Passion, Vows & Babies_Lust, Lies, & Leis

by Kristen Luciani

  It’s been six long months since the accident. The guilt crippled me for too damn long, and it’s time to get back to living. Resurrecting my career is next on the list.

  A strong breeze carries away my cocktail napkin and I twist to grab it before it blows any farther. That’s when I see her. I swallow hard as she walks toward me. Her thick, reddish-brown hair cascades over one bronze shoulder, her sinful body poured into a long, flowing floral dress. Her movements are graceful and so fucking seductive at the same time. I’d had an eye on her all week. She was damn hard to ignore, with those luscious tits and bitable ass. When she showed up alone on the beach today, I figured I’d take a shot. But once word got out that I was staying at the resort, guests came out of the woodwork to watch me on my board. Some even asked for surfing lessons. Most of the women wanted more than that, but none of them made my dick hard. Not like her.

  The corners of her lips curl into a slow smile when she passes my table. Those eyes flash like greenish-golden flames that singe every square inch of my body. Christ, I want to let that fire rage through me.

  I watch as she gracefully sinks into a nearby wicker chair overlooking the sand, her long hair fanning out around her. My cock twitches as images of her in that skimpy metallic bikini flash through my lust-clouded mind. I groan inwardly, my fingers aching to grasp the perfectly rounded globes of her ass, the diversion I so desperately need.

  I came here to escape, not to get sucked into this woman’s aura, but somehow, that’s exactly where I’ve ended up. I crane my head around, looking for her posse, but it looks like she might actually be flying solo again.

  Tonight. Last night. Last chance.

  I’m not the guy who sweats over talking to women. I’m more the guy who needs to beat them off with a stick. Well, it’s usually my stick, and they never leave willingly.

  But this woman is different. She carries herself with a confidence that’s sexy as fuck, and those eyes…I could easily get lost in them with no hope of ever finding my way out. The way she flips her glossy hair over her shoulder, the slope of her neck, those tight legs… I’ve been dreaming about having her body pinned under me for the better part of this trip. I can’t explain why I’m so drawn to her, why she’s unknowingly cast some sick spell over me, when I’m the guy who can have any woman drop her panties in exchange for a sliver of my attention.

  These are the kind of crazy thoughts that should send up the red flags. Since when do I even pay attention to shit like eye color? And watching her all week like some lunatic stalker? Who the hell am I? It’s got to be this goddamn heat making me act this way. That, or a week without sex is dangling me over the brink of sanity.

  Something about her is so familiar, yet untouchable. A challenge. I need to meet her. Actually, I need way fucking more than that, but you’ve got to start somewhere.

  I grip my glass, admiring her profile out of the corner of my eye. Her jaw twitches, her gaze focused on the glittery waves crashing onto the shore. She is almost trance-like, not blinking, perfectly still, barely breathing.

  A shattered glass followed by shrill laughter pierces the peaceful silence in the hut. The sound seems to startle her, and her head twists in the direction of the bar, until our gazes connect. It only lasts a second or so, but the thrum in my chest jolts me like I’ve just stuck a wet finger into an electric socket.

  Yeah, I’m severely fucked right now. The spell is cast, and I hope it never breaks.

  I stand, willing my legs to cooperate, and close the space between us. Her gaze is unwavering. It never leaves my face as I inch toward her, mesmerized by her expressive eyes, glowing skin, and soft features. A classic beauty. I have no idea if she’s alone here, if she’s married or has a boyfriend. I don’t give a flying fuck. Her pull on me is almost magnetic. She’s sucks me in like she’s a funnel cloud and I’m just in the wrong place at the right time.

  Crazy. I am absolutely fucking bat-shit crazy. Obsessing about a woman I don’t even know, fantasizing about fucking her senseless in the sand, unable to sleep because I can’t stop wondering who she is and why she’s here. Jesus Christ, I’m not that guy!

  At least, I haven’t been for the past twenty-six years of my life.

