Chapter Eight
“Wow. This is stunning. I have no words,” Emma shouted.
Nico locked his rental car and caught up to her, as she contemplated the white sandy beach. A line of coconut trees separated the long beach from the parking lot, and the sun shone on the tantalizing blue ocean.
If Desmorais had agreed to have lunch sooner than three days’ time, he’d be a lot happier. Not that he’d minded sightseeing with Emma, but this whole thing turned out to be a lot more complicated. They shared a suite, they spent the day together, they fucked. Too much togetherness.
After all, if he persuaded Desmorais to sell him the house, what if the volatile man resented her in the end? Even if he agreed with Nico’s well-above-market and crazy-generous offer…Desmorais could find another place to take his sanctuary. But would he keep her as his project manager?
Too many questions. Nico shouldn’t care about anything other than his goal. The last time he’d had this kind of concern for someone of the opposite sex, it’d been Linda. Linda, whom he’d almost believed could make him change his ways. Linda, who had drained him of everything he had to give, but in the end he hadn’t—
“Take off your shoes. It’s awesome,” she said, carrying her flip-flops.
He removed his sandals and walked alongside her in silence. A white cover-up concealed her body, and he wondered if she’d worn the sexy bikini Veronica had showed her. His balls stirred, memories from the previous night stabbing in his mind. She’d given him so much pleasure, and—
“Why are you frowning?” she asked. “It doesn’t match the surroundings. I mean, look at the white sand, Nico.”
He glanced around them and had to admit she had a point. As a child, the beach usually took his breath away. He’d loved running on the sand while his mother chased him—laughing, happy.
Those days… A lump of sadness lodged in his throat. Those days were good enough for him. Her schizophrenia had come out after Marco’s difficult birth. The doctors had explained that in a lot of cases very stressful events triggered the disease. Even then, one of the maids who helped raise him confided in him she’d seen glimpses of it before his mother had been pregnant with Marco. Maybe his father and other family members had chosen not to notice.
Either way, even during dark days, the lightness of the beach helped tamp down the illness. Those had been easier times, much before her downfall, her death, and the discovery of the family secret he’d bottled up inside but still shook him to this very day.
“I was thinking maybe today we should spend some time apart.” He cleared his throat, looking away from her. “I have some business to take care of, and I’m sure you can find some places to visit on your own,” he said, then stared at her again, managing to look nonchalant.
The disappointment in her eyes made him want to pull her into his arms, to hug her and never let go. Her shoulders dropped a notch, and she shook her head slowly, perhaps cursing him in silence. Any man in his right mind would rearrange his fucking schedule to spend more time with her, but he wasn’t a regular man—and the sooner he reminded himself and her of it, the better. She’d understand in the end, he meant to protect her, even if he hurt her along the way.
“Of course, I totally get it,” she said, then gave him a small smile.
“It’s nothing personal, but—
She lifted her hand, gesturing for him to stop talking. “I get it, Nico. I’m a big girl. Listen, if you want to be alone even now, I can find a way to get a ride back to the hotel. This beach will keep me busy, and I need a tan.”
“No, I won’t allow you to find your way back by yourself,” he said. She shrugged, and her voice seemed casual, but his gut told him he’d probably hurt her in some way. Crap.
“It’s not a big deal. I speak the language, and my cell phone works here. I’ll be fine.”
“Emma, it’s not you, it’s me,” he said, using one of the most clichéd lines on the planet. Didn’t make it less true, though.
The cry of a young child made him turn around. A boy wearing swim trunks and nothing else, about six years old, ran in their direction, wailing, his arms moving in tandem with his legs.
“What happened?” she asked, striding in the direction of the boy.
“Help,” the boy called, trembling. “I’m lost.”
Fuck. Nico reached into the backpack she’d insisted on bringing and produced a towel. Without wasting time, he kneeled and wrapped it around the kid. His heart squeezed; he didn’t know what it was like to be lost at a beach, but he’d experienced feeling lost far too often as a child. He knew what it was like to not know his place, even when people pointed it out to him.
Emma touched the kid’s wet brown hair and leaned over to him, her voice soothing. “It’s okay. We’ll help you. It’s okay,” she repeated.
