Chapter 22

 

~ ANNIE ~

 

 

Cam looks a little like a pack animal as we walk along the broken up lava path toward the shoreline. In one hand, he carries a cooler, and on his back, he’s got a rucksack filled with God-knows what.

“There’s no mistaking we’re on a volcano here, is there?” I mention, looking down at the hard lava beneath my feet.

“Yep. This lava was from Mauna Loa’s 1859 eruption.”

I glance upward toward him. “How’d you know that?”

His shrug is barely noticeable beneath the rucksack. “I read up on the island a lot. I get so many questions from tourists at the bar. I don’t want to sound too much like the haole I am.”

Once again, I reach for the cooler. “I can carry that, Cam.”

He jerks his hand away. “Nope. I packed it. I carry it.”

It’s just heavy enough that I don’t fight him about it. “You know, there are plenty of beaches we could have driven to.”

“Not like this one.”

Fifteen minutes later, when we arrive there, I see why it’s worth the hike. There’s not a person in sight. Anywhere.

Black sand is swathed with white sand, still not completely mixed after all these years, and the surf crashes up against the rocks.

“Oh, this is beautiful here, Cam.”

Setting down the cooler and sack, he stretches his back as he looks around. “Yeah. Me and some of the guys at Pohakuloa came upon this place years ago. We used to hike along the shore a lot, looking for cliffs to jump from, fools that we were back then. I always liked it here. Pueo Bay. Kind of looks like not another person’s even set foot here since then.”

Reaching into his rucksack, he pulls out a blanket and lays it on the coarse sand. Then he unfolds a collapsible beach shade. “I got this thing for Stella. But thought it might work for us today.”

Opening the cooler, I grin at the assortment of foods and drinks he’s packed. “No coconut shrimp?” I tease.

He sends me a mischievous grin. “I considered packing it. But thought that might be too obvious. I did get some of that poke you mentioned you used to love eating with the Shimozatos, though. And there’s Spam musubi, because no Hawaiian picnic is complete without Spam. For boring people like myself, I’ve got fried chicken.”

“Hey, I like fried chicken.”

“You do? Well, who says I’m sharing?” he chuckles.

I watch him pull his phone from his pocket, check the signal, and make sure the ringer volume is turned on high in case the preschool calls about Stella. I love that he does this. I love the way this single guy who lives in a souped-up bachelor pad with his brothers has somehow let a little girl sneak into every aspect of his life. I love knowing that if that phone rang right now, he’d desert everything he’s just unpacked on this beach and high-tail it back to the car.

I love… too much about this man.

I suppress a sigh, just thinking about it.

As we eat our meals, intermittently feeding each other and punctuating each bite with stolen kisses, I remind myself that love is not something a man like Cam is looking for.

And when he slides his hands to my back and pulls me closer, I also have to remind myself that love is not in the picture for me. I have a future far away from here. One hopefully with a master’s degree and a reliable teaching job with opportunity for growth.

 But as I melt into his arms, I accept that loving Cam is part of this temporary escape from reality. So, even though I’ll refrain from letting the word pass from my lips, I’ll cherish the feel of his heartbeat against mine as he holds me close. For now.

There’s such peace here. Such isolation. As though the entire island is our own.

Suddenly, he sits upright again, and my body almost cries out from the space between us. I want him on top of me, touching me, sharing his warmth with me, even as the sun heats me still.

“Hold on. Before we get carried away…” He reaches into his rucksack again and pulls out his laptop. “I wanted to show you something.”

Reluctantly, I sit up. Anytime I see a computer, I tend to brace myself for bad news these days—some new headline associated with my name, some new lie that’s going to knock my world off its axis.

He opens it and clicks a few times on his keyboard. Then he passes the laptop to me.

With the expanse of the Pacific Ocean in front of me, there’s only one sight that would pull my eyes from the view. And I’m looking at it right now.

I blink. Hard. And click on a button. And click again, my head shaking slowly.

“This is incredible,” I breathe out. My tone is reverent, as though I’m looking at a Michelangelo in person. But it’s my website. My website. “You did this?”

“You knew I was working on it.”