  Her smile widens as I approach. “So, you’re the famous surfer everyone’s been talking about. I saw you on the beach earlier. You were pretty incredible on that board. I can barely stand on mine.”

  I grin and stick my hand out. “Evan Montrose, at your service. I’m always happy to give private lessons.”

  She reaches out and squeezes, sending a pang of electricity straight to my groin. Firm grip, skin so soft and smooth. Christ, I’d like to feel those hands wrapped around my cock right now—

  “Lila Haywood. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She cocks an eyebrow. “So, about those lessons…?”

  “The hotel rents me out during the day, but my nights are usually free.”

  A giggle escapes her lips. “Usually? That’s surprising.”

  “I like to keep my options open.”

  She nods. “I think my window is about to close. I’m leaving tomorrow, so if I haven’t gotten the hang of it by now, I think I’m going to have to stick to my day job.”

  “You don’t seem like the type of woman to walk away from a challenge.”

  Her eyes twinkle. “Last time I checked, I was still sitting here.”

  “So does that mean I have a shot to get you on that board?” Or anywhere else, for that matter?

  “Is that why you came over here? To prove that you can teach the unteachable?”

  “I don’t like to fail.” The words hang in the air between us, the double meaning obvious. I pause, a slow smile curling my lips. “And, for the record, nobody is unteachable. You can learn to do anything. You just have to want it badly enough.” That’s why I’m standing here right now. I see something - or rather, someone - I want. And I never walk away from a challenge.

  Her eyes cloud over. “I know,” she murmurs. Her expression is shadowed by something…sadness, maybe. But as quickly as it comes, it’s gone, replaced by her bright and teasing smile. “You certainly sell yourself well. I think I’d be foolish not to take you out for a spin.”

  She may not have intended her tone to be as seductive as it was, but her words are full of promise, and that promise makes my cock twitch. Oh, fuck yeah! I’ll give you the ride of a lifetime. “Trust me, I never disappoint.”

  “That’s what I’m counting on.” She looks down at her sundress. “Do I need a wetsuit? Or is my bikini okay?”

  My cock twitches for the second time. Stripping her out of that silky material would have been preferable if she were going to be sprawled out on my bed, naked and begging for me to plunge into her pussy. I grit my teeth, trying to block out the X-rated images from impairing my already lust-filled mind. “You’ll be fine without the wetsuit.”

  She drums her fingertips on the table. Her mouth never moves, but I can see streams of thoughts racing through her mind. Some hesitation, a little bit of fear, and a lot of curiosity. My throat tightens. I can’t let her walk away, not when I’ve come this close. I sound like some sick, pathetic fuck. I know. But unlike that ocean out there, I’ve never navigated waters like these; ones where I could easily drown without a care or a second thought.

  And that’s exactly what I want. What I need. What I’ve been closed off to for so long.

  Last chance…last chance…

  TATUM

  Is it so horrible to want to feel normal, even for a few hours?

  I know that sounds bad. People would give their right arms to live my life, to deal with my so-called first world problems. And I love it, I really do. I’m incredibly lucky, in more ways than I can count.

  My eyes lock on Evan’s ice blue ones. He has no idea who I am, and I can’t lie, it excites me. I love that in my otherwise chaotic world, I can cling to a sliver of anonymity. I can live like I want, without anyone watching, talking, stalking, photographing, gossiping…it’s
refreshing. And freeing.

  I need this. It’s been a long few months, and even with work, photo shoots, interviews, and award shows occupying so much of my time, it’s a lonely life when you don’t feel like you can trust anyone or believe that they may be interested in you for who you are, not for what they can get from you.

  After Luke, I felt like I’d never get back to anything remotely resembling normal again. I’d been hiding for too long, sacrificing my own happiness, paranoid that he’d eventually find his way back to me and finish what he’d started.

