The Bad Boys of Eden

by Avery Aster

  “Tessa, listen to me. Please.”

  I turn around. “Tonight was amazing and I don’t know why it happened that way, if it was because we’re somehow star-crossed lovers or if it was simply because we faced a life and death situation together.” I rub my temples because they are suddenly throbbing. “But I can’t be the person you want me to be. I can’t even be my future self. That’s not me. At least, not me yet.”

  He’s silent and in the silence I come up with more reasons not to stay.

  “I care about you Christophe. I mean, you mean so much to me.”

  “Tessa.”

  “I do love you. I don’t know how it happened but I do.”

  “Tessa look at me.”

  “But I can’t stay.” I turn, pleading for him to understand. “I can’t.”

  “I know.” He takes my face and frames it. “Tessa. I know.”

  “You do?”

  He nods. “You’re going to leave. You need to. It’s okay.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes.

  “So, that’s it?” Out of the blue, my chin quivers and I realize there’s a part of me that doesn’t want to leave. I don’t. I cover up the instant pain gnawing at my heart by saying, “You’re not going to go into some big speech on how I run away from commitment and that it’s all based on my fear of abandonment?”

  He touches my face and I realize genuine love shines from his blue eyes. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  His hand lingers on my jaw before caressing the length of my throat and my collarbones to gently hover over my heart. Instantly the warmth of our connection starts to cycle, from my heart to his and my pussy awakens with joy, anticipating the union of his body and mine. Yearning for that higher space. “Do you want me to?”

  I shake my head but it’s not an up and down motion, more circular, like I’m not sure what I want.

  He exhales. “I thought you were like me, the way I was before, unable to love. But I was wrong about you. You do love.” He cups my cheek. “You love fiercely. Then you let your love go. That is probably the most difficult thing in the world to do.”

  My breath hitches in my throat, staggering in and out as I nod.

  “That is truly unconditional.”

  I swallow down the sob that is making me feel like everything he’s saying about me is a lie. “I want to see you again,” I blurt out.

  “You will.” He shuts his eyes and leaves them closed for a minute, as if he’s seeing something behind his closed lids. When he opens his eyes, he says, “You’ve got to teach me, remember?” He sucks in air and then exhales a long slow breath. “After that? Maybe one day we will meet again and share a life together.” He strokes my cheek. “But…” His smile is tender. “That day is not today.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  The next morning I wake to find myself alone in bed. I sit up quickly, thinking maybe Christophe has already left, but he hasn’t. He’s sitting outside on the veranda, drinking coffee and watching the surf. His bags sit by the door.

  “Good morning.”

  He smiles and stands, pulling a chair out for me. “Good morning, Tessa.” Once I’m seated, he kisses the top of my head.

  We eat breakfast in silence, watching the water, the trees, the clouds. Being there together rather than trying to fill the silence with empty words.

  We take our used dishes inside and he sits and waits while I pack. Once everything is done, he walks straight up to me, arms open wide, and I fall against his chest. “Thank you,” I whisper.

  “For what?”

  “For everything.”

  “There is no need. Thank you goes both ways. I owe you my life.”

  He holds me tight and our bodies fit together as if we were made for one another. After a long moment of holding one another and breathing together, he pulls back in order to smile down at me. It’s not a sad smile, but wistful, maybe.

  “You must do something for me.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Promise to live your life fully. Love fiercely. No fear.”

  “I can do that.”

  His wistfulness turns to mischievousness. “Good. Because the plane is waiting.”

  “Waiting? Waiting for what?”

  “To take us skydiving.”

  * * *

  As the plane rises through the air I plaster my face to the window, watching the island shrink into a tiny pinprick below us. Suddenly there isn’t enough air in the cabin and I swivel, expecting to see Christophe fighting for breath like me.

  He isn’t.

  I point to the window, to the nearly invisible island. Our unseen target. “We’re too high.” I gulp in air. “I can’t even see the island anymore.” Another gulp. “How on earth are we supposed to land on it if we can’t see it?”

  “We use our bodies and currents to fly to it.”

  “That does not make me feel better, Christophe.” The sentence is said in a quick staccato in between panting breaths.

  “Calm down. You’re going to be fine.”

  “I do not feel fine.” I glance worriedly out the window once more. “Wasn’t yesterday’s near death experience enough for you?”

  “There is an expression about falling off a horse and getting right back on again. Do you know it?”

  “It’s a bicycle.”

  “In French it’s a horse.”

  “It’s a stupid expression.”

  “Yet wise.”

  “Fuck off.”

  His laughter, particularly as it comes through the headset, drives me crazy and does not have the effect of calming me. He takes my hands. “Tessa? Look at me. We’re almost at ten thousand feet.”

  I have no option but to look at him.

  “Where are you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In your mind. What are you thinking about?”

  “Death. I’m thinking about dying. I’m thinking about how it will feel to go splat.”

  He suppresses a grin. “Stop thinking about that. Concentrate on what’s happening to you right now. Listen to your breath, feel it move in through your nose, down your throat, into your lungs and then…out again. Focus on your stomach, tell it to relax.” He moves behind me, pulling on parts of my harness as he continues to talk. “Close your eyes. Keep them closed. Feel everything. Taste your fear. What does it taste like? Is it metallic? Sour?”

