by Ann Denton
I use the excuse to clutch at his bicep with my good hand. Whoa. He’s thick and hard as stone. My shoulder suddenly isn’t the only thing pulsing with painful heat.
Alec helps me up the stairs and deposits me in one of the white leather seats. He goes to the drink station and builds an improvised icepack. He looks over his shoulder at me as he does and asks, “So, why are you out here in the middle of the night?”
Because I’m in pain and it makes me feel better to blame someone else for my stupidity, I say, “Danny lied to me.”
Alec’s expression immediately hardens. “You and …” He shakes his head as he trails off. Instead, he asks a different question as he walks over and hands me my icepack. “And that made you come out here because … you want me to fly you home?”
I start to shake my head, but pain stabs my neck. So, I plop the icepack on top of my shoulder and say, “Nope. He tried to hide the fact that there are chips on this plane.”
Alec takes the seat directly across from me and laughs. “Chips? He lied about chips.”
“Chips are important.”
“So important that you came running down here at midnight.”
“I was worried he’d take them all for himself.”
“He did.”
“What?” I lean forward in my seat.
Alec bites his lip and shrugs. “He’d literally just left with a duffel bag full of plane snacks, asking me to re-up when I go elsewhere.”
“Fucker!” The curse is out of my mouth before I can stop it. But Mom’s ingrained manners have me immediately apologizing. “Sorry. That was rude of me. I’m just annoyed, is all. There is apparently no junk food on this island.”
He leans back in his seat and stretches out his legs, clearly entertained. “Curse away. I was in the air force. Doubt you could say anything I haven’t heard.”
I purse my lips and think for a second. “Cuntasaurus. Twatapotamus.”
He busts out laughing. “What the fuck?! What are those?”
“My secret favorite names for Heather behind her back. Though now, I’m pretty sure they apply to Danny Walsh, liar and chip-stealer.”
He shakes his head. “You guys must be really close.”
“Heather and I grew up together. She lived with my family after her parents died.”
He nods. “And Danny? You guys…”
A thrill runs through me and I lean forward a little further. “You fishing?”
Alec’s breath hitches. “Maybe.”
My stomach feels light and airy. Almost ticklish inside. I swallow a giddy giggle. Alec is so freaking hot. And he’s fishing for info about me and Danny. Which means he might, possibly, maybe … be interested in me. His brown eyes don’t leave mine as I smile slowly. “I only met Danny Walsh once before this trip. Heather hired him to try to make me more confrontational. Plus, I guess he’s good at sports or something,” I wave my good hand dismissively.
“Confrontational? The woman who researches donkey sex revenge isn’t confrontational?” Alec grins and leans forward on with his elbows on his knees. That puts his face only inches from mine. I can see the throb of his pulse in his neck, every hair in the scruff from his two-day beard. I can see his nostrils flare as he inhales scent of the tropical pineapple lotion I put on.
I lick my lips and a nervous giggle escapes. “Only in my head. And in real life, really only with Heather.”
“Why?” I can smell a hint of mint on his breath when he asks.
“I get uncomfortable when people are mad at me. Or other people. I just hate—tension,” I confess as I shift the icepack further down my shoulder.
“Not with her?”
I shrug. “If I don’t snap sometimes at her, she’ll railroad me. She’s wild. She wanted us to get tattoos.”
“You’re the good girl.”
I narrow my eyes and point a finger at him. “I resent that.”
Alec raises his eyebrow and chuckles. “I guess I’m more of a Heather. Or kind of. I used to live for tension, adrenaline, riding the edge. Was a fighter pilot when I was younger.”
“Yeah?” I can see that. Alec’s rock-hard muscles are a testament to his hard work and training, and the fact that he flies for rich ass people—he must have been the best because that’s what his frickin’ price per flight hour buys—the best. “Why’d you stop?”
Alec’s eyes search mine. “Excitement is only fulfilling for a while. I started to want something more.”
“What?”
He bites his lip. “Not sure. I haven’t found it yet.”
