FOUR DAYS.
That’s all we had. Four precious days that rattled my world. We told each other it wasn’t anything more than Type I fun and great sex. Great. Fucking. Sex. The best of my life.
I keep trying to tell myself that’s all it was—easy fun and casual sex. Convince myself. Because she is five thousand miles away in New York, and I am here, confined in a room surrounded by semi-automatic weapons in Hawaii.
All I see are her eyes.
They’re the only thing I’ve been able to think about for the last six months.
Well, that’s not entirely true . . . I think about her lips and her tongue and her body and her smile. But her dark blue eyes are the most prevalent. Just the way they used to suck me in, read me, devour me, seduce me. Shine when they looked at me, even if it was all too briefly.
Four days.
Four simple, carefree days is what I had with Tara Stevens. I knew I was a dead man walking during that last dance at Kayne and Ellie’s wedding as our bodies swayed and touched and caressed to David Cook’s Fade into Me. That’s exactly what it felt like, too—like we were fading into each other, the world disappearing right before our very eyes. The spark of attraction becoming so hot it felt as if it was fueled by kerosene. I had to have her despite the fact Kayne threatened my life not twenty-four hours before. He’s as protective of Tara as he is of Ellie, but nothing could stop the lust converging between us like two electrically charged particles—not even a six-foot-three, two-hundred-pound killing machine.
I fiddle with the little plastic plumeria flower Tara wore in her hair. You can find them all over the island in an array of colors. I squeeze the clip between my fingers and watch as the light pink flower teeters up and down. I can still picture it pinned in her platinum blonde hair. Hair so long and thick, I would wrap it around my wrist and pull while I fucked her. One notable time on the hood of my car parked on a secluded cliff overlooking a waterfall and a green, mountainous landscape.
My cock stiffens painfully from just the memory.
I have to stop fucking doing this to myself. It’s torture. What we had is over. It was never anything to begin with. Type I fun—fun in the purest sense—and great sex.
I clip the flower back on the top edge of my monitor and try to ignore the memory of Tara naked, spread across the black hood of my Charger, while I took her hard from behind. How she loved it, how she encouraged it; a façade of innocence with the flower in her hair.
I learned quickly that Tara was anything but innocent. She’s the most sexually adventurous woman I have ever met. A live wire, up for anything. I’ve tried that submissive stuff Kayne and Jett are into, but it just wasn’t for me. I prefer a more active participant, and Tara definitely fit that bill. Giving me head on the H3 while we drove to the North Shore, sex in the ocean with a beach full of people, letting me fuck her any and every possible way in my hotel room the night of the wedding. And don’t get me started on her little clit ring; I can still feel it clinking against my teeth as I made her come. Still taste her sweetness as she exploded on my tongue.
I grab my cock with desperate need. Desperate need for Tara.
I know I have to stop thinking about her, fantasizing about her, but she seems to be woven into my every thought. It’s been six months; I should have moved on by now, but I feel like I’m stuck. Stuck on a vivacious blonde I can’t get out of my head.
“Hey, man.” I hear Jett suddenly behind me.
“Hey.” I clear my throat and straighten hastily in my seat.
He leans against my desk and gazes down at me. Those perceptive turquoise eyes scrutinizing me.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I nonchalantly adjust my junk and glance at the computer screen. “Where are the girls?”
“Napping, finally.” Jett drops his head back. “London was up with Layla all night again.”
“Sucks, man.” I attempt to make casual conversation. “I remember my mom complaining I didn’t sleep through the night until I started crawling.”
“Yeah. Well, we are almost there, so here’s hoping.” Jett chuckles. “Anything going on I should know about?” He nods at the monitor.
“Nope. All quiet on the western front.”
“Nice. That’s what I like to hear.”
“Don’t we all.” I fiddle with Tara’s flower distractedly.
Jett sighs. “Why don’t you just go see her?”
“Who?” I whip my head over at him.
He shoots me a don’t bullshit me, brother look.
“The owner of that flower,” he says directly.
I scoff. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
“I’m being serious.” He’s stern.
Not that I haven’t considered it, but what would it accomplish? Another weekend, at most, of complete and utter bliss that has a foreseeable end? A tease of happiness? No thanks. I’d rather just get past it on my own.
“I don’t think so.” I brush him off.
“You’ve been moping around here since Tara left.”
“I don’t know if moping is the right word,” I grumble.
“Yearning then? When I walked in here, you were just about to jerk off to that flower.”
“I was not.” I glare up at him. “I was adjusting.”
“Sure, we can call it that if it makes you feel better.” He calls bullshit.
“Kayne would hang me off Diamond Head by my ankles if he found out I went to see her.”
“Don’t tell him.” Jett shrugs. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Besides, he’s so wrapped up with Ellie, he won’t even notice you’re gone.”
“That makes me feel so loved.” I bat my eyes at him sardonically.
“If I tell you that I love you, will your balls grow back?” He puts his hand on my shoulder, messing with me.
I smack him away and laugh. “My balls haven’t gone anywhere. Trust me. I think they’ve turned into rocks.”
“Someone needs some pussy. Perfect reason to go see Tara. Fuck her out of your system.”
I curl my lip. “You actually kiss London with that crass mouth?”
“I do way more than kiss her.” Jett leers at me like he just sprouted horns. “Don’t you want to do more with your mouth than just blow hot air?” he goads me.
I cross my arms and exhale, half envious-half conflicted; my chest muscles stiffen as I reluctantly succumb to my raging hormones. As much as I hate to admit it, Jett is right. I do need pussy, and Tara’s is definitely worth flying clear across the country for.
“You’ll cover for me with Kayne?” I raise an eyebrow, actually considering it like a crazy man.
“I promise he won’t have a clue,” Jett responds deviously, his eyes glittering like a pair of precious stones. I swear he gets off on fucking with Kayne.
“Well, then . . .” I smile presumptuously. The fact this trip will be covert as well as illicit adds even more of an appeal. “I guess someone is going to New York.”