“Do you know where your parents were?” Nico asked, standing. “What part of the beach?”
“That way,” the boy said, pointing in the direction he’d been running from. He had an English accent, which hinted he was probably a tourist. “We were playing hide and seek, and I found some rocks between the coconut trees. I kept a few of them, and when I looked for my parents, I couldn’t find them anymore,” he said, tears falling down his cheeks.
“Don’t worry. What’s your name?” Nico asked, looking him in the eye.
“Gurdish.”
“Don’t worry, Gurdish, we’ll find your parents,” Nico said, determination lacing his words. “Have you been staying in a hotel here or someone’s house?”
“Hotel.” He sobbed.
Emma grabbed another towel from the backpack and used it to wipe his tears and dry his face. “Do you know the name?”
He shook his head.
“How about your mom or dad’s cell phone number?” Nico fished his own cell from the backpack.
Gurdish gave him the number, and he dialed it immediately. After three rings, voice mail picked up, and he left a message explaining they’d found their boy. “Do you know if they brought the phone with them to the beach?”
The boy paused for a moment, then shrugged. “I think so. I don’t remember.”
Emma put her flip-flops on and rolled up her sleeves. “I’m going to see if I can find his parents. Stay here with him.”
“No,” he said, stepping forward. “I’ll go.” He could probably run faster.
“You stay.” Emma pointed her index finger at him. “If I run into folks who speak French, I can ask them about his parents. You can’t. His parents probably speak English anyway, so if they come by, you can talk to them.”
He was about to protest, but she took off at a powerful jog. The boy still trembled a bit, but probably because of panic and not cold. Shit. What was he supposed to do? If only this beach weren’t so fucking remote.
Think. What would a kid be interested in? “Hey, Gurdish. Do you like soccer?”
Gurdish shook his head.
He guessed football probably was out of the question. Hmmm. “Martial arts?” He said, nostalgia filling him for a moment. His brother and he always enjoyed wrestling each other, especially as teens. That’s how they worked out their problems, their lack of certainty. Even if their father hadn’t attended most of their tournaments, they were there for each other. His heart shrank to the size of an olive. Had he failed Marco when he’d kept the one truth hidden that could separate them? Had he been protective, or selfish?
“No.” Gurdish frowned, then plopped on the sand, sitting and looking at the ocean. “Do you do martial arts?”
Nico sat next to him. “Yeah. I have a brother, and we used to spar with each other when we were younger. Do you have any siblings?”
For the first time, Gurdish smiled, and his shoulders relaxed. His grip on the towel around him loosened.
“I have a baby sister. She’s two.”
“Nice. I’m sure you’re a good big brother,” he said, swallowing hard. Better brother than he’d been. God. Marco had been only six when their mother died, and his personal hell began—with their father blaming Marco for her illness, and mistreating him in ways no kid deserved.
Nico should have protected him. He should have tried harder.
He hadn’t.
“Mum says I’m her guardian,” the boy said, then he glanced at Nico with sadness flickering in his eyes. “I guess I did not do a good job. She’s with them, and instead of having fun, they must be looking for me. Worried,” the boy said, an edge in his voice.
“Hey, look at me.” Nico lifted his chin, acting fast so Gurdish wouldn’t start crying again. “I can tell you’re an awesome big brother. You know why?”
“Why?”
“Because you’re worried about them, and you thought ahead. You found us, and we’re helping you find them. You cried, dealt with your frustration, and then took care of business.”
Gurdish tilted his head, looking up at the sky, then regarded Nico again. “You’re right. Is your brother younger than you?”
Nico’s heart skipped a beat. “How can you tell?”
“Because you know just what to do. Like an older brother.”
Nico thinned his lips. Nothing could be further from the truth. He hadn’t known what to do…or rather, he had, but he hadn’t done it, and as a result, Marco’s childhood had been hell.
“Mister, don’t be sad,” Gurdish said. “They’ll be here soon.”
Nico let out a sad chuckle. He now received advice from six-year-olds? He ruffled the boy’s curly hair, and Gurdish smiled again. When he tilted his head to the side, he saw shadows in the corner of his eye.
