you doing here?”
Or maybe he just made a herculean effort to forget me, because he has a point. As far as he knows, I sold him this island and we parted ways years ago. Of all the places I could turn up, this spot would not make the top of the oddsmakers’ lists. In fact, it’s far more likely that he’d frog-march me off his property. His eyebrows draw together and he gets that familiar little pucker between them. If he were a pirate, I’d be catapulting off the plank of his ship right now. Shit. What if he’s remarried? What if he has a girlfriend? A boyfriend? He could be the king of some polygamous cult for all I know.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Yep. I blurt that right out.
Most guys would have to at least think about it or would clam right up—and not because they’re meticulous truth tellers. Usually, it’s just the opposite. They’re running flowcharts in their heads about whether they want to date me or Lilah. If the answer’s yes, then the no’s going to come out of their mouths. If they find neither of us sexually attractive, then they might pony up the “yes.”
Not Ro.
He always tells the truth, even when I’d rather he fudged shit just a little.
He raises a brow. “No ma’am. Once was enough.”
That’s me, putting heroes out of commission for a lifetime.
I roll onto my side and spring to my feet, ignoring the big hand that he shoves reluctantly toward me. No. Wait. Belay that order. I grab his fingers and examine them. If he is married, he’s not wearing a ring.
“The fuck? You think I’d lie about that?” He retrieves his hand and glares at me. This little seesaw act he does between gentleman and ogre? Yeah. It’s both endearing and frustrating as hell. At least he signals to the dog, who returns to his side.
Lilah gets to her feet and promptly puts me between her and our irate host. “Talk to the nice man,” she stage-whispers.
This would be more convincing if she wasn’t holding up her iPhone, recording for all she’s worth. You can capture amazing footage on phones these days. I’ve heard there are entire awards for movies filmed on iPhones and it’s no surprise. Ro’s gaze shifts from my face to Lilah’s outstretched hand. He moves so fast that Lilah never stands a chance. His hand closes carefully around hers and he takes the phone from her.
“No pictures,” he says gruffly. “This is private property.”
One, two, three. Just like that he erases the pictures.
Lilah huffs impatiently. “That’s mine.”
Ro makes a show of looking around, clearly unimpressed. “And this is my island, my dog, and my beach. Now I’m waiting for my explanation as to why you’re here.”
He returns his gaze to me. Every scene has its instigator. The person who gets the party started, usually with some socially embarrassing or uninhibited fodder. Ro isn’t happy to see me and I won’t grovel for my past mistakes. I revel in them. It’s how I make my money and how I live my life. I do what I’m not supposed to. I’m shameless. Balls out. All in.
I give Lilah ten more seconds to fish her backup camera out of the ginormous beach bag she’s toting.
Ro crosses muscled arms over his chest. How sweet of him to give me a target. “Sometime this century, Hindi?”
And… there’s my cue.
“Hey, baby. Miss me?” I jump on him, wrapping my legs around his waist, and kiss him. His lips part and I take full advantage. My tongue slips into his mouth, coming home. He makes that rough, growly sound I’ve never quite managed to forget, and his fingers cup my butt, holding on, digging in, getting closer. See? He definitely remembers me.
The camera clicks behind us as Lilah does her thing.
Rohan
E uropeans kiss hello, right? So this full-frontal kiss is totally normal? Fuck if I know, but Hindi kisses me like there’s no tomorrow—only right now—and she feels amazing. For a long moment, I just stand there on the damned beach, toes digging into the sand, legs braced to
Or maybe he just made a herculean effort to forget me, because he has a point. As far as he knows, I sold him this island and we parted ways years ago. Of all the places I could turn up, this spot would not make the top of the oddsmakers’ lists. In fact, it’s far more likely that he’d frog-march me off his property. His eyebrows draw together and he gets that familiar little pucker between them. If he were a pirate, I’d be catapulting off the plank of his ship right now. Shit. What if he’s remarried? What if he has a girlfriend? A boyfriend? He could be the king of some polygamous cult for all I know.
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Yep. I blurt that right out.
Most guys would have to at least think about it or would clam right up—and not because they’re meticulous truth tellers. Usually, it’s just the opposite. They’re running flowcharts in their heads about whether they want to date me or Lilah. If the answer’s yes, then the no’s going to come out of their mouths. If they find neither of us sexually attractive, then they might pony up the “yes.”
Not Ro.
He always tells the truth, even when I’d rather he fudged shit just a little.
He raises a brow. “No ma’am. Once was enough.”
That’s me, putting heroes out of commission for a lifetime.
I roll onto my side and spring to my feet, ignoring the big hand that he shoves reluctantly toward me. No. Wait. Belay that order. I grab his fingers and examine them. If he is married, he’s not wearing a ring.
“The fuck? You think I’d lie about that?” He retrieves his hand and glares at me. This little seesaw act he does between gentleman and ogre? Yeah. It’s both endearing and frustrating as hell. At least he signals to the dog, who returns to his side.
Lilah gets to her feet and promptly puts me between her and our irate host. “Talk to the nice man,” she stage-whispers.
This would be more convincing if she wasn’t holding up her iPhone, recording for all she’s worth. You can capture amazing footage on phones these days. I’ve heard there are entire awards for movies filmed on iPhones and it’s no surprise. Ro’s gaze shifts from my face to Lilah’s outstretched hand. He moves so fast that Lilah never stands a chance. His hand closes carefully around hers and he takes the phone from her.
“No pictures,” he says gruffly. “This is private property.”
One, two, three. Just like that he erases the pictures.
Lilah huffs impatiently. “That’s mine.”
Ro makes a show of looking around, clearly unimpressed. “And this is my island, my dog, and my beach. Now I’m waiting for my explanation as to why you’re here.”
He returns his gaze to me. Every scene has its instigator. The person who gets the party started, usually with some socially embarrassing or uninhibited fodder. Ro isn’t happy to see me and I won’t grovel for my past mistakes. I revel in them. It’s how I make my money and how I live my life. I do what I’m not supposed to. I’m shameless. Balls out. All in.
I give Lilah ten more seconds to fish her backup camera out of the ginormous beach bag she’s toting.
Ro crosses muscled arms over his chest. How sweet of him to give me a target. “Sometime this century, Hindi?”
And… there’s my cue.
“Hey, baby. Miss me?” I jump on him, wrapping my legs around his waist, and kiss him. His lips part and I take full advantage. My tongue slips into his mouth, coming home. He makes that rough, growly sound I’ve never quite managed to forget, and his fingers cup my butt, holding on, digging in, getting closer. See? He definitely remembers me.
The camera clicks behind us as Lilah does her thing.
Rohan
E uropeans kiss hello, right? So this full-frontal kiss is totally normal? Fuck if I know, but Hindi kisses me like there’s no tomorrow—only right now—and she feels amazing. For a long moment, I just stand there on the damned beach, toes digging into the sand, legs braced to
Similar Books
The Birds of the Air
Alice Thomas Ellis
The Rebels' Assault
David Grimstone
The Golden Fleece
Brian Stableford
Jace
T.A. Grey
Mating Rights
Jaide Fox
The New Champion
Jody Feldman
Pretty Is
Maggie Mitchell