Eden

“So you’re clear about what to do?”

“Yes, Julie. You’ve outlined this crazy plan a dozen times. For the record, I’m only doing this to prove just how wrong you are.”

“Blah, blah, blah. Give me your hoodie so I can put it inside.”

I grumble as I take the hoodie off, careful not to disturb the high ponytail Julie made me redo seven times because it needed to be perfect. My scalp hurts from all the brushing and pulling, but I’ll admit the style looks good.

“It’s freaking cold,” I complain through clenched teeth. Julie’s big plan is for me to parade my assets—what little of them there are, considering I’m a B cup—past Donovan. Thus, I’m wearing my skimpiest sports bra, the white one with the t-back that shows a ton of skin, and a pair of black high-waist yoga shorts that stop at the top of my thighs. It should be noted that the nice shave I did on my legs this morning when she threw me back into the shower has been made void by the cold since I’m covered in goosebumps.

“He’s never going to believe that I like to run in next to nothing,” I declare for about the fiftieth time. “Get ready to pay for the therapy I’ll be needing after he laughs in my face.”

Julie tsk-tsks. “Silly girl. He won’t be thinking with the big head, Sugartits. All you need to do is shake your moneymaker and his mind will be so blown he won’t be able to use any kind of logic. That’s when shit is going to get real and don’t worry about the cold since you’re about to warm right up. Make yourself scarce and do not run around the building until you hear him pull in. Thanks to my dad we know he should be here in about four minutes. I gotta bail so he doesn’t get scared off by me being around. Call me later and let me know what happens!

She’s nuttier than a fruitcake, yet I nod anyway. I’ll probably freeze my ass off before he even gets here, but I can’t chicken out now. Even as I’m thinking that I’m still not exactly sure how she talked me into this, I do as she says and run off. Behind the motel, I run from end to end before I switch to doing jumping jacks in place. My movements come to a standstill when I hear an engine cutting off. The sound paralyzes me and suddenly I don’t think I’m going to be able to gather the nerve to actually pull this off. Then I remember that I committed to this—and I need to at least try. Julie needs to see that he isn’t going to come around, no matter what crazy ass plan she concocts. Springing into action I sprint down the side of the building, doing my best to run gracefully as I go.

Donovan is just stepping onto the walkway that runs the length of the hotel when I come around the corner. He stops dead in his tracks when he sees me, something that gives me a little confidence boost. Pinning a smile on my face, I wiggle my fingers at him as I jog past to the sitting area in front of my room. Stopping, I jog in place and pretend to take my pulse. It’s so darn fast that I can’t keep count anyway, so it’s good that I’m not actually trying to measure progress. I’m stunned to note that Donovan is standing there watching me, but I don’t acknowledge him.

Continuing with my phony post-workout routine, I start stretching. He doesn’t say anything as I work my way through some hip flexor, thigh, hamstring and calf stretches, but he’s steadily getting closer. Bending at the waist, I wrap my arms around my knees and hold the position.

“Can we talk?”

Holy crap. Could Julie be onto something with this crazy plan? I guess I’m about to find out. You’d think that in this position there would be no more blood, but you’d be wrong. Slightly dizzy, I straighten and face him.

“Sure, what’s up?”

“Inside,” he growls.

I raise my eyebrows and cock my head. “What’s wrong with right here?”

He shakes his head like I’ve just said something ridiculous. “For starters, the guy down in room ten hasn’t taken his eyes off your goddamn body since you came around the corner. Plus it’s too fucking cold out here for you to be wearing so little.”

Turning, I look toward room ten. Either Donovan is nuts or the guy was smart enough to look away. Seated in one of the Adirondack chairs outside his room, the guest is playing with his phone and smoking a cigarette. He doesn’t appear to be even remotely interested in me. Still, now that I’m not pretending to exercise I’m cold as heck.

“Fine.” Pulling off the rubber bracelet I keep my key on when I run, I walk to my door and unlock it. Once inside I gesture for him to come in. Without waiting to see if he followed, I head into the kitchen, grab my sport water bottle and take a drink before I look back at him. Arms crossed, jaw clenched, he looks uncomfortable in his own skin.

After giving myself a mental reminder to stay calm, I raise my brow and tilt my head to the side. Bingo. He flinches and lets out a low groan when he sees the hickey he left on my neck last night.

I pretend not to notice. “You said you wanted to talk,” I remind him.

“Yeah.”

When he says nothing, I prod again. “Will there be words spoken or are you just going to stand here staring at me?”

Please don’t stand here staring at me. Do or say something.

“I wanted to… check in on you.”

Bleh. Julie was wrong. My skimpy outfit hasn’t made his inner caveman come out to play—he’s here because he feels guilty.