Emma marched toward him, accompanied by a couple in their thirties, the man holding a toddler girl in a swimsuit. “I found them,” she shouted as she approached.
Gurdish squealed, getting on his feet then running with his arms open to meet them. Nico stood, relief washing over him. When Gurdish’s parents hugged him, Nico’s chest squeezed, and he mourned his own screwed-up relationship with his father. His father hadn’t been a good one and had made enough mistakes to inspire Nico not to follow in his footsteps.
Emma hugged Gurdish and erased the distance between her and Nico. “They want to thank you.”
Nico waved her off. “It was nothing. I did nothing.”
Emma nudged his elbow, a smile as warm as a slept-in blanket greeting him. “You kept him company and made sure he didn’t freak out. Come on, Nico. Thaw your cold heart for just a moment, then you can go back to being invincible again,” she said playfully, stretching out her hand to him, like she knew he needed the encouragement.
“Fine,” he said under his breath.
“It’s not every day you get to be the hero, after all.”
“Oh trust me, I’m no hero,” he said. And the more the two of them kept that in mind, the better.
…
Emma waved at the boy again as he walked away with his family. When she’d returned with his parents, Nico sat next to him on the sand, laughing, ruffling Gurdish’s hair like they’d known each other for much longer. Nico had put Gurdish at ease, and the image caused her silly little heart to beat a tad faster. Also, Nico had been at ease, or at least, that’s what she’d gathered. He hadn’t acted aloof or stiff around the child—instead, he’d cared for his well-being and done the right thing.
Why did Nico always downplay his good side? He was more comfortable with people thinking the worst of him. Maybe he just doesn’t care about what people think. He certainly had enough success not to worry about first impressions or sucking up.
Didn’t matter. He’d told her he didn’t want to spend much time with her other than to have sex or to meet Desmorais. She thought they were getting along better…better than ever, but it’d been a mistake. He probably dated high-powered women as well as top models and celebrities. He wouldn’t find a Plain Jane like her very interesting. Besides, maybe a part of him still didn’t trust her after she hadn’t been upfront about her working for Desmorais on the sanctuary project. Sure, he acted like things were cool, but she knew they weren’t.
Either way, she’d get a bad outcome from of this. Desmorais would say no to him, but possibly also would feel extremely annoyed because she brought Nico to him—and fire her from the project. When Desmorais had first offered her the position, she’d counted on that money to go toward the budget of her dream wedding to Simon.
Sure, her brother Zaine was rich, but she’d never allow him to pay for her wedding.
“Well, our good deed for the day is done,” she said, clapping her hands. “If you want to go back to the hotel to take care of whatever business you need, that’s totally fine. I’ll stay and soak in some vitamin D and add to my collection of freckles,” she said, trying really hard to sound enthused about exploring this gorgeous beach by herself.
He looked deep into her eyes, the specks of gold shimmering around his irises. Whenever this happened, she almost stood on her tiptoes to bask in more of the energy zinging between them. It was like his eyes wanted to send her a message even if he never would.
Or maybe I should stop watching all those B movies on Netflix.
“Emma,” he said, his deep voice reverberating inside her and making her painfully aware of his male presence. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m sorry about earlier. I don’t want to go without you.”
“Afraid I’ll get lost?”
“Afraid I’ll get lost.”
He pulled her into a tight hug, and she melted in his arms, loving the sensation of warmth and security he offered. Her heart throbbed in her ears, her mind sending her all kinds of alarm signals. This type of display of affection certainly meant nothing. Then why did he hug her like she meant everything? Because he made her feel like everything. Certainly, this was all part of a lesson. She rested her head on his shoulder, enjoying the sound of the waves washing onto the shore and the gentle sway of the palm fronds. He kissed the top of her head and clenched her tighter against him, every part of her pressed against his strength.
He created a circular invisible pattern on her back, giving her a massage. She heard his heart beat, and it raced against his chest, making her wonder why he was so freaking agitated when externally, he seemed peaceful.
A groan filled the air, and his cock literally rose to the occasion, poking her through the flimsy fabric of her cover-up. She’d chosen a bikini she wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in the United States, because well, it emphasized her hips and showed much of what she preferred to hide. But hell, no one knew her on the island, so she’d been daring.
