Eighteen days, to be exact.
Eighteen days ago, in this hotel, I’d met Julian Hoult. That never sounded like much time to me before. Back when I had deadlines, assignments piled on top of assignments, eighteen days was nothing. But since the day I quit, that amount of time had somehow become an eternity.
It was enough to break me out of the box I’d spent years building around myself, and it was enough to hook me on a brand new addiction. Gone was my dependency on working day and night, on finding my worth in the thrill of just making it every time – just meeting the deadline and somehow staying alive in the process
Replacing it now was my need for a man I tried to remind myself I didn’t know.
I knew his name. I knew what he did for a living. I knew that he made me realize the full capacity of what my mind and body could feel.
But beyond that, I knew nothing. I didn’t know where he lived, how he lived, how or if he spent his nights at home. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I didn’t know what he thought, what he was capable of, and if one morning I’d walk into the office to find his wall up again.
I didn’t know any of that, so why was I risking these feelings for him? Why was I wasting my hurt on the fact that he regretted sleeping with me?
I stared at myself.
I really wished I didn’t ask myself these questions, because I knew every answer. It just took awhile to realize sometimes, since I’d just tricked myself for so long into believing I was a normal woman, not a girl hiding something ugly and embarrassing.
“You are so, so bad…”
I heard one of Carter’s girls lilting outside. The other one laughed over something or another, her shrill pitch bouncing off the walls. The sound woke me up enough to remind me of the way their big eyes had followed Julian the moment they entered the room with their fruity cocktails, wearing those little bikinis. They stayed smartly draped all over Carter, but after one glance at my boss, their eyes kept coming back.
I imagined them crawling all over him now, straddling him on the chaise lounge as he sat back and watched pool water drip from the ends of their hair onto his chest. I imagined that faint grin I sometimes fantasized that he reserved just for me.
Fuck, Sara, I cursed myself as I finally started out of the locker room.
I wanted to confirm that those girls were or weren’t all over him, which I hated about myself. I kept trying to care less. I kept pretending I was only here for the job.
And time after time, I failed.
“There she is.”
It was Turner who announced me, his watery, red eyes lighting up with my entrance. But to my relief, the girl in the blue bikini whispered something in his ear to draw his attention back to her. Her blonder friend was sitting on Carter’s lap, and it was probably her flag-printed bikini, but suddenly I was picturing the normal, all-American high school and college years that brought them here. In my mind, they’d never struggled to fit in. They were the picture of the kids in the movies who threw toga parties and played beer pong with red Solo cups. I was so attached to those images as a kid that thinking of them now, at twenty-seven, made me feel as if I were regressing.
Thank God for the energy that suddenly grabbed hold of me, pulling my eyes away from them, and from the mouth of the dark, vicious spiral. It was a life-saving distraction, and I knew from the strength of it that it was Julian.
Sliding my stare across the glow of the pool, my eyes met his just as he walked out of the men’s locker room.
Shirtless.
The view struck me so hard it stung, and yet my feet brought me immediately closer. Masochist.
I could hardly breathe already, my eyes stealing the oxygen from my lungs to fully take Julian in. His body was ripped but lean, every cut on his chest and abs carved to boast perfect symmetry and definition. As if he didn’t look irresistible enough, the water reflected off his skin, flickering like tiny crystals on his face and his body.
I was numb before. Now my fingers twitched to life at my sides.
I wanted to touch him. I felt like I needed to. It wasn’t fair that my first look at him like this had to come in front of the Roths. I wanted free rein to do whatever I wanted to Julian, and his tight, intense stare on me told me that perhaps he felt the same.
As if suddenly aware of how much time we didn’t have, our eyes began traveling fast over each other’s body. I felt his gaze move down my front as my own skimmed the width of his shoulders, traveling down his rock-like triceps to his forearms, till I was following those beautifully slanted lines of his hipbones. I traced the outline of his cock straining against his black swimsuit, and when I returned my eyes to his, I knew I’d been caught in the act.
His head was tilted slightly up now, his gaze heavy but wearing a delectable smirk as it watched me.
It remained on me even as Turner came up behind me and led me into the pool. His girl in the blue bikini gladly skipped over to Julian, but I didn’t flinch as I descended the tile steps into the water.
I had Julian’s stare locked so tight on me she backed up for a second.
Without saying a word, our connection was magnetic enough for her to take pause. I knew we should dial it back, especially as Turner helped me onto the surfboard, but he seemed too drunk to notice, and Carter was too preoccupied to look.
“You look good in this swimsuit,” Turner murmured as I lay on my stomach.