by Alice Ward
She turned to give me the grand tour, which would’ve taken all of two seconds, but when she started to brush past me, pure instinct took over. I reached out and grabbed her wrist, halting her. My eyes trailed down to the pulse at her throat. I reached out to swipe a stray hair off her collarbone and became fascinated by the sight of her heartbeat fluttering beneath her skin.
Damn, had any woman ever looked at me with such loathing? Such longing? And why was the combination so incredibly compelling?
I wanted to be gentle. I’d played with her enough, so I wanted to just take care of her. I wanted to give her a chaste goodnight kiss, a promise of things to come. But she let out a rush of surprised breath and leaned forward just as I did, and I ended up slamming my mouth onto hers.
And then it got a little crazy. Dissolving, licking, I dug into her mouth with my tongue as if my life depended on it, as if she was water and I was desperate for a drink.
She let out a soft moan that nearly unraveled me, pushing me forever past the point of no return. And she gave as good as she got. Little Miss Atlee Young, defender of the planet, was a hell of a kisser.
My hands roved down her bare back. Good. Too good. She was like heaven under my fingers. The need to feel this body of hers, hot and wild around me became an obsession.
“Wyatt,” she murmured. “We shouldn’t…”
I ran my hands down to her thighs, lifting her skirt up as she ground against me. My hands moved under her dress, up to her hips, gripping them, caressing her full backside…
And holy shit. It was then I knew what she’d forgotten to pack.
It gave me just enough pause to make me think of what I’d asked her before. Anything I could lend you?
I broke the kiss, unable to hold back the laugh.
She lowered the hem of the dress to its proper place, and that moment of heat dissolved into pure awkwardness.
Too soon. This was too soon. What had I been thinking? Not a hell of a lot of anything. As usual, my dick had been leading the way.
“It’s late. We should…” she began, the rest of the sentence trapped between her thinly pressed lips.
Even though my cock was screaming in revolt, I nodded. “Yeah. We should.”
It was the hardest thing I’d ever had to do, but I walked out of her room, turning back to find her looking so achingly gorgeous, I had to stuff my hands in my pockets to keep from reaching for her.
“Be sure to lock and double-lock the door behind me.”
She nodded. “I will.”
Damn, I hated leaving her in this shithole. “Are you sure you’re safe here? You could, um, come stay with me.” I didn’t know who was more surprised by my offer, her or me. I hurried on. “I’ll sleep on the couch.” I looked at the smoking man down the hall. “I’d feel better if—”
“It’s okay, Wyatt. I’ll be fine here. I promise.”
I stood there, unwilling to leave but unsure if I should stay.
Fuck it all. I didn’t know what to do.
So, she did it for me.
“Goodnight, Wyatt,” she said softly, that sweet smile back on her face. “See you in the morning.”
Very slowly, the door inched closed, leaving me to stare at the peeling paint as the locks clicked in place on the other side.
“Goodnight,” I murmured, and left her there, feeling like the biggest scumbag in the world.
CHAPTER NINE
Atlee
I hadn’t slept at all on the plane, so I should’ve been exhausted.
Instead, I spent the entire night in that dive of a hotel room, thinking about that kiss.
Yes, the place smelled like something had died in it. Deranged people continued to argue throughout the night, but I was used to that from the city. The wall air conditioner sounded like a buzz saw and spilled out lukewarm air that made sweat pour off me as I laid on top of the sheets. There may or may not have been a cockroach the size of my foot living under the bed. But all that failed to faze me.
No. It was all about the kiss.
I’d kissed Wyatt Watts, CEO of Watts Enterprises.
I knew that probably made me a traitor to my followers and the planet. But things were different now. I’d seen the plans. He really did seem eager to bring change to his company.
But deep down, part of me was worried I’d jumped on the Wyatt Watts bandwagon too quickly. They were just plans. He didn’t have to go through with them. Maybe he was just talking a good game to appease people like me.