She withdrew from him, placing her hands on his chest. “What lesson is this one?”
A flicker of surprise gleamed in his eyes. “Never underestimate the power of making love on sandy beaches.”
Make love. He’d never used the expression before, but she refused to overthink. The lessons made it okay to want him so much and to feel good about it—the lessons would bring her one step closer to being with a guy who wanted the same things she did. Simon.
“Here?” she said, scanning around them. The few people she spotted walked away from them, distant like ants on a hill. A current of excitement moved through her.
“Come with me.” He held her hand in his, and pulled her farther down the beach. She barely had time to register the breathtaking scenery as he walked briskly, and she had to keep up with his pace and long legs.
When they reached an area with smaller pools of water and more rocks, he let her go, and tossed the backpack on the sand. She caught a whiff of the ocean air and touched the hem of her cover-up dress.
“Take it off, Emma,” he said.
He removed his shirt and placed it on top of the backpack. Easy for him to say. The man could moonlight as a personal trainer, body builder, and movie star all rolled into one.
She chewed her lip, clutching the hem with white-knuckle intensity. In her head, it’d been so much easier to strip herself of insecurities and go with the flow. In reality, sweat slicked her forehead, and her palms got clammy. He’d never seen her so exposed in such a bright environment. What if he bolted?
He’d almost bolted earlier. Her stomach sank to the ground, and she drew in a breath.
“What is it?” he asked, annoyed.
“Er, sunlight isn’t that flattering. I mean, it’s super bright. What if we go into the ocean and I remove my clothes there?” He had to agree. When they’d screwed in the club, in the car, in his plane, and heck, in the hotel the previous night, the lighting had been on her side. Now? Not so much.
He took a step back, his brows furrowing. “Who made you believe this?”
“Society. TV shows.” She rolled her eyes. Ah, might as well be honest. “My sister, Megan.”
“Ah. Why’s that? I thought you got along great with your siblings.”
“I do. It’s just she’s naturally slimmer and with narrow hips. A bit taller than me, too. So, growing up I always felt like the one with the fat ass. I understand curvy figures are more acceptable nowadays than when I was a teen, but still—”
She never finished her train of thought. He snatched her into his arms, cupping her head so he had quick, direct access to her lips. She gasped, surprised and utterly excited. He captured her lips with his in a scorching, soul-searching kiss that knotted her insides, only to unknot them and knot them tighter again. She linked her arms around him, thrusting her fingers into his silky hair.
He grabbed one of her hands and slid it down his body until she touched his cock.
She quivered.
When he stopped the kiss, they breathed with difficulty. “I’m hard for you, for your body, your curves, your ass. Do you understand?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“Good. Now take off this silly dress and show me the goods.”
She pulled the cover-up over her head and dropped it on the sand. The purple two-piece bikini exposed more than it concealed. Two small triangles covered her nipples, making her breasts seem bigger than they were.
The bottom had side ties, and a cut bolder than what she’d normally pick.
“Off.”
She looked around them, and no one else was close by. Damn it. Even for a lesson, this was pretty risqué. To strip naked on a beach? She lifted her chin, peering at him, and he stood in front of her, his sexy eyes focused on her. Only on her.
Her pulse peaked, and she reached the back of her top, unhooking the clasp. Then she let the flimsy fabric roll down her arms until it fell off completely. Topless. What would her friends and family say? So unlike her.
“You’re not done,” he said, pointing at her bottom.
“Everything? What if someone comes by? What if—”
He grinned. “It’s part of the fun.”
“You still have yours on.”
He shook his head. “When I take mine off, I’ll mean business. I’m being a gentleman and letting you undress first.”
She lifted one eyebrow. She doubted “gentleman” equaled letting the lady strip first. “How generous.”
She played with one side tie, then undid it, and soon after—before she changed her mind—she did the same with the other one. When that scrap of fabric slid down her body until it pooled at her feet, she wanted to look away. But his words from earlier encouraged her to watch his reaction.
