I climb into Zach’s fancy-assed Mercedes. The leather seat feels smooth against my thighs. The last car I’ve been in, Blake’s old Hyundai, has torn fabric seats and even then, it burned my legs. Zach’s car sits in a covered garage, more pampered than I’ll ever be.

Oh, poor, pitiful me.

Jesus.

Zach doesn’t seem to mind being shirtless, and really—why would he? If at all possible, he’s even more gorgeous than the last time I saw him. A dark, even tan covers smooth skin that stretches over taut muscles. A smattering of sun-bleached hair covers his chest. And a line of almost downy hair trails under the waistband of his shorts.

He drives confidently through the busy traffic, deftly maneuvering to the highway that runs along the beach, the main road away from the financial district and Seven Mile Beach. Away from where the money hangs out to the center of the island where riff-raff like me lives.

Driving on the left doesn’t seem to shake him, guess he’s been here long enough he’s used to it. Bright hibiscus and flashy bougainvillea line the street and occasionally, a sliver of ocean shows in breaks between buildings and jungle. Trees hang heavy with mangos and other fruit, and blossoms bright as Jackson Pollack paintings splash against every shade of green. I love the island.

But today, it seems to shine for everyone else.

There you go again, you big baby.

Zach glances at me, then back at the road. “Want to tell me about it?”

“No.” But I do. More than anything. What would it be like to talk to him about the pain? To have him listen, hold my hand, sit with me? He acts as if he cares. There’s nothing but kindness in his deep blue eyes.

Actually, there’s more than kindness. There’s a smoldering hunger that tells me he’s noticed my near nakedness as much as I am aware of his. He has to be remembering what we’re like together. The things he did to me. What I did to him. Heat that has nothing to do with the tropical air rises in the little car.

But this is the guy who fucked me in an outdoor shower and brought a camera swooping down on us. I’d thought we were starting a relationship, maybe falling in love. He thought I was here and willing.

Zach’s face falls. Those dimples disappear. “I really want to help.”

“You can’t.” God, but I want him to be the one who can.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel and his biceps flex, but he keeps his mouth closed. After leaving the bulk of the tourist traffic behind it doesn’t take him long to wind through the streets to our blue and pink bungalow. Blake’s car is gone, so he’s at Dive Love. Diana hadn’t come home last night, so she’s probably still with Don.

I pop out of Zach’s car. “Hold on. I’ll change and give you your shirt back.”

“That’s okay,” he says. “You can keep it.”

I don’t want any reminders of Zach around. He looks far too good to wander around with his shirt off, anyway. “I’ll be right back.” I run up the concrete slab of a patio and into the house.

My room is scattered with clothes I’d tried on and rejected that morning while I planned my new life as Jonas Knightly’s daughter. I whip off Zach’s shirt and spin around to find something to throw on. And stop dead.

The picture of me and Mom laughing on the shore of a beach stands on the table by my bed. Our dive gear hangs heavy on our backs, our masks string around our necks. We look so happy. We were happy. I remember that day. Early in our week of diving, days of sun and surf ahead of us. I didn’t know life could turn so cold and lonely. I slump onto my bed, all the fight drains out of me.

I’m not sure how long I sit there before I hear Zach walk into the house and cross the tiny living room. “Kylie?”

I don’t answer him, but it only takes a couple of seconds for him to find me. He stands in the doorway, all naked chest and tanned legs. After one glance, he walks to the bed. He sits down next to me and puts an arm around me, pulling me close. “I know I keep saying this, but I’m sorry. For whatever or whoever hurt you. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry for the whole damned world.”

It wouldn’t matter if I had you.

Guard your heart.

He holds me close to him. “Please tell me what happened.”

I can’t stop myself from leaning against him, his skin against mine. I take in the scent of him, sun and ocean and his soap, all of it creating a wonderful smell that I hadn’t realized I knew so well.

Zach.

