Sweetest Sin: Bad Boy Bundle

by Delilah Wilde

  I pull out my wine and glance around the room. Well, they aren’t wine glasses, but the plastic cups sitting next to the coffee pot will definitely hold wine. I grab a cup and start looking through my chaotic suitcases for my wine bottle opener.

  It’s not there. I search through the drawers and shelves around the room. Nothing I can use to open this bottle of wine.

  “Come on there has to be something,” I mutter.

  I take one last look at the delivery cart that carried in my food. And then I can take a breath of relief. Hotel wine bottle opener in hand, I can head out to the patio.

  The hot breeze kisses my skin as I sit down and stare out into the ocean. The moon glides across the black waves below. Lights flicker around at the other windows. It looks like a private beach right in the center of the hotel.

  I take in a deep, humid breath and smile. Oh yes. This is what I need.

  And then someone behind me coughs.

  I whirl around, nearly dropping my plastic cup. Jackson. How in the world did he get onto my patio? Then it hits me. I’m on his patio.

  It’s a shared patio.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you,” he grunts. “I just came out for some air.”

  “It’s, I mean you’re okay. You’re fine. I’m not. I mean I just came out here for some air, too.”

  He leans back against the wall separating our doors and stares up at the stars. “Seems weird that we keep running into each other, huh?”

  “Yea, kind of funny.” I feel like a complete moron. Someday, a man will say something to me and I will have a response that sounds a little more human and normal. But apparently, that is not this day.

  I swear his blue eyes reflect every single star right back out to me. As if they were made to send the stars to me.

  “Well, I’ll leave you alone,” he says and straightens his back. His white undershirt is stuck to his muscles thanks to the humidity in the air. And the moonlight is highlighting every inch.

  “No, don’t. I mean. Would you like some wine?” I hold up the bottle of red Shiraz.

  He smirks and nods as he takes a step closer. That’s when I realize I only have the one plastic cup.

  “Hang on,” he whispers. “I think I have its pair.” He walks into his room and returns with a matching plastic cup.

  “Perfect,” I say with a smile as I pour the wine into his cup.

  He holds his cup up in a mock toast and takes a sip. He swirls the wine against his tongue for a few long seconds and then swallows and takes in a deep breath. “Oh, that’s good. What kind of wine is this?”

  “South Eastern Australian Shiraz,” I gloat.

  “That’s a mouthful. They sell Australian wine at the hotel?”

  “No idea.” I giggle.

  “You smuggled it in?”

  “I guess technically. If you put it that way.”

  He chuckles and takes another sip of wine.

  “Are you going to turn me in?”

  “No,” he says with a smile. “I can’t anyway. Even if I had thought to I already drank some. That makes me your accomplice.”

  I smirk at the joke and sip at my wine. I try to force my eyes to leave his moonlit muscles and return their gaze back to the ocean.

  Minutes tick by like hours and we both just sit and stare out into the distance. The only sound around us is the purr of the hot wind and the sips of wine as it tumbled down our throats. When my cup empties, I pour a bit more in then turn back to Jackson to see if he would like more.

  He holds his cup out to me. I pour more wine into his cup and watch his bright teeth come out into a smile.

  At the end of the bottle, I am already giving myself the mental reminder not to jump into bed with Jackson. Not that I expect him to hit on me. But so far this is the first I’ve seen him without his hand roaming along someone else’s curves. Images of his hands exploring my body flash behind my eyelids even as I try to muster up the willpower to tell him no.

  And then. I didn’t have to.

  “Well, thanks for the wine. I really owe you one,” he says as he salutes me and walks back into his room.

  Did he just salute me?

  Yep.

  Left alone and dumbfounded yet again, I head over to my own room and rinse out the empty wine bottle. I turn out all the lights, glance at the clock, and crawl into the bed.

  1:43 AM.

  As I sink into the soft mattress, the comforter billows up around me. An exhausted moan presses through my lips and I glance around the dark room. The only lights come from outside. Minutes later, the muffled noises of a television come in from next door.

  I roll over and stare out the patio door. Light from his room is shining across the patio. I wonder if he just fell asleep with all the lights and his television on, or if he is really awake and watching television. The air conditioner hummed to life just then, drowning out the music coming from his television.

  Once again, curiosity burns through me. Jackson is a mystery. A man whore who didn’t hit on me? Didn’t even seem interested in hitting on me.

  And why am I so bothered by that? I planned on turning him down, anyway. So am I really so shallow that I’m mad at not having the chance to turn him down?

  I jump from my bed and inch over to the patio door. He’s not sitting out there. Light from his room continues to bounce across the furniture there. Finally, I hold my breath and slide the door open. The television seems louder out here. I step out a bit further, trying to peer into his room without being seen.

  Jackson isn’t even in his room. Confused, I step over closer to his patio door. So far I’ve been able to hear everything in this room. When he opened the door, turned on the television, even when he talked on the phone. So how had he left the room without me hearing him?

  Then his reflection catches my eye.

  The mirror across from his bathroom showed the open door with steam pouring out of it. And there he was, leaning against the wall, clenching his eyes shut. His hand wrapped around his cock as he fantasized.

