.
I open my eyes and see Bass sleeping soundly on the pillow next to me and everything comes rushing back. He saved her. He saved that woman from a lifetime of pain.
He carried me up to his room and took care of me. I vaguely remember having a nightmare last night. He pulled me close and comforted me until I fell back to sleep.
He said he loves me. But I know all about trying to love someone who is broken. It doesn’t work. It’s why Eli and I split up years ago.
I lie here, staring at Bass, wondering what he could possibly see in me that would make him love me.
Maybe it’s Hawaii. It’s a magical place. I wonder if he would have fallen in love with anyone he met here. Maybe that’s what he does—fall in love. He did, after all, fall in love with his friend. He could be one of those guys who is attracted to unattainable women.
Or it could be that he’s a protector. He saves people by profession. He probably thinks he can save me. And part of me wants him to, even though I know I can’t be saved.
He thinks I want to die. They all do. And maybe I am reckless, but I’m not about to fail Dahlia like that. So even though I’ve thought about it—I’ve thought about it a thousand times in the past seven months—I’m not going to break the promise I made to her.
She wanted me to live. She wanted me to live for her. She even wanted me to love. I think she knew, even at her tender age, that her father and I were better as friends. She would talk about me finding my prince. She would talk about him saving me. Tears well up in my eyes. I always assumed that when she talked about it, she meant save me from an evil witch, or a dragon, or from a tower in a castle. We did watch a lot of Disney movies, after all. But as I lie here looking at Bass, I think of how she was wise beyond her years. Could it be that she was talking about a different kind of saving?
I watch his eyes flutter open. “Good morning, beautiful.”
I wipe a tear from my eye, knowing I look anything but. “Good morning.”
He reaches out to grab my hand. “Are you okay?”
I nod, my head still on the pillow.
I lie here and wait for him to ask me about my breakdown. About my many breakdowns. But he doesn’t. He just rubs his fingers across my knuckles, staring at me with a sympathetic smile.
When he opens his mouth, I brace for his inevitable questions.
“What’s your favorite breakfast food?” he asks.
I laugh. “Pancakes.”
He reaches over for his phone, calling in an order for room service. Then he scoots closer, pulling me into his arms, spooning me. I relax into him, liking the way it feels to be held this way. His arms are strong. I should know, I’ve been in them more than a few times.
I realize we’re both still wearing our bathing suits, and when I move my foot back to hook it around his, I feel sand in the bed. He must have put me down and lay here all night. He slept in a sandy bed with a wet bathing suit—for me.
I wiggle my toes against his. “I think we need to change your sheets.”
“Don’t worry about that,” he says in my ear. “Housekeeping will take care of it.”
“I’m sorry you got such a bum deal when you came to Hawaii. I know you expected a lot more from your vacation.”
He pulls me closer to him if that’s even possible. “You got one thing right. I didn’t get what I expected when I came here. I never expected to meet a beautiful woman. One with sad eyes who compels me to write songs about her. I never expected to experience all the great things on this island with someone who looks at everything with so much emotion, it’s breathtaking. I never expected any of it. I never expected to feel this way. I never expected you. And I wouldn’t change a thing, Ivy Greene.”
I turn my head so he can see me smile. “Thank you.”
“For what?” he asks.
“Just … thank you.”
Bass hops out of bed when we hear a knock on the door. He directs room service to put our breakfast trays on the balcony. Once the server is gone and Bass ducks into the bathroom to wash up, I get out of bed and search for something to change into before heading outside.
Bass stops dead in his tracks when he opens the balcony door. “Wow,” he says.
I put down my orange juice. “I hope you don’t mind my borrowing some clothes.”
“Some?” he asks, his eyes raking over my legs that are bare from toe to thigh. “It looks to me like you’ve only got on a shirt.”
I flash him a peek at the boxer briefs I took from his drawer. They are under the Hawaiian shirt I stole from his closet.
“Shit, Ivy,” he says, adjusting himself through his shorts.
“So you don’t mind my rummaging through your clothes? Good,” I say, smiling.
“Woman, you can rummage through my clothes anytime you want if it means you’ll come out looking like this.”
He leans down to plant a kiss on my head, then he grabs the bottle of champagne he had delivered with breakfast. He pours some into our glasses of orange juice to make mimosas.
He lifts his glass. “To a new day filled with new possibilities.”
“I’ll drink to that,” I say, clinking my glass to his.