I don’t have the strength to fight it any more. I start to talk. “This might be the worst day of my life.”

He hugs me tighter. His bare chest hard and warm like a shield.

“No, there will never be anything compared to the day Mom died. But this might come in second.”

His warmth and firm hold don’t waiver. If he’d have said anything, I might not go on. But he keeps silent.

“For almost twenty hours I had a father.”

He takes a breath and stills, giving me time to tell him.

“I found out Jonas Knightly was my father after Mom died. I came here looking for him. That’s why I was at the office that day when I met Liesa. I convinced myself she was my friend and I told her about it and she stole his toothbrush. I finally got the nerve to send it out for DNA testing.”

Zach brushes my hair from my face. It was what Mom used to do when I.

Why can’t you be mine?

“When it came back a match, I’d let myself build it up to where I believed Jonas would accept me. Not just that, I’d imagined when I showed him the DNA evidence, he’d have no choice but to acknowledge me.”

Zach lets out a huff of disgust. He holds my gaze, telling me clearly of his disdain for Jonas.

“I told myself it was all about the money. All I wanted from him was tuition for grad school and I’d be set to make my own way in the world. But it wasn’t until I understood he’d always known about me and had rejected me from conception, that I realized I’d lied to myself. It was never about the money.”

I have to stop to swallow a sob and Zach encircles me with his arm. Our thighs smash together on the bed and we sit as close as we can. So much skin against skin.

“It was always about having a father. Mom had loved me, taken care of me, and taught me how to take care of myself. She’d been my staunch supporter, my coach, my advisor, and my best friend. Without her, I felt lost and alone.”

Zach’s eyes are full of such depth and compassion. Part of me actually believes he feels the same way about me that I’m trying so hard not to feel about him.

I clear my throat, chasing away my tears. “But, whatever. Fuck him I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.”

Zach finally speaks. A deep rumble I feel in that naked chest, where I want to put my lips, trace with my tongue. “You’re right—you don’t need Jonas. He’s an asshole. But you have people in your life. Blake and Diana. And Liesa, if you’ll let her.”

Every one of those names feel like a knife to my heart. “Blake is mad at me for contacting Jonas and for—” I stop short, then think, what the hell. “For you and I being together that night.”

I continue. “Blake and I will never be friends like we were. And besides, he’s leaving for law school at Columbia soon. Diana is moving to California with her new boyfriend. And Liesa?” I push my hair out of my face. She’d said we were connected and some part of me feels it. But that had been as much wishful thinking as Jonas accepting me as his daughter. “Liesa is more concerned about ratings and her amazing lifestyle than she is with friendship and loyalty.”

“You’ve got me.” His small smile hints at his dimples. “You’ll always have me.”

Guard your heart.

“No. I don’t. I don’t have you Zach. I never did.” I jump up, suddenly too aware I barely wear anything, and that Zach doesn’t have a shirt on. I find Zach’s shirt and wadded it up. I hold it out to him. “Here’s your shirt. Thanks for the ride home. Goodbye.”

He grabs the shirt from my hand and tosses it to the side. He stands up and takes a step toward me. His eyes have deepened two shades and heat seems to roll off him. “Kylie.”

“No.” I shake my head. Tight, jerk swivels that stiffen my neck. “This can’t keep happening. I can’t keep letting it happen.”

His jaw clenches like I punched him, his neck stiffening against the assault. And then he turns and walks toward the open doorway.

He’s leaving.

I have to plant my feet and lock my knees to keep myself from lunging at him. From throwing myself in front of the doorway to keep him from walking through it.

But doesn’t leave.

He plants his hand on the open door. “Say you don’t want me, Kylie.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it, his gaze aimed at the living room. “Say you regret ever meeting me and tell me to leave.” The hand at his side clenches for a moment before he forces it open. “Say it and I’ll believe you. I’ll leave, and you’ll never hear from me again.”