Fuck. Something about that just rings so fucking true to me. It’s so real, and honest, and raw. And I feel the exact same way. I’m thirty fucking years old and I have no idea what the fuck my life is supposed to be about. I’ve been biding my time at the dental office, just shuffling through the days, waiting. For something. A sign. A bright fucking neon sign that says “Hey Katie! Life’s purpose is here. Right here! Come and get it!” The connection I’ve been feeling with Alec, the tingling sexual attraction, solidifies into something more. Something better. And that’s why my lips go crashing into his.
His lips are perfect. Thick and strong as they move against mine. His tongue shoots out into my mouth and I whimper. Then our tongues tangle together, in a hot wet precursor to other hot wet things. I move from my chair to straddle his legs and sit down on him. His hands slide around my waist. His fingers dig into my ass. He growls into my neck and the animalistic sound drives me wild.
It feels like my fingers are tripping over themselves as I undo his buttons, I am that eager to get his shirt off.
When his mouth leaves my lips I whine in protest, but when it locks onto the sensitive skin of my neck below my ear, I arch into him, his shirt temporarily forgotten.
“Yes! There!” I moan.
“You’re so sweet.”
His hands trace the crack of my ass through my suit skirt, which had gotten hiked up when I sat. I drag the hem of my skirt up further, the sensation titillating my hips. I move his hands to my panties, loving the rough feel of his fingers on my skin. He starts to play with the bottom edge of my lacy panties, sneaking his fingertips under the hem every so often, which just makes me grind into his erection harder.
Fuck. I’ve needed this. So bad. This hot, mindless hunger. I’ve needed to burn off steam.
My hands resume their task. I’m eager to get Alec naked, to have his fingers go further than the edges of my underwear, to have him ride me.
His erection is thick and long in his pants, and I can tell just by the rub of it against my thighs that he’s bigger than any man I’d ever been with. That’s both intimidating and exciting. After I finish with the shirt buttons and slide his shirt down his shoulders. I wrap my arms around Alec’s back and pull myself further onto him so that I can better grind down onto the hot, hard length of him.
“I want you,” I whisper. “I want you to hold me down and slam into me—”
Alec growls and freezes. I stare at his eyes for a second. I see panic cross his features the second before he shoves me backward, off his legs. I stumble into the seat behind me and end up windmilling so I don’t fall on my ass.
“What the fuck?” I ask.
Alec pulls his shirt back on, leans his elbows onto his knees and covers his face with his hands. He’s breathing hard.
I stand there, staring at him, wondering what the hell I just did, what the hell just went wrong.
Alec doesn’t tell me. He just bolts past me, down the aisle, and out the door.
I’m left horny, on a plane, in the middle of the night on a tropical island.
I take a deep breath, lay down on the floor, and stare up at the ceiling. I’m on an island filled with guys who signed up to walk around naked together and have group sexy times with Heather … and I can’t even get one hot guy to fuck me?
I toss my hand up in the air and flip the universe the bird.
Then I go back to the villas and use my universal key to
sneak into Danny’s room and steal that sleeping motherfucker’s snacks.
Chapter Twelve
I hardly see Alec over the next few days, which is just fine by me. I’m still pissed at him. So pissed I almost attacked Danny the liar in his bed that night and woke him by riding his cock. Oh, I thought about it. Danny looked like a damned magazine picture with his blond hair falling over his eyes. But I chose Cheetos. They’d be there for me rain or shine. Men? Not so much.
Alec’s only near me when I have to escort Heather and small groups of guys over to the jet for group dates. The island we rented is too small for some things. Like a full game of golf. We only have a nine-hole course. So, the first morning after the plane crash—as I started calling the incident—I escort Heather and three of her men to the runway so they can jet over to a nearby island for eighteen holes.
Alec tries to pull me aside. He has that ‘we should talk’ look on his face, but I just wrench my arm away, fake laugh, and avoid direct eye contact.
“Well, now you guys be good! Have fun! Take pictures!” I call as I walk quickly away. He can reject me if he wants. But no way we’re talking about it all friendly-like.
