We docked in Korcula three hours and twenty minutes later and I had successfully managed to avoid Pierce Whitley’s stare for the remainder of the trip.

Even still, I could feel his eyes on me. Lingering. Watching. My face burned every time I looked down at the text message Lainey sent. Every time I remembered his proposition. The grip of his hand on my neck. The brush of his thumb on my jaw. Did he do this every time he’s abroad? Proposition random women into having sex with him? Did he tour the world promising orgasms to all naïve, inexperienced women? Although, I was neither naïve or inexperienced.

What was wrong with me? Pierce Whitley was an Oscar-nominated actor for his supporting role in the recent Jude Fisher movie. And he was offering to pop my orgasm cherry. What woman in her right mind would say no to that? And frankly, he wasn’t wrong when he said that this whole plan of coming to Croatia and meeting up with a stranger for random sex was a terrible plan.

It was a terrible plan… is a terrible plan.

One that I blame Lainey for. Because I never planned to make good on Operation Emma’s first Orgasm anyway.

When we exited the boat, I was surprised that there was no paparazzi waiting for Pierce. I always imagined that celebrities never had a moment’s peace. Not even abroad on a tiny Mediterranean island.

On the street just off the boat awaited two limos. One man held up a sign that read Mr. & Mrs. Langley and I cringed. How many times on this damn trip was I going to need to explain myself?

After a deep breath, I made my way to the limo and gave the driver the biggest smile I could manage. “I’m, um, I’m Mrs. Langley… sort of.”

“Wonderful,” he said, opening the door. “Identification, please?”

Oh, fuck. I had made the reservation for the Langley’s because the limo service told me that as long as one of us had the last name on our passport, that’s all they needed. “Right. Um, Mr. Langley actually isn’t joining me anymore.”

The man’s brow crumpled and he grabbed his clipboard, shuffling through paperwork. After a moment, he pointed to the form I had filled out online. “Mr. and Mrs. Langley,” he repeated. Despite his thick accent I could understand him well.

“I know,” I said, pulling out my passport and showing him my ID. “There was a change of plans. Mr. Langley isn’t coming anymore… it’s just me. Ms. Cochran.”

There was more shuffling of papers before he responded, “Apologies, but I must see the ID of a Mr. or Mrs. Langley.”

I had managed not to cry all week. Not in the moments that James left me standing alone at the altar. Not in the days after when I returned all the wedding gifts. Not even when I had discovered his real reason for calling off the wedding was because he and his ex-girlfriend… his high school sweetheart… had been rekindling their relationship for the weeks prior to our wedding.

But right now? Tears swelled in my eyes, burning a path up my nose.

Do not cry. Don’t you dare cry over a stupid limo, Emma.

“I’m sorry,” the driver repeated again.

“Can’t you verify that my ID matches the name on the credit card I paid with?”

He pointed to the fine, italicized print which I had checked off when I booked the limo. The names you give must be present to accept the limo service. No exceptions.

How far was my hotel from the dock? It was a small island… it couldn’t be too wildly far. Or maybe there was a taxi service I could call. As I stood there, on the sidewalk of a foreign country, tears threatening to fall, I felt a warm hand fall to the center of my back.

“Emma,” Pierce’s deep, baritone voice rumbled from behind me, deep and masculine. “Get in the limo.” Even though it was a command, his tone was more gentle than it had been since we first met.

“I can’t,” I whispered. “I booked it under Mrs. Langley… and that’s—” my voice cracked. “That’s not who I am.”

His sharp breath was hot against my ear and I could smell traces of mint from the gum he chewed. “Not that limo,” he said. “My limo.” He increased the pressure on my back, tenderly guiding me to the left where another limo was waiting. His was bigger… surprise, surprise. “We already established we’re going to the same hotel. Come on.”

I could have objected. Maybe if I hadn’t been so broken; so raw and unhinged and an emotional wreck, I would have. But the truth was, I didn’t have a lot of choices and even though it bruised my ego, I’d rather be safe and smart than proud and robbed… or worse.

I let Pierce guide me toward his limo where the driver was waiting for us, with the door open. Pierce effortlessly lifted my bags into the back and gave a nod to the driver before sliding in behind me.

Inside, it was the sort of limo you see in movies. Plush leather seats that were soft and buttery surrounded me and I could have curled up and taken a four-hour nap right there. Bottled water was chilled and awaiting us as was a bottle of champagne and a bowl of candy. No wait… not just any candy, boxes of Nerds.

I reached out, taking a box of the strawberry flavor and shook it, the candy sounding like maracas. “Are these Nerds? What a weird thing to have in Croatia,” I said.

He grabbed a box of the grape flavor, tore it open and dumped the whole thing in his mouth, giving me a tight smirk. “They’re my favorite,” he said once he had chewed and swallowed the wad of candy.

Then, he reached over and grabbed a second box eating the whole thing once more. How freaking unfair was that? That he could down what was essentially pure sugar in God forsaken quantities while still only having something like three percent body fat. Not freaking fair. If I ate even a bite of a donut, I bloat like I’m five months pregnant.

I put the box of nerds back in the bowl and gave him a weak smile. “Well, since they’re your favorite, I better not eat them.”

His grin widened. “What’s mine is yours.”

“Thank you… again. You must be tired of saving me.”

