I didn’t think I’d been doing any holding back around him, but he must be able to pick up on my inner conflict. I’m not used to a guy being so tuned in to my thoughts.
“It is all a little overwhelming.” With my free hand, I gesture wide to indicate the show itself, and everything involved in it.
“I can see why you’d feel that way.”
“What made you come on here?” I ask. From the first night, I assumed he was here to help promote his business, but I don’t expect him to admit that.
He lowers his voice. “I know someone who works on the show. They were always suggesting I apply, but this year they really put the pressure on.”
“Why is that?”
He’s quiet for a long moment, and we reach the back edge of the property before he finally looks up at me. “They thought you’d be a good match for me.”
My eyes widen but I keep them cast down at the ground, not wanting him to see my surprise. This is not the answer I was expecting.
“Why do they think that?”
“They told me you were my type, your looks and your personality.”
“And what do you think?” I say.
There’s another prolonged period of silence, giving me time to question myself on why I care so much about how he might answer my question.
“You’re definitely beautiful, but like I said, I’m still trying to figure you out.”
As far as Xavier is concerned, I guess I’m still trying to figure myself out too. I had a hardline opinion on him from the first night, but that line has become very fuzzy.
It grows fuzzier still when he stops walking, pulls me close, and covers my mouth with his.
His kiss is a question, and as soon as I feel the press of his lips, my mixed feelings dissolve and I answer him enthusiastically. Maybe I’m weak; maybe I’m too worked up, having been surrounded by half-dressed, gorgeous men for much of the past week. Maybe – just maybe – I’ve been misjudging Xavier and there could be real potential for something serious with him.
I let him know with my kiss that I’d like to find out where things could go.
He wraps an arm around my waist, his hand sliding smoothly over the bare skin above my grass skirt. I let myself shift closer to him, my hands exploring his muscular arms as his mouth teases, tastes, and starts a fire inside me.
When we pause for a breath, a voice intrudes. “Sorry, we need you back for the last competition.”
Xavier gives them a nod, but doesn’t move away from me. Instead, he pulls me closer and dips down again for another long, lingering kiss. When we finally part, he takes my hand again, and I’m happy I have his support to keep me steady as we start to walk.
My mind and body are both in a daze. I’m not sure anyone’s kiss has ever affected me like this.
15
A perfect ten
It’s hard to get my focus back on the date’s events, but the final competition turns out to be a team tug of war, and watching all of the shirtless men straining and struggling is quite a pleasant distraction.
All that skin, all those tight abs, all those bulging muscles. I signal a crewmember and request a glass of ice water so I can cool off.
The men are split into teams of five, and I feel bad for the guys who ended up with Johnny because I don’t think he’s of any use to them. To their credit, they manage to hang on for a while, but eventually the other team dominates.
Blake announces that the winning team will get extra time on the date with me, while the losing team will go home. In reality, all the men go back into the mansion to shower and change, and I’m taken back to my house to do the same.
My mind is in a whirl thinking about all the men, but especially Xavier. Am I reacting to him so strongly because he’s got that bad boy vibe going on, or could there really be more between us? Our chemistry is real enough, and he seems more straightforward about his feelings than I’d expect from someone who’s just doing this for the fame. He seems genuinely interested, but I’m still not sure about him.
The wardrobe people give me a lovely floral dress to wear, and after my hair and makeup are done, we go back to the mansion, where the lawn has been decorated for a luau. All the men are dressed accordingly, in beach casual outfits of linen pants or shorts, a few with Hawaiian shirts. I can’t help but smile to myself, seeing all the gorgeous men I get to hang out with.
There’s no food, but there are lots more drinks, all of them in coconut shells like the one Berk made. Fortunately, after I take a sip of one, it tastes better than his concoction. I take it slowly, though; the producers might like me to be drunk on camera for ratings purposes, but I’m not about to make a fool of myself if I can help it.