It makes no sense at all, to say it to Weston then, when he’s doing by far the dirtiest thing that anyone has ever done to me. We’re headed for paradise, but I’m already in it with him—I’m already there, and the last pieces of resistance are falling away. I let him into my most private place and just like that, I can’t keep the terrible truth from him any longer. I’ve fallen for him, and it has nothing to do with his money. It has nothing to do with Overbrook. It has nothing to do with anything, except the way he makes me feel when I’m at my most vulnerable, spread out in front of him without an ounce of shame.

He presses two fingers into me. They feel big—it doesn’t hurt, but it feels like an accomplishment to take it, to relax through it, to let it happen.

His voice, unlike mine, isn’t a whisper. He speaks the words clearly, like he doesn’t care who hears. “I love you, angel. I love you enough to take every inch of you for myself.” His voice drops a little and the fingers push in, spreading me wider. “Forgive me for being so selfish.”

I press my nipples, hard and sensitive, against the luxurious fabric of the comforter. “Don’t ever stop,” I beg him. “Don’t ever stop.”

The moon glows bright above Maui when we land on the runway, the pearly white expanding out into the midnight sky and reflecting in the ocean. It looks like holding Weston’s hand feels—bright and new, but familiar just the same.

And fleeting.

I shove that thought down deep and squeeze his hand tighter as we walk down the steps of the plane to the runway. Weston moves ahead of me to open the door of the town car that’s waiting.

Last night I slept on a private plane with Weston Grant curled around me, on our way to paradise.

“Welcome to Maui.” The driver’s voice isn’t Dave’s, but his eyes in the rearview mirror are kind.

“We’re glad to be here,” says Weston, and then he leans back against the seat and wraps his arm around me. “Surprise,” he whispers into my ear, and I can’t help grinning. It’s not much of a surprise after the pilot’s announcement just before landing, but I have a feeling Weston isn’t just talking about the island.

“Are we staying on the beach?”

“No. The Four Seasons.”

I laugh. “That’s not part of the surprise, then?”

Weston kisses my temple and settles back to watch the day brighten, not saying another word.

“Staying at the Four Seasons,” is Weston’s code for “staying in the penthouse suite of the Four Seasons,” which is by far the most breathtaking hotel room I could ever imagine. I’ve perfected the art of playing it cool—there are plenty of men at the Rose who like to flaunt their wealth—but this place is incredible.

We tumbled into bed until sunrise, and now that I’m seeing the views…

I can’t bear to let go of Weston’s hand, so he goes with me while I look out the windows in the massive suite, soaking in every view they offer. 

“You can see three other islands from here. Three.”

“I see them.” He laughs with a half-smile on his face that makes the tropical sunlight seem dim by comparison.

I should be exhausted—it’s not as if we slept a full night. Not by far. But I’m awake, energy thrumming through my veins, and Maui is so stunning—Maui as viewed from what has to be the most luxurious suite on the island, if not in the world—that I can’t decide which direction to send my body in.

“What are we going to do?”

Weston wraps both arms around me and leans his chin onto my shoulder. “About what?”

“About the island!” I cry.

“Some refreshments,” a voice says from behind us, and then three staff members are coming out onto the lanai with trays so densely covered in breakfast dishes that it’s almost impossible to tell that they’re silver underneath the goodies.

“First, we eat,” Weston murmurs into my ear, then takes me by the hand and leads me to one of the tables, pulling a chair out for me like I’m some kind of princess.

Five minutes later, over plates heaping with every kind of morning delicacy I could have hoped for—stacks of bacon, a tower of English muffins, fruit so fresh it’s still glistening—I look at him across the table, his eyes made a sea-green by the blue of the ocean. “What else do you have up your sleeve, Weston Grant?”

“What, other than the best suite at the best resort on the entire island?” He spears half a strawberry with his fork and pops it into his mouth. “Not a thing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“I’m deadly serious.”

“You don’t have a plan for the rest of the morning? Or later in the day?”

He leans in like he’s about to tell me something confidential. “That’s the beauty of paradise,” he says in a low voice. “It can be whatever you make it.”

“In other words…”

“In other words, angel, we’re going to do whatever it is you want to do.”

My heart beats faster. “You cannot expect me to plan our entire day. I’ve never even been to Maui before.”

“Plan? No. All you have to do is wish for something, and I’ll make it happen. That’s how this is supposed to work, remember?”

I take a bite of bacon. It’s just the way I like it—crispy, salty, and delicious. “I don’t know if we ever discussed those kinds of details.”

“Did we not?” Weston takes a sip of one of the mimosas and looks me in the eye, a hint of seriousness creeping into his expression. “Maybe it’s a little late in the game, but I thought you knew. I thought you knew that if you became mine—for any length of time—then you’d get everything I have to offer. Everything. Including anything your heart desires.”

For any length of time?

My gut does a slow flip.

He said that he loves me, and this is the answer to the question that’s been burning in the back of my mind since I blurted out my own confession: Was that only part of the arrangement? Only part of the deal?

For the first time since last night, I let myself believe that it’s more. 

And it scares me.