Page 2 of Single Mom’s Secret Diary (The Forbidden Reverse Harem Collection)

Avery

T en years ago—Spring Break

Sophia, my cousin, drags me to another beach bar overloaded with drunk and rowdy college students. I’ve been ignoring most of it, slipping around those who easily jostle others and keeping most of my drink in my glass.

I’ve gotten myself a margarita at each of them. It’s the only concoction of fruity and sugary alcohol that I can really handle without gagging. Most of the time.

A good wine will do the trick, too, but there’s none of that to be had here. All the more to disappoint my dad.

Sophia’s been smiling and flirting with every cute guy around. It’s gotten us more than our fair share of freebies, and I’m feeling pretty happy. Pretty free.

A tall, shirtless blond slides a hand around her waist as she laughs, and I prop myself on a stool. I’ve had a few attempts, but I’ve brushed them off. I will not be falling on a grenade to get my cousin laid. She does not need my help.

My margarita is strawberry this time, sweet and salty and strong. I sip it meaningfully when some guy settles beside me. “You don’t dance?”

I turn to take in the soft, natural tan of the man beside me. His arms are nice and muscled, but he’s wearing a shirt to hide the rest of him. That makes me squint at him. Everyone else is more than eager to show some skin. Sophia even convinced me to bare more than I normally do.

Granted, I’m showing off my legs and flat stomach since I don’t have a lot on top. Not many have offered me beads to flash them. And it’s not like I would, anyway.

“I’m afraid I don’t dance. Not like that.”

He turns, nursing a sweaty beer bottle that I assume is not his first but one he’s had for a long time. “Like what?”

I laugh lightly. “Like an animal in heat.”

His wide smile tugs at me, and I twist on my stool. His brows jump. “That is an apt description.”

I laugh harder, mostly because he uses the word apt . And those dark brown eyes darken further as he watches my mouth.

He leans in closer without invading my space too directly. “You have a beautiful laugh.”

“Is that your line?”

“No. It’s the truth.”

I purse my mouth at him, noting the differences again between him and the other drunken fools that crowd Cancún. “What are your plans for Spring Break…?”

I let myself trail off to see if he’ll give me his name instead of simply asking for it.

“Ezra.” He offers me his hand, which is cool from the beer but not cold. His palm is rough and his fingers strong as they close around mine. “Do I get your name?”

I let my head fall to the side as I think about it. “Avery. If only to keep you from giving me some nickname.”

This time, he laughs. Its baritone is louder than I imagined without being grating. “What ones have you earned so far? Vixen? Angel? Wait, let me guess. Temptress?”

Sipping my margarita again, I find that I don’t pay as much attention to the separate ingredients and enjoy the mixture. He’s distracting enough to dim the wild obsession I can’t seem to turn off. “Angel. Yes. Goddess, too.”

“Mmm. I can see that one.”

I shake my head. “Not helping your case.”

“And what case would that be?” He leans against the bar, facing me.

“The one that will convince me to sleep with you. Or at the very least, consent to a make-out session.” My blunt words don’t seem to faze him.

“And who says that’s what I’m trying to do?”

I gesture at the writhing crowd again, all of them in some pre-mating ritual.

“Fair point.” He bends closer, by my ear. Ezra’s breath is hot against my skin, making me suppress a shiver. “Call me old-fashioned, but I prefer a bit of conversational foreplay than I do the mindless grinding that seems to be the norm.”

I tip my head to look at him better when he doesn’t retreat all the way. “So you do want to sleep with me.”

Ezra laughs. “That’s still to be determined.”

Something about this guy makes me comfortable, but more than that, the way he carries on a conversation melts my insides. It has me reaching out to touch his arm, and slowly, our hands link together.

Best of all, he knows how to make me laugh.

The sun sets behind us—one of the few things I’ve truly enjoyed since coming to Mexico, and when I turn to look, his nose presses into the skin behind my ear. The touch is so gentle and small that I’m truly surprised by the way heat flashes through me.

Every time part of him brushes part of me, sparks zap and tingle along my skin. So, once the sun’s colors bleed from the sky, I’m not surprised by how he turns me back to him, placing himself between my knees to cup my face.