Talk about appeasing. He’d nearly appeased his way right into my panties.
Not that I’d had panties. But still.
That was why I had to stop things. I didn’t want to. Oh, stopping was the last thing I’d wanted to do, once I’d felt his strong arms around me. I could feel his cock, hard against my abdomen, and had definitely taken advantage of the no-underwear thing, tilting my pelvis and rubbing myself shamelessly over his thick erection.
It felt too good. I was horny. Maybe it was just the heat.
Yes. The heat.
Something about the sultry environment, my near-nakedness, the sweat, and being halfway around the world from real life… it was all I could do not to lose complete control.
In the morning, well before dawn, I lifted my phone off the night table and went to my YouTube page. I’d made the video from yesterday private, stopping it at just over fifty-five thousand views. Wow.
And now it looked like all of my other videos were getting more views. I had over twelve thousand followers now. It was a shame I’d become such a viral sensation over something I was quickly regretting.
Then I realized I had a text from Emily. It said: Nice work with Watts! Saw it was picked up by WWF.
What? I typed in a search with both my blog’s name and WWF, and the top result was a news story featuring the video I’d shot, with Wyatt backing away from me as I accosted him in front of the resort.
And that? That had over a million views.
Oh, god.
I guessed it was true what they said: Nothing ever really goes away on the internet.
He probably hated me by now.
Last night, I’d thought about doing another video, telling people that I was on my way to a plantation to investigate potential offenses and would report back later, but that was the last thing I wanted to do right now. I wanted to lie low.
Tossing my phone away in disgust, I took a shower. But the second I stepped out of the cold water, I instantly felt hot again. I twisted my hair up, leaving it wet. Then I threw on a tank top with a built-in shelf bra, a cargo skirt, and my heavy-duty hiking boots, and sprayed myself from head to toe with a bug spray that was pretty much all Deet.
Wyatt pulled up to the hotel exactly when he said he would, at six in the morning. He looked damn good, like Indiana Jones, with his cargo pants and a camo-green shirt, once again open at the throat to expose just a glimpse of what promised to be amazing underneath.
But that wasn’t a problem.
The problem was what he was driving. It was this massive, old, military-style truck thing, big enough for at least six people, spewing fumes in a giant cloud of heat as it idled there. I stared at in disgust. “What the hell is this?”
He got out of the car, scratching the back of his neck. He still hadn’t shaved, and I hated how good it looked on him. He patted the dented army-green hood of the thing like it was something to be proud of. “It’s an ‘88 Land Rover Defender. Pretty sweet, right?”
I scowled at it before turning my scathing gaze to him. “Do you really hate the planet as much as you’re letting on?”
He was still gazing at it admiringly. It was definitely a beastly, manly car. But please.
“Couldn’t you have found a mode of transport that was a little more earth-friendly?”
He raised an eyebrow at me but said nothing. I thought he was waiting for me to tell him I was kidding.
When I didn’t, and I didn’t hop in the shotgun seat either, he said, “Wait. You’re serious? Atlee, it w
as last-minute. And this isn’t America. This was the best I could do.”
I didn’t believe him. Something told me he hadn’t even thought about Mother Earth when he made the choice. I’d bet he was that way all the time. He existed in a little bubble where someone else would have to take care of the problems he created, eating steak, driving gas-guzzlers, refusing to recycle.
Disgusting. Why the hell had I kissed him last night? How could I have even found him remotely attractive?
I planted my ass on the curb outside the hotel and rested my chin in my hands.
Wyatt looked at me incredulously. “So, does that mean you’re protesting?”
I nodded.
He let out a snort of a laugh, then very coolly, opened the passenger door wide. He leaned against the idling monstrosity, arms crossed, waiting.
For about a minute, we silently waged war with our eyes. After that, he wiped a finger under his lower lashes and inspected whatever was on the pad of his finger before flicking it away. “Ready?”
