Paradise Bay: Resort 1 (Surrender Isle #1)

by Havana Scott

  “No, love. You don’t understand.”

  “Love? I can’t believe you told me I needed to forget Ben. Meanwhile, you’re catering to your own blast from the past. Nice. What’s good for the goose isn’t good for the gander, I guess.”

  “Paris, I just…” He ran a hand through his thick dark hair, looked out to sea for the right words, then looked back. “How was Ben?”

  His question threw me off. “Huh?”

  “How…was Ben? How was he? Was he okay?” I tried to find some hint of ballsy insincerity, but there was none.

  “No. No, Tristan. He tried to commit suicide. That’s why I had to leave. Why are you asking about him? It’s not like you care.”

  “I do. I was actually worried and felt bad for the guy. I know you loved him. I know you care for him, and that made me care for him too. Is that so terrible?” He let his arms fall at his sides.

  Could that be true? I couldn’t tell anymore what was real, but at that moment, I decided this: Tristan, unlike Ben, had not given me any reason to doubt him. So there was no earthly reason why I shouldn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. If he said he felt sorry for Ben, then I would take it for face value. “Thanks. I think he’ll be okay. He has a long road ahead of him.”

  That felt good sharing that with Tristan, and nobody getting hurt over it.

  “You know,” he said, “you did the right thing by leaving your marriage. You could’ve dragged it out, but you didn’t. Leaving him might’ve been the best thing that ever happened to him. To wake him up, make him see what he lost if he doesn’t change his ways.” Tristan bent to pick up a stick in the sand and chucked it into the trees. “It worked for me.”

  “Is that true?”

  Flinging a little piece of wood out of his fingers, he swayed over to me and took my hands. “Every word.”

  “Then, why did you turn to Tatianne after I left?” I wanted to understand. I believed in explanations, in listening, in gray areas, and more than anything, I wanted to clear the fog from my brain, because Paradise Bay wasn’t about murkiness, it was about clarity.

  “I was trying to find that balance between having a history and rekindling friendship. Paris…I was trying to be like you.”

  Chapter 20

  “Me?”

  “Yes.” Touching her hands again made my chest expand in the most surprising of ways. “You still see Ben as a good person, even though he hurt you. That takes guts. To be able to let go of those holding you down but still see them in the best light possible. To still love them without anger. You…” I could finally slip my hands around that sweet face again. “You are an amazing woman. You know that?” I longed to kiss the lips I’d been missing for three weeks, taste the mixture of sweet and salty tears. “Do you believe me?”

  Paris’s face dropped into my hands. She nodded.

  “Can I kiss you now?”

  “Wait. So, you and Tatianne haven’t…”

  “Been together? No.”

  “Not even a kiss?”

  “Yes, she kissed me on the first day she arrived, but it was out of habit, I think. Paris, Tatianne and I have a long and complicated history. Right out of college, I met her and admired her right away. I saw a powerful, confident woman who everybody respected. We all respected René, her husband. I’d never seen such influential people with their feet in different places, so worldly. She taught me a lot about doing business, so in some ways, she is still the master.”

  “You mean the mistress.”

  I smiled at my wordsmith. “Yes, the Mistress of Business. So, in many ways, I become a kid again when I see her. It’s a cycle I have to break free from. But I’ve done a great job. You would’ve been proud of me. While you were gone, we spent time together as friends, but that’s it.”

  “That’s it?” She cocked her head at me.

  I scooped up her hands. I knew her crippling doubt came from a place of hurt, and I could do nothing but reassure her. “Yes. You know who taught me that balance? You.” I tapped her turned up little kid nose.

  She gave me a lingering last look, then slowly slinked her shaking arms around me. I could feel her heart beating through her shirt. “I don’t have a place to stay. I didn’t tell anyone I was coming back.”

  “Of course you have a place to stay.” I lifted her chin and kissed her the way I’d imagined every day and every night since she’d left me behind. “You’re with me.”

  “And Tristan?” She gave me those sweet honey eyes.

