Falling for the Playboy (Playboy in Paradise Book 1)

by S. L. Scott

  I gulp, realizing he used the word ‘relationship’ while referring to us. My insides warm at the thought there might be an actual ‘us.’ I swallow the building tension and sit up. “You’re right, Evan, and I like our honesty, too.”

  Swinging my legs off the side of the bed, a light touch on my shoulder stops me. “Mallory.” He looks me straight in the eyes. “I don’t want you to date anyone else, and I won’t date anyone else either.”

  I’m speechless by his declaration. His eyes beg me to say something, to let him know that I’m not rejecting him, making me wonder if he’s ever been rejected before. I also wonder if he’s even been exclusive with a girl before.

  “Evan,” I say, getting as close as I can to him and brushing my lips against his.

  His hands go to my waist and hold me as his eyelids drop close. I inhale the moment, savoring every second. With our eyes closed, I whisper, “I only want to be with you.”

  I’ve been holding back on my true feelings for too long. Giving in, body and soul, I become one with him. It’s no longer Mallory and Evan. It’s us as one now and I kiss him.

  He gently uses his weight to push me back onto the bed. His chest presses into mine as we deepen the kiss, his hand finding their rightful place on my chest, right over my heart. His lips work their way down my neck to linger between my breasts then he sighs in satisfaction. I slowly drag my hands up his back and hold him to me. He asks, “When do you have to be at work?”

  “Eleven.”

  “It’s ten. You get ready, and I’ll make you coffee. Then, I’ll drive you to work.”

  “That’s an offer I can’t refuse. Do you work today?”

  “Yeah, but not until noon.”

  Fifteen minutes later, I step out of the shower and wrap a towel around me. Standing in front of the mirror, I see beautiful Mallory again. I laugh that a boy affects my self-esteem like this, but there are definitely worse things he could be affecting, that’s for sure.

  I’d taken the bandage off before my shower and lean toward the mirror to get a better look at the stitches. It’s starting to heal and doesn’t look that bad.

  There’s a soft knock at the door.

  “You can come in, Evan,” I say, rolling my eyes. “We’ve slept together, so I think we’re past knocking at this point.”

  The door opens and he leans against the frame holding a tall travel mug out to me. “You look beautiful,” he says, admiring me. I feel a little embarrassed under his adoring eyes, and blush, feeling the heat reach my cheeks. “Especially when you blush … you have ten minutes until we need to leave. If you keep that up, you’re going to be calling in because I’m not gonna let you walk out that door.”

  My cheeks flame at his heated insinuation, knowing that’s exactly what I want to do with my day—not walk out that door. Memories of our time having sex flood my mind and I unknowingly smile. “Seriously, Mallory, you’ve been warned. One more adorable gesture like that and I’m calling Alana myself to tell her you’re not coming in.” He comes over and wraps his arms around me. He whispers, “I’m here for you. I’m not going anywhere. We’re together now.”

  My heart melts at the sweetness of this man.

  He kisses me on the cheek at the same time I feel his hand slide under my towel and rub my ass. I smirk, and he smacks it. “Your head looks good,” he says, referring to my stitches. “Get ready, good looking, you’ve only got five minutes now.”

  I burst out laughing when I notice how the sting on my butt cheek is delightfully tingling. Evan Ashford is going to be the death of me—one way or the other—and yet I’ll happily walk hand in hand towards that death with him. I don’t have time to dwell on the joy I feel, the happiest I’ve been in ages. I’ve had boyfriends in high school and a couple in college, but I’ve never felt for them what I feel for Evan.

  After throwing some clothes on with light makeup—lip gloss and mascara, we hurry out the door. He holds my hand while he drives me to work. Racing around to my side of the car, he opens the door when we arrive. When I stand up, he pulls me against him, and says, “Can I pick you up after work?”

  Sunny parks next to us and gets out with a devious look on her face. “Good morning, Mallory. Evan.”