The thought of never seeing him again does something to me. Sets off this wild, desperate fluttering in my chest but I open my mouth to tell him to leave because I have to. I have to say it because I can’t keep doing this to myself. I can’t keep letting myself fall for him, again and again.

I don’t want you. I regret ever meeting you. I want you to leave.

“Zach…”

That’s all I say, the rest of it getting lost somewhere but he must hear it in my voice, the truth of what I really want because he’s shoulders loosen, his relief almost palpable.

He closes the door, shutting us both in. When he turns and reaches for me, I let him. When he pulls me against him, even though I know it’s wrong, I can’t fight it.

I want him too much.

Almost as much as I need him.

“Jesus, Kylie—” His hands slide across my hips, one molding itself around the curve of my ass while the other pressed against my back. “I can’t stop thinking about you. I’m—”

I don’t want to hear I’m sorry. I don’t want to hear anything. I just want to feel. Be with him. Even if I end up regretting it.

Almost without my consent, my mouth opens and presses against his skin. At first, just a gentle brush of my lips, against the naked skin of his chest but it isn’t enough. I need more of him.

I need everything.

My tongue swirls on his skin, tracing the curves and contours of his pecs. Trailing lower and lower. Following the ridged muscles of his abs until I’ve slipped from his grasp and am on my knees in front of him.

I can feel him watching me while I work the button on his shorts loose and I look up to find him watching me with a mystified expression. Like he has no idea what I’m doing. It would be funny if I wasn’t in such a hurry to get my mouth on him.

Slipping my hands into the waistband of his shorts, I push them down around his hips, freeing his cock. Wrapping my hand around the hard length of him, I lean in to lave the swollen head of him with my tongue while I give his shaft a slow, measured stroke.

“Jesus…” He groans it, his hip jerking forward, stroking himself in my grip. “Kylie…” The head of his cock gives a hard jerk when I close my lips around him, moaning when the salty taste of his pre-cum hits the back of my tongue. He reaches up, his hands tangling themselves in my hair, so he can push himself into my open mouth.

Relaxing my jaw, I take him in as far as I can, licking and sucking while he fucks my mouth. Looking up, I find his gaze with mine, the blue of his eyes hooded and dark. His breath heavy in his chest like he’s having a hard time catching it. His hips pumping and stroking against the pressure of my mouth and hand.

“I gonna come.” His fingers tighten in my hair for a second before loosening, giving me a chance to pull away.

I don’t pull away.

I moan again, tightening my grip on his cock. Licking and sucking faster. Harder. “Fuck.” He shouts it this time, his fingers tightening in my hair hard enough to hurt while his cock jerks and spasms, the thick, salty taste of his release hitting the back of my throat.

Before he’s finished, Zach is reaching for me again, this time fitting his hands under my arms.

One second, I’m on my knees. The next I’m on my bed, sprawled my back, Zach kneeling between my thighs. Hooking my panties with his fingertips, he rips them down my legs before lifting my hips off the bed—and then he’s inside me, a hard, deep thrust that has me crying out.

“Christ…” He growls it, low and rough in his throat. “You feel so fucking good.” He shifts his grip on my hips, sliding his thumb up the seam of my throbbing pussy until his finds my clit, slicking the pad of it over me. Pressing and circling until I’m writhing and moaning, my legs locked around his hips.

“More, Zach…” My hips flex in his hands, my pussy trying to pull him deeper. Closer. “I need—”

Leaning forward, he braces a hand against the wall above my head, lifting my hips even further off the bed with the other, deepening the angle of his thrusts. “Me.” He pulls out and slams back into me, so hard and fast my eyes fly open. “You need me,” he says, each of his words punctuated by the stroke of his thick cock inside me. “Say it Kylie—” He’s staring down at me, watching me come apart underneath him. “Say you need me.”

“I need you, Zach... only you.” As soon as I say it, a fire catches in my belly, my orgasm burning its way up the length of my spine. My back arches, shoulders digging into the bed and I scream his name, my pussy gripping around him like a fist.