  “Oh,” I groan. My nipples harden beneath my robe. My eyes are fixed on his huge cock. Twitching. Dancing in his hand.

  Get out of here! My thoughts pull me away from the glorious sight in Jackson’s room. Get out before he sees you.

  I’m still not sure how to think about Jackson. A rude, arrogant man whore who would rather jack off than flirt with me?

  You need to tell the wine to shut. Up.

  The rest of the night passes without any real incidents, allowing me to wake up the next morning feeling refreshed, dehydrated, and hungry.

  I snatch up my jeans and run through the room to put on my clothes. The last thing I want to do right now is miss my chance at breakfast. Maybe the fact that I’m running late means that I’ll miss Jackson.

  No such luck.

  I walk into the hotel restaurant to find one of the best breakfast buffets I have ever seen in my life. After piling on some fruit and waffles, I sit down at a corner table, set up my laptop, and stare at the blank screen again.

  “What are you working on?”

  I glance up from my plate to see Jackson helping himself to one of the other chairs.

  “I, um. Well. Depends on the time of day, I guess.” I have no idea why that’s such a hard question to answer. But for some reason the answer just doesn’t want to come out.

  “Okay. So what are you working on at say….” He pauses to check the clock on his cell phone. “9:33 AM?”

  I snort and shake my head. “Cute. Well, I’m supposed to be working on my novel, if you must know.”

  “Your novel? You’re a novelist?”

  “No. Not exactly. I just, this is my first one actually.”

  “Oh okay. What’s it about?”

  “I haven’t the foggiest idea yet.”

  “Doesn’t sound like much of a novel then.”

  I smirk and drive my fork into a strawberry.

  “So, is that why you came to Thailand? To write this vague novel?
”

  I nod and shrug as I wipe the strawberry juices from my chin. “Yea. I, uh, I quit my job. Just a couple days ago, actually. And so I just needed to get away for a bit. Clear my head. And I always wanted to write a novel so I thought this would be the perfect time.”

  “I get that,” Jackson says as he shovels some eggs and sausage into his mouth. “Not the novel writing thing. But the head clearing. I get that.”

  Five hundred questions rush through my mind all at once. What happened to his sister? Why would he rather masturbate than flirt with me? Instead I just nod my head and start pounding away at my keyboard.

  I’m not even sure what I’m typing. Words, I guess. And they seem to be forming sentences. But as far as whether or not they can come together to form a story still remains to be seen. For now, our little banter will do. Dictating our conversation seems to be the best way for me to get words typed up at all.

  A few minutes later, Jackson finishes cleaning his plate and he grabs a napkin to wipe his lips. He leans back on his chair and stares at me. I keep my glare fixed on my computer screen, trying to ignore his stare.

  “So, what job did you quit to become a novelist?”

  “What?”

  “You said you quit your job, and that led you to coming down here to clear your head and try to write a novel. What job did you quit?”

  “Oh. I. Uh.” The phone call to Felicia runs through my head again. The thunderstorm. John’s voicemail message. Sam’s advice in the bathroom. Tears sting at the back of my eyes. I grit my teeth in an effort to keep them from quivering. After a deep breath I close my laptop and stand up. “It doesn’t really matter.”

  Before he can say anything, I leave the table and head back up the stairs to my room. By the time I get there, I can feel the searing pain lumped at the back of my throat. My breathing is sharp, coming in high pitched wisps.

  I storm into my room, tossing my laptop onto the freshly made bed.

  Chapter Six

  Minutes later, Jackson pounds on my door. I take a deep breath and try to clear the tears still stinging at my eyes.

  “Yea?” I say as I try to force a fake smile across my lips.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you before. With the questions.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Are you sure because you jumped up from the table and ran off pretty fast. You even left your wallet there,” he says as he pulls my wallet from his back pocket.

  “Oh. Shit. Thanks.” I grab the wallet from him and open the door wider to invite him in.

  He smiles and steps into my room, glancing around.

  “Anyway, I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “It’s fine.”

  He nods and kicks at the carpet.

  “Um, do you want some coffee or something? I can brew some?”

  “Yea. That’d be great. Thanks.”

  I pour water into the back of the tiny hotel coffee brewer and get it all set up. Then I walk back over and he takes a seat in the recliner. So I claim a seat near the corner of the bed and stare into the space in front of me.

  “You okay?” Jackson asks.

  “What? Oh yea. I’m fine. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have just bolted like that. I don’t know why I did. I guess I just wasn’t prepared to answer questions about my job.”

  “Fair enough. I don’t really like talking about my job, either.”

  I smile and nod. “And what is it you do?” Porn star, maybe? Professional athlete?

  “I uh — I don’t like talking about it, remember?” Jackson chuckles.

  “Oh my God. Oh you’re right. I’m sorry that was really dumb.”

  “Yea, a little.”

  I laugh with him.

  “Don’t worry about it, I’m just kidding. I’m in marketing. Online marketing, mostly.”

  “Online marketing. You mean like those annoying pop-up ads on the internet whenever I go to a website?”