  “Yes?”

  “If you ever, and I mean ever, throw money at me to get me to do anything ever again, it’ll be the last time you ever see me. Is that clear?”

  I loved this woman. I nodded. Yes, I’d learned my lesson.

  It was another good day for sailing. On the Booty Catcher, we headed east a few miles into the sea, watched dolphins race the boat, and sat on the bow talking about life, as the sun sank into the horizon behind us. If I was a pirate, then Paris was my greatest treasure. However, she still clung to the pain associated with Ben. As long as he couldn’t move on, she couldn’t move on. It wasn’t a matter of her still loving him; it was a matter of responsibility.

  It occurred to me that if Ben could make peace with his life and take steps toward healing on his own, would Paris then be free? Would this all be over with? Couldn’t this be solved with a conversation? An open dialogue between all parties, just like we did in business meetings? If Paris couldn’t talk her ex into moving on and finding help, maybe an outsider could. She’d mentioned that Ben didn’t have anyone in town he could talk to, that he was mostly alone. Maybe…the man needed someone to talk to.

  Honey eyes reflected sadness I couldn’t remove. It killed me that I couldn’t solve her problem. That’s who I was, a problem solver, a fixer of issues, an extinguisher of fires. I got shit done and made things happen, but I couldn’t make Paris light up again the way she had a month ago when she’d managed to forget her life in Dayton, if only for a few weeks.

  “Paris,” I said, her head resting on my shoulder. “Do you want to forget the book project, so you can focus on other things? I’m totally fine with it. I feel bad that I piled more on your plate, as if you weren’t busy enough. You can work here for free, just work on your book.”

  It was an offer I would only give a girlfriend, but that’s who she was now. She was mine, and I needed to help her all I could.

  Her head popped up. “Tristan, writing about Surrender Isle became my passion project, more than my own book. I’m smitten with this place, you know. It transformed me, even if you don’t think it did. I have a lot to say about it. I would finish writing about it even if you didn’t pay me.”

  Now, that really hit home. The fact that she loved this slab of land as much as I did. It was something else we shared now, a love for a little island nation in the middle of the Lesser Antilles. Not just because it was beautiful but because you could start over here. You could become anyone you wanted on Sorendi, and no one would care.

  “Come here.” I pulled her towards me and gazed into the face I’d grown to love in such a short time. In my soul, I knew that Paris loved me for me, loved us, not any amount in my bank account. Not once had she asked what I was worth, not once had she asked me to buy her anything, not once. Even now she insisted on working, asking for nothing more than a place to lay her head. That was as simple as it got.

  That…was what I’d wanted.

  She kissed me with a renewed sense of purpose. I laid back from the intensity and just accepted it. There was nothing more sexy than a beautiful woman hovering over you wanting you so badly, she consumed you. “Do you want to go into the cabin, or stay here? Because I’m about to do things to you that would scare fish,” she said.

  “Scare them. I dare you.” I smiled against her kiss.

  Closing my eyes, I gave into Paris Jones’s will. I was hers completely and had been from the very first day. I loved the sensation of her soft hair sweeping trails over my chest, as she kissed my
body, her hands massaging my arms. I loved when she kissed the space below my navel and curled her fingers into the waistline of my shorts, the feeling that twitched inside of me when I thought about all that would come next.

  With deft fingers, she traced the outline of my hardening cock through my shorts, cupping the entire package. She knew what was in there—she’d seen it plenty of times before, but maybe she needed to see it again, up close this time? He, he. I unbuttoned the button, but suddenly, my hands were shoved aside. “I got this,” she murmured.

  “Yes, ma’am. Let me know if two hands aren’t enough.” I chuckled, and my arms came up and crossed behind my head. I wouldn’t be driving this boat tonight. I was in the skilled hands of Captain Paris Jones. My shorts slid off, and that awesome breeze hit my naked skin, which combined with her hot breath, made me want her harder than ever. What I loved about Paris was how naughty she was underneath that good girl exterior, as evidenced by her pressing her cheek against my cock and breathing in my scent. “You’re a bad girl, you know that?”

