by S. L. Scott
He doesn't say anything, but the knowing, self-satisfied grin beaming across his face says he understood perfectly. Damn it! He gets me all flustered. My phone beeping brings my attention back to the present, and I pray he doesn't respond to that last comment. The text from Sunny reads: Stuck here a few more hours. Don’t waste your time here. Go to the apartment. The spare key is under the potted plant on the porch. Sorry.
I text back: Call me as soon as you can. I’m worried.
She’s quick to respond: I’ll call you later.
"How's your friend?" Evan asks.
"Fine, but she's stuck awhile longer. Do you mind dropping me off at her place? I have the address."
He looks over at me then back to the road. His tone is kind. "Why don't I take you out for a bite to eat? I'm sure you're hungry after traveling and then I’ll deliver you to your friend's place in time to greet her."
"I'd like that." My brain is not functioning properly because I know if it was then all of my instincts to protect my heart would be telling me to end this now. But since it’s not, I find myself being driven on a date. Is this a date? No, it can’t be because he has a girlfriend even if he’s not admitting it yet.
He pulls into the parking lot of a palm frond themed diner. I reach down to the floorboard and grab my purse when suddenly my door is opened and he’s standing there offering me a hand. He may be trying to charm the pants off me, but I won’t fight against a polite gesture. Maybe it’s time for me to look past his surface suave moves and have some fun. "Thank you," I say, taking hold of his warm hand.
He follows me into the restaurant, also holding that door open. “After you,” he says, smiling. It’s a more kind, relaxed smile than before.
After a few minutes perusing the menu, he places his hands on the table and intertwines his fingers. His eyes focus on mine, penetrating me more than I’m accustomed to. "So, in the short time I've known you…" He looks at his watch jokingly, "… I think I've got you all figured out."
"Really? Let me hear it. This should be entertaining, if nothing else."
The waitress interrupts his ridiculous assumptions and we place our orders.
He smiles then proceeds with an in-depth description that hits too close to home to admit to him. "You're an only child who's originally from a state with heavy winters on the Mainland. You've had boyfriends, but you're currently single. You've probably never had a guy do his due diligence in bed thus making sex for you almost a chore instead of pleasure—"
"No! What? I don't…what?" My words stumble out of my mouth in disbelief of the gall of him to talk about my sex life. "That's way too personal for you to be talking about."
"I'm just telling the truth and that's what you like the most in someone—the truth."
"No one likes to be lied to," I justify, shrugging.
"No, but not everyone wants to hear the truth either."
I roll my eyes. Quite riveted by his summary of me, I close my mouth and act like this doesn’t bother me at all. Sitting back, I cross my arms over my chest and try to gain some control back from him. Without warning, he continues. "You can handle the truth even if it's not pretty. But, let me get back to the good stuff. You like to make-out, but you make guys wait a pre-determined amount of days before hopping into the sack with them. That has nothing to do with the guy, but just to make you feel better about letting them into your panties in the first place."
"Please keep my panties out of this conversation," I scold with disdain.
"Yes, ma'am." His arms slide off the table to his sides. "You're a good student and ambitious. You don't work because your parents saved all their pennies to send you to college and want you to 'concentrate' on your studies?"
"Grants and scholarships," I interject, correcting him as our food is delivered and set down in front of us.
"I'll allow the adjustment, but I find it funny that you choose to correct only that part of my analysis, meaning I'm not wrong when it comes to your sex life." The smirk reappears and broadens in delight, but at my expense.
My cheeks heat as humiliation creeps across my face. I don't know if I should say anything so I sit there looking out the window and stew, but this time annoyed at myself. I shovel a big bite into my mouth to stop the smart-ass remark threatening to come out.
"C'mon, Mallory, I didn't mean to embarrass you. I'm just giving you a hard time."
I finish chewing and say, "We don't know each other well enough to give each other that hard of a time."
"Okay then. How can I get to know you better because I really want to?"
My mouth drops open as I witness earnestness wash across his face coloring him in a whole new light. "Tell me who the girl at the airport was?"