  Evan releases me and returns the greeting. “Good morning, Sunny. If it’s all right with you, I’m going to be spending an inordinate amount of time with your best friend for the remainder of the summer.” He leans towards her, lowers his voice, and adds, “I’m kind of smitten with her.”

  They share an elbow nudge then laugh. “Well, I guess that’s all right by me,” she says sassily. “I’ll see you inside, Mal.”

  I grab two handfuls of his T-shirt and pull him closer. “I’ll see you later then.”

  “I’ll be here.”

  “Goodbye.”

  “Goodbye, baby.”

  We say this, but remain standing there still staring at each other. The fire building in his eyes reflects the same in mine.

  “So, I guess I should go in now. I think I’m officially late.”

  “Uh-huh, late, definitely late.”

  I can’t resist him any longer. I lift up on my toes and kiss him hard. He returns the favor.

  “We should probably open up for the lunch crowd. Don’t ya think, Mallory?”

  We jump apart as if we were just busted by our parents. Alana is standing between us and the entrance to Big Kehones with her arms crossed.

  “Hi, Alana,” Evan says, nodding at her, smirking, and adjusting his pants.

  “Aloha, Evan. If you’re not here for lunch, I suggest you remove your hands from my employee so she can get to work.”

  His hands immediately drop to his sides, and he chuckles. “Yes, Ma’am. Sorry, I was just dropping Mallory off.”

  “Okay then. She’s here, so you have a good day. Mallory?” Alana looks at me, waiting. She’s teasing, trying to refrain from smiling.

  I rush past him, smacking him on the ass, and whisper, “See you later, sexy.” With a smirk and a little extra wiggle to my hips, I walk inside with Alana.

  Sunny is at the bar. She’s busy filling ketchup containers when Alana and I come inside. Alana looks at me, all knowing, and says, “You and Evan Ashford are dating.” It’s not a question, but she seems to ponder it.

  Discussing who I’m dating is an embarrassing conversation to have with my boss, but the relationship is so new it’s weird to talk about it with anyone. I’d hate to jinx it. I start filling a napkin dispenser, keeping my eyes on the task at hand. “Yes, we are.” I sound too giddy to appear casual.

  Sunny giggles then interrupts, “They’re cute, aren’t they?”

  “Cute, just like you and Zach,” Alana says, enjoying what is obviously going to be the topic of discussion today.

  She points her finger, swinging it between me and Sunny and adds, “Don’t fall in love too fast, girls. You’re strong, independent women. Don’t ever feel like you have to rely on a man. You’re educated and smart. Let life take you where you’re supposed to be. Never hold back.”

  Letting her words sink in, it makes me wonder. “Even in love?” I ask.

  “Especially in love. But true love allows you to be who you’re meant to be. It doesn’t dictate your potential.”

  “Work hard, play harder?” Sunny asks, looking at Alana for advice.

  “Live life with passion and have fun, but do it for you.” She waves us off as she turns around, and starts walking toward the back office. “Enough of the lecture. Are we ready for the lunch rush?”

  Noah comes in for a late lunch with his friends. He sits at the bar as the others grab a table.

  “Hey, you took the bandage off. How are you feeling today?” he asks.

  My hand reflexively goes to my wound. “Yeah, I had it on long enough. It’s healing and I’m fine.”

  “Good to hear because you had a lot to drink—”

  “I slept it off.”

  “So, I was thinking we could hang out sometime this week.
What’s your schedule look like?”

  “Oh, um …” I feel weird saying this, but I respect Evan enough to know it’s the right thing to do. “Listen, this may sound crazy, especially after last night, but I think you should know …” He readjusts on his barstool, giving me his complete, undivided attention. “I’ve started seeing Evan.”

  “Seeing?”

  I make myself clearer. “Dating.”

  “I left your place less than twelve hours ago. After the bonfire, how’d you …” Everything seems to dawn on him as he searches my eyes for answers. “Oh.” He closes his eyes as if he’s coming to grips with this new revelation. He slowly shakes his head then looks at me again. “You know I don’t like the guy, but I can see you do.” He analyzes my face. “You just need to get him out of your system. I get it—”

  “No, it’s not like that, Noah. It’s like he’s a part of my system. I like him … a lot.”