“You make us look so professional.” I gaze at the photos that he took of us, with me, always at a slight angle or in motion. He even included a video of Kaila teaching hula to a few kids in their freshly made leis.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise to me—any of it. We’ve been taking the photos for days, enlisting the help of some kids down at Cam’s pool whose parents were happy to let them pose for photos in exchange for free babysitting vouchers.

“You like it?”

My eyes widen. “I love it.”

He smiles. “It’s not published yet, of course. And this is just a draft, so we can change anything.”

I find myself shaking my head at the thought. It’s perfect just the way it is. “We look like we’ve been in this business forever,” I murmur, leaning against him with the laptop on my lap. He’s so close to me that the ridges of muscles along his arms make my spine tingle. And if I weren’t staring at something so magnificent right now, I’d be far too tempted to set his laptop aside and make use of these hours while Stella is still in preschool.

“Yeah, those photos we took down at the beach and pool are great.”

Brushing a light kiss against the side of my head, I feel him inhale slightly, as though taking in my scent.

I scroll down further and see a closer shot of me making a lei with Stella. My face is turned downward looking at the bloom in my grasp, so it doesn’t look too much like me.

Then I see a photo of Kaila playing the ukulele. Music plays in the background as I scroll through it, and there’s even a place to pay online.

“Cam, this is incredible. So much more complex than I could have even hoped for. You really went overboard.”

“Nah, this was nothing. Mine was a lot harder because of all the advertising I do on it. If we get enough hits on this, we might do something similar for yours. If people are looking for a babysitter, that might mean they’re also looking for something to do without the kids that night. Restaurants, snorkeling tours, helicopter companies like the one Fen works for. I could see any of them advertising on your site if you start getting traffic to it.”

“Is that something else you learned from your investment guru mentor?”

“No. I took an online marketing class. Amazing all that you can learn without even leaving your bunk.” He tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear like he always does. “Besides, I’ve only spoken a handful of words to her. So I don’t know if mentor is quite the word. But she definitely inspired me.”

I stroke a finger upward along his chest. “The way you talk about her, though, I might start getting jealous.”

A laugh builds in his chest. “Vi Owens-Shey is married to a Navy SEAL commander who might have a couple decades on me, but could probably still kick my ass. Believe me, there’s nothing for you to worry about there.”

“Good,” I say, my tone hinting of a tease.

“In the meantime,” he continues, obviously still in work mode, “you could offer to put ads up for businesses in exchange for them displaying your brochures. There are lots of B&Bs or smaller hotels that would love to offer your services to their guests, I’m betting.”

I can’t resist a scoff. “Won’t see the Queen K doing that.”

“That resort can suck my dick. Sorry to be blunt.”

I smile, unable to resist setting the laptop aside and straddling him. “I love it when you talk dirty.” Flashing my eyes at him, I receive a growl in return. I pop my head out from the beach shade, just to confirm that we are really still alone.

But we are. Completely. And on these pristine shores, it looks like another person won’t pass along this way for days.

I can’t resist. I can’t resist him—or this pull I always feel to be with him, to join my body with his. He’s an addiction in every sense of the word, with me needing a longer, harder dose of him each time.

I lodge my knees on either side of his hips again, bringing my mouth to his. He tastes me, his tongue toying with me and sliding along my teeth. I feel his hands on my breasts massaging the soft flesh. I stroke his pecs, then move downward, unzipping the fly of his shorts and pulling out his cock from his briefs.

His eyes blaze with heat as his hand slides up the bare thigh beneath my dress to my ass. He grabs one bare cheek and murmurs, “Holy shit. You’ve got a thong on?”

“Mmhm,” I moan against him.

“That’s just asking for trouble, Annie.”

I hope so, I can’t help thinking.

My fingers grip the girth of his cock as I pull my lips from his and sink lower onto his body. My mouth touches the tip of him, licking the salty essence of him, then tracing along to the base of him as my fingers toy with his balls. I savor the taste of him, as though every aspect of him is something I need to commit permanently to my memory in case I should wake from this perfect dream and find myself alone.