"Her name is Kelly. She was vacationing here and we kind of… hooked-up." He shrugs, dismissing any importance of the situation.
"How long was she here on vacation?"
He hesitates and for some reason that makes me nervous for his reply. "She was here for a week—"
"A week! By the way you two were attacking each other's mouths, I would've thought you were a couple for a lot longer than a week." I'm shocked. This guy might be even smoother than I originally thought.
"I never said I was a knight in shining armor. I'm not and I never will be. I'm way too selfish to try that hard."
His confession makes me sad for him. Leaning forward, I lower my voice and ask, "Not even for the right girl?"
"The right girl? I'm one of those guys who believes in the right now kind of girl. I'll openly admit I'm a relationship-phobe. These girls—"
"These girls?" The way he refers to them is insulting. They’ve become of mish-mash of females to him, losing their identity once they leave the island.
"Yes, these girls. I don't lie. I tell them the truth." He looks down at his food, shifting in the booth, suddenly uncomfortable in his stance. "I think I just lied to you.” He clears his throat. “I don't lie to them about what to expect from me when it comes to a real relationship, but I do tend to send them off on a little lie. In my mind, it makes their long journey home more bearable."
"Because otherwise, they would be crying themselves to sleep on the plane? What if they didn't? What if they used you just like you used them? What if they lied to you?"
"The difference is I don't care if they lie to me. It's all inconsequential in the end. Obviously, in the time we spent together, it didn't rock my world enough to change my course or theirs."
He’s sitting across from me and his shoulders ease, like a burden has been lifted. For some reason this conversation is cathartic for him. His eyes settle on mine, and as we look at each other, both unable to eat, I feel a tugging at my own burdens.
"I'd like to take you somewhere," he whispers.
"Is this the same somewhere you take all the ladies to impress them before sexing them up?"
"Sexing them up?" He tilts his head and looks at me like I'm crazy.
"You know what I mean."
I can tell he's already over the comment. After an awkward few minutes, I ask him about Hawaii and he tells me about some hotspots to check out. By the time we’re finished eating, he shifts, obviously preparing to close the dating deal. Staring into my eyes, he says, "Mallory, I’d like to take you to one of my favorite places on the island." Here it comes, his out. "I've been honest with you and already said too much, but I can tell you that even though I won't be a knight, I am a good person. I also promise to be honest with you, always. I’ve got your lunch." He pays the bill as I mull over what he just said.
His words hit me harder than expected. He's telling me not to rely on him, but to trust him. It's an interesting situation because I want to spend more time with him, but I really don't want to set myself up for heartache. With the unfamiliar feel of the aloha spirit taking over, I find myself open to his proposal even at the risk of a little heart damage.
My phone buzzes as we walk to the car. Deciding to ignore these typical girly feelings swirling inside of me at
the sight of this too cocky boy actually getting his way with me, I answer the call. "Hi," I say thrilled to hear from Sunny while sliding into the leather seat.
"Mallory, I love youuuuuu."
Shaking my head, I close my eyes knowing she has to be on some strong meds for her to sound this out of it. "How's your hand?"
"My hand?" Silence takes over until she blurts into the phone. "Yes, my hand! It's good. I'm feeling no pain at all. Now I’m going to sleep with Johnny."
“What?”
"Mallory?" A strange male voice comes over the phone.
"Um, yeeesss?"
"Hi, this is Johnny. I’m a friend of Sunny’s. We work together." He releases a shaky breath then explains, "She’s on pain meds and a little out of it. I know she feels terrible about this happening on the same day as your arrival. Are you settled in? Do you need anything?"
So this Johnny guy is with Sunny and it makes me wonder if she’s safe. He seems friendly and she trusted him enough to have him at the hospital, so I guess I have to as well. "I'm fine. I'm, uh…out with a friend right now. I don't think I need anything, but if I do, I’ll manage and I'll take care of it. What can I do for Sunny?"
