Page 3

Lara

Shana’s on the bed, legs crossed, sunlight splashing over her from the window, fingers tucking her short brown hair behind her ear. Her blue eyes are locked on mine and are narrowed with suspicion.

“Where were you last night?” she asks.

“Out,” I say, toeing off my sandals and avoiding her gaze. I mean, it’s not like she didn’t run off with her two hot dudes to do goodness-knows-what. She’s adventurous in a way I don’t think I could ever have the guts to be.

“Uh-huh.” I can tell she's not buying it. “What’s his name?”

I lift my shoulders.

“It was the guy from the bar, wasn’t it?” She sounds excited, but my cheeks are red, and I feel like I’m burning up.

She pats the space beside her on the bed. “Spill.”

I hesitate, then sit, the mattress dipping under me. The room feels smaller now, as if a net is closing around me, squeezing the air from my lungs and leaving me trapped. I pick at the duvet, tracing the floral pattern with a fingertip.

“Shana, I just needed some air, okay?” The lie is about as convincing as a toddler swearing they didn’t steal cookies from chocolate-lined lips.

“Air, huh?” She doesn’t look convinced. “Just air?”

I nod, too quickly, but I can’t tell her. Not everything. Not yet. This isn’t like me and I’m still riding the high of the whole situation. I’ve never been the kind of woman to go home with a guy I just met – I’ve seen way too many Datelines for that kind of behavior.

I fidget with the hem of my shirt, the light fabric twisting between my anxious fingers. I know Shana is still watching me, waiting for me to level with her and tell her where I was last night. How did she even notice I was gone? Wasn’t she out with those two guys from the bar?

“Look at you,” she says, a chuckle chasing her words and a sparkle in her eyes telling me that she’s happy for me. “Glowing like the sunrise itself.”

“Am I?” My laugh is a nervous flutter that doesn’t sound like me.

“Totally.” Shana leans toward me, her elbows on her knees. “You've got that just tumbled out of bed with a Greek god look. Not your usual up before dawn vibe.”

She’s just not going to quit. But I can’t really blame her. I’d be questioning her, too, if she was suddenly acting like a whole new person. “Stop it, Shana,” I say, but I'm smiling, embarrassment that I’m caught warring with amusement within me.

“Hey,” she says, her voice suddenly more serious. “I'm glad you're having fun, really.”

I nod, thankful, even though I know the other shoe is about to drop.

“It's just...this isn't you. Going to a stranger's room? Having a one-night stand?” Her eyebrows knit together, the lines of worry visible even as she tries to keep things light. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Nothing happened,” I say, but the lie is so weak there’s no way she’ll believe it.

“Uh-huh.” The lie crumbles under her knowing stare, and I try not to get defensive. She reaches out, patting my leg with a soft hand. “Just be careful, okay? These vacation flings, especially with bad boys, they can burn hot and fast and leave you with nothing but ashes.”

What makes her think Lark is a bad boy? “He seems nice,” I say, but she clears her throat, and I make the mistake of looking her in the eyes.

“Trust me, he’s a bad boy. I know them when I see them.” She’s so serious I know I should trust what she’s saying. “I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I know, I know.” My voice breaks and I pull away from her touch. “I can handle myself, and I’m not going to get hurt because I have some time with a guy on my vacation.” I’m not some delicate flower. I love my friend, but I don’t need her to mother me right now, even though I know it all comes from a good place. “I can handle myself.”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” she says, but I can see the shadow of doubt in her eyes. “Just remember, those guys, they have a way of disappearing when you want – or need - them most.”

“Shana, I—”

“Promise me,” she cuts me off, her expression fierce and as protective as a lioness. “Promise me you won't forget who you are for some guy with a cute smirk and a few smooth lines.”

“Promise.” The word is a rock in my throat, hard and solid. I mean it. And I’m never going to get into a situation where I need this guy. It’s just wanting. Just a need for some time to connect with someone I’ll never see again after this vacation is over.

“Good.” She smiles, her eyes warm and loving. “Because you’re worth so much more than a holiday romance.”

And this is why she’s my best friend – she’ll tell me things like they are and won’t hold back. While I might get annoyed at her sometimes, I’m grateful for reminders like this that will help me guard my heart against this bad boy during our fling.

My heart dances with excitement as I make the decision to go back to his room tonight. After all, I kept his room key.

My fingers turn over the plastic card that’ll grant me access to his room over and over in my pocket. The plastic feels heavy, somehow, like it's weighted with every warning Shana gave me. I slide it out as I approach his door, the numbers matching the ones etched in my mind.

And I hesitate. Am I making the right choice? My body craves the pleasure he so effortlessly brought me to, but Shana’s right… this isn’t like me. But why shouldn’t I? I’m allowed to have fun, and this guy hasn’t done anything to make me feel unsafe or worried he might pull something. So what’s my hesitation?

But try as I might, I can’t think of a single reason not to do this. It’s harmless fun with someone who brings every inch of my body to life.

I touch the plastic to the lock and the light turns green. Turning the handle, I open it slowly, quietly. The soft click seems to echo down the hallway as the door closes behind me. My heart is a wild drumbeat in my chest and my lungs freeze and refuse to let any air in or out.

“You’re back,” he says without turning around. His voice is deep, gravely, and so damn exciting.

I step closer, my eyes adjusting to the dimness. He's pouring amber liquid into a glass with practiced ease.

“I hope you don't mind whiskey,” he says over his shoulder, and I wonder if he knew I was coming.

