by Ember Leigh
Part of him wanted to say screw it. The corporate choreography, the kickbacks, the inflated egos, the prissy show girls, all of it. There were good aspects to his life—the money, the cars, the beautiful people—but some days he wanted to wash his hands of it all. Cultivating this hellish monster of a show had been the start of the idea that maybe this path was no longer his to walk.
Josh picked up his pacing again, unsure where to go first. Going straight to Paige’s room was his ideal option but it was unlikely she would agree to see him. Besides, what would he say? He didn’t have a story worked out yet.
Tennis, he decided. He needed the one-on-one time with himself to at least release the tension threatening to split his head down the middle. The weather was hot but breezy, the large green rectangles of the court surrounded by fencing topped with creeping flowers and palms overhead. He nodded curtly at the attendant on duty as he picked up a racket and ball.
Toward the end of the line someone was hitting aggressively, grunting as the ball hurtled back and forth between wall and racket. He stepped closer, his belly already knotting before he could see the person.
A strange mix of relief and anxiety washed over him when the sweaty, messy-haired, noisy blonde before him was, indeed, Paige. She wore a short tennis skirt with a sports bra, calves flexing and shimmering in the bright afternoon sun.
He wasn’t sure whether to run away or interrupt. He wanted to make things right with her but still hadn’t decided how. But more than anything, she deserved something, even a small gesture, before too much time passed.
While he stood there, torn and staring, she dropped her racket. Her face was flushed and glistening as she walked toward the edge of her court, breathing heavily. When she caught sight of him, she said, “Look, it’s Josh Lambert.”
Her words, despite their razor edges, had a calming effect on him. He slipped into cool mode. “And look, it’s Paige Alexander.” He walked closer to her, swinging his racket in his hand. “Letting off some steam?”
“Yeah, but it’s not quite enough.” She rested her hands on her knees, sucking in air deeply.
“That’s why I’m here too.” A couple moments of silence trudged by and her non-conversational mood was more than palpable. Now, Josh. Make it right now.
“Paige, I’m sorry.”
She straightened her back. “For what?”
“For standing you up last night. For being a dick this morning.”
“You mean all of today.”
“Right. For being a dick all of today.” He paused and sighed. “Some shit went down last night. I can’t explain it to you right now. But I wanted to apologize.”
She didn’t look convinced and stared off into the distance. “Yeah, well, it’s okay. No hard feelings.”
Panic unfurled inside his chest, and he scrambled to figure out a fix. This turn of events confirmed his worst fear. His disappearing act the night before had probably ruined any chances with her. He massaged his temples with his free hand and sighed again. “I wouldn’t have stayed away from you if I had my way.” Vague but direct.
She looked intrigued. “Who kept you away last night? Was it Bridgette?”
He didn’t say anything, unwilling to implicate her further in the mess he’d created.
“Figures.” She picked up her racket. “I knew it all along, anyway. I’m not a fool, Josh. But be very aware you won’t be playing two women on this island. You can keep the one you came with.”
She stormed past him, and he grabbed her wrist. She might not get the whole story, but she couldn’t be disillusioned with the wrong one. He didn’t know why it mattered now, when he’d built a career out of an emotional brick fortress. He was done asking why. Something inside of him needed to know that she got him.
“I’m not playing anyone,” he said in a low voice, leveling her with his gaze. “You don’t know the whole story, so don’t go filling in gaps where it suits you.”
“The only reason I have gaps is because someone,” she poked him in the chest, “won’t tell me what’s going on. So what am I left to presume? What would you think?”
“I get it, Paige. I really do. Believe me, you’ll be the first to know. I would tell you now if I could.”
“Confidentiality clause, huh?” Her eyes were on fire. “You guys are so sneaky up there in the corporate clouds. If that’s the case, I might rather not know what sort of stuff I’m messed up in.”
“I want you to hear me out,” he said, voice breaking unexpectedly. He hadn’t realized her anger and misinformation could be so upsetting to him. “When the time is right, promise you’ll hear me out.”
Her green eyes shifted into hard gemstones. Probably she was deciding whether she would punch him or not.
“I want you to know one more thing,” he said, voice even quieter than before. She bristled as he stepped nearer but didn’t back away. The heat of her workout seeped into his breathing space and his vision blurred, like the quick second before blacking out.
“I like you, Paige. A lot. What you’re experiencing now is a situation with a man whose hands are tied behind his back. I know what happened last night was shitty, and I apologize. That’s not how I operate, really.” Relief flooded his body; the simplest, most honest explanation felt best. No need to concoct an angle or story.
She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why should I believe you?”
“I don’t know.” His heart sank. Maybe this was a pointless endeavor after all. “But you can believe me. I know I might not, if I were you.”
Paige squinted into the horizon, and his throat tightened, wondering what percentage chance there was she’d ever take a leap of faith on a guy like him. After a moment, he said, “Will you play tennis with me?”
Her eyes softened, and she looked at the empty court behind them. “For a minute.”