He pulls my legs up onto his lap and we sit and eat pancakes and drink mimosas. He looks happy.
He catches me staring at him and runs a hand up my thigh. “Let me spend the rest of the week with you,” he says. “I have five days left and after all we’ve done together, I can’t imagine being here alone.”
�
��I—”
“Before you say anything, I want you to know I won’t pressure you. There won’t be any mention of the future. Or of that L-word. I just want to be with you for as much time as I have left here.”
I study him, wondering if I’ve ever met anyone else as kind as he is. Or as handsome. Or strong. I think Aspen must have been crazy not to love him back. Heck, anyone would be crazy not to love this man.
Suddenly, I feel my stomach tighten and my breath hitch.
“What is it?” he asks, feeling me tense up.
“It’s nothing,” I say, not wanting to reveal that somehow, some way, in the last ten seconds, I think I fell in love with Sebastian Briggs.
Chapter Thirteen
Sebastian
“So, five more days?” I ask, running my hand up under her shirt to feel her wearing my boxer briefs.
Damn, that’s sexy—her wearing my underwear. But what would be even sexier is seeing them on my floor.
She smiles and nods.
I’m not sure what just happened, but it’s almost like I saw something shift behind her eyes. I might have even seen them soften. I suppose it’s because I promised not to push. Not to tell her I love her. Maybe without that pressure, she’s willing to give me these last few days.
I can’t imagine going back to New York and knowing she’s there without being with her. But that’s a problem for another day. Today, and for the next five days, she’s all mine.
I can tell she likes where I have my hand. But she pretends like she doesn’t notice it, taking the last bites of her pancake despite my fingers working their way under the thin material.
I laugh, watching her eat. “You really do like pancakes, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I really do.”
I remove my hand from under her shirt and make us two more mimosas. I pass one to her and then she climbs on top of me, straddling me right here on the balcony.
I pull the back of her shirt, my shirt, down so it covers her ass. Although we’re on the top floor, I still don’t want anyone from across the complex getting a peek at her—even in her underwear.
I take a long sip of my drink before putting it down and unbuttoning her shirt. I push the halves of the shirt aside, revealing her chest. With a finger, I trace the tan line underneath, around and over her amazing breasts.
Her breathing accelerates, and she starts to squirm in my lap. When I pinch her nipples between my thumbs and forefingers, she tosses her head back and moans.
I stand up with her in my arms. “We’d better go inside before we get charged with public indecency.”
“Do we have to?” she asks.
“Why, Ivy Greene, are you an exhibitionist?”
She laughs, and it takes my breath away. “I’ve never had sex on a balcony before,” she says.
I raise my eyebrows. “Well, shit. Now we have to.” I look around the resort and see people bustling about. “But I’m thinking we’ll wait until dark. And maybe we should use your place since it’s right on the beach.”
She bites her lip. “That’s a date, Sebastian Briggs.”
My cock jumps just thinking about it.
I carry her inside, whispering into her ear all the things I want to do to her.
When I put her down on the couch and look at her like I want to devour her, she says, “I’m feeling kind of dirty.”
I raise an eyebrow. “I think I’ve created a monster.”
She slaps my leg. “Not that kind of dirty. After sleeping in my bathing suit, I feel like I have sand in … unmentionable places.”
I get even harder thinking of her unmentionable places. “Then why don’t we go take a shower?”
“We?” she asks, biting that lip again.
“Definitely.”
I hold out my hand, helping her off the couch, then I grab a condom out of the nightstand on our way to the bathroom.
“As much as I like seeing you in my clothes, seeing you out of them will be even better.”
I push my shirt off her shoulders and then slip the boxer briefs down her legs. It’s the first time I’ve seen her completely naked in full daylight and I have a hard time not staring at her incredible body like a driveling fool.
“You’re gorgeous, Ivy.”
She blushes. “Now you,” she says, nodding to my shorts.
I remove my clothes and stand naked in front of her.
“You’re the gorgeous one, Sebastian.”
I’ve never liked being called by my given name. It’s always sounded too old and stuffy to me. But I love the way she says it. I love the way she looks at me when she says it. Nobody has ever looked at me this way before.
“Come on,” I say, leading her over to the shower.
I reach in and turn it on, placing the condom on the shelf. As the water warms up, Ivy wraps her hands around me, pressing herself into my back. I move a hand behind her and caress the soft skin of one of her butt cheeks.