“You’ll find I don’t grow tired very easily. Especially not when it when it comes to serving a beautiful woman.”

I rolled my eyes. “Okay, Casanova. Let’s recap the day’s events. So far, I’ve puked on you, cried in front of you, and rolled my vibrator over your toe. I’m no expert, but those things are hardly foreplay.”

He smiled, but leaned back in his seat. “Oh, come on. You’re hardly a damsel in distress. The first time I ever filmed a scene on a boat, I puked over the railing.”

I winced, feeling his pain. “Oof. That sucks,” I empathized.

“It sucked even worse because our producers were on the deck below watching the monitors. I puked all over the monitor screen.”

I laughed, a loud noise that came out like a horn honking and quickly clapped my hand over my mouth. “No!” I said. “Oh my God, that’s terrible.”

He nodded. “Believe me… I get it. Motion sickness sucks.” He paused, catching his plump bottom lip between his teeth. “And traveling with your vibrator? That’s hot as hell. Don’t be embarrassed about that.”

His eyes were locked onto me, and impossibly, they seemed to be even bluer here in the limo than they had out on the boat. A pale blue color that matched the hue of the sky on a cloudless day. The air waves between us buzzed, coming to life with the intense current between us. He was so gorgeous. So ridiculously sexy. Everything from the top of his sandy brown hair down to the toes of his Italian loafers was utterly perfect. Which begged the question… what the hell did he see in me?

I swallowed, my mouth feeling sandy and dry and that chilled bottle of water was suddenly extremely inviting. I cracked the cap open and took a swig, mustering up a bit of bravery. Channeling my inner Lainey. “You could have any woman you want,” I said, shaking my head. “Why me? Why would you want to be with someone who’s a mess? A woman who was left at the altar less than a week ago?”

He slid forward on the seat, bracing his elbows onto the tops of his thighs and his knees brushed against mine. His tanned forearms flexed with his hands that momentarily balled into fists. His gaze leveled me and my stomach fluttered with a heated, buzzing sensation.

“Because when I walked onto that ferry and saw your text, I haven’t stopped thinking about what your face will look like when you come. I can’t get it out of my fucking head. And I want you.”

I swallowed, my mouth dry and a frigid breeze from the air conditioner hit my skin. My nipples went immediately hard and I tried to convince myself it was because of the air conditioning… not because of Pierce Whitley’s words. “You… you don’t even know me.”

“I don’t have to know you to know I want you.”

My pulse quickened and I could feel the fluttering thrum against my throat.

My face must have given me away because an amused smirk tugged at his mouth. “Does that make you uncomfortable? Me saying how badly I want to fuck you? How just the thought of this mouth whimpering my name has my cock hard?” He dragged his thumb across my lower lip, pinching it quickly before releasing me from the delicious, sharp sensation.

I cleared my throat. “No.” I was a freaking liar. Because for the first time in my life, being in the mere presence of someone was turning my blood to liquid fire.

And he knew it.

I swallowed and tried again, rolling my shoulders back. “It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. But I think it’s pretty damn arrogant of you to think that all I need is a good fuck to get me to come. I’ve been fucked Mr. Whitley. I’ve been fucked, I’ve been made love to, I’ve had sex, I’ve been devoured for thirty minutes… and nothing. So, no. It doesn’t make me uncomfortable. But it makes me think you’re full of shit.”

His mouth tightened and I grinned triumphantly. I finally got to him. I got to him in the same way he’s been getting to me for hours. Inwardly, I gave a triumphant fist pump.

We pulled up to the curb of the hotel and I jumped out of that limo faster than he could call my name and chase me.

I yanked at the trunk of the limo to get my bags, only … it was locked. Dammit. My bravery would and could only last so long and it was waning. Fast.

Pierce was beside me in seconds, towering over me. “Tell you what Ms. Cochran… Meet me tonight for dinner in my room, and you don’t have to worry about replacing my Armani luggage. One dinner and we’ll call it even.”

I gulped. I wanted to meet him for dinner. My panties were soaked and my sex was throbbing with unfulfilled desire. “That sounds like blackmail.”

He shook his head. “Not blackmail. I just want your company for dinner.”

“And in your bed.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, but the intent behind was anything but. “One thing at a time. I want that. I think you want that, too. But if you come for dinner, I won’t force anything on you. That’s a promise. I can even request hotel security to be positioned outside for your safety and an escort back to your room if you so choose.”

He held out his hand for me to shake and I hesitantly took it. “I’ll think about it,” I said.

With a sharp tug, he pulled me flush against his body. My nipples were pebbled and hard and felt delicious pressed against his muscled chest. “Do that,” he said. “I always stay in the Penthouse when I’m here in Korcula. You can access with a key which I will have delivered to your room.”

“But you don’t know where I’m staying—”

He cut me off with a brutal kiss, but even with the firm movements of his mouth, his lips were surprising soft. His tongue dove into my mouth, parting the seam of my lips and I moaned, opening up to him. The rough stubble around his mouth scraped my skin and my body went rubbery beneath his hold. Like a riptide, he was taking me under, drowning me. When he pulled away, the driver had our bags out and in the lobby already.

“I assume you’re in the honeymoon suite,” he said, then released me, entering the lobby.

My knees were already weak from a simple kiss. Pierce Whitley was the best kind of bad.