  “Mallory,” he says, his tone almost condescending, “you’re not the first girl to fall for Ashford and you won’t be the last. Hell, you’re only here until the beginning of August. How serious can it really be?”

  I lean forward, putting my hands flat on the counter in front of me. “It’s pretty damn serious.”

  His hands go up, and a small, arrogant smile crosses his usually charming face. “Okay, okay. I get it. I just want you to know when you need a friend, I’ll be here for you.”

  “That sounds like you mean when he dumps me you’ll be here for me?”

  “That’s exactly what I mean.”

  The air stills around us as I come to terms with the harshness of his words, the real possibility in his warning.

  “I need you to respect my decision here, Noah.”

  He sighs in obvious disappointment. “I’m just surprised you’d fall for his … never mind. Does this mean we can’t hang out anymore because he’s so damn jealous?”

  Taking Alana’s words to heart, I say, “We can still hang out. Now, can I get you something to eat?”

  I walk out of the restaurant and find Evan leaning against his car holding a large flowering plant. My knees weaken as he smiles at me.

  “Hi, beautiful. I brought you flowers.” He holds the potted plant out to me.

  “You brought me more than flowers, Evan. This is a bush.”

  “I wanted you to always have flowers blooming around you.”

  I take the hibiscus bush and hug my arms around it and remember how my ex-boyfriend only gave me flowers twice. Once when he was trying to woo me into having sex with him—sadly, it worked. The other time was when he cheated on me and that felt more like he was really trying to say, ‘Sorry I cheated on you and I like having sex with other women better than with you, but I still want the option of having sex with you when I can’t find it anywhere else.’ So, needless to say, receiving flowers just because someone cares about you is a foreign concept to me. “I love it. Thank you.”

  His hands work their way through the bush, pushing the branches aside until he sees me. He leans through the parted plant, cups my face, and kisses me. “I missed you,” he whispers against my lips, “but,” he releases the branches which smack back together in front of my face, “we need to go. I’ve got plans for you, sexy girl.”

  He opens the car door allowing me and my plant to slide down into the seat and then takes the pot. After wedging it in the back, we drive out of the parking lot, but before leaving the lot, he asks, “What are you smiling about?”

  “You … this.” I stumble through my words because I feel so good. “I’m just really happy right now.”

  He rests his hand on my bare knee and gives it a little squeeze. “So am I.” I can see the sincerity in his eyes and know he means what he says.

  “So, are you going to fill me in on these big plans of yours?”

  “No.”

  “I had a feeling you might say that.”

  “Do I need anything for these so called plans?”

  “Definitely no.”

  “That’s intriguing.” I sit back and enjoy the rest of the ride to his place. We have the windows cracked open and the music becomes background to the sounds of the ocean.

  As we park and then walk the side path to his house, he carries my plant for me and holds my hand. Once inside, I flop onto the couch and he retreats to the bathroom for a minute. Upon his return, he says, “Follow me.”

  We walk out the door to a set of flagstone steps that lead down to the back of the property, a strip of beach. With the setting sun as a backdrop, I see a large blanket spread out on top of the sand, a picnic basket, and champagne. My eyes go from the set-up to the smiling man before me as I realize the efforts he went to make this romantic and memorable. “You did all this?”

  He’s beaming. “Ms. Chart put the basket together and I set it all up. It’s all for you, Mallory. Do you like it?”

  “I love it.”

  “Good,” he says, taking me by the hand and over to the blanket.

  We sit down, and I flip off the sneakers I wore for work and lay back on the soft blanket and staring up at the sky, never feeling more content. “This is paradise.”

  I sit back up and he hands me a glass of champagne, and says, “In celebration of us.”

  We toast and sip, and then I ask, “Who is Ms. Chart?”

  “She’s our house manager.”

  “What’s a house manager?”