Chapter Nine
Paige eyed Josh suspiciously from across the court as she raised the ball to serve. Her head swirled with a thousand different things now, all of them different than the decision she’d made before he’d shown up on the court like a lightning bolt from heaven—or maybe hell.
She knew well enough the double-edged sword of show-business politics. What looked trendy and cheery from afar was often anything but. Most of her educational formation had been spent mired in drama, antics, and backstabbing.
With A New York Minute she had managed to establish a bullshit-free zone, but only with strict policies, plenty of communication, and a cooperative, small channel. To be forced back into the muck was infuriating, and added to the tally of the ways in which she felt small and worthless on this island.
She tossed the ball to serve and it made a thwack as it launched toward him, much harder than she’d expected of her already-fatigued shoulders. They rallied the ball several times in silence, the hits coming back to her faster each time. Josh was good, and she liked that he wasn’t afraid to challenge her.
She missed a return ball, and he laughed as she picked it up. “You’re not a bad player, Alexander.” He caught the ball easily as she tossed it back to him, and then eyed up the serve. “But you’re not as good as I am.”
She gasped, and he took that moment to serve. The ball almost flew out of bounds but she caught it at the last second and returned it. He leapt to connect his racket with the ball.
“You won’t get an ace with me,” she panted, running to catch his return.
“That’s what you think.” They fell into silence once more, the afternoon air punctuated only by their small grunts and heavy breathing. Once Paige hit a ball Josh missed, she threw her hands in the air and whooped. “Finally, someone conquers the great Josh Lambert.”
“Now, now, I wouldn’t go that far.” He snatched up the ball. “We’re even now, nothing more.”
“Give me my serve, and I’ll make sure you know I’ve won,” she said, extending her hand.
He tossed the ball up and down in his free hand as he sauntered toward her.
“Come on, jus
t toss it already.” Small prickles in her stomach warned her where this interaction might lead them. Despite how angry she’d been earlier, she desperately wanted it to go there.
“Tennis rules.” He stopped at the net dissecting the court. “There must be a hand-off at the tied mark.”
“That is not a rule,” she said, unable to help the grin that erupted on her face.
“When I play it is.” He offered the ball. “Come and get it, Paige.”
The prickles in her stomach molted into full-blown butterflies. All his exposed skin was covered in a fine sheen of moisture; his white shirt clung to his chest, revealing the contours of what lay beneath. His muscular legs, impossibly bronzed, tensed as he awaited her.
She took a deep breath, trying to ignore the memory of his cock buried deep inside her the night before, and the way her body and mind were both dying to get him alone again.
“My serve.” She reached for the ball but he tucked it into a fist at his side.
Josh’s eyes scorched across her skin. He hooked her waist with his free arm, trapping the flimsy tennis net between them. A giggle escaped. Their lips hovered inches apart, fanning the flames that had leapt to life between her legs once more.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “For last night and today.”
“You already said that.” Her eyes drifted over his jaw line, his full lips, the stubble on his chin.
“I want you to know it’s real. Because I’m scared I might have sabotaged…whatever it is we have.”
“Just fooling around,” she reminded him, eyes meeting his. “That’s all.”
“Right. That’s all.”
A moment of silence passed. Brilliant flickers of light filtered through the palms and bushes onto the ground, like the watery filter of a dream sequence. The heat of Josh’s body was a hard wall against her, his lips a breath away, reminding her of all sorts of emotions and desires she’d prefer to just turn off yet somehow couldn’t get enough of.
“Just kiss me already,” she whispered, tilting her head back.
He responded without hesitation. She moaned softly as they kissed, surprised by the responsiveness of her body. It was like fireworks had exploded beneath her skin, the resounding boom within forcing her off balance. She staggered, and his grip around her tightened.
They kissed slowly, passion unfurling hot and tense inside her. When they broke for air, she rested her forehead against his chin, breathless and exhilarated.
“I was really upset you didn’t show up last night.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I didn’t want to admit it, but I was. I wished you had called or something.” Getting that out made her feel lighter. Trembling fingers reminded her of the necessity of releasing it, too.
“That’s why I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t do things like that. Leave beautiful women hanging on my word.”
“Don’t let it happen again.”
“Trust me. If today was any indication of your displeasure, I promise it will never happen again.” He paused. “The temper of Paige Alexander is something I know quite well by now. It’s not a joy to be the object of your fury.”
She laughed despite the way he was painting her. He’d withstood it since the beginning. “At least you know me as I am. At my worst.”
“You’re still irresistible.” He dipped his head for another kiss, and his racket clanked to the ground as he wrapped his other arm around her. She let hers fall away too, and kissed him so deeply that time stopped, hung suspended in one blissful, quick burst of eternity.
“Besides,” he added, “I can’t say I haven’t enjoyed our caustic rapport.” He laughed, pure delight in his eyes.
“There’ve been more than a couple good lines,” she said, happy he also delighted in their witty yet angry banter. Their interactions from the beginning had been laced with contempt, sexual tension, and a pairing of minds—which, now that it was out in the open, was more enjoyable for her than she cared to admit. She’d never been able to be so openly biting with someone and have it dished back to her.