  He chuckles again and shakes his head. “Well, that is one form of marketing. But no. I don’t do the popup ads thing. My company helps corporations set up their online presence and handles all of their online needs. From making sure their website is being read by the search engines to developing ads and getting them out into social media so they can interact with their customers.”

  “You mean, so like if I see my favorite coffee shop on Instagram, that’s you?”

  Jackson smiles and leans back in his chair. “Not me, but someone from my social interaction department.”

  “You have a social interaction department?”

  He smiles and cocks his eyebrow.

  “Okay, so let me guess. Most of your work can be done online, so you travel like this all the time.”

  He nods and glances around my room. “Yes and no. Yes I do a lot of traveling and yes most of my work is done online so when I do travel I can still check in on everything. But this is my first trip to Thailand. No major clients here to meet. I just came here to try to get away from everything for a few days.”

  The coffee pot beeps at us. I jump off the bed and jog over to get coffee pouring. “Oh, shit.”

  “What. What’s wrong?”

  “I forgot I used one of my cups last night. And housekeeping hasn’t come by yet to restock so I only have one cup.”

  “That’s okay. I’m pretty sure I have one to match your coffee mug, too. I’ll just run next door and grab it real quick.”

  “Okay, great,” I say as he darts out the door.

  Calculating the number of seconds it will take him to get into his hotel room, grab the plastic cup from his coffee pot, and get back over here is going to take me way too long. I have to make the most out of this time. I rinse my mouth out with some mouthwash, slap some deodorant under my arms, and remember that the security guard at the airport has my favorite body spray.

  “Damn it!” I say just as Jackson shows up back at my door. He knocks gently before walking back in and closing the door behind him.

  “Here we are. Once again, a perfect match.”

  “Thanks.” I giggle and grab the cup from him and start pouring out the coffee. “Cream or sugar? Or rather, let’s see what we have here. Nondairy creamer powder, pink fake sugar, blue fake sugar, yellow fake sugar, raw sugar, or sugar.”

  “Are you serious they have that many choices now?”

  I pick up the bowl with the different sweetener packs and show him the variety.

  “That’s insane. I’ll just take mine black, please.”

  I hand him the steaming cup of coffee and pour myself a cup with two regular sugars. Jackson heads back out to the shared patio, so I follow and sit down there as we watch the beach fill with tourists.

  “This is a really nice hotel,” I say. For the life of me I can’t think of anything more exciting to talk about than the weather and the hotel.

  It’s like I’m trying to convince him that I’m a moron.

  I also can’t seem to figure out what kind of pull Jackson has over me. All day yesterday I thought he was arrogant and pushy. And yet now I can’t see any of those things in him. He’s just…sweet. Pensive.

  “Are you okay?” he asks me.

  I shake myself free from my thoughts. “Yea. Sorry. Just spacing out a bit I guess.”

  “Well, thanks for the coffee,” he says. “I don’t mean to grab coffee and run but I have a thing I have to get to.”

  “Oh. Right. Because you work online. Well, maybe I’ll see you around sometime then?”

  He nods and steps inside his room, closing his patio door and the curtains behind him.

  I cannot believe I am such a dork.

  With Jackson gone, I take my coffee and head back into my room. My laptop still houses the conversation Jackson and I had earlier in the cafeteria. I try turning on the television only to hear presidential hopefuls crying over how they’re going to address the latest acts of terrorism. I switch through between speeches, interviews, and pictures.

  Finally I snap the television off and toss
the remote over onto the bed. Instead, I turn my attention to the welcome packet sitting on top of the tiny desk in my room. Inside, I’m greeted by restaurants listing, area businesses, and tourist attractions.

  Come see Thailand like you’ve never seen her before! One brochure yells at me.

  “What harm could it do?” I think as I place the brochure down and head over to the closet to get dressed.

  This is when I realize that my clothes are not exactly vacation clothes. Suits, blouses, trousers, a couple of skirts. Sweat pants. Nothing about the clothes in this bag made it look like I was on a vacation. But then again, I didn’t exactly pack for a vacation, did I?

  Nothing I want to be wearing out into the jungles of Thailand. I throw on a pair of jeans and a blouse and decide to head down to the hotel gift shop to see if they have any clothes for sale there.

  They don’t.

  But the lady behind the counter does tell me about a small boutique just across the road.

  Dresses, skirts, sarongs. The clothes in this shop are beautiful. It doesn’t take me long to pick out a few new outfits thanks to the helpful staff. And before long I was back in my hotel room admiring my new vacation look in the mirror. Other than my pale skin and my green eyes, I looked like I belonged in a tropical paradise. I throw my hair up into a loose twist and drape a thin shawl over my shoulders.

  And with the brochure in hand, I head off to one of the tours to get my mind off everything. I head over to the hotel information desk.

  “Hi, Miss Anders. How are you enjoying your stay?”

  “So far everything has been great. Thank you. I was wondering, according to this there is a tour of a national park that starts in about an hour? Can you tell me how to get there?” I hand my brochure over to the young man.

  He smiles and nods. “Ao Phang Nga National Park. Yes. You can rent a motorbike to get there. Or we offer free shuttle service.”

  “Shuttle service it is. Where can I find that?”