Beach Reads Box Set

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  I smile at her helplessly. “Well, my breakfast was pretty good, too,” I admit.

  “We’ll have it,” Cassie says to Kemi.

  “You’re in for such a treat. It’s so good. The owners pick the week’s special and announce it on Sunday night. It’s always an amazing fusion of cuisines. I can’t wait to hear what you think,” she says.

  Her enthusiasm is catching, and I wiggle my shoulders in excitement. “Can’t wait, thanks.” I smile at her.

  “Awesome! Shout or wave if you need anything. Your food will be out in about fifteen minutes,” she says and saunters off.

  “You need to talk to Hayes,” she says, and my heart thumps in my chest. I shake my head and look down at my hands.

  The sounds of the restaurant clang around us, scrapes of forks on cutlery, bursts of laughter from the tables, the scrape of chairs being pushed away from tables. The dining room is devoid of any food smells. It smells nice, almost like a spa, but subtler. I’m sure if my stomach wasn’t caught in my internal conflict, twisted by pangs of longing, churning from the fear that’s become my constant companion, the atmosphere would be soothing.

  “You okay, TB?” she asks when I don’t respond and don’t look up.

  “No,” I admit, annoyed at myself. “I miss him. I hate him. I love him so much, I don’t know what to do,” I confess, still looking at my hands.

  “I have a feeling he feels the same way,” she says kindly.

  “I know—” I whisper.

  “Talk to him. Don’t leave town without seeing him,” she says.

  “You don’t understand. I don’t want to forgive him because I miss him. I want to forgive him because I believe he sees my worth. And not just because we have great sex or he likes the way I look on his arm. I won’t be another man’s project or trophy. Or whatever I am to him,” I tell her.

  She quirks her lips in sympathy. “Oh, honey. You’re the only one who doesn’t see your worth …” she says and I rear back in surprise and hurt.

  “What does that mean?” I eye her.

  Her eyes soften, and her smile turns a little sad.

  “It means if you did, you’d know that the only way anyone would look at you and see anything less than the amazing woman you are is if they’re an idiot. And Hayes Rivers isn’t an idiot. Yeah, he said something stupid to his brother. But he didn’t know you from Sam when he said it,” she reminds me, again.

  I chafe at her defense of Hayes, of how right she is and how wrong she is. I rub a finger over the spot on my temple where a small headache is suddenly blooming.

  “I would never ever insult him like that. I wouldn’t look at him and see anything less than the human being he is. Yes, he’s handsome. He’s got a hot body. He’s got pots of money and he’s got power. I didn’t look at him and wonder if he got rich by ripping people off or assume that because he’s a big guy those things about him and his ex were true. I wondered if he would be tender and caring, constant, proud, honorable, determined, and convicted and smart. Those things have nothing to do with his money.”

  “You’re deluding yourself,” she says dismissively.

  “How?” I chafe at the words.

  “The wealth he was born into has shaped all of those things. Just like the poverty you were born into has shaped yours.” She puts her hands up, palms facing me when I start to speak. “Hear me out, please.”

  “As if I could stop you,” I grumble.

  “I get it. You were raised to be proud of who you are. Not what you have. He was raised to believe the exact opposite. All of that honor, pride, conviction? They all fuel the need to protect the things—his name, his money, his position,” she says.

  “Yeah, but at what cost?”

  “Whatever it takes, is what I’m sure he’d say,” she shrugs. “You’re such a hypocrite,” she says.

  “Excuse me? Is it Thursday or is it Shit on Confidence Day?” I ask.

  “Isn’t your whole career based on you wanting to preserve a way of life? What have you done to protect it? What wouldn’t you do?” she asks.

  I cradle my forehead in my hands and try to process what she’s saying through a different filter.

  “It’s amazing that he’s who you’ve fallen like this for. I always thought you’d need a man who would let you have your way. You’re so stubborn. But you’ve met your match in him. I’m glad he’s making you think. And I’m glad he’s strong. I think it’ll be good for you to not have to carry the whole world on your shoulders, TB,” she says.