I didn’t even have to look into his eyes. The command in his voice completely unwound me.
I’d have done anything he said.
I pushed up off the curb, crossed the sidewalk, threw my daypack behind the seat, and climbed inside. “Fine,” I muttered.
“Good,” he said when he climbed into the driver’s seat beside me. “Now we can be off.”
I frowned.
I didn’t think I’d have a choice of not speaking to him, since he said it was a four-hour ride, each way. I knew that would make for a very uncomfortable ride. But then he pressed on the accelerator. With the windows open and with the engine humming, the noise was nearly deafening. Perfect.
In half an hour, the closely packed buildings of the city gave way to gently rolling hillsides, and soon it became the jungle. He headed north on a road that was called 8, which was nothing more than a one-lane dirt road.
“Can you believe,” he said over the roar of the engine, “this is considered the main drag?”
I couldn’t. It seemed like deep in the middle of nowhere. The road stretched forward, into a forest so black it looked like night up ahead. The roads were deeply rutted, and the crap truck clearly had no suspension — I felt like I was being tossed around in a tin can.
I was glad to have Wyatt with me. He, at least, was a well-traveled man of the world. Even if he was all about himself, I trusted that he’d keep me safe.
“Where… where is this place again?” I asked.
“It’s in a town called Chiku. But this is Taman Negara, Malaysia’s national park.”
It was wild, scary, and so dark, but also beautiful. Thick grasses, bushes, and small trees formed a sweeping canopy over us, tangled with wild banana plants, palms, and bamboos. “So, have you ever been up to this plantation before?”
“Nope.”
That wasn’t too hard to believe. A company as large as WE probably worked with hundreds of different plantations in Malaysia and Indonesia. “But you’ve visited plantations before, right?”
He nodded.
“How many?”
The road was rutted, and we went over a doozy of a pothole, which nearly made him scrape his head on the roof of the car. “Including the one I went to yesterday…” he paused, which made me think he was counting, “one.”
Okay. Well, that didn’t really inspire confidence. “One? But you’ve been to Malaysia before.”
He shook his head. “Actually, this is my first trip here.”
My stomach dropped. “Really? But… you’re a CEO of a worldwide company.”
“Yep, for one whole month, remember. I’m well-traveled. I’ve just never traveled here. The closest I’ve ever been is Thailand, though I spent most of that time in Bangkok.”
I sucked in a breath. I guessed it was a positive thing that he even knew that Thailand was close to Malaysia, which was more than I knew. He’d probably spent all that time fucking prostitutes or whatever other debauchery goes on in Bangkok.
Well, what was the worst that could happen? It wasn’t like we were venturing into a no-man’s-land like North Korea or Libya. This would be fine.
But really, what kind of CEO wasn’t familiar with where his ingredients were sourced from? He sounded very disconnected.
“So you’re really just sticking your head in the sand when it comes to the plantations that you get your palm oil from. Is that it?”
“Actually…”
“Do you go by the cheapest price, or…?” I lifted an eyebrow, inviting him to finish.
He scowled at me, lines appearing on his forehead, giving him a rugged look to accompany the stubble. “Well, yes, but there are other things we consider, and…” He cursed, and his hands tightened on the steering wheel, and I yelped when we were bounced by another crater of a pothole.
I didn’t let him off the hook. “Like what?”
He pressed his lips together. “Is this being taped?”
I reached for my phone, showed him the screen. “No. Do you want it to be?”
“No, but I offered to tour with you, and you’re firing questions at me and not allowing me to answer. It’s a little frustrating.”
I straightened. There I was again, flying off the handle. I tucked the phone away. “I suppose we can just get to the plantation first. You do know how to get there, right?”
He nodded. “We could have taken a guide, but I didn’t think we need it. It’s a fairly straightforward trip, and most of the plantation owners speak English.”
We went over another pothole, this one worse than the last. I grabbed onto the handle above my head to avoid being jostled into his lap.