His shaft gets even harder, throbbing in my mouth as I move up and down the length of him. I want this, to satisfy him completely, even as my core aches for him to enter me again. I’m spoiled and selfish, already regretting the time I’ll have to wait after he comes before I can feel him slide inside me where I need him most. But I force myself to give this to him, to worship his body the same way he always worships mine, even as moisture soaks the stripe of lace of my thong.

I hum against him, the same way he’s done for me that brings me satisfaction, letting the vibration of it make his cock throb. The soft breeze coming off the ocean cools my legs beneath my sundress. His hands clamp against my head, threading through my hair until he pulls me off him.

“I’m not going to last if you keep that up.”

“You don’t have to last.”

He gives his head a shake as he pulls a condom from his pocket. “I love feeling you come around me, baby. You won’t deprive me of that.”

My heart fills, knowing that I’ll soon have him in me. And after he sheaths himself with the condom, we’re barely even exposed when I feel his cock nudge aside the lace at my slit and enter me without even pulling off my thong.

“Oh my God.”

I’m not even sure which one of us said it.

The depth of him with me on top steals my breath as his cock strikes my womb. I feel him throb inside me as his hands move to my back pulling me closer. His hips angle and he strikes against my g spot gloriously.

The automatic climax from it is undesired. I want to draw this out—so at the first spasm, I pull myself off him part way, stealing his breath amid a kiss. I love the friction of him in me with the itchy lace at my opening offering a new kind of added sensation.

I slide downward again. He’s so hard in me now as he thrusts. I thought I’d be the one in control in this position, but I’m not. His hands dig into my hips, moving me the way he wants, and I yield to him, finding that he knows better what I need than I know myself.

A soft wind lifts itself off the ocean, brushing against us inside the beach shade as his hands slide up the outside of my sundress, squeezing my skin through the thin cotton. They glide along my breasts, and his thumbs flick against my taut nipples. He doesn’t expose me, or even push past the fabric like I ache for him to. Instead, his hands massage me through my dress until I whimper. The feel of the fabric against me seems to heighten my awareness, making my spine prickle even as he throbs inside of me, striking me at my core again.

His hands slide down to the bottom of my dress and knead the skin of my thighs, slowly moving upward until he has two fistfuls of my ass in his clasp. He pulls me down hard on top of him.

I gasp from the penetration. Sometimes, I feel like he’s too big for me, yet my body seems to always find room.

I try to hold the climax at bay, not eager for this to end. My body pulsates, clawing its way up to an apex of desire, however unwilling as I may be. But my brain, my control, is blocked, and every cell in me is only working on sheer instinct. I push my clit harder against him as my pelvis thrusts, chasing urges that crash over me like the ocean surf I hear not far from us.

My channel clamps around his cock as I shudder. I press my eyes shut, focusing only on the sensation of his skin against mine where we are joined. I block out the feel of the sand tickling the backs of my legs when a gust of wind attempts to remind me that I’m on a beach now, in full view of anyone who might happen upon us.

But on this remote stretch of land, I take the risk of it—I revel in the risk of it—and indulge in the sensation of making love to this man in the light of day.

When I open my eyes, I take in the sight of him beneath me—his long, thick cock entering me each time I lower myself onto him, his roped muscles showing through the fabric of his t-shirt, his strong hands as they manipulate me in every way possible. And those eyes—eyes I get lost in every time I dare to meet his gaze.

Only an instant passes that I fill my sights with all that he is, and the climax consumes me until his hips thrust upward one last time, burying himself deep inside me as he joins me in ecstasy.

I sink onto him, savoring the aftershocks of the climax with him still inside of me. I almost find myself dozing off, until I feel a rumble of laughter beneath me.

“Well, there’s something you can’t do in broad daylight in D.C.,” he chuckles.

A lazy smile slides up my face. “No doubt. We would have been picked up by at least three traffic cameras, and probably a security camera or two, as well.”

Gently, he nudges me onto my side. “Cameras? You’re right. I was just thinking about the crowds.” He slides off the condom and tosses it in an empty bag from our picnic.

“Oh, yeah. If we did this on a park bench we’d probably have a second audience at traffic control headquarters at the very least,” I giggle, until my head tilts as his eyes wander away from mine, and I watch him stare off in dead silence.

Worry festers inside me suddenly at the look on his face. Did I say something wrong?