“As you can see,” I say with a gesture to myself. “I’m fine. How are you?”

His eyes follow my hand as I gesture from my neck on down. When he raises his head, he only gets as far as my sports bra. “I’m just fucking great,” he answers in a strangled voice.

“How wonderful for you. If we’re done here, I’m going to get these clothes off and get into the shower.”

He’s in front of me with his hands on my arms in a blink, his movements so fast I dazedly wonder if he’s part Cullen. “I fucking tried,” he mutters before his mouth covers mine.

As his head descends and I realize he’s going to kiss me again, I anticipate a kiss like last night—which is to say barely controlled chaos that started explosively and only grew from there. He doesn’t do that at all. Instead, this is completely different. I never would’ve expected Donovan to kiss me in a way that feels like he’s putting his whole heart into it. Letting go of my arms, he brings his hands up to cup my face. I feel like the finest and most delicate china, as if I’m some kind of prize. Although his kiss is soft, almost reverent, the heat spreads like wildfire after a season without rain. This is not frenzied or frenetic, yet it’s no less all-consuming.

Standing on my tiptoes, I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hold on. The way Donovan groans as our tongues slide together is so arousing that I let out a little moan of my own as I hang on tighter. When I feel movement, I tear my mouth from his and look around. He gives me a second to understand that we’re going to the couch before he says, “Kiss me, Angel.”

So I do. I kiss him in the way that he’s kissing me, like this means everything—and to me it does. I feel my back meeting the couch and I know he’s positioned us so that he can be on top of me. The kiss grows greedy as I wrap myself around him, arms and legs holding him tight, like subconsciously I’m worried he’ll get away. Oh, hell—it’s not only my subconscious that’s afraid he’ll leave.

He kisses me like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do and the only thing he ever wants to do from here on out, and I feel it everywhere. Not just on my lips, my tongue and my body, either. Deep, deep down in the depths of my soul, the very thing that makes me who and what I am, I feel him. When he lifts his head, I groan and try to pull him back to me, to no avail.

“You make me fucking crazy,” he growls.

Lifting my hands to his face, I trace them against his rough beard and give him a little smile. “Do I?”

He lets out an exasperated sound. “You do. For the record, you wouldn’t be smiling if you knew what you were getting into with me.”

“I’m not dumb—I think I have a good idea of what will happen.” As I say this, I trace my right hand down his face, to his throat, and then down his torso. When I get to the hem of his shirt—black, of course—I slip my hand beneath the soft cotton. I suck in a breath as my palm makes contact with the warmth of his skin and then shiver when I feel his happy trail. He groans and thrusts against me, his breathing harsh as I work my fingers up and down the trail.

His breath flutters across my lips as he gets closer. “I’m hanging by a fucking thread here, Angel. Be smart and tell me to go.”

I’ll never tell him to go, but I’m suddenly very aware that there’s a critical piece of information I need to share with him before this goes any further.

“Don’t go,” I say firmly “I want you to stay. But there’s something you need to know.”

“What’s that?”

“I want to do this, Donovan. You get that, right?”

He stares into my eyes for a few seconds before he nods. “Crazy as it fuckin’ is for you to be attracted to someone like me I can see that you are.”

“And I’m not the only one who feels the attraction, right?”

He barks out a little laugh as he surges forward so that I can feel how hard he is. “I think it’s clear what I want. Now tell me what I need to know, Angel. Lay it on me.”

“Stay calm and don’t go all overprotective weird alpha guy,” I order.

His eyes widen a bit at that, but he says nothing.

“So the thing is that I’ve never done this before. I’m a—”

Before I can finish, I can see that he seems to get it. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses as he sits up. “Please fucking tell me you aren’t a virgin.”

“Yes I am, and I’m not ashamed of it.”

The look on his face makes it seem like I just announced I’m a devil worshipper. He’s off the couch so fast I barely have time to take two breaths.

Shaking his head, he starts pacing. “I’m a lot of things, Eden, but what I’m not is the guy you should give your virginity to. Save it for someone who’s worth it.”

“I have—and that’s you.”

He stares at me for several long seconds, his expression somber. Only when I open my mouth to speak again does he move. Springing into action, he backs away, fast. “It would be your worst decision,” he says harshly. “I have to go, Angel. Do whatever you have to do to forget me—it’s the best thing you can do.”

I don’t even get a chance to argue. He’s out of my room so fast he damn near left tracks. Swallowing past a lump in my throat, I push the emotion down. I could’ve held the information back until it was too late, but that’s just not me. I don’t regret telling him, but I hate that his immediate response was to run.

Julie was right about him wanting me—but none of that matters now.