Even though it was as dark as twilight under the massive vegetation, it was hot. I checked my phone. Eighty-five degrees. Already. At eight in the morning. In December. And this wasn’t a dry heat — it was so thick, it felt like a living, breathing thing hanging over us. No wonder the sweat was pouring off me. I reached into my pack, pulled out my bottle of water, and started to guzzle it.
The next time I looked back at him, his mirrored sunglasses were trained somewhere near my knees. Nope, my thighs. The skirt probably wasn’t the best choice — it was tight, short, and riding up too high. He was probably wondering if I had panties on.
The answer? Hell yes. I wasn’t going to get caught without my panties twice. I’d put on the ones I’d washed the day before.
“You know,” he said, “It would be good to have someone like you on our staff. It’d be good to have someone who I can consult on these things.”
I stared at him, trying to see if he was serious, or just looking for a way into my freshly washed panties. “For what things?”
“Sustaining the environment. It’s something I’m interested in pursuing, obviously.”
He tapped the steering wheel with his thumb, and my eyes focused on his strong hands. I forced myself to look away before I could think about how those hands had felt on me, caressing my ass. I’d already started to sweat through my tank top and skirt, making them uncomfortably sticky. I didn’t need to get any wetter.
We started to climb a hill, so he downshifted. “Would you ever let anyone tear you away from your current firm?”
Please. He seriously didn’t want to work with me. Did he? More likely, the only thing he wanted to tear me away from, probably, were my clothes.
“Actually, I’m trying to make the blog and video thing work.” I pushed away the feeling of shame. “You see, I’m between jobs right now.”
“You are? Well, maybe this is serendipity then. Us. Here. Together. Alone in the jungle… where anything could happen.”
He gave me this sexy smile that made my insides melt. Far away from our lives on the other side of the world, it was easy to think of this as only fun. A little vacation. And what better thing to do on vacation than spend night after night in bed, screwing your brains out with a man so sexy and gorgeous that he made your toes curl with just a look?
But that wasn’t what we
were doing.
I was going to make a video that went viral. And this time, it would be for the right reasons.
We finally made it to the plantation in Chiku at eleven that morning, and by then, it was so hot, a thick haze was settling over the ground. There was a sign in another language, but Wyatt seemed sure this was the place to be. He opened the door, standing erect on the truck’s frame and trying to see past all the vegetation.
“Wait here,” Wyatt commanded, stepping out and going inside a one-story, nondescript building that was the color of dirt.
I had spent hours forced to sit in one spot, and I didn’t want to sit anymore. I climbed from the truck. I was drenched, my clothes sticking to me like a second skin. I pushed my glasses up on the bridge of my nose, shielding myself from the bright sun as Wyatt returned with a slight Malaysian man in a straw hat. “Atlee, this is Farish. He’s going to take us on a tour.”
Farish was a ray of sunshine. If sunshine was actually hell in disguise. Scowling, he nodded at me shortly without making eye contact and grunted something that made me wonder if he was going to drive us out into the middle of nowhere and leave us for dead.
At that point, I didn’t care. Between me and Wyatt, I thought we could probably take the little guy, so I grabbed my daypack from the back of the truck and practically bounced out of the car.
Farish led us to a transport that looked only slightly sturdier than a golf cart. Wyatt let me sit up front beside our guide while he took the back.
We rode out into the fields, between rows and rows of stout palms, full of the ripening palm fruit. The cart’s canvas canopy and palm fronds above were no match for the unforgiving sun. The bugs seemed to leave Farish alone, but they were all over me, despite the spray I’d used. I kept flicking insects away as Wyatt asked Farish question after question.
Farish answered every question in broken English, but he sounded as if he was reciting from a cue card. It seemed like every time he didn’t know an answer, he pretended not to understand English and said, “We are very happy to have your business, Mr. Watts.”
I threw my hair up into a bun and looked over my shoulder at Wyatt. I mouthed, What is he hiding?