“Is it warm yet?” she asks, impatiently.
I laugh at her eagerness before pulling her into the shower with me.
I watch as she stands under the stream of water, letting it wet her long hair as she arches her back into it. When her eyes open and she sees my heated gaze, she reaches over for the bottle of body wash. She squirts some into her hands. “I want to wash you,” she says, looking down at my hard cock.
I smile, knowing I’m about to live out every adolescent fantasy I ever had. I hold my hands away from my sides in an invitation. “Be my guest.”
She starts at my shoulders, forgoing the washcloth and using only her hands to lather me up. She soaps up every inch of my arms before moving on to my chest. She takes special care to wash my nipples, pinching them as I was pinching hers just minutes before.
She turns me around, running her hands along every ridge of my back, massaging me as she goes. Her hands run over my butt cheeks, kneading them in slow circles. When she uses a few fingers to wash the crack of my ass, I have to resist taking my cock into my own hands. I need a release like I’ve never needed one before.
But she doesn’t touch me where I need to be touched. She finishes washing my thighs, my knees, my feet. She washes every inch of me before she washes the inches I crave her to wash. And by the time she makes it to my dick, I know I’m about to blow.
She squirts more body wash into her hands, watching the anticipation on my face as she lathers them up.
“Shit, Ivy. I’m not going to last long.”
“Good,” she says. “Because I need a good washing myself.”
I groan at her touch when she takes me into her hands. She uses both hands to lather me up, taking time to make sure my balls get good and clean, too. She grips me harder and her movements become faster. I brace myself against the wall behind her as I watch what she’s doing to me.
It doesn’t take her long to bring me to a powerful orgasm and I shout out, her name echoing off the tile walls.
Her gaze follows the trail of my come as it drips down the wall and onto the floor before it swirls down the drain.
“Best. Shower. Ever,” I say, when I regain my ability to speak.
She does a small curtsey and then leans provocatively against the wall, awaiting her turn.
“Payback is hell,” I say, reaching for the shampoo.
“I’m counting on it.”
I turn her around and lather up her hair, massaging her scalp as I go. I’ve never washed a woman’s hair before, so I have no idea if I’m doing it right, but based on the moans coming from her, she doesn’t seem to mind. I gently push her under the stream of water and rinse her hair until it’s clean. My hands glide easily over her arms. Her stomach. Her creamy breasts.
I grab the body wash and squirt a good amount into my hands, torturing every inch of her body like she did mine. I take special care not to touch the area between her legs until the rest of her is clean.
She squirms around, her movements begging my hands to touch her there. When I finally allow myself to touc
h her center, she almost buckles at the knees. I use my body to hold her up as my hand explores her silky folds. I’m already growing hard again when I circle a finger around her clit. I push another one deep inside her. She calls out my name when I hit her G-spot. My real name.
I crook my fingers and rub that spot over and over until she not only calls out my name, she screams it.
Then, before she can come down from her release, I turn her around, pinning her to the wall before I tear open the condom, put it on, and push inside her from behind.
She bends over slightly and puts a knee up on the bench, giving me easier access to push in and out of her. The wet slapping sounds coming from our drenched bodies is erotic and quickly brings me to a second orgasm.
Ivy’s pleasured cries mingle with my own and I wonder if she’s still riding the wave of her first orgasm, or if she’s having another.
I brace myself on the wall as I pull out of her, my body languid and wanting to collapse on the shower floor. Ivy sits down on the bench, apparently feeling the same way.
I toss the condom over the shower door and hastily wash my hair, rivulets of water cascading down my chest and over my sensitive cock.
I shut off the tepid water and then open the door to grab two towels, wrapping one around Ivy before I secure the other around my waist. I lead her over to the vanity, pulling out a stool that resides underneath. “Sit,” I say. “I’m going to comb your hair.”
“It’s just like a day at the spa,” she says.
I look over at the shower. “Just what kind of spa do you go to?”
She giggles. Our eyes lock in the mirror. I smile.
I get another towel and scrunch it around her hair to absorb the excess water. Then I get my comb and carefully work it through from her roots to the ends. It takes me a while. Her hair is long, and I don’t want to hurt her by yanking the comb through it.
Every time I glance in the mirror, I see her staring at me, studying me as I work meticulously on her hair. But she’s so lost in thought she doesn’t even realize I’m watching her.
The Men On Fire: A Complete Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 9