“I want this net to go away, along with these shorts, and this skirt—” his warm hand appeared at her upper thigh— “and every other article of clothing standing in our way.”
“What do you propose we do?” She dragged her mouth over his jaw line, enjoying the way the stubble prickled the sensitive skin of her lips.
His hand snuck farther up her thigh, grabbing a handful of the eager flesh at the back of her leg. She shivered again, feeling herself clench involuntarily. God, she was aching for it. She’d have him here on the court if they could find a dark corner.
“Your room?” He kissed her again, tongue probing her mouth tentatively.
“Oh you don’t want to try the sauna again?” She giggled and let go of him, grabbing her racket and the ball on the ground beside them. “Come on, let’s go now. I hate being late, and that’s all I’ve been today.”
“Late for what this time?”
“Late for the second half of what we started yesterday.” She strutted away, his gaze glued to her body as she left the court. He kept his distance as they made their way toward the hotel, leaving their rackets and balls with the attendant.
As they waited for the elevator, they played the innocent part, rocking back and forth on their heels a respectable distance apart. Then Josh sidled up to her, snaking an arm around her waist. “I can’t wait to get you upstairs, alone and naked.” He nipped at an earlobe with his teeth.
Her stomach somersaulted with delight. She side-glanced at him, feeling the rush of heat to her cheeks. “Same here, buddy.”
The elevator doors opened and they tumbled inside. Josh pinned her to the wall with his hips immediately, mouth fluttering over her neck as soft as silk. “I want you inside me, Josh,” she murmured, hands tugging at the elastic of his shorts. “Right now.”
“Mmm.” He tugged on her bottom lip with his teeth as a hot hand explored the warmth beneath her skirt. “I’ll do what I can.” His fingers slipped easily beneath her panties and he prodded once, twice, eliciting gasps of pleasure from her and then his middle finger sunk deep inside her.
She bit her lip and moaned, loving the feel of him inside of her, even if it wasn’t the part she most desperately wanted there, and arched her back against the elevator wall.
“You’re so wet.” His voice came out a husky whisper. He palmed her clitoris, seemed to take pleasure in her gasps. “You want it, don’t you, babe.”
“More than you know.” She hooked a knee around his hips.
The elevator dinged, signaling their floor. Paige reluctantly removed herself from the pleasant pretzel their bodies had made and they sauntered toward her room as casually as possible.
She fumbled for her key in the pocket of her tennis skirt and as if on cue, Josh said,
“We should hurry before Gary interrupts us again.”
“My thoughts exactly. This afternoon, we are both off-duty. No exceptions.”
The door clicked open and they breezed inside. She toed off her shoes and was shrugging out of her skirt when Josh stopped her.
“Let me,” he said, guiding her hand away from her clothes. “I want to take care of this.”
Before she could protest, his lips were against hers. He picked her up at the hips and something deep inside sighed in relief. She crossed her ankles behind his back, unable to ignore his cock resting like a stiff missile between her legs. She shivered as his hands gripped her ass, firm and unyielding. Urgency choked her.
Josh slipped a finger beneath the fabric of her panties once more. She gasped at the contact of his cool fingers with the scorching heat between her legs. “Put me down,” she said, breathless, “and fuck me.”
His eyes darkened at her command, and he dropped her on the bed. She giggled as she bounced, looking up at him with her legs splayed.
“Your room, your rules,” he said, tearing off his white T-shirt. “I have to do as I’m told, right?”
“You bet your fi
ne ass you do.” She clenched her thighs together as she waited for him to turn his attention back to her. “But I will let you do one thing you wanted—undress me.”
He licked his lips as he stood over her, his erection straining beneath the fabric of his shorts. He gleamed golden, the bright afternoon sun, casting lines of brilliant white across his chest that made him look even more like some sort of bronzed statue. His tousled hair added a boyish charm to the firm, sensual haze descending over his green eyes.
She shivered again, taking him in, still incredulous this force of a man was before her, ready to consume her.
He knelt in front of the bed, eyes steady on hers. A corner of his mouth turned upward as he smoothed his hands up the length of her legs to the bottom of her skirt. When his fingertips touched her panties, she wanted to explode or scream or perhaps both simultaneously.
He inched her panties down her legs until she was left in only the white tennis skirt. Hot kisses skipped across her inner thigh, his large hands finding their way beneath the skirt once more. Paige shivered, her pussy clenching with desperate anticipation. This man was an expert at teasing, titillation, and torture.
“Did I mention,” he whispered, dragging his lips from her inner thigh and up along the soft flesh toward her pussy, “that I love when you wear this skirt?”
“I wasn’t aware.” She concentrated on the exact location of his lips as they neared her pulsing clit.
He pushed the skirt up until it inverted onto her belly. “But not as much as when I’m able to get a taste of what’s underneath this skirt.” He kissed the arc of her mons, dragging his lips lower with each kiss until they made contact with a tiny but expectant nub.
She sucked in air sharply, pleasure searing through her. His tongue worked slowly and methodically against her clit, making circles and then flattening hard against the tiny point, a steady pressure urging her to the brink far quicker than she’d anticipated.