  “You make me this way.” Her voice, a rough whisper. It only made me harder. In one swooping motion, I was swallowed up, engulfed by her warm mouth and tongue, creating a fantastic suction.

  “God, yes…”

  There was nothing as fucking awesome as a woman knowing how to grip your cock almost better than you, tap it against her mouth, and slap it on her tongue before taking you in again. I wanted to explode inside of her, but she was still having fun with me, and who the fuck was I to argue? “You do that well,” I said. In fact, she did it too well, and though I prided myself on my ability to hold it together, if she kept it up, I would soon explode.

  “I have the perfect toy to play with.” She swallowed the entire length of me then pulled it out with a pop, running her tongue against the side. Oh, my fucking God.

  “I’m not going to argue there.”

  “Shut up and let me do my job, babe.”

  Babe. She called me babe again. It’s been weeks since I’d heard it, and I almost fucking cried right then. Between the breeze, the rocking of the ocean guiding my cock in and out of her warm mouth, the stars hanging overhead, and the purple and yellow swirls in the clouds, I believed in Heaven again. Paris Jones’s beautiful mouth, bringing me closer to God.

  I couldn’t decide if I wanted to come inside her mouth or her sweet pussy. It was like choosing between Nirvana or the Promised Land. Choices, choices. Then, I remembered it wasn’t up to me. It was up to my woman, pulling up her T-shirt and unplucking her bikini top, tossing it aside. Paris had the most wonderfully perky natural breasts that I could imagine still being perfect even fifty years from now.

  “Stay where you are,” she said, sliding down her shorts, showing me her world.

  “I wasn’t planning on going anywhere.” My eyes were transfixed on her smoothly shaved pussy and the way her fingers dipped in to separate her lips, giving me a show.

  My eyes must’ve rolled into the back of my head, because she bit her lip, satisfied with her seductive prowess and climbed over me. But she wasn’t going where I thought she was—to sit and ride me to the end. Oh, no. To my delight, she had other plans for that soaked pussy, and it was a lot more north. With an impish grin, she brought herself down onto to my face, her knees on either side of my head, my whole sky eclipsed by an even greater view.

  “Yessss…bring that down on me,” I said. And then sweetness, the fucking juiciness of those plump lips and aching clit, its fire dousing itself out against my tongue. Grinding in circles, Paris moved herself on my tongue, and I used my fingers together with my mouth in different ways until I heard her moans increase.

  “I don’t want to come yet,” she murmured. Torture for me, because I wanted to keep eating her, shoving my face into her pussy, and becoming lost in her world. There was nothing I wanted more at this moment, except maybe to be inside of her.

  She slid her wet pussy down my chest, leaving a trail of delight, and paused right as she reached my throbbing hardness. I couldn’t stand this foreplay anymore. She was killing me with her self-control, but I couldn’t handle it. Paris had made me weaker than I’d ever known. If she didn’t plunge over me soon, I’d be wrapping my arms around her waist and taking over. Luckily, she kissed me deep and looked into my eyes.

  “I love you, Tristan.”

  She left me no space to say anything back, because right at that moment, her body took me in, and I was inside of her, groaning for no one but her to hear. I love you, she’d said. Nothing mattered more.

  The sea rocked just for her and me. I would say she made love to me, but it was more. It was pure body and soul. It was Paris lost in some other place, eyes closed, strong thrusts, fingers pressing on her clit, and she transformed into a woman born from the half-shell, an Aphrodite rising from the ocean, fucking me hard over and over again, until she didn’t need me anymore, and her legs began to tighten, and her whole body stiffened. I watched a wave of goose bumps spread all over her arms, hardening those pink nipples, flushing her lightly tanned chest and neck, and expelling through her moans.