“I don't mind,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel as I try to gather up my courage. This was easier when things between us just spiraled out of control. But this… this feels different. Like we planned it rather than two hungry souls looking for release in the heat of the moment. I’m not disappointed, just curious about the difference.

He finally turns, and the sight of him hits me all over again. That incredible body, the way his shirt hugs his muscles just right, making me hungry for more than I dare admit. His sleeves are rolled up, forearms on display, power and strength evident in the lines of his veins. I want to kiss every inch of this man, to feel his power under my lips, to enjoy him letting me do as I please.

I swallow hard, hoping he can’t read my thoughts on my face. “Nice shirt,” I say. It’s a feeble attempt at casual conversation and I doubt he won’t notice.

“Thanks,” he says, his gaze tracing over me before coming to a stop on mine. His green eyes are just as intense and piercing as they have been every time I’ve seen him. “It matches your eyes.”

A laugh escapes me, nervous, edged with excitement. “You remember my eye color?”

“Pretty hard not to. They're striking.” He offers me a drink and I take it, downing the stinging liquor in one gulp as if it’ll give me the liquid courage I need to relax. He watches me, leaning back against the counter and giving me a view that has my mouth going dry. I can see that he’s hard and ready through his pants, and my cheeks sting.

“Are you always this forward?” I ask, taking a step closer to him as desire and excitement mingle in my veins. It feels good to be wanted, desired.

“Only when I see something I want.” He reaches out, fingers brushing mine as he takes my glass.

Our eyes lock, and my whole being wants to step into his arms, to kiss him, to unleash all this pent-up desire flowing through me.

“Thank you,” I say, feeling the kick of the liquor.

“Anytime.” He pushes off from the counter, closing the distance between us in a stride. “So, what brings you to my room tonight?” There’s a teasing note in his voice so I know he knows the answer. But I guess if he wants to hear me say it out loud, I better gather my courage and try to force the words out.

I swallow hard, my pulse racing.

“I want you,” I whisper. Somehow my softly-spoken words seem to echo like gunshots in the room. His eyes darken with desire, and I feel something shift between us. Something deep and dangerous, something that leaves me trembling and excited.

“You want me, huh?” He runs a hand through his short dark hair, his green eyes never leaving my face as I stand frozen in place. “Let's see where that leads.”

With that, he pulls me close at the same moment I wind my arms around his shoulders. The moment our lips meet, my body melts, begging for him to work his magic like he can hear my needs and wants.

His kiss is fierce, hot enough to melt my body into a puddle of desire. The need I feel spirals out of control as his tongue slides along the seam of my lips. I open for him, allowing him anything in a way that echoes what I really want from the man – for him to do anything he likes to me.

As his hands slide between my leggings and skin, I gasp, loving the sensations.

“I need you,” I gasp between kisses, feeling his hardness against me, pressing into my belly. My hands roam over him, impatient to feel his skin against mine. Our hands fumble with each other’s clothing and when he pulls my shirt off and realizes I’m wearing nothing but perfume under it, he lets out a sharp, hungry growl that sends my heart thundering even harder.

But he backs off a step, his eyes tracing me. “Take what you want,” he murmurs, spreading his hands out from his sides in a gesture that’s less surrender and more of a challenge.

I plant a hand on his bare chest and shove him back. Obviously, he moves with me – there’s no way I could physically move this mountain of a man – until the edge of the bed takes him down. He drops onto the mattress, the wicked gleam in his eyes fueling my boldness. This man, this beautiful, drop-dead sexy bad boy, has no idea what he's unleashed within me.

I crawl over him, every move deliberate, and savor the heat and desire in his eyes. This is more thrilling than I could ever have imagined, and I realize I like being in control. His chest rises and falls rapidly, his muscles tensing in anticipation. I position myself above him, ready to claim the length of him.

“Like this?” I ask, letting just the tip of him touch me before moving him away. He groans, playfully annoyed with my antics. But he told me to take what I want, and right now… I want to tease him a little.

I continue teasing, refusing to actually take him, and his muscles flex. His abs tighten, as if he can make me take him with just enough of a curve to his body.

I lower over him, my chest pressing to his, my fingers raking his hair, my gaze locking on his. “Or like this?” I whisper, finally letting him slide into me, feeling that perfect fit that draws a groan from both of us.

“Exactly like this,” he says, his fingers digging into my hips, guiding me.

I ride him, each movement more frantic than the last. It's not just about the physical release—it's me taking charge of my own needs and pleasure in a way I’ve never experienced before. He watches me intently, green eyes darkened with lust, his jaw clenched. The sight of him—so strong, yet so willing to give up control and power – if only for a moment - sends me spiraling toward ecstasy.

“More,” I cry out, not sure what I’m asking for as I chase the feeling of pleasure that’s just out of reach.

“Come for me,” he commands, and the edge in his voice is all it takes.

Pleasure rips through me, a moan tearing from my throat. Beneath me, his body responds in kind, his abs clenching, strain etching his features as he follows me over the edge. Then, as the tremors subside, his expression softens, and there's a moment of peace, a sense of surrender that brings me peace.

The sound of our fast breathing and drumming heartbeats are the only sounds in the silence, and I turn into him, loving his scent, his heat, the way our bodies fit together even now. His fingertips stroke my back, making goose bumps scatter across my flesh. And for a moment, I don’t care if he’s a bad boy, if he’s dangerous, if I’m risking having my heart broken. I’m enjoying the ride. …Literally.