“She’s good. Falling asleep right now. I'll have her at my place for the night. Don’t worry, the doc told me she’ll pass out before the car ride ends.”
“Don’t touch her—”
“I would never take advantage of her. She couldn't drive, and the doctor wanted her to be supervised because of the medicine, so she asked if she could stay with me before he dosed her. She’s told me a lot about you. Guess I’ll finally get to meet you tomorrow."
The name Johnny finally connects in my head when I recall her mentioning him to me and saying they were close. "Yes, she mentioned you, too. Okay, so you're sure about taking care of her tonight because I can do that?"
"She’s no trouble. A little mouthy sometimes,” he says, laughing. “But harmless.”
“That sounds like Sunny all right.”
“Welcome to Hawaii. Oh, and call this number if you need to reach either of us."
"Thanks. I will."
After I hang up, I realize that my plans just dramatically changed. Perhaps it’s fate that has made me available for the remainder of the day. I turn and look at Evan, trying not to get caught, which is difficult when he's already staring at me. He smiles softly, with kindness, no trace of smugness in it at all. I smile then announce, "Is your offer still good?"
The smirk quickly returns and he floors the gas pedal. I guess I got my answer.
Chapter 2
Evan pulls up a long drive that leads to a mansion. Considering his cocky attitude, he would probably only call it a house. After parking to the left, near a paved walkway, he gets out and opens my door. With a nod over his shoulder, he says, "C'mon. It's this way."
The path is shadowed by the house, giving way to an expansive view of the ocean. My breath catches and I’m in awe of the beauty of this vista. Wanting to take a closer look, I stop next to the large pool. Between where I stand and the ocean is a guesthouse with huge windows. And here I thought they only had those on trendy teen dramas.
"I live back here," he says, leading me to the guesthouse.
I roll my eyes. Of course, he does.
He slides the glass door open, and I walk inside. My mouth drops open in awe of the view through the two large windows overlooking the ocean. The sun is setting, which creates a glow that surrounds us making the view even more spectacular. "I can see why this is your favorite place."
He takes me by the hand, causing my heart to skip a beat… or three. His hand is warm and strong, his confidence felt as his pulse beats against my stuttering one. Pausing, he does a minute shake of his head then continues toward the back door with my hand still tucked neatly in his. When the door is opened wide, the breeze flowing through the large room, combined with the view, and the company of a bewildering boy, sets my head spinning.
"I'll be right back," he says, leaving me alone with this natural beauty.
I sit down on the step that leads to the grass, unable to imagine any place better than this. The word paradise could easily be overused if I spent a regular amount of time here. This place is perfection come to life. Until he sits down next to me, and hands me a glass of white wine. That’s when my perfect world gets even better. The wine choice surprises me. "I didn’t take you for a wine guy." I sip.
"I like to enjoy a good glass now and again. But, shhh, don't tell anyone." He laughs at his joke.
I laugh at the whole set-up. "Wine with this view, Evan? I'm sure there are not many girls who haven't had this move played on them. I think your secret might already be out."
He shakes his head, disappointment coloring the defined features of his face and his tone. "Can we drop the games and just enjoy each other’s company? I'm not going to lie to you, remember? I think it's fairly obvious that I find you attractive. You're pretty and smart. I like that. Sometimes that combo is not easily found." He chuckles to himself while swirling his wine in the glass. "Or ever." The last part is just a whisper, but I hear him.
Before I can respond, he looks at me and says, "I'm gonna overlook that biting charm you use to feel secure because I can tell it's not the real you." He stands up and walks a few feet ahead of me, staring at the ocean.
I stand, but I don't join him. Leaning against the house for support, I debate whether I should be insulted or not—no matter how true his assessment of me is. Even if I’m slightly offended, I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s athletic, his shoulder muscles highlighted by the thin cotton of his t-shirt.
I down two gulps of wine, needing the respite it provides.