  She covers my hand with hers to silence me.

  “It’s okay to be vulnerable,” she says quietly. “It’s okay to let him close enough to hurt you again. But you have to want him more than you want your pride, TB,” she says.

  “My pride?” I bristle at her characterization. “It’s not pride. It’s self-preservation. I didn’t have anyone to stand between me and the bad guy. I have always stood in the breech myself. And I love him so much that if I let him, he could really ruin me.” My confession pours out of me and I feel breathless having said it.

  “I know ... And I didn’t mean to dismiss that. You just can’t let fear lead you.”

  “What if he doesn’t want me the same way? What if when he gets to see all of me, he finds me lacking?” I ask and reveal the real source of my anxiety.

  “Ask him. Call him before you go.”

  “And say what? Can you help understand how I keep ending up with men who want me in bed, but don’t think I’m fit to be on their arm in public?” I ask quietly. Tears of shame burn my eyes.

  “First of all, he’s nothing like Nigel. He respects you and he’s crazy about you. It was so obvious when you were here even with all the madness that happened. And you should have seen him driving that truck, through all that water. He did that for you.” She fans herself. “It was so … If you weren’t my friend …” I give her a warning look and she winks.

  “Shiiit. You need to spend some time in those Tinder streets and you’ll know how lucky you are,” she says.

  “How’s Tinder?” I ask. “I’m sorry I’m talking about myself non-stop,” I apologize.

  “You don’t need to apologize, there’s nothing to tell. I thought I met my soulmate, again. He showed up to our date in scrubs, told me he was a doctor and hadn’t had time to get home before our date.” She takes a long sip of her water.

  “What kind of doctor?” I ask.

  “The kind that also works the popcorn machine behind concession stand at Edwards Theatre in Greenway Plaza,” she deadpans. I choke on the water in my throat. I cough and blow my nose and she just shrugs.

  “It’s a jungle out there and you’re over here hanging out with Remington Wilde, Hayes Rivers, and complaining.”

  “I’m not complaining,” I croak out when I’ve recovered from my fit of laughter.

  “I just hope you won’t lump them together. Nigel and Hayes. They’re not the same,” she reiterates. Her expression is serious again.

  “They’re not,” I admit. “I didn’t love Nigel. Without Hayes … I’m just going through my daily motions. But inside, I feel like I’m falling to pieces,” I confess.

  “Oh, Confidence,” Cass sighs, her voice soft and sympathetic now.

  “I don’t even know how it’s possible to feel like this after three months.” I put my face in my hands and groan. “And my family…”

  “And I’m glad you’ve met someone who can help you so it doesn’t swallow you whole. You have so much on your plate. You do a lot for your mother,” she says. I frown at her.

  “Of course I do. And I always will. It’s just me and her. She’s done so much for me. I owe her,” I remind her.

  “But you also owe yourself,” she insists.

  The waitress sails over, a huge tray on her shoulder and saves me from having to answer.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Naked

  Confidence

  “Can I come in?” I force myself to ask Confidence when what I really want
is to shove past her and ask her what the fuck she thinks she’s doing.

  She stares at me, her hair hidden in the towel she’s fashioned into a turban on her head. The rest of her isn’t hidden at all. She’s got on a light pink bathrobe that clings to her in all the right places and rubs me in all the wrong ones.

  “Why the hell are you answering the door half naked?” I demand.

  She crosses her arms over her chest defensively and glares up at me. “Why are you banging on my door at ten o’clock at night?” she whispers furiously and glances down the empty hallways before she grabs my arm and tugs me forward. “Come inside. The last thing I need is a complaint for disturbing the peace.”

  I step into her hotel room and turn to face her.

  “Why are you answering the door wet and nearly naked, Tesoro?” I ask again, my anger at the sight of her surpassing the initial insult that brought me here.

  “I am not naked. I was getting out of the shower when you started pounding on the door. I wanted to stop you before you woke up my neighbors.”

