I laugh, rolling my eyes a little. But underneath his easy flirting, I can tell I threw him off with my question. It makes me want to know more. What kind of a lucky break did he have, exactly?
But when he starts the car and veers us out onto the highway, I forget about my concerns. I’m too busy holding my hat down on my head—and getting my breath stolen away by this view. Fucking hell. He wasn’t kidding about Maui having beautiful… well, everything. Even the highways—at least the ones we’re taking—snake along the coastline, providing us stunning vistas of the Pacific Ocean, the white sand beaches far below. On the other side are mountains and rolling green hills, interspersed with jungles filled with trees and plants I’m not even sure I’d know the names of.
As we drive, he talks. He starts off asking me where I’m from, and about my family. But after I give single word answers to his questions—Charleston, only child, parents both dead—he senses that I don’t seem to want to talk about my history. Instead, we switch to the present.
He tells me all about the hotel’s history. Some eccentric wealthy mainland American who wanted to hide away from the world founded it almost a hundred years ago. He built it to be a self-contained paradise, a little hideout from the real world.
“It’s definitely working at that,” I tell him. “I already forgot reality exists.”
Ankor laughs at that. “Well, you’d be surprised. Paradise or not, it’s still a real life here. There are still concerns, things to keep in mind, daily problems…”
“Like old Ms. Humbolt hitting on you a little too forcefully?” I ask with a laugh.
“Or amazing, gorgeous new girls showing up to distract me,” he replies, with a long glance in my direction, his gaze searing hot.
I shiver a little, and not just from the breeze. “Am I a problem then?” I ask, my voice husky, more full of feeling than I expected. Considering I’ve only known Ankor for a day, it shouldn’t bother me too much how he thinks of me.
But his response, “More than you know,” in a low, throaty voice that makes my thighs clench again, and the pulse in between my legs start up again. To soften the blow, he reaches a hand over, and this time when he wraps his strong, muscular palm around my knee, he leaves it there, the heat of his hand searing against my skin.
My pussy is still a little sore from earlier, but it’s a good kind of sore, like my muscles after a long, satisfying workout. It tells me that everything we shared, everything that happened, was real.
Now, though, the ache seems to redouble, and my heart twists, thinking that I was just a problem for him. Nothing more.
He notices my expression, and gently squeezes my knee. “Hey. Some problems are more than worthy of being distracted by.” He flashes me a wink. “In fact, without them, life would become boring and stale. Just day in and day out, all work and no play.”
“In paradise, at least,” I point out, and he laughs, the tension between us breaking, at least for the moment.
“Very true.” His hand slides up my leg, a little farther, and I suck in a breath, tensing. He glances over to raise one eyebrow, and I meet his eye, challenging, and force myself to relax.
“So, tell me, how many other swim class clients have you seduced?” I ask, and he laughs even longer this time.
“I’ll admit, poor Ms. Humbolt and Mrs. Jenkins aren’t really my type.” He grins. “You’re my first foray into sleeping with the clientele.”
“Well, you’re my first everything, so…” I trail off, my breath hitching again.
But if I thought the reminder would put him off, I was wrong. His hand slides another few inches higher, and his gaze when I catch it is as scorching hot as ever. “How are you feeling?” His hand is just inches from my panties. I can’t tell if I want him to move it higher or not. I’m pretty sure if he does, he’ll find the fabric soaking wet.
Outside the car, some of the most beautiful views I’ve ever seen in my entire life coast by. Vibrant green under cerulean blue sky and turquoise waves. But I can’t look away from the man next to me. I can’t focus on anything but his scent, the heat of his palm on my leg, the thrum of the charged air between us in this car.
“Are you sure?” he’s asking. After all, it was only a few hours ago that he deflowered me. Claimed me as his.
My belly flutters at the memory. “No. I mean…” I hesitate. “A little bit, but, it’s the good kind. Kind of… pleasant.” What I don’t want to admit aloud is that the ache makes it feel, sometimes, when I clench my muscles down there, as if I can still feel his cock inside me. The memory is so good it makes me ache for an entirely new reason.