“Fuck.” Buried deep inside me, he comes again, his fingers digging into my hip while his cock empties inside me.

Stretching himself out on top of me, he keeps fucking me, his thrusts slowing as he cups a hand around my jaw, using his thumb to angle my mouth up to meet his. His tongue sweeps past my lips to tangle with mine, each languid stroke of it keeping perfect time with his cock moving inside me.

The wave recedes and I catch my breath. “Wow.”

Zach rolls off of me but despite the heat, we lay against each other. “I’ve never.” He swallows, starting at the ceiling. “Not like that.”

I turn my head and look at him. “Like what?”

His mouth tightens at my question and I think I’ve pushed too far. That he isn’t going to answer me, until finally he speaks.

“I had a girlfriend.” He doesn’t look at me when he says it. “We were together for seven years. She dumped me—she’s the reason I went crazy. Dropped out of school. Started drinking and fucking anything I could get my hands on.” He must feel my shoulders stiffen against his because me looks at me. “I thought I loved her. That I couldn’t live without her. Didn’t want to… and then I met you.” He smiles at me, the slow spread of it lighting up his face. “When I look at you, I can’t even remember what she looks like.”

He props himself on his elbow and kisses me, lingering and soft. The kind of kiss that says together.

Only you.

I feel myself smile and it surprises me. “And to think, this started out to be the second worst day of my life.”

“I’m calling it.” He kisses me again. “Best day ever.”

The room is growing dusky. It dawns on me I haven’t eaten all day. “Are you hungry?”

Zach kisses me again before he swings his legs off the bed. I can seriously get used to those kinds of kisses. “Starved.”

I push myself to sit. “I can offer you ramen with a side of Poptarts.”

His face freezes and his smile fades. “What time is it?”

I flop over and fumble in my bag for my phone while Zach lunges for the shorts I’d slipped off of him earlier. “It’s going on seven.”

“Fuck.” He buttons and zips and casts frantic eyes about for his shirt.

That sets my blood tripping. “What?”

He grabs his shirt. “I’m supposed to be at Liesa’s at six, so we can go some sunset cruise.”

My blood freezes and I stop breathing. My throat closes and I watch him button his shirt.

Oh my god. I’m stupid.

So. Fucking. Stupid.

Finished, he turns and bends to kiss me. I pull away with a sharp jerk that slams his brows slam low over his narrowed eyes. “What?”

“What?” I scramble off the bed and reach for something, anything I can find to cover myself up. I find a towel on the floor and wrap is around my chest. “You just fucked me and now you’re running back to your girlfriend and you ask me what?”

“No.” His blue eyes, go wide and he shakes his head. “Shit. It’s not like that. It’s just—”

“Just what?” Tears build in my eyes and he shimmers on the other side. “You’re frustrated because you can’t get her into bed, so you thought you’d get a little from the easy slut. Is that it?” My chest constricts, squeezing my heart and lungs together until I feel lightheaded. Sick to my stomach. “And now you’ll be in trouble if you don’t hurry back to be her footstool.”

“God, Kylie. Is that what this felt like to you?” He stares at me. “Did you think we were just fucking?”

“You just fucked me and now you’re running back to your girlfriend.” I want him out. Out of my bedroom. Out of my house. Out of my life. “What else can I think?”

I watch him struggle. His mouth move without producing sound. That panicked look in his eye slide into desperation. “You don’t understand. I have to go to Liesa. But I—”

“Where are the cameras this time?” I make a show of looking in my closet. Under my bed. “I mean this is juicy stuff, right? Reality TV gold.”

“Kylie, stop.” He reaches for me, tries to pull me close but I jerk away, and he drops his hands. “There’s no camera. No one knows I’m here.”

“Right.” Keeping the towel clamped under my arms, I bend over and snatch a t-shirt from the floor. “Because I’m everyone’s dirty secret.”