  “You’re very concerned about your neighbors,” I look around the spare room of the extended stay hotel. “Why are you staying here anyway? Remi couldn’t have put you up here. He has a block of suites at the Ivy’s executive suites his firm uses for interviews.”

  “First of all, how do I know I’m here, and that I’m here for Remi? Secondly—not that it is any of your business—he let me choose my hotel and they’re reimbursing me. This one is fine. And third, I’m concerned about my neighbors because I think the people right next door are a family who live here. I’ve seen them taking the kids to school every morning this week. They’re asleep. So, keep it down,” she scolds.

  Of course, that’s why. She’s a fucking bleeding heart. It's why I love her.

  “I’ll keep my voice down,” I concede right away. “And everything you do is my business. Because you are my business.”

  She rolls her eyes but doesn’t say anything.

  “Secondly, Remi’s a friend. But he didn’t tell me you were here. I ran into Gigi’s friend, Henny. Apparently, you’ve been pining over me in public,” I drawl and have to bite my lip to stop my smile when her nostrils flair.

  “That old lady was eavesdropping?” she sputters.

  “Don’t let her hear you call her that, not if you want to live … and she did overhear and thought it would be such shame if you left town without even telling me you were here,” I say.

  “How in the world did you know where I was staying?” she asks and tightens her belt.

  “My assistant spent all day calling hotels near Rivers Wilde until she found you. And enough with the twenty questions,” I snap.

  “Fine, then you can leave.” She pulls the lapels of her robe closed when my eyes drift to her throat.

  “I’m not. And it’s too bad about your G-rated neighbors. They put a dent in my plans,” I tell her.

  “What plans?” she snaps.

  “The ones I had to fuck you so hard you’d see stars and scream my name loud enough that they’d hear you across the street,” I say.

  Her entire body flushes, and her hands drop from her neckline and rest on her hips. She leans forward and gives me her most disapproving glare.

  “Their presence has nothing on the fact that my body is closed to you right now. There will be no fucking tonight. And don’t call me Tesoro. We’re not that anymore,” she says angrily.

  My anger spikes, too, but it’s accompanied by a sting of pain at the way the words flow off her tongue. I know she’s pissed, but it makes me feel like I’ve got a thorn stuck in my side when I hear her say we’re not that anymore. I stalk toward her.

  “Then what are we?” I ask and rake my eyes over her body. Her robe is damp and I can see the shadow of her nipples.

  “I don’t know, Hayes,” she lies.

  “Let me fuck you. You’ll know, then,” I whisper and her eyes widen and she tenses up again.

  “That’s not the answer to everything,” she says.

  “Take that off.” I nod at her robe.

  “No,” she says and tosses her head in defiance. Her towel unravels and falls half off her head, exposing some of her hair. She reaches up to stop its slide and I take a step toward her.

  “Don’t, Hayes,” she says, her voice low with warning, but her lips remain parted and her eyelids flutter.

  My dick gets hard because I know what that look means. Her gown may be drying off, but her pussy is wetter than it was when she got out of the shower.

  “Take it off, Tesoro,” I say softly now, and take another step toward her. I’m close enough to grab the belt of her robe.

  “I want to. But, I can’t,” she says, like the words ache when her tongue forms them. She gazes at me, her eyes limpid with need. Understanding dawns.

  “You want me to take it off?” I ask.

  She nods, two sharp ticks of her head and I do an internal fist bump even though I keep my expression neutral. I see the need in her eyes. Want is coming off her in waves. It’s slamming into mine and envelopes us in a haze of longing.

  I smile at her, a wolfish grin that says I know I’m going to have what I want. The flat of my hand cups the space right below her belly button and her shoulders lose the tension they’ve been holding.

  I watch her face.

  She watches my hand.

  Her rapid breaths send my hand on a rollercoaster of swells and dips as it glides up the center of her abdomen. Her muscles flex and ripple under my touch.