  But I’m tired of living in fear, in a world of what-ifs. And after a week of being flanked on all sides, I’m ready for a little taste of freedom. Especially one who comes wrapped up in a delicious package of rippled bronze muscles and eyes soulful enough to melt my insides. Yes, he’s exactly what I’ve been craving. He may also be the reason why I sent my team to the next venue a day early.

  Fuck it all. I just want one night to remember what it feels like to be desired, to laugh without a care in the world, and to be myself without concern for who may be watching.

  Evan’s broad shoulders are covered by a t-shirt that stretches tightly across his chest, but I can still imagine what lies beneath the fabric. I grasp his outstretched hand and allow him to pull me out of my chair. Goose bumps shoot up my arms and down my legs in response to his touch, and I can only imagine how my body would react to those hands dancing across my skin.

  I hope I don’t have to wait too long to find out.

  God, I’m so sexually repressed.

  He stands aside so I can step onto the path leading to the beach, his hand on the small of my back. The heat generated by his fingertips alone is enough to burn a hole through the fabric. Jesus, I’m in trouble if I can’t even hold it together enough to make it to the beach before I melt into a puddle of goo at his feet. I set my foot down on the tiled path, my head still a little woozy from the alcohol, and my foot slips out from under me. I let out a yelp, my body lurching forward, bracing for impact on the hard terra cotta. Evan’s strong arms snake around my waist before I can face-plant on the ground. He manages to free my very insensible shoe from the groove and dangles it in front of me. “You might want to trade these in for flip flops. Just saying.”

  I snicker and snatch the shoe away from him. “Thanks. I’ll take it under consideration.”

  We walk in silence toward the beach, and I feel instantly at ease, like this is exactly where I should be right now. I stretch my arms overhead and take a deep breath, letting the salty sea air fill my lungs. “It’s so beautiful here. I wish I could stay forever.”

  “I love the beach, too.” Evan’s deep, gravelly voice rumbles through me as his lips brush against my hair. He’s standing so close, his faraway gaze fixed on the rolling waves. “It was always the one place I could go to clear my head. A few hours on those waves, and I’d be ready to conquer the world. Things always made sense when I was on my board.”

  I nod, watching his jaw clench. “Past tense?”

  “Things changed a few months ago. There was an accident…”

  “What happened?” I bite my lip, not sure if I should even ask. But he looks so lost right now. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to pry. You don’t have to tell me. We can just drop it.”

  He turns to look at me, and I recoil at the anguish in his eyes. It hurts my heart to even look at him, which shocks the hell out of me. It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten close enough to people to find out more than their name and which of my movies is their favorite.

  “It’s okay.” Evan sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. My fingers twitch to touch it, to brush it away from his eyes, to see if it’s as soft and smooth as it looks. “My brother was out surfing one morning. He’d been troubled for a long time, suffering from depression. He seemed to be getting better, but one day, he just snapped. We got into an argument, and he took off for the beach.” His shoulders slump. “The waves were really choppy because of a storm. I went after him, but…” Evan shakes his head, his voice trailing off along with the memory. “That was six months ago.”

  “I’m so sorry. That’s such a terrible tragedy.” I look down at the sand and draw a heart with my big toe. “I’ve been through it myself. My parents died in a car accident years ago. It still hurts like hell, and I never stop blaming myself for their death. They’d been rushing home to bring me to some stupid audition I just had to go on. It’s been me and my sister ever since.”

  “I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you both.” His hand brushes against my arm, and goose bumps immediately pebble my bare skin. Weird. Kindred spirits with matching emotional baggage seek therapy in Hawaii. Talk about fodder for movie buffs.

  “Thanks, but I’m okay now. I still miss them every day, but it’s gotten easier. I had a really tough time when it first happened. I got messed up with drugs and alcohol, and I made a lot of bad choices.” I gaze out at the horizon that resembles an abstract painting of pink, orange, and purple streaks. I feel the familiar pang in my chest when I recall those days when I didn’t think I’d ever be able to recover from the loss. Everything I’d accomplished…they never got a chance to see any of it. They’d been my biggest fans, and I never got to thank them for always supporting me and my decision to become an actress. I almost lost it all when they died. If it hadn’t been for Jules kicking me in the ass, I’d probably be a used up, drugged out hooker on Hollywood Boulevard. Or worse. “My sister is the one who helped me get my head screwed on straight after everything happened.” A small smile lifts my lips. “I’d have never made it through without her. She’s the strongest person I know. The best person I know.”