His head jerks back on his neck like I punched him in the mouth. “Don’t—” He stops and shakes his head like he doesn’t understand or know what he’s going to say next. “Don’t ever say that about yourself again.”

For some reason the tone he uses shames me. “Why?” I’m practically yelling. “Like you care.”

“I care.” He glares at me, his hands clenching and working at his sides like he has to physically force himself to keep from grabbing me. Like he can’t decide if he wants to shake me or kiss me. “You have no goddamned idea how much I care.”

“It’s obvious how much you care for me.” I put my hands through the armholes. “You’re late, you’d better get going.” I fight with the towel and the shirt and finally give up, let the towel drop and stuff the t-shirt over my head.

When I open my eyes, Zach is still here, standing in front of me. “I don’t want to go. I have to go.”

“Then go,” I say, pushing as much indifference into my tone as I can manage to scrape up.

He still doesn’t move. “If I don’t go, the director and camera crew will be all over me.” He reaches up to run a rough hand through his hair. “If I don’t, they’ll find you. Jonas has already threatened to start looking and if he does, I won’t be able to protect you. He’ll suck you into this shit storm.”

I shouldn’t believe him. He lied to me before. Called me here and willing. And yet, here he is, all sincere and so undeniably beautiful I feel myself bend. “If it’s so bad, why do you and Liesa do it?”

“I don’t have a choice.” He shifts his gaze away for a split second. The anguish in his voice tears at me. “Jonas and my father have me wrapped up so tight I can barely breathe.”

Jonas Knightly.

My father.

He turns everything he touches to ash.

My brain tells me to push Zach as far away as I can. To get away from him. To demand he leave me alone. Tell him I never want to see him again. But something deeper convinces me of his truth. The way he touched me. Kissed me. Moved inside me. Like he can’t live without me. Like he needs me just s much as I need him. What I felt between us is real.

True.

And I know he feels it too.

“No,” I whisper.

His jaw stiffens and he swallows hard before speaking. “No?” It comes out rough. Like he had to force it out of his mouth.

“No.” I shake my head. “It wasn’t just fucking.”

“Thank Christ.” His face relaxes. His shoulders drop, and he closes his eyes for a moment. “God—I’m so fucking sorry, Kylie. For all of it. Everything.” He reaches out and places his palm against my cheek and brings us closer together. “I’m going to figure a way out of this mess, for me and for Liesa.”

“For Liesa?”

“She’s more of a prisoner than I am.” He searches my face. “I can’t abandon her. You wouldn’t want me to.”

I shouldn’t care about her. Nothing about her is real.

But I do care. Damn it.

“But I need—” Zach takes my hand. “Shit. I need to stay away from you until I can get us out.” He holds my gaze and traces his thumb along my jaw, tipping my head up to him. Then he gives me one of those kisses, long and sweet. The kind that says more than words ever can and I feel myself falling, all over again.

“Okay.” I pretend the word doesn’t hurt. That it doesn’t cut me to the quick.

“I’ve got to go. But I promise. I’ll find a way for us.” He kisses me again. “You got a phone,” he says, flashing me his dimples.

I laugh, giving him a shrug. “Yeah, well someone pointed out that I’m hard to reach.”

Laughing, he grabs my cell from the bed and taps into it. A moment later, the phone in his pocket rings. He takes it out and punches off. “I’ve got your number. Don’t call me, because Jeri and Tom,” he pauses and adds, “that’s the director and her assistant. I’ve seen them checking my phone. Most of what happens on the show is scripted but they like to catch us off-guard sometimes because they say it adds drama. So, we’ve got to be careful.”

He kisses me again and again before he backs away with a groan. I’m not the only one wishing we can drop back into my bed. At the doorway he stops.

”Kylie, I know he’s your father but whatever you do—” His brow crumples a bit and he taps the doorjamb with the side of his fist. “just please, don’t trust Jonas Knightly.”