His kiss is slow but all-consuming. I’ve never felt this with another guy—not even the one I lost my virginity to earlier that year.

My hands crawl up his chest as I pull him closer. His touch circles my waist, doing the same until we are pressed together. I have never wanted someone more, and I lose myself in him until Sophia taps my shoulder.

She offers me a sinfully sloppy smile and nods to the guy behind her. “I’m headed back to his room, which I also think is his room.”

Ezra shakes his head and laughs almost silently. “It is.”

“Mmm. Good, then if my cousin wants some company, she’ll have the privacy for it. And if not, you’ll know not to disturb us.” And my cousin stumbles away in the arms of his friend.

When I look back, Ezra is watching me. I stare into those warm eyes and wait for him to ask, but he doesn’t.

Instead, he bends down to kiss me again, gently.

It doesn’t stay that way. As my hunger for him grows, Ezra responds with his own. Gasping for breath, I brush my nose against his. “Walk me back to my place?”

“Absolutely.” He doesn’t hesitate with his answer, even though it’s not clear whether I’ll invite him inside or not. I’m not even sure of that yet.

He doesn’t paw at me or try to convince me to let him inside on the way. Ezra holds my hand, his grip light but firm. Twice, he spins me on the sidewalk and smiles when I laugh.

At my room on the second floor, I turn to him and lean against the door. A deep, sharp breath fills my lungs as he brushes my cheek with his thumb.

“You don’t have to invite me inside,” he says, like he doesn’t think his kindness is a turn-on.

“So you’re just going to kiss me goodnight and go back to that room to listen to my cousin and your friend fucking?” I blink up at him innocently.

His laugh feeds that needy feeling low in my stomach. “Yes.”

When Ezra dips down to kiss me, I make my decision. I’m going to invite him inside. It’s Spring Break, and I may not know his last name, but I don’t need to. Not for this.

The soft noise he makes at the back of his throat has me tightening my grip on him. “Spend the night with me.”

He takes me in for a moment, the brown of his eyes bleeding black with desire, but he still checks to see if I mean it instead of sweeping in for what I offer. “What’s four plus four?”

I howl with laughter. “Eight. Why?”

“I’ve watched you drink four margaritas since we started talking, and I need to be sure you’re in your right mind and won’t regret this in the morning.” His touch shifts, cupping the back of my head and playing with the loose strands that have fallen from my ponytail.

“Try something harder.”

“Square root of a hundred and forty-four.”

“Twelve. Easy.” My hand slides down his chest.

“Capital of New York?”

Another easy one since I told him that’s my home state. “Albany. Did I pass?”

His mouth drops over mine with a hunger that nearly matches mine. When we finally tumble into my room, it’s not far to my bed, and the weight of him is delicious when I pull him down over me.

Everything he does is slow, thoughtful, not rushed at all. It takes hours. Which turns into days. And it’s easy to spend nearly every second of every day with him, even as Sophia makes fun of me for it.

But Ezra just feels right.

He takes me to the sights I planned to see on my own, holding my hand, tucking me back against his chest to block the wind, kissing the side of my neck or shoulder as though he can’t stop touching me. I can’t seem to stop either.

I don’t want the week to end.

Even though this all started with the presumption that we’d just have fun and leave this as the perfect Spring Break fling, part of me wonders what this could turn into if we let it.

Sometimes, I swear he looks at me with the same question filling his own thoughts.

The last night of break, we go back to his hotel room early, magic in the air between us from the moment the door closes to the time we fall asleep wrapped up in each other. I finally resolve to ask him if we can stay in contact after this.

When I slip from him in the middle of the early morning to pee, I stumble back to one of our phones lit up on the nightstand. I don’t want to miss an SOS call from Sophia, so I check.

And my heart sinks.

Hey, babe. Can’t wait to do dirty things to you when you get back tomorrow. I miss you.

From someone named Maddison.

Breath going haywire, I work to be as quiet as possible as I slip my clothes on and scoop up my shoes, sneaking out before the first tears fall.

This whole thing had been a ploy to get laid.

And I fell for it.

Stupid.