BJ, a New Yorker with an accent and a crooked nose, winkes when I got back from delivering Heather. “Who do ya think might use their wood on the first hole?”
The other guys crack up and the golf jokes ensued. I never knew there were so many. BJ has the most for some reason, maybe because his roommate is on the date.
“Yeah, bet Karl will work his stroke out there. Hope he doesn’t hit that so hard he bends his shaft!”
“Could you blame him? First date is a foursome. That’s a good fucking date!” Jeremiah Bible jokes. My random last-minute pick has kept a low profile so far. He’s handsome, but not too much. Outspoken, but not too much. I worry a bit about him fading into the background.
He’s not my absolute favorite, I sent Andrew (my doctor pick) on the first date, but I decide to pull him aside and give him a little help anyway.
“Think they’ll stop and wash their balls after?” one of the twins asks.
“Think those guys will share clubs?” Twin Two wonders.
Finally, I can jump in on the jokes. “If they do, Heather might get tee’d off.”
It’s like someone’s turned down the volume on the laughter. Polite titters ensue when the guys realize I’m a woman and still standing there as they make sports jokes. I want to blow a raspberry. But instead I fake smile and touch Jeremiah’s arm. “Walk with me?”
“Sure,” he sets down his water cup and we go off onto a path that leads toward the tennis courts.
“So, I’ve noticed you’re pretty quiet,” I say.
Jeremiah clears his throat and I realize there’s a bit of a gap between his front teeth. He could do with some invisalign. “I do better in smaller groups.”
I nod. “Well, you’re on the jungle tour date tomorrow with Heather, so that should help. My goal is just to make sure all of you are comfortable.”
“I’m comfortable,” he insists way too quickly. “I adapt to all kinda situations. My dad’s a prepper. I just need to know what’s up.”
I stop walking as my wackadoo detector goes off. He stops walking. I smile at him. “If being here makes you nervous—”
“How’s she got all this cash?” Jeremiah busts out. “I’m sorry. It’s just, I looked this place up. It costs a shit-ton to be here. I’ve never been around someone with all this money and I’ve got …Heather’s mobster dad’s gonna kill me thoughts running through my head. I just wanna know so I can prepare.”
I laugh so hard I snort and my hand flies to my face. “That’s the best thing I’ve heard all day!”
Jeremiah doesn’t look so happy about my laughter, so I fight to swallow it. “I’m sorry! No, nothing like that. It’s her story to tell, so check with her. Not because it’s dark or bad, but I literally think she might shoot me if I tell it. She loves to talk about herself.”
Jeremiah nods and we go our separate ways. I don’t think I’ve fully convinced him that Heather’s not a mobster. But the idea is so funny that I order her a hat, the pinstriped kind with a feather in it, from my phone.
When Heather gets back from her group date, drama ensues, as typical of Heather. She bursts off the plane fit to be tied.
I rush over to see what’s wrong. I didn’t go on that date in order to give them privacy. But did the club not have golf carts? Did I order her the wrong size golf shoes? Were there not enough caddies? I asked and the resort assured me … the million reasons this could be my fault run through my head.
“You’re an asshole! Total and complete!” Heather spits out at Karl. She turns to me and starts yelling, “Peacocking the entire time and trying to tell me how to line up a stupid putt when he can’t tell a sand wedge from a nine iron. Probably can’t tell a fart from a yawn either! Of course, when you’re an ass, guess they’re one and the same!” Oh, shit. Hurricane Heather strikes again.
I hurry forward and grab Karl by the elbow. “I guess I’ll just let you pack.”
He yanks his elbow out of my grip and stomps off to his villa. I blow out a deep breath and follow. I didn’t think about mentioning it to the guys. But this is my fault.
Shane Paul had insisted Heather take golf lessons with him, so he’d have someone to practice with before he went on business trips. He’d even changed out a chunk of their backyard for a putting green. I really should have said something. I’m guessing Karl thought this was supposed to be a ‘hands on’ demonstration kind of date.
Dammit. I need to apologize to Heather.