  I turn my head, my breath catching as the glow of the horizon hits Evan’s face. His light eyes glitter, never moving from mine. I can’t breathe, my throat is so tight. It’s almost as if we’re both caught under the same spell, neither one of us able to break it, neither one willing to even try.

  Time stands still. I have no idea if minutes or hours pass. He clears his throat, his lips parting slightly. My body wills him to dip his head lower, so I can taste his lips on mine. He rubs the back of his neck and looks behind me at the surf boards piled next to one of the huts. “We, uh, should probably grab a couple of boards before it gets too dark.”

  My stomach drops. “Yeah, good idea.” The pull is almost too much for me to process. I’ve never been so captivated by a man before, especially one who I don’t know from my mailman. Although, I’m pretty sure if my mailman looked like Evan, I’d have met him a long time ago.

  He backs away, but I can still see the wistful look in his eye. My heart thrums under his penetrating stare. Butterflies in my belly awaken and swarm as the dimple in his left cheek deepens. It’s been so long, I didn’t think they’d even remember how to flutter their wings. Good God, talk about a panty-dropping smile. Actually, scratch that. Evan’s smile alone could melt them off my body. Maybe later. A girl can hope.

  I follow him over to the pile of boards. I’d much rather have him screw me on top of one of them instead of dealing with the embarrassment of a certain wipeout. I don’t know why I’m torturing myself like this…again. I’m pretty sure my body just isn’t made for surfing, a fact that had been proven again and again throughout the week.

  Evan grabs two boards and drags them down to the shore. He pulls off his shirt and I bite down on my lower lip. Holy fuck. How was it possible that his body was even more perfect than what I’d memorized earlier on the beach? When is perfect ever an understatement? If I weren’t standing in front of him, I’d swear those abs were airbrushed on his tanned skin. His inked biceps flex as he pulls the boards behind him, and holy crap, I just want to lick every last line and swirl.

  I take a few steps toward him, digging my toes into the cool, velvety sand. I reach down and pull the hem of my sundress over my head. It’s a slow, seductive movement that isn’t lost on Evan. The wistful look has gone full-fledged carnal as he waits for me to join him
on the shore. I toss the dress onto the sand next to my discarded sandals and add a little swing to my hips, slinking toward him with a slow and sexy gait that makes his jaw twitch. Oh, yes.

  Maybe I should have been a little more careful about taking surfing lessons from some strange guy on a desolate beach, but something about Evan settles me. I saw him on the beach today. I mean, he’s impossible to miss, with the physique of a Greek god, but it was more than just his looks that lassoed me so tightly. The man oozes charm and charisma. People are naturally drawn to him. Hell, I’d experienced it first hand, watching…okay…ogling from a distance. Surfer wannabes buzzed around him all afternoon on the beach, asking for tips, getting his autograph, and posing for pictures. If he were looking for peace and quiet, he’d definitely come to the wrong place. But it never stopped him from flashing that magical smile and making anyone approaching him feel at ease. He was a natural – gorgeous, engaging, talented, and sexy as fuck.

  So I decided to gamble. I’ve been wrong about men before, blind to their motives, but this feels different. Not that I’d let on to Evan, but I already knew about the struggles he faced after his brother’s death, courtesy of Google. Once I’d spotted him on the beach, I immediately consulted with my search engine of choice. I found out that he’d all but hung up his board until he founded a youth surfing organization, called SurfsUp, for troubled teens in honor of his brother. Evan’s not only a surfing champion, but a huge philanthropist to boot. Exactly the kind of guy I need right now.