Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection

by Jessica Hawkins

  Oh, God. Ryan and his little group have reached my group and they’re now greeting everyone with hugs and kisses... and, dammit, despite my brain screaming at me to look away, away, away, far away, from that hot-as-hell lying, cheating scumbag, I just can’t seem to do it. He’s just so... damned... hot.

  Greetings and introductions completed, Ryan’s smoldering eyes meet mine—and, the minute they do, I feel like I’ve been struck by a lightning bolt. I want him. I try to look away. But I can’t. I want him. He’s got me under some sort of spell. I want him.

  Ryan slowly works his way around the outer edge of the group toward me, until, finally, he’s standing right next to me, shoulder to shoulder, not looking at me, pretending to listen to one of the many simultaneous conversations occurring in the group.

  “Oh, hey, T-Rod,” Ryan finally says, as if he’s only just now noticed me.

  “Oh, hey, Colby,” I say, staring at his mother as she talks to Uncle William.

  Ryan turns to face me, lays his palm on his beautiful chest, and beams a huge smile at me. “I’m Ryan.” He motions up the beach to his brother. “That’s Colby over there.” He points at his other two brothers on the far side of the crowd. “That’s Keane in the bright orange trunks and Dax standing next to him.”

  “So sorry,” I say sweetly. “It’s impossible to keep you all straight. I’ve always been terrible with names.”

  Ryan leans toward me, a cocky smile on his lips, and whispers, “Yeah, no shit, Samantha.”

  I narrow my eyes and stare into the crowd. “Victimless crime, fucker,” I whisper.

  “Hey, T-Rod!” Josh says.

  I raise my eyebrows and look at my boss.

  “How many people per helicopter?”

  “Six,” I answer smoothly. “We’ve chartered a fleet of five to run tours staggered throughout the day on Wednesday.”

  “So exciting!” Kat squeals, and then she and Sarah hug excitedly, apparently out of pure joy.

  I glance at Ryan to find him still staring at me, his blue eyes smoldering.

  I stare back, entranced. I’ve never seen a more exquisitely beautiful face in my entire life. Too bad it’s attached to such an asshole.

  Ryan licks his lips and brazenly looks me up and down, his eyes settling on my chest for a beat. Which I can’t say surprises me—I bought this sundress precisely because it flatters my curves. Oh, man, there’s no doubt about it: Ryan’s ripping my dress off with his eyes right now, and I must admit, that’s exactly what I want him to do... which means I’d better get the hell out of here before I let myself get chomped like a human McNugget. I make a big show of looking down at my phone. “Whoa, look at the time. Gotta go. I’ll see everyone at the party tonight.”

  Nobody reacts. Nobody cares. They’re too absorbed in their conversations with the people they love the most in this world to pay any mind to Josh’s personal assistant. And that’s just fine with me. Peace out.

  Without another word or so much as a glance at Ryan, I turn on my heel and lope away from the group. Oh my God, get me the hell away from that gorgeous great white shark before I give in to my primal instincts and fuck the living hell out of him. (Again.)

  “Hang on,” I hear Ryan’s voice call out behind me. “Hold up, Theresa.”

  I stop. Crap. I turn around and smile at him like a cheerleader for the losing team. “Yes?” I ask primly. “What can I do for you, Dax?”

  Ryan chuckles and puts his palm on his gloriously inked chest. “I’m Ryan. Dax is the guy with the band—Ryan’s the guy who fucked you earlier.”

  I gasp and quickly look behind him to make sure nobody’s heard him. “Ryan,” I say urgently. “Someone might overhear you.”

  He flashes me a cocky grin.

  “Walk with me, Romeo. Holy hell.”

  We begin walking along the sand toward the hotel. “Are you planning to torture me like this all week?” I whisper. “Because if so, please don’t. I’m not here for your sick amusement—I’ve got a job to do.”

  “We both know it’s not your job you’re thinking about ‘doing’ right now, Argentina.” He snickers. “So when you wanna have round two?”

  “Not gonna happen,” I say. “It was a one-time thing, like I said.”

  “Then why have you been looking at me for the past ten minutes the way a kid looks at a melting ice cream cone—like you’re dying to lick up all the drips?”