But first, I deal with Nork. I’ve never been fired, but right now, I feel like I’m the HR lady walking out the crazy volatile dude who was just let go. Nork rolls his suitcase out and his face is a thundercloud. He doesn’t say a word, but I cringe anyway and trot behind him instead of next to him. I worry what I’m gonna do when the next guy leaves. Because that’s inevitable. I try to take deep yoga breaths: in through the nose and out through the mouth.
When Nork and I reach the jet, I open my mouth to say goodbye but just manage an awkward nod, my face burning as if I’m the one who kicked him off the island. Seeing Alec lower the plane door so Nork can climb aboard doesn’t help. It makes my face burn double hot. Fuck. And I’m pissed at myself. I stare out at the ocean waves and curse my stupid self for getting all uncomfortable because that makes Alec think he’s important. And he’s not. I just kissed him. It was just attraction. Not a big fucking deal at all. It wasn’t anything more.
I stomp off as soon as Nork’s inside the jet, not bothering to look back when Alec calls my name.
Just do your job buddy and I’ll do mine.
Danny comes off a side path with his tennis racket in hand. He’s whistling but he stops when he sees my face. He trots over to walk next to me and asks, “What could possibly be bumming you out in paradise?”
“Not everyone can be as happy as a pig in the sunshine, Danny,” I say, stomping away from him.
He doesn’t get the hint. “Maybe you’ve been eating too many snacks—”
I whirl on him and stick a finger under his too-straight Ken nose. “Do not call me fat!”
“Whoa! I was just gonna say maybe you spiked the blood sugar—keeping all those treats for yourself.” He studies his nails.
I narrow my eyes. “You are way too calm about the fact that I stole them.”
He grins. “It’s cause I stole them back.” He walks off, whistling.
I wish I thought he was lying. But I don’t. “How?” I ask.
“Told a maid you had a box of extra tennis balls laying around that I needed,” he turns around and walks backward down the path, smiling at me. He doesn’t even have the decency to trip like an asshole should.
“I hate you,” I seethe.
His lip tilts up in a cocky grin that makes my breath catch. He clicks his tongue and winks. “Now, that is a lie.”
I head over to Heather’s
villa to get the deets on Karl. But, as I arrive, I see a guy standing in her doorway, talking to her. My feet slow to give them privacy. I stare at the pink hibiscus flowers in front of me, instead of spying on the two of them like a little part of me wants to do. I hear Heather laugh. I do a mini fist pump. Good. So, even if Karl turned into an ass, at least the date doesn’t seem like a total disaster.
A minute later, I see Anthony Drake, a real estate agent with huge lips and a winning smile, walk past me. He gives me his signature smile, big glowing bleached teeth. I definitely approve of that smile. Not a hint of plaque in sight.
“What up, Katie?”
I tilt my head toward Heather. “You get her cooled down for me?”
He puts a hand to his chest. “I’m offended you could even think that. When I speak to a lady, all I do is get her worked up.”
Alrighty then. Fake smile in place, I turn and make my way to Heather. I guess some guys could pull off a line like that and be funny. But Drake just comes off as a douche. I don’t get to give strikes, but I’ll definitely be pointing Heather in another direction.
I knock on her door and open it before just walking in. “It’s me!” I call as I step into her very posh villa.
The floors are the tile that looks like wood. The ceiling is bamboo with a huge fan rotating lazily. Floor to ceiling windows line the far wall so she can look out onto a tropical garden where parrots have been imported and trained to impress the rich vacationers with sayings like, “Cracker! No! Gimme a margarita!” I can see one of the little red fuckers now, using his beak to help him climb the balcony.
“Kay, that date was insane!” Heather comes out of her room half-dressed, golf skirt already missing. She’s got zero body shame. I’ve always envied that. Of course, with her figure, it’s easy to be proud. She’s an hourglass.
Heather pulls her hair out of the high ponytail she was wearing and then yanks her shirt over her head. She walks back toward her room, still talking. “I mean, what an arrogant shit! He didn’t even ask if I’d played before he started trying to pick clubs for me and shove his boner in my ass in the name of ‘helping me.’ Some guys …”
