Page 23

He opens the basket and reveals the contents. Bread from a deli, cheese, meats, olives. It’s almost a replica from our midnight snack at the hotel, and my cheeks heat as I remember eating some of that from his body.

Jesus, I was such a hussy that night.

Noticing my flushed state, he lifts the hem of his shirt, cheekiness twinkling in his blue eyes. “Want a repeat?”

“A plate will be fine, thank you.” I lean forward to take one of the plastic ones he brought out, and he drops his shirt. It’s a shame, but I’m on my best behavior tonight.

“I’m pretty sure you concluded that anything would taste better if my abs were the plate.”

“I did not say that,” I mutter into the palms of my hands as I try to hide my embarrassment.

“I guess you’ll have to do it again to test it out. Here.” When I part my fingers and look, he’s holding out some bread for me.

“You know, I don’t do what happened on Saturday night.”

“You don’t have sex? I think you’ll find you do. And I can also confirm that you’re really quite good at it.”

“Quite good?” I ask but regret the question the second it passes my lips. “Forget I asked that. And no, I meant I don’t go to hotel rooms with guys I’ve just met.”

“You didn’t just meet me. We met the night before.”

“You know what I mean. I just needed you to know that it’s not something I make a habit out of. I’m not a …”

“A…?”

“Slut,” I mumble around a bit of my bread.

He shakes his head. “That’s not … no, Harlow. Just no. If I had any questions about your morals or behavior, do you think I’d be here right now?”

I shrug. He has a point.

“I just needed to get it off my chest.”

His eyes drop to my breasts at my words, his pupils dilating as if he’s remembering what they look like with no clothing covering them.

“I could sure use you getting something else off your chest.” His voice is low, and it causes all kinds of flutters to erupt down below.

“Eat up. If you’re lucky, you might need your stamina later.”

His eyes fly back up to mine, a smirk spreading across his lips. Placing his food onto the picnic blanket, he leans over, resting a palm beside my hip and forcing me to lower my plate as he closes the space between us.

The fingers of his other hand gently brush against my cheek, sending a shiver down my spine. His eyes stare deep into mine. It’s like he sees me—the real me, cracks, dents, regrets and all—despite the fact that he’s barely scratched the surface of my life.

“You’re incredible,” he muses, his eyes bouncing between mine. “I’ve never had a first date before.” His admission hits me right in the chest. How? How is that possible? “So, rest assured that if I didn’t want to be here right now, if I had any doubts about you, then I wouldn’t be.”

“Y-you’ve never had a date before?” I ask, utterly astounded.

He shakes his head.

“Why?”

He opens his mouth to respond but must change his mind at the last minute because he closes it again.

“It’s okay,” I encourage, desperate for him to open up just a little. It’s totally hypocritical of me, because I’m not exactly an open book.

He sits back, sucking in a fortifying breath. “I’m not looking for forever, Harlow,” he admits as he stares out to ocean, his voice a little colder than before. “I’m not some kind of Prince Charming that you’re going to be able to gallop off into the sunset with.”

“But—”

“No. No buts. It’s who I am. I can’t be tied down.”

“Why?”

He closes his eyes and drags in a deep breath. For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to respond, but then his lips part and he confesses, “Bad shit happens to those around me. I’m like a fucking curse that doesn’t stop striking. I refuse to drag anyone else into my fucked-up life.”

He pulls his knees up and rests his arms across the top as he focuses on the waves crashing.

“I’m no princess, Corey.”

The silence hanging between us is heavy, yet the pull I feel toward him never dissipates as he loses himself in his own head.

Pushing my plate aside, I do the only thing I can think of to drag him back from wherever he’s gone: I gently lift his arms and nudge his legs down before straddling his lap.

I take his cheeks in my hands. “Did you hear me?” I lean forward, the tip of my nose brushing his. “I said I’m no fucking princess.” I squeal as his hands grab onto my ass. He flips me over and stares into my eyes for a beat before crushing his lips to mine.

His kiss is hard, passionate, frantic, as if he just can’t get enough of me. I take everything he gives as my fingers grip tightly to the fabric at his back.

Our tongues duel and our teeth clash. I completely forget that we’re in a public place where everyone can see, and I lose myself to this tormented man.

He might think he’s a curse, but he has no idea that I’m the true poison here. But I fear that now I’ve had a taste of him, I’m not going to be able to release him.

When he eventually pulls back, both our chests heave for air as our breaths mingle. He stares down at me from his position with his hands either side of my head.

“Fuck,” he barks. “Why are you so fucking tempting?” I expect him to kiss me again, but I’m disappointed, because, after running his thumb along my bottom lip, he falls to the side and pulls me into his body.

His fingers trail around the softness of my stomach as we lie in silence. It’s not like it was earlier; it’s now comfortable with desire crackling between us. That kiss was amazing, but it was nowhere near what either of us needed.

“This is why I moved here,” he suddenly says, breaking the silence. He nods towards the empty beach and the orange and yellow sky. “I craved this kind of peace. This solitude. I had to get away, and here seemed like paradise.”

“And how’s it working out for you?”

“Good and bad.”

“How’s that?”

“Turns out you can’t run away from problems or nightmares. They follow you wherever you go.”

I may not have moved all that far from when I was a child, but I still know exactly what he means. “It doesn’t matter how much you try to drown them out, either. They’re always there.”

He looks down at me, and I’m powerless but to turn to him.

He searches my eyes as if he’s trying to find something. “You know. How do you know?”

“A lifetime of mistakes.”

“Tell me about it,” he says sadly, dropping back onto the blanket and resting his arm on my stomach. Together, we stare at the sky as it darkens, and the twinkling stars appear.

“Harlow?” he whispers so quietly I almost think I imagined it.

“Yeah?”

He twists so he’s on his side and staring down at me once more.

He bites down on his bottom lip as he considers his question, and I want to release it and bite on it myself. Lust shoots down my body as I remember what those lips are capable of. Of how alive he made me feel.

“Spend the night with me?”

My lips part to answer, but no words come out. Instead, my mind goes crazy.

He’s already admitted he doesn’t do forever. Is this just a fancy hook-up? Was this date just a way to ensure I’d get in his bed?

“It’s okay. Forget it. Let’s just take you home.”

The thought of leaving him is worse than any of my previous concerns. If I go home, I get to climb into my cold bed and let my mind run crazy with thoughts of what could be. Or I could go with him and take a chance. The kind of chance Brooke has been begging for me to take for years.

“No. I want to stay with you.”

The muscles in his neck ripple as he swallows.

Leaning forward, he captures my lips, proving just how right my decision is.