  “Does that feel good, my little treasure?” I ask her quietly

  She closes her eyes and nods. “Better than anything has ever felt in my life,” she confesses.

  I splay my fingers as they pass between her breasts and wrap them gently around her throat. Her pulse races under my fingers.

  “What aren’t we?” I ask again.

  She opens her eyes and gazes at me. My tigress—her eyes are ablaze with intensity—and yet, I feel how vulnerable she is right now.

  “We’re not …” She licks her lips and her throat convulses against my hand.

  I lean and press my lips to hers. Our eyes stay open and hers start to melt.

  I taste everything I’ve been deprived of for the last month and groan.

  “What aren’t we?” I ask her again and tug the belt of her robe. The silk ribbon gives easily and her robe falls open. She gasps—a harsh, uneven breath—and sways forward. She still hasn’t completed her sentence, but the look in her eyes tells me everything I need to know.

  “We’re everything, Confidence.” I kiss her again; her lips cling to mine when I pull back.

  Fuck yeah …

  “Tell me what we are,” I command her before I swoop down to place an openmouthed kiss on the hot, fresh, soap-scented skin of her neck.

  “We’re lovers,” she whispers and lifts her arms to twine around my neck.

  “We’re fighters,” she says and puts her hands on my belt buckle and unfastens it.

  “We’re hunters,” she breathes into my mouth as she unzips my fly and my pants fall.

  I grab the full, lush cheeks of her ass and hoist her. Her legs wrap around my waist and I lower her down onto my cock.

  “We are each other’s,” I say and lift her off and lower her again.

  “Oh my God,” she gasps.

  I walk us back to the huge window and press her back against it.

  “Yes. Your god. Your king. Your man. Yours,” I say, driving each point home with an upward thrust into her delicious pussy. “Say it.”

  She shakes her head. “You haven’t earned it,” she pants. I grin into the hollow at the base of her neck and fuck her harder.

  “You feel that?” I ask and press as deep as I can.

  “Yessssssss,” she cries and her fingers cling into my back, seeking purchase as she starts to come unglued.

  I nod. “That’s how deep I’ve buried myself in your heart. You love me. You can’t turn that off, and I won’t let you
pretend you have.”

  I spin her around and lay her down on the bed. I pull out and kneel next to her.

  “Suck me,” I say and fist my hands in her hair. When she wraps a hand around the base of my cock, I hold her head in place and feed her slowly. She swirls her tongue around the tip and hollows her cheeks and sucks me off. My fingers loosen their grip and sift into her hair.

  “You give the best fucking head, Confidence.” I fuck her face and she takes it like it’s hers. She holds my gaze and starts to finger herself until her eyes flutter closed. I glance down her body and watch while her finger slips between the bare, fat lips of her pussy. She moans around my cock and the back of her throat vibrates against my head.

  “I’m going to come,” I groan.

  She sits up and grabs my ass, sucking harder. Her blonde hair brushes the front of my thighs. The sight of her holding on, determined to take what I’m about to give her, sends me over the edge. She takes everything I shoot out, swallows and sucks me until my knees buckle and it takes the concerted effort of every muscle in my body not to fall over.

  “Fuck,” I groan when she finally lets me slip from her mouth. I reach for her, but she rolls out from under me and runs to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  “Hey.” I sit up and walk over to the door. I turn the handle and it’s locked.

  “No, please, don’t,” she says, her voice breaking.

  I touch the door and shake the handle.

  “My world feels like it’s crumbling without you, Hayes,” she sobs. “But I am so mad at you and I don’t trust you to take care of me the way I know I want to take care of you.”

  I bang my head on the door lightly. Queens shouldn’t cry.

  “Please, open the door, Tesoro.” I’m nearly begging.

  “I’ve got to keep my head together for tomorrow. I need this job. I can’t afford to be focused on you. I need you to please keep your distance until you can show me you want more than just to fuck me until I feel better.”

  “That’s not it—”

  “Please. Tomorrow is a really important day,” she implores.