He turns around and looks me in the eyes, puzzled, as if he doesn’t know what to do about me. Then he’s in motion, rushing forward, his mouth crashing into mine. There's no asking and definitely nothing polite about this kiss. It's needy—he's needy—and I inwardly smile that I've made Mr. Smooth desperate for me. My body reacts and I become just as needy in return. I wrap my arms around his neck without warning, struggling to hold the wine glass in the other. When our tongues meet, he backs me through the open doorway, taking my glass from my hand. I'm dazed, lost in desire for his sexy, heated body against mine. His hands glide over my ribs and down my hips then back up to the sides of my breasts where they linger.
My breathing picks up, the anticipation for what’s to come, building deep within me.
His palms squeeze lightly, pushing my breasts closer together as his hands grip me tighter, grounding me to the spot and to him. His tongue is gentle, unlike when his lips first took possession of mine.
I let my hands roam up his shoulders and toward the back of his neck and push my fingers into his incredibly sexy hair. Just from the little kissing we've done, I don't want to leave him either, now sympathizing with the girl at the airport. I open my eyes to sneak a peek at the Sex God I'm making out with and am once again beaten to the punch. His eyes, though hooded with desire, are already watching me. Clamping them shut again, I moan. "Oh, Evan." Wait, what? Where'd that come from?
He takes that as a sign to continue, which makes me realize how much I want this to happen—how much I need this to happen. It's been too long and… well damn, look at him. His face alone turns me on, so I start to appreciate it with my mouth. I hear him groan internally and I can't help smiling again at the carnal pleasure I derive from that sound.
Kissing down my neck, he stops and asks, "What? What are you smiling about?"
I sigh, answering him despite the sex drunk state I'm currently in. "This feels so good."
A smile flashes across his face before exploring my jaw with his mouth, leaving a wet trail across my skin. "This?"
"Um, yeah, that."
He reaches the base of my neck, and his warm tongue traces the curve of my collar bone. "How about this?" he asks.
I nod enough to encourage him to slide his hands down my body as he continues his kissing journey. Even though I’
m taking all he's giving, I still want more.
"And this?" he asks, teasing with the tip of his tongue flexed flat on my skin.
I don't even bother with an answer because my body's response is answer enough. His hand slides between my legs and rubs roughly up and down, twice, before leaving me well bothered and craving more.
His words are just a whisper, his breath hot against my ear. "What about—"
"Yes! Jesus! Evan, right there, especially there!" My voice is screechy, not even recognizable to me. The word wanton comes to mind.
"Okay, settle down. I was just asking," he says, but I can hear the playfulness in his tone.
My hands work their way down his backside, his muscles flexing under my touch. I take the open invitation and squeeze his ass. Oh good lord, why'd I do that? It's fantastic, hard and rounded. Images of seeing it move up and down as we have sex fuels a surge of ultimate boldness.
My words sound more like a demand than a request. "Take off your shirt." Maybe they are.
His lips stop on my cheek, his hands pause on my waist just under my shirt, and he leans back away from me. With a furrowed brow, he asks, "What kind of guy do you take me for, Mallory?"
"I'm hoping a guy who can back up that bad boy reputation you’ve worked so hard to create."
His hand graces my face and he places a sweet kiss on my forehead. "Oh, baby, I can back it up. Don't you worry your little cotton panties about that. But, I'm a firm believer in ladies first."
His cockiness is growing on me and I'm starting to think he probably can back it up. His hands reach the bottom hem of my shirt and he starts slowly pulling it up, never losing eye contact.
It’s too slow for how much I’m revved up. Feeling confident, I take the shirt into my own hands, lift it over my head, and toss it onto a nearby chair. In these situations, which hasn’t been many times, I usually hide a little, but I don’t want to here. He allows me to feel good about my body. I’m fit, not an athlete and there’s a softness to my curves.
He quickly follows, lifting his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. His abs are not bulky like bodybuilders. His are defined and strong, more natural in form, probably from sports and a healthy lifestyle. I run my fingers over his stomach again as he kisses me with passion. If I allow myself, I might venture to say it's laced with deeper developing emotions.