  There is more tugging behind me and Christophe snugs himself right against me. Suddenly I am less conscious of the parts of me that aren’t in contact with him.

  “Let go, Tessa. Let go.”

  There’s a loud woosh and I feel myself falling, falling.

  He tricked me! All that thinking about other things was to distract me from falling out of an airplane and plummeting toward earth and certain death! The sky above me is endless and blue and the silver plane is already out of my grasp. Yet I reach for it stupidly and my body reacts by kicking as if I’m swimming against the strongest current imaginable.

  Relax. I’ve got you.

  How the fuck is his voice in my head? How is he so fucking calm?

  Listen to me. I’m going to maneuver us so we’re face first. Arms and legs wide.

  Before I have a chance to scream, he does it. He controls our movement so that I’m falling, belly flop-style, and he’s attached to my back. Or I’m attached to his front. Whichever it is, I’m hitting the ground first.

  Look around you. Take it in.

  Easy for him to say! My cheeks are flapping because of the inhuman speed we are traveling at as we make a beeline for the earth…

  See the color of the ocean? See the island?

  I do see the island because it is approaching us at an alarming rate. Randomly, I notice its shape. Oblong with one end coming to a point and the other end wide and rounded. A giant phallus.

  The sight is hysterical. I look around to see if there are other islands in the area. Maybe there’s one shaped like a vagina right next door. That would be fun
ny. With a little continental shift, maybe the two will come together and make baby islands.

  Oh, oh.

  Weird shit means Tessa is panicking.

  Suddenly my body is jerked up, like we got caught on something. A cloud? A passing airplane? I close my eyes, waiting for death.

  Open your eyes, Tessa. I’m releasing you. It’s time for me to go.

  Looking up, I see the parachute above us, a rainbow against a cloudless sky. Too bad there aren’t any clouds. I wonder what it would feel like to fall through clouds. Could you feel them? Would you get wet?

  My face isn’t flapping anymore and I realize we are no longer plummeting, but floating. The buildings on the island are decipherable, the castle, the villas, the pools and even the dock. The panic of a second ago turns into euphoria. So this weightless floating is what it feels like to fly.

  Wow.

  It’s amazing. Liberating. Freeing.

  I love it!

  I reach around to try and grasp Christophe’s hand but…

  He’s not there.

  My head swivels three hundred and sixty degrees, searching for the man who was tethered to me. Where the fuck is he?!

  Relax. He may not be there but his voice is still inside my head. There are red handles on either side of your vest. When I tell you to pull, pull.

  Panic rears its ugly head and I start to flail, trying to catch a glimpse of Christophe.

  You can do it, Tessa.

  Gravity is a tangible force and the beach is coming up to greet me whether I like it or not. Just before I hit the sand, I hear, pull!

  I do as instructed, pulling the handles down just yards above the ground. The parachute bows, lifting me before setting me down on the ground. I do not go splat, I do not fall on my face. I land on my feet as if I’ve jumped out of an airplane a million times before.

  Once I get my bearings, I realize there are people on the beach, some just watching, others are clapping. I smile, a confused, life-infused, holy-fuck-what-just-happened smile.

  Andre appears from seemingly out of nowhere and helps to unclip me from the parachute. I remove the helmet and wriggle out of the dive suit, handing it over him. He stows it in the golf cart and that’s when I notice my luggage loaded in the back basket.

  “I hope you enjoyed the jump, Ms. Savage.”

  “I did. It was…amazing. Oh my God! I can’t believe I did that.” I search the sky above. “But…where’s Christophe?”

  “Who?”

  “Mr. Chevalier. Christophe Chevalier.”

  Andre frowns. “Christophe Chevalier?” He says the name slowly, annunciating each syllable with deliberation. “Monsieur Chevalier isn’t scheduled to arrive for another year.”

  “Are you kidding me right now?”

  “I assure you, I am not.”

  “But I was just in a plane with him. We were skydiving. I’ve spent the entire vacation with him.” I grab Andre’s shirt like I’m accusing him of lying. “Where is he? A man can’t just vanish into thin air.”

  Andre takes hold of my hands and gently removes them from his shirt. He gets a weird expression on his face and says, “Actually, Ms. Savage, on Eden it is quite possible for a man to vanish into thin air.”

  I pull away, shaking my head.

  No. It can’t be. I was just with him.

  I tug on the front of my tank top and sniff. I can still smell his aftershave. He was here. I know he was. I scan the clear blue sky, certain there must be another speck up there, another parachute. There has to be.

  Welcome to Eden where reality is whatever you want it to be.

  I spin towards Andre. “Did you say something?”

  “No.” He approaches me, slowly, like he’s not sure what I might do. “Joely will be landing shortly and once she does, she’ll be ready to fly you to the mainland.” He pauses. “Are you ready to go, or do you need a moment?”

  “Give me a second.”

  With my hand to my forehead I search the empty sky, the ocean, the beach. He’s not here. I know he isn’t. As impossible and crazy as it is, Christophe is gone. Maybe he was never here.