  I stop walking and stare at him. Oh, God, yes. I wanna lick up all the drips. “I assure you, the only way I’ve been looking at you for the past ten minutes is the way a dog-walker looks at a steaming turd in the grass: ew.”

  Ryan bursts out laughing. “God, I love it when a beautiful woman is funny. That’s the whole package right there. Damn.”

  I exhale with frustration, even as my eyes drift to his pierced nipples. “I don’t want to play this game,” I sniff. “I’ve got work to do and I don’t want everyone seeing us talking and start to think we’ve got something going on. If I want another round of meaningless sex, I’ll screw the tattooed bartender I met last night, not Kat’s brother.”

  “Okay, that’s it. Don’t say that shit again to me. You understand? Never again.” He grits his teeth. “If you’re gonna have sex this week, meaningless or otherwise, it’s gonna be with me and only me.”

  My clit is practically vibrating, I’m so turned on. “Look, Ryan, I’m not doing this with you. Just tell me what you want so I can smile and nod and not actually listen to you and then walk away without any intention of doing whatever it was you asked.”

  Ryan crosses his muscled arms over his beautiful chest and assesses me for a long beat. “You really hate me, don’t you?”

  I’m instantly taken aback by the earnest expression on his face. “Yes,” I say, but even as the word comes out of my mouth, I’m not sure it’s the sum total of how I feel about him. “And deservedly so,” I add. “You’re a lying, cheating scumbag-asshole-douche. Now just, please, tell me what you want.”

  Ryan sighs and runs his hand through his hair. “Okay, all kidding and flirting and bantering aside, I sincerely want your assurance you’ll keep quiet about everything that’s happened between us.”

  I’m shocked as hell and I’m sure my face shows it. “Of course,” I say. “I’m surprised you’re... Oh, I get it: you don’t want me cramping your style with the cocktail waitresses out by the pool?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Could you stop hurling missiles at me for two seconds? I’m being sincere. I don’t want Josh to find out about us. He’s obviously protective of you and if he finds out I’ve already helped myself to a heaping portion of your very delicious pussy, he’s gonna be pissed.”

  I must admit, he’s throwing me for a loop. I thought for sure I was gonna have to beg and plead and, quite possibly, threaten to keep Ryan from blabbing about our little tryst. “It goes without saying I’m not gonna tell anyone,” I say. “I don’t want Josh or Kat or anyone else to know, same as you. Probably more than you.”

  “Good,” Ryan says. He sighs like I’ve just lifted the weight of the world off his shoulders. “Josh made a big point of telling me he views you like a little sister earlier, and I don’t want him thinking I’ve got no respect for The Bro Code.”

  “Josh said I’m like a sister to him?”

  “Yep. And that means you don’t have to worry about me telling my sister or Josh about your little crush. I was already inclined to keep quiet about that, like I said, but if Josh thinks of you like a sister, then there’s obviously no risk of anything ever happening between you two. So, don’t worry, I’m turning the page on all that. It’s done. I swear on a stack of bibles.”

  Oh my God, I’m so freaking relieved, I could pass out. “Thank you,” I breathe.

  “Likewise, this fling of ours is nobody’s business, either,” he adds. “What happens in Maui, stays in Maui.”

  I can’t believe how much stress Ryan’s just lifted off me. “Well, thanks, but I keep telling you, there’s no ‘flin
g’ here, just a one-time, meaningless walk on the wild side for me that will never happen again. With you, anyway.”

  “I told you to stop doing that.” He glares at me. “What the fuck? You fucked me mere hours ago. You don’t think I have feelings?”

  I’m flabbergasted. This guy’s an epic manwhore who hits on women when his girlfriend gets up to use the bathroom and me talking about some other, hypothetical man I might screw one day “hurts his feelings”? Ridiculous. “So is that all you wanted from me, Ryan?” I say, my tone snippy. “You stopped me to ask me not to tell anyone about our little tryst?”

  He takes a step forward and my body instantly reacts to his sheer physicality. “No, that’s not even close to all I want from you, but, yes, that’s what I wanted to talk to you about at the moment.”

  “Great. I promise I won’t tell anyone.” I put out my hand and he shakes it—and, when our skin touches, I feel an electric current jolt through me. I quickly pull my hand away, my heart racing. “So, if that’s it for now, I gotta go work.”

