With a smile on my face as delicious memories of last night bombard me, and warm every inch of my well-used body, I peel my eyes open. My God, the sex was incredible, the best I’ve ever had and there’s no denying I want more. I search my brain. Did I tell Wes that last night? Did I tell him I wanted more while we were living in some fantasy world on Brier Island? Honestly, I’m not sure. He fucked me so thoroughly, it was all I could do to keep my eyes open after that first round, and when I woke up in the middle of the night, I woke him up by climbing on his body and rubbing myself all over him. My smile widens at the memory of his face when his eyes opened to find me on top of him.
I reach across the bed, wanting to go for round three, or four. Five? I laugh quietly. He’s turning me into a sex maniac, and I’ve totally lost track of how many times he was inside me, and yes, I have to admit, I am a little worried that after him any other man will fail to live up. My fingers come up empty and an uneasy feeling moves through me. I turn to find the bed vacant and cold, and disappointment floods me.
I briefly pinch my eyes shut to pull myself together.This is sex, Charlie.The fact that he’s not in my bed this morning—or rather his bed—is no big deal. We slept together, but it doesn’t mean we have to snuggle when the sun rises. Speaking of the rising sun, I glance at the clock and curse under my breath. Goddammit, I should have been up an hour ago, getting breakfast ready, and preparing for today’s adventure. Some host I’m turning out to be.
I kick my blankets off, and go searching for my pajama shorts from last night. I move things around and when I get a chill, I tug on Wes’ T-shirt draped over the chair, the one he’d given me on the boat to wear. When my search for my shorts comes up empty, I hurry up the ladder and snatch up a clean pair of panties and shorts and make a fast trip to the bathroom to brush my teeth and get cleaned up.
I take in the dark smudges under my eyes, compliments of a late night. After a quick shower, and praying that my guests aren’t all waiting around for me, I dress and exit the bathroom. In need of coffee, I go straight to the kitchenette to make a carafe, and go completely still when I find it’s already brewing. Wes made the coffee? I chuckle. Of course, he did. He has it in his head that this weekend is all about him doing for me, and well…I secretly like it. I know, I know, I’m a strong, independent woman, but maybe I’m also a girl who likes to put herself in the hands of a take-charge, capable man who wants to lighten my load.
Cripes, last night he put my needs first, pleasuring me like it was his job, and I didn’t hate it. Nope, not one little bit. I’m not sure I even knew what I liked or needed until he pushed me to tell him. Mom always said never to rely on a man, and I get it. We have to be able to take care of ourselves, but maybe it’s okay if we let someone take care of us once in a while, too—at least in the bedroom. Lord knows I’ve been taking care of that task for far too long.
Why wasn’t he in bed when you woke, Charlie?
As that question dances around in my head again, all kinds of answers come to mind. I’m pretty sure I told him I wanted more, but maybe he’s a one and done kind of guy. Get what he wants and moves on. I need to be okay with that, even though there’s a niggling in my brain that tells me that thought is way off base, that he’s not a guy to hit it and quit it. There’s another part of my brain, however, telling me, despite what Jules said, that he’s been with a lot of different women, that he has a revolving door, that he might still be in love with his ex.
Stop!!
I take a deep breath to still my thoughts. I have to stop overthinking this. Wes and I had sex. Period. Nothing else. I told him one weekend of fantasy, and under no circumstances am I going to fall for him. I can’t—won’t—be that stupid.
I glance at the counter, and the second I do, my heart does a little somersault, and I fear I could bethat stupidwhen I find a note on the counter. I pick it up, run my finger over Wes’ handwritten words, my breath fluttering a little in my chest.Get some rest, babe. Gone for a run, and I’ll take care of breakfast when I get back.
Could the guy be any sweeter?
Hey Charlie, did you sign up for the girls’ team by mistake?
I push that memory to the back of my brain. He’s obviously not that mean boy anymore. My stomach flies high as I pour a big mug of coffee and add a splash of milk. Hushed voices from outside reach my ears, and I walk to the door and peek out and find Wes and Rider coming back from a run. They’re talking quietly, about what I don’t know, but judging by the intense look on their faces, I think it might be something serious.
I open the door, and as a cool ocean breeze washes over me, two heads jerk my way. Oh, God, did I interrupt? My chest tightens and I begin to back away, when Wes’ lips curl up in a ravenous smile. A hard quake goes through me. He walks up to me, all hot and sweaty from his run, and it’s insane how sexy he looks.
I call out to Rider. “Give me five minutes and I’ll get right at cooking us breakfast.”
Wes snorts, and calls over his shoulder. “Give us thirty minutes, or make it yourself.”
Rider gives a knowing laugh and heads toward his dome. “Why did you say that?” I ask, and try to look past him again, to tell Rider breakfast will be shortly when Wes starts backing me up and the door slams shut behind us. He reaches behind himself and sets the lock. As he shuts the world out and us in, a quiver goes down my spine.
There’s an intensity about him, an animal chasing its prey, as heat radiates from his body. His scent reaches my nose—all musky and full of testosterone—as his body bumps mine. God, I like it. “Wes? Is everything okay?”
“No.”
My breath stalls in my lungs. What is going on with him. Is he regretting last night? No, that can’t be it. He wouldn’t have left a note, being so damn sweet. But maybe on his run he thought things through and decided once was enough with me. Did I disappoint him? I mean, I’m not all that experienced but I’m sure he was having a good time.
“What…?”
“We need thirty minutes, because one of two things are about to happen.” The urgency in his voice sets my pulse racing. His gaze moves over me, and his jaw clenches when I take the hem of the shirt I’m wearing—his shirt—and ball it in my fists. “I need you now, this very second, so you either join me in that shower—although I doubt that the two of us will fit without some creative maneuvering—because baby, I need to fuck you. Or I bend you over this table and take you even though I’m all sweaty. Choice is yours, Charlie. Make it fast.”
His breath is coming harder now, and I don’t think it was because of his run. His hand slides around me and he tugs me to him, anchoring me against his raging erection. I gulp, shocked at the heat and want simmering in his eyes—thrilled at the way he wants me.
My sex grows wet, dampening my panties. “That’s what the guest wants?”
He growls. “Yes.”
Never having been so bold or brazen behind closed doors—this man really brings out a different side of me—I push away from him and his eyes narrow in on me, like an animal ready to take chase, but I’m not about to run. No, I’m about to give myself over to him, in ways that I probably shouldn’t—in ways that could prove to be dangerous later on.
I turn and wiggle my hips as I shimmy my shorts to my knees, leaving my panties in place, my mind recalling how he loved dipping into my pajama shorts last night. Okay, and maybe I liked that too. Who knew?
“I like you all hot and sweaty, farm boy,” I say, and love his responding growl and how it curls around me.
“Fuck me.”