  I close my eyes, trying to comprehend what’s going on. The second my eyes are shut, I see Christophe, his dark hair, his impossibly blue eyes, his full lips, the short beard accentuating his square jaw. His smile. His laughter. His scent.

  I have no idea how all of this is possible but what I do know is that it has happened. Here I was afraid Christophe was going to ask too much of me and now that he’s the one who’s gone, I long for him to ask me to stay with him. To show me more.

  “We only just started,” I whisper to the sky. “You can’t leave. Not yet.”

  Behind my closed eyes and in my head I hear Christophe’s voice, the voice of the future or of the past, I can’t tell.

  Of course I’ll see you again. You’ve got to teach me, remember? And, after that? Maybe one day we will meet again and share a life together. But…that day is not today.”

  No matter how hard I try to make sense of everything, I am completely baffled. How can a paradox like my relationship with Christophe exist? It’s a total mind fuck and it’s next to impossible to wrap my head around it. I mean, what the hell does this mean?

  I guess I am supposed to visit Eden again and when I do, I will see Christophe again. As sad and confused as I am about not having the opportunity to properly say goodbye to him, I feel light. I feel a sense of peace and joy that I sure as hell didn’t feel on my trip to Eden.

  I know beyond a doubt that when I see Christophe again—oh my God!—I am going to have so much fun teaching him and breaking him of his sexual habits. In the meantime I have so much to learn.

  Good lord. This whole thing could drive a girl to drink.

  “Ms. Savage?” Andre says a few minutes later.

  I open my eyes, finally accepting that Christophe is gone…for now

  “Are you ready?”

  Even though I know I won’t find anything, I have to search the sky one more time. Finally, I turn to Andre and nod.

  I am not going to find Christophe here. Not today. But I will somewhere, sometime, and when I do, it will be un-fucking-believable.

  I can’t wait for that day.

  # # #

  Thanks for reading HOW TO TEMPT A TYCOON, I hope you enjoyed it!

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  About Daire St. Denis

  Daire St. Denis is a New York Times and USA Today bestselling author. She’s an adventure seeker, an ancient history addict, a seasonal hermit and a wine lover. She writes smoking hot, contemporary romance where the pages are steeped in sensuality and there’s always a dash of the unexpected. The best way to spice things up is to check out her new series of interactive tales, WICKED WAY INTERACTIVES, a fun new format in sexy storytelling.

  Check out other exciting titles by Daire St. Denis…

  How to Choose a Cowboy – A Savage Interactive

  How to Break a Cowboy – A Savage Tale

  How to Train a Lover – A Savage Interactive

  How to Debauch a Biker – A Savage Tale

  How to Free a Biker – A Savage Tale ~ coming in 2015

  How to Marry a Cowboy – A Savage Interactive ~ coming in 2015

  Mustang Sassy

  Sex, Spies and Photographs – A Wicked Way Interactive

  Reckless for Cowboy – Stampede Sizzlers

  Party of Three

  Turn the page for an excerpt of How to Debauch a Biker – A Savage Tale

  How to Debau
ch a Biker – A Savage Tale

  Daire St. Denis

  Excerpt

  That’s the thing about Gray. I never know what to expect from him. One second he’s charging me, holding me captive against a wall, the next second he’s compliant, doing everything I ask him to do. It’s like his perceived sickness—which isn’t a sickness at all—has turned him into a wild, rabid animal. Unpredictable.

  “Gray?” I call. “Are you okay?”

  No answer.

  Shit.

  I take a deep breath and open the door to the bedroom. He’s still there. Not asleep. Nope. His legs are free, he must have broken the thinner cords—gulp—and his eyes are wide open. Shit-fucka-shit. It’s not a storm brewing in his fierce gaze, it’s a hurricane in full fury. Flashes of golden lightning pierce right through my leather jacket. Gusts of angry breaths ruffle my hair as I inch closer.

  “Hold still,” I say, working the knots attaching him to the headboard. Whatever he’s done, whatever struggles have taken place, the knots are too tight and there’s no way I can undo them.

  “Wait here.”

  A low voice stops me in my tracks. “If you leave me again, I will kill you.”

  My laughter has a panic-stricken quality to it. “I won’t leave. I promise. I just need scissors or a knife. I’ll be right back.”

  With my arms wrapped around my mid-section, I stumble to the kitchen, replaying Gray’s threat over and over. I’ll kill you, I’ll kill you. No. Not Gray’s threat. That’s Sonny Holt lying on the bed in there.

  After rifling through drawers, I find a sharp knife and hurry back to the bedroom to saw off the ties. “You should have used the word,” I mumble as I saw.

  The cord gives and Gray lowers his arms with a groan. While his hands are still bound together, I scurry out of the bedroom, going back out into the common area, keeping a firm grip on the knife.

  Seconds later he emerges, his limping gait slow and measured. His gaze narrows. “Don’t ever do that again.”

  “Okay.” So he doesn’t like humiliation. I get it. I won’t do it again. No problem. Lesson learned. I swallow and then swallow again to keep the bile from rising.

  “Drop the knife.”

  Oh dear God.

  “Come here.”

  “Listen, Sonny…”