  “That’s it, love. Let it go…”

  For a moment, I almost saw her ghosts and demons escaping her, as love triumphed over worry, and because I’d never seen anything so organic and breathtaking in my life, I let go and spilled myself all the way into her. My woman. She collapsed on top of me, so I could hold her tight and give her my last strokes and plunges until there was nothing left but a peace unlike anything I’d ever known, and the deep amethyst night turned to black, and my boat rocked us both to sleep.

  Hours later, I awakened to darkness, carried Paris into my cabin and covered her with blankets. It might’ve been midnight, it might’ve been 3 a.m. I didn’t know because I couldn’t find my phone, and my eyes were hazy from crying. Yes, I remember crying as I fell asleep now. So much had changed. So much still to go.

  I drove us back to shore and docked behind the main house. This woman was my life now, and I had no greater goal than making her happy. Tatianne would have to go soon. I’d pay her what I owed her as soon as the next quarter closed, and then we’d need to put our past to rest.

  But more importantly, there was someone I needed to speak to, and he was twenty-five hundred miles away. I was scared to tell Paris what my plans were, because I knew she would try and stop me. But it needed to be done. Out on the stern to not wake her, I called Natasha to get arrangements made, then I packed a simple bag, and climbed onto the dock. At the end was Michel’s Jeep, waiting in darkness to pick me up.

  “Where to, monsieur?”

  “Airplane.”

  Chapter 21

  In the morning, my eyes opened to the sound of ocean sloshing against the boat. Tristan was nowhere to be found, odd considering our beautiful evening the night before. I checked my texts, even though we rarely texted—it wasn’t our thing. Texting and primitive natural settings didn’t go together. No messages there.

  I quieted the panicky voices in my mind. After all, my boyfriend was a resort mogul with an island full of responsibilities on his shoulders. He’d probably left to go do something important. I’d seen him in meetings with Noah before, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he was sitting under a tiki hut somewhere, going over numbers with that lucky UM hat on.

  Come to think of it, I probably needed to get to work, too. Much to write, much to accomplish. I moved my things to the top deck, and that was when I saw them—an assortment of exotic flowers tied up with a ribbon, laying on one of the seats. Next to it, another Post-It. I giggled at Tristan’s inclination for handwritten notes. It read:

  A meeting in Miami? Well, I supposed if you were an important businessman in the Caribbean, and your mother still lived there, it was perfectly normal and acceptable to fly off to Miami. I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d forgotten the meeting because of the way I’d shown up yesterday unannounced and completely interrupting things.

  With a goofy grin on my face, I sat under the bridge’s
roof with my laptop. A soft wind blew through the bay, however, and since I hadn’t written a word in the travel book about boating or swimming in crystal clear waters, I decided on a morning swim to connect myself to the experience.

  Coming up for air, I found the boat still stacked up against the dock and climbed aboard. I toweled off, foraged in Tristan’s small kitchen for something to eat, then got straight to work. I wrote two chapters about Sorendi’s magical ocean life. I could get used to this—make love, swim, write, wonder how Tristan is doing, write again—rinse and repeat.

  If everything he said yesterday was to be believed, it seemed he and I were on a serious path. Things seemed to change quickly, intensely. In a matter of two months, my life had taken dips and turns only dreamed of in movies. Still, a voice in the back of my mind warned, It may end one day…don’t get too attached. I told the voice to shut the fuck up. I controlled my own destiny now.

  “Hello?” A woman spoke from behind me. Sounded like, Ah-lo…

  I turned around to find the same woman from my villa standing there, though it was hard to confirm her identity with her boobs covered. Yes, it was definitely her because of the same sassy attitude in her stance. “Can I help you?” I asked.

  Tatianne. This was Tatianne, up close and personal. “Is Tristan here?”

  “He had something to do.”

  “Or someone.” She chuckled, reaching for a taut rope to steady herself with. Was that supposed to be funny?

  “He went to Miami. For a meeting,” I elaborated. I crossed my legs and waited for her to announce why she was here.

  “So, you’re Paris?” she asked.

  “Yes.” I watched her walk toward me slowly, a slight swing in her hips, the body language of a woman ready to challenge. “And you’re Tatianne?”