  Ryan motions like he’s allowing me to leave. “Off you go, Theresa Rodriguez. Go forth and be the personal assistant you are, as opposed to the flight attendant you pretended to be.”

  I roll my eyes and turn to go, muttering, “Victimless crime, dude,” under my breath.

  “Oh, wait, one more thing, Samantha-T-Rod-Theresa-Tessa,” Ryan says politely.

  I exhale with exasperation. “What, Colby-Dax-Keane-Ryan?”

  “Have I earned the right to call you Tessa yet? ’Cause you just don’t seem like a ‘Theresa’ to me.”

  “Sure,” I say. “Call me whatever you want.”

  “Cool. Thanks. Tessa it is.”

  “Honestly, I don’t go by Theresa, other than at work. Everyone in my real life has always called me Tessa.”

  “Then why do you go by Theresa at work?”

  “I really gotta go, Ryan.”

  “Just answer the question.”

  I sigh. “Because when I drafted my résumé for this temp agency right out of college, I thought it seemed more ‘professional’ to put my formal name on it. So, naturally, when the temp agency sent me to Josh, he called me ‘Theresa,’ and I just went with it. I was only working for him for ten hours a week at first, running stupid errands, so I was like, ‘Meh, who cares what he calls me.’ And then I just got used to it and never corrected him. If I were applying for a job today, I’d obviously not be an idiot and just put Tessa on my damned résumé. Live and learn. Anything else? Because I really gotta go.”

  Ryan grins but doesn’t speak.

  “Can I go?” I ask in a huff.

  “Sure.”

  “Thank you. Have a great day.” I turn to leave.

  “Oh, wait. Yeah, there’s one more thing, Tessa.”

  I turn around. “What?”

  “You wanna fuck in my room or yours after the party tonight? Your choice.”

  I scowl at him. “I’m sorry. Have we met? Are you Keane or Colby or Dax? You Morgan boys look so much alike.”

  Ryan takes a step toward me, his eyes blazing, his body heat wafting off him, and my chest tightens with desire. “My name is Ryan Ulysses Morgan, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low and intense. “Captain Morgan. And trust me, baby, you’re not only gonna know my name before the night is through, you’ll be screaming it at the top of your lungs.” Without waiting for my reply, he winks, flashes me a panty-melting smile, and jogs toward his family and friends on the other side of the beach, leaving me with my jaw hanging open and my crotch pulsing mercilessly.

  34

  Tessa

  The opening party is underway on a large patio overlooking the moonlit beach. By now, every guest has arrived except for Henn and his girlfriend, Hannah (who should be here soon), and Reed Rivers (who changed his flight due to a work commitment and will now be arriving late tonight).

  Everyone, including me, is drinking rum punch like it’s water, chatting, and swaying happily to the pleasant Hawaiian tunes being cranked out by a five-piece band. It’s all quite lovely, actually—the perfect environment for me to at least try to let loose, as I promised Josh and Kat I’d do.

  I’ve pointedly not talked to Ryan yet tonight, and, in fact, I’ve somehow managed to not even glance at him, but I don’t know how much longer I can resist staring at his beautiful lying face. In fact, the jig is up right now—I gotta look.

  I scan the party and locate him talking to a few of Josh’s fraternity brothers—and not three seconds after I’ve glanced his way, Ryan’s eyes meet mine and his entire face lights up. With a tilt of his head, Ryan beams a cocky smile at me, winks, and touches the face of his watch, as if to say, “It’s only a matter of time, baby.”

  I look away. Cocky bastard.

  Thankfully, Mrs. Morgan approaches and introduces me to some of her family members and I’m drawn into pleasant conversation with some lovely people. Of course, I don’t actually care about these lovely people right now—I only care about peeking over at Ryan Fuckface Lying Asshole Cheating Scumbag Morgan to see what he’s doing now. God, I hate myself for giving a crap what he’s doing. No, actually, I hate him. What the hell is wrong with me? How can I want to screw a man I don’t even like? A man I don’t respect? Is that how fucked up I’ve become—I’m willing to screw a hot guy just because he’s hot?

  Damn straight, I am.