“What?” I ask. “What is it?”

He lifts his back from the ground and gazes out at the ocean. “You’re right. It’s been years since I was in D.C., but even I remember that. Cameras everywhere. With the monuments and embassies and all. And the crime. Can’t forget that.”

“Um, right. But so what?” I can’t help wondering why he’s suddenly so fixated on this.

He’s scarily silent again, even opens up the cooler and pulls out a bottle of soda for each of us. Taking a swig, his eyes flit between the shore and me, and then back to the shore.

“You’re freaking me out here,” I say warily.

“What?” he asks with a start, as though I pulled him out of a deep tunnel of turbulent thoughts. “Oh—sorry. What you said just made me think of something.” His lips press together a moment. And again, I’m met with a protracted silence that has my heart making a slow trek up my throat.

“Listen,” he finally says cautiously, “have you thought at all about who might have hired that photographer? The one who leaked the photo to the press?”

I shrug. “Plenty. But anyone could have done it. Someone from another political party, or someone from his own who wanted him out of their way. Everyone’s pretty duplicitous. It’s D.C., you know.”

His eyes drag their way from the ocean view back to me. “No. That’s just the thing. It wouldn’t have been anyone trying to bring him down. There are other photos, Annie. I know it in my gut. Photos of you fighting him off.”

“I don’t know, Cam. It all happened so quickly. There really might not have been time for anyone to get too much more than one photo.”

He’s never asked me for any more details than I’ve offered. I’ve appreciated that. And somehow, after just having sex on the beach, the last thing I want to do is even think about those few moments that changed my life.

But his eyes are full of questions, and I know he deserves any answer I can give him.

“We were almost at my campus,” I begin cautiously. “Things seemed pretty normal at the time. He was flattering me a lot, though. First, just about how I was with his kids. But then he started talking about how pretty I was. And that made me uncomfortable. Then he pulled off on a side street and said how he just wanted to look at me for a second. In the moonlight. I told him I really needed to get to my class. That there were people waiting for me. They’d wonder where I was. Then he touched my knee and said how he could make it so I didn’t ever have to go to school again.”

My gut pinches, thinking about it. “I pulled his hand off me and apologized. Can you freaking believe that? I apologized. Said I was sorry that I must have given him the wrong impression. I was so scared, you know? I needed an income. I needed to make sure I’d get a good reference from him, too, so I could get that assistant teacher job. Things are so different there, Cam. It’s not like this. It’s all who you know. But his hand went right back to my leg and slid up my thigh. Then he—” Acid singes the top of my esophagus, remembering how he pulled me by the neck and kissed me, the feel of his fingers digging into my breast, the sound of his raspy voice saying how I was going to love it. “—he started kissing me, touching me. Telling me that I wasn’t getting paid just to take care of his kids. The car door was locked. I remember panicking, trying to find the button for it. Trying to get out.” My lips press together. “It seemed like I was trapped in there for an hour, Cam. But in reality, it was probably just a matter of seconds. Maybe a minute.” I shake my head because I truly don’t know. In my mind, it was an eternity.

“That’s long enough to get more than one photo, Annie.”

His words should draw me back to the present. Yet still I feel lost in the memory of it. “What does it matter if there’s one photo or a dozen?” I ask. “It’s not like I’m ever going to get ahold of them.”

“Unless…” He laces his fingers together as he gazes out toward the horizon again. “Do you still have his wife’s cell number?”

I look at him in disbelief. “Mrs. Petronel? Yeah. I’m sure it’s still stored on my phone. Why?”

“Think about it. She’s the only one who would have held back releasing those other photos. If she just wanted a divorce and a nice settlement, then she’d want him still in politics, right? She’d still need him to have a paycheck. All she needed was just enough scandal for a nice divorce settlement, and maybe a little revenge while she’s at it.”

I frown. It’s not like I hadn’t considered the possibility of it a hundred times on my own, along with a dozen other theories. “Maybe,” I concede. “But so what? She’s not going to release any more photos, if she even has any others in the first place.”

“That’s what I thought, too. Until a few minutes ago.”

“You have a plan?”

A smile eases up his face, challenge sparking in his eyes. “Annie, I don’t open my mouth without a plan.”