  He laughs to himself, but not in a mocking way. “She runs the property and oversees the other employees to keep things running smoothly.”

  “Since your parents are away?”

  “She works here year round, but occasionally flies to New York to help out there. My parents spend about two months out of the year here. A month in winter and a month during the summer. They’re flying in later this week.”

  “Will I meet them?” I watch as he looks out into the ocean as if searching for an answer out there.

  When he looks back at me, the happy I saw a second earlier has disappeared. “If you like, you can.”

  His hesitancy makes me nervous.

  “Do you want me to?” I ask the question although I fear his answer.

  “I want to introduce you to everyone special in life, like Ms. Chart, but my parents and I aren’t that close these days.” He lies down on the blanket, and sighs. “I don’t like talking about my family situation that much, but I know you need answers. I know you need them for us to work out. I’m not trying to hide anything from you. I’m just not used to talking about this stuff and usually try to avoid it.”

  I lay back down, placing my head on his shoulder. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

  “I want to tell you. I, uh, I just … I’m a disappointment to them. I don’t want you disappointed in me, too.”

  I slide my fingers down the palm of his hand and intertwine them with his. “I won’t be. Remember, it’s you and me now.”

  He chuckles lightly, watching as the sun sets into the ocean. Then he surprises me by opening up. “Something happened right before I went to England and it messed with my head. I had trouble concentrating and I developed an attitude. I guess I probably already had the attitude, so it just got worse. I was about to get booted from university, so my adviser called my parents. He was a good guy and only did it out of concern, but a decision was made and that’s how I ended up at Yale.”

  “What happened before school?”

  He rolls towards me and strokes my hair. “I don’t want to talk about that. I’m sorry. I will, but not yet, not tonight.”

  I whisper my reassurance that it’s fine, and he continues, “Yale was a disaster from the start. Some of the big guys on campus didn’t appreciate me swooping in on their territory. They were legacy, but really, I think it’s that they didn’t appreciate their girlfriends liking me.” He laughs at the memory. “Maybe they didn’t like me screwing their girlfriends. That’s probably more accurate.”

  I roll my eyes, but I’m not surprised by his statement.

&nb
sp; Lying on his back, his hands drop to his sides, and I already miss his touch. He says, “I lost interest in school and just wanted a break, so I dropped out and went home. It only took a month before I was on my parent’s last nerve and they were on mine. I packed a suitcase and came out here. That was the biggest crime in their eyes. They had already plotted my whole life out in New York. I was set up with a job, an apartment, even a girlfriend if I wanted, but it was just one big fucking social climbing game there. I didn’t want anything to do with it.” He squeezes his eyes like he’s wishing the memories away.

  His eyes flash open and he looks at me. “I’m sorry. Tonight wasn’t supposed to be about this crap—”

  “No, don’t apologize. I like when you share with me. I want to know all about you. I know you in a very intimate way, but I really don’t know who you are as a person.”

  “I want to know all about you, too.”

  I sit up and finish my champagne. He’s there, ready to top it off as I soon as I swallow.

  “I’d rather kiss you,” he says.

  He leans over and kisses me, making me want more of this man than I should. He brings out a slutty side of me and I’m really starting to like the benefits of that side. The slut is powerful and confident. She knows what she likes and isn’t afraid to ask, or wiggle into position to give a strong hint, for what she wants. I’m Evan Ashford’s slut!

  I kiss him with the pent up need of, well, of a girl from Colorado who discovered her very own personal life-size Hawaiian sex god. I jump on top of him and kiss him feverishly, pinning him down and continue on my kissing tirade of his body until my stomach growls. It growls so loud that we both—lips still attached—open our eyes and look at each other. I slowly lift up as he props up on his elbows. “I want you, Mallory, but we should eat.”

  “If we must,” I say, disappointed.

  After settling down onto the blanket next to him again, he pulls a container of cut-up pineapple out of the basket. “Don’t worry, we have all night and I’ll make the wait worth your while. Can I feed you?” he asks, eyebrow raised in anticipation.