What a reaction. His throat worked, visibly, a bob making its way down his Adam’s apple. Flames of lust lit his eyes, and a dark expression washed over his face. He’d meant it—he wanted her, her body.
When she slid her gaze down his abs, she kept at it until his hard-on caught her attention. Perhaps sensing her need, he pulled down his shorts, and his most magnificent cock sprung out, ready to play.
She gave herself a mental slap to stop gawking and walked into the water, diving, then coming up for air. She tossed him a glance over her shoulder to make sure he’d joined her, then swam to a rock that could give them enough privacy for what she knew he had in mind. Hell, for what she had in mind.
“Well done, Emma,” he said, coming dangerously close to her from behind.
He cupped her breasts and they tingled, her nipples tightening with anticipation. He’d barely touched her, and a delicious pressure began in her core. His cock rubbed against her butt, upping notches of her already insane arousal.
“Can I tell you a dirty secret?” she asked breathlessly.
He continued to play with her breasts, erasing the short gap between them, his dick dangerously closer to her ass. “Dirty secrets are my favorite ones.”
“I’ve always wanted to try anal sex.”
He stopped touching her for a moment, as if his whole body stiffened after her confession. Did she turn him off? She was about to move around to see the expression on his face and get a reading, but he slid his hand down until it touched her pussy. She squirmed, enjoying the intimate contact. “Tell me more,” he said, his accent so pronounced she almost didn’t understand him.
“It just never happened. I don’t know. I saw a naughty movie once and it got me thinking, but I never had the nerve to suggest it.” To Simon, she added inwardly.
“Is that something you’d like to do with me? I can teach you.”
“Yes.” She hissed out. Images of Nico smashing into her back door entrance flooded her mind. She’d be on all fours, ready for him to claim her in a way no one ever had. In a way no one else probably ever would. He’d get her ready for him, and she’d agree to whatever preparations the act entailed. Then he’d tunnel his dick in and out of her hole while playing with her kitty. Driving her mad for more.
“Oh, Emma.” His groan pulled her from her thoughts.
He thrust three fingers into her, and she moaned. With his other hand, he resumed caressing her breast, catching the achy nipple between his thumb and index finger and squeezing it. A shot of arousal traveled through her, and she whimpered. “I’ll be happy to pop your ass cherry,” he said, so close to her ear his breath fanned her lobe, sending her into an overdrive of sensations. “Again and again.”
She curved her head to the side, searching for his mouth, and thankfully he understood her need and kissed her. Her neck almost cramped because of the awkward position, but she didn’t care, stroking his tongue with hers, desperately seeking more.
More he gave her.
Nico thrust his fingers in and out of her, each time deeper, stronger, provoking searing vibrations within her. She retaliated by grazing his upper lip, sucking it and releasing it with a pop only to catch it between her teeth again. Her chest fluttered, desire pounded her almost as fast as his fingers.
The pressure building drove her to the point of no return, and clasping the hard surface of the rock until her knuckles tightened, she let out a sexy sound. A sound until then she’d never known she could produce. “I can’t—”
Nico nudged her thighs and thrust into her, shifting his fingers to her clit. She leaned toward the rock, closing her eyes. His breath came out in rough gasps, and he slipped out midway then, before she registered it, he slammed inside her again, deeper.
His fingers flicked her clit, played with it, the tip of his index finger making circular movements on the most sensitive part of her. She bucked toward him, and with one hand he clasped her hip. “Emma, I’m so close,” he whispered, his hot breath fanning her ear.
“Me too.”
He nipped her earlobe, and suddenly a ripple of pleasure shot down her body, shifting into a savage, untamable wave, unsettling her core. Her vision dimmed, and subtle but consistent tremors washed over her. She mewled, registering the little waves around them, the rock in front of her, and most of all, the magnificent man behind her.
He called out her name and thrust one more time, and she felt rather than saw the trembling of his own body. He released his seed into her, and she clenched her muscles, milking every bit of him.
“Aren’t you glad you didn’t go back to the hotel?” she asked, cutting the silence.
“I’m afraid I’m more than glad. I’m happy,” he said, then kissed the top of her head.
Happy.
The word reverberated through her and brought a goofy smile to her lips, because she knew exactly what he meant.