  I close my eyes and revel in my sexy memories for a moment. Honestly, I think Ryan’s turned me into some kind of sex fiend after just one time with him. I’ve never felt this horny in my entire life. Wasn’t finally having sex after a year supposed to quench my sexual thirst, not make it worse?

  “That’s where you’re from, right, Tessa?” Mrs. Morgan asks me.

  I open my eyes and look at her and nod, not knowing what she just said.

  “What part?” Mrs. Morgan’s sister asks.

  “Of...?” I ask.

  “Los Angeles.”

  Phew. I got lucky that time, but I’ve absolutely gotta stop tuning out of conversations to daydream about Ryan and his pierced dick.

  I answer the questions and we talk about Los Angeles for a bit, and then, thankfully, Mrs. Morgan tells a story that allows me to tune out and think about the look of pure rapture on Ryan’s face when he was moving inside me—the way he gripped my hair and moved his hips so confidently—so passionately—and, oh, the primal, ragged, near-desperate sound of his voice when he whispered, “Samantha” into my ear. True, it was kinda kinky when he called me that name—but I loved it.

  “Hey, Momma,” Ryan says, out of nowhere, accompanied by Colby. He kisses Mrs. Morgan on the cheek. “You look pretty tonight.”

  Mrs. Morgan hugs Ryan and Colby while I watch and focus every ounce of my energy on not maniacally shrieking, “I hate you, Ryan! Let’s go fuck!”

  “Hi, Tessa,” Ryan says casually. He half-hugs me like he barely knows me (good boy!) and kisses me on the cheek chastely. “You look pretty tonight, too.”

  Oh, God, the smell of Ryan’s cologne is filling my nostrils. I want him. I clear my throat. “Hi, Keane,” I say. “Thank you so much. You look nice, too.”

  Colby laughs.

  Ryan puts his palm on his chest. “Ryan. Keane’s over there in the blue shirt.” He motions to his brother across the party. “And that’s Dax standing next to him in the black shirt. And this is Colby.”

  “Oh, gosh, I’m so sorry,” I say innocently. “So many Morgans. Forgive me.”

  Colby flashes me a huge smile. “You’re not alone in getting us mixed up. Our own mother used to call us by wrong names at least fifty times a day when we were growing up.”

  “It’s true,” Louise says, laughing. “I’d say, ‘Ry-Ke-Da-Col-Kitty... whoever you are, get your butt over here and clean up your mess!’”

  Everyone in the group laughs.

  “Yeah, don’t stress about names,” Ryan says, his eyes locked with mine. “Names are irrelevant, if you think about it. ‘A rose by any other name would
smell just as sweet.’” He winks.

  Whoa. Did Ryan just tell me he’s done being mad about the whole ‘Samantha’ thing? By George, I think he did. And did he quote from Romeo and Juliet by pure coincidence, or as a little nod to the fact that I keep calling him Romeo?

  “By the way,” Colby says, extending his hand to me. “We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Colby.”

  I shake Colby’s hand. “It’s great to meet you. I’ve heard wonderful things about you.”

  “All of it true,” Ryan says.

  “You’re a firefighter?” I ask.

  Colby confirms he is and we talk for several minutes about his deep passion for his job, which, he explains, he’s temporarily on medical leave from because of “an accident” he had on the job earlier this year. I’m curious to find out more about that, but something in Colby’s tone of voice tells me not to ask him for details, so I refrain.

  After a bit, Colby excuses himself to use the restroom and, the minute he slips away, I realize everyone else but Ryan has wandered away, too.

  Ryan leans into my ear and whispers, “Man, I can’t stop thinking about what I’m gonna do to you tonight.”

  I’m tingling all over at Ryan’s words, but I adopt an expression of complete disinterest. “Like I keep telling you, there’s not gonna be a Round Two, Romeo.”

  “I bet you’re already soaking wet for me,” Ryan whispers. “I wish I could slip my hand up your dress and inside your panties to find out.”

  Whoosh. Just like that, blood is flooding my crotch. “I need a drink,” I say, and, without another word, I beeline to the bar.

  Without missing a beat, Ryan walks alongside me.

  “I wasn’t inviting you to join me,” I whisper. “I was giving you the brush-off.”