Waking up, warmth and safety surround me. Along with a burning desire to pee. Realizing Jordan is wrapped around me like a ton of blankets in the dead of winter, I know that in order to get up, I’m going to have to wake him. I’m not even sure I want to. The way he holds me like I’m the most precious thing in the universe feels incredible to me. His hand cradling my baby bump in one hand brings a tear to my eyes. He couldn’t possibly understand what that move would do to my heart.

I feel his entire frame tense before slackening and pulling me closer while moaning in my ear. “Good morning,” he whispers against my neck, placing a light kiss there that I feel through my whole body, sending ridiculous shivers down my spine.

Instead of showing him I’m a civil and polite person, I blurt out, “I have to pee.” Heat assaults my face as I realize what I’ve said. I would like to smack my head, but he’s got us so tangled I can’t move.

As he backs away chuckling at my absurd loss of brain-to-mouth filter, his hands rub along every available piece of flesh they can. It’s then that I realize I’m nearly naked in just my bra and thong, and one boob is popping out of said bra.

Cursing internally, I quickly dart to the tiny not so much a washroom as it is a privacy screen. Thankfully Jordan says, “Toothbrush should be under the counter. I’m going to take a piss in the bush.”

“Thanks,” I barely breathe out.

Thank gawd, he’s got as good a filter as me.

Quickly peeing and washing my hands, I find the aforementioned toothbrush in hopes of getting my teeth done before he comes back in. Just as I’m entering the main area again, he walks through the door, and I freeze. At first, because we’re both practically naked, and I’d rather be covered up. But then, I see his gloriously tanned flesh, and muscles abound. And oh…my…shit, that damn V.

Brain. Dead.

Yup, my IQ just dropped about a hundred points as I stare at his massive package tucked away behind his tight boxer briefs. Looking from him down to myself and back again, I mumble, “That will never fit.”

It isn’t until he says, “It will,” that I realize I spoke out loud.

Mortified, I hang my head and turn around, intent on going to hide in the not so private washroom again.

“Oh no, you don’t.” Jordan rushes over, pulling the back of me into the front of him. My idiotic brain only connects to one thing: the massive bulge pressing into my lower back.

I quiver in his arms. Not because he scares me, but because I scare myself.

I’ve never been focused on sex. In fact, more often than not, it hasn’t been a blip on my radar. But with this man, a touch here, a gentle finger graze there, and the sweetest damn words I’ve heard from any man’s lips, and he’s all I want. I want so desperately to let go of the reins of control I’ve been forced to take my entire life. I need him to take care of me, to love me in such a powerful way that I won’t doubt him, even after my hormones get the best of me.

“Please don’t break me.” My words are whispered in this room, but their impact is no less compelling.

“If I break you,” Jordan’s breath is harsh and warm against the side of my neck, “I’ll put you back together in the sweetest way you’ll ever know.”

“I want to believe you.” Lord do I want to.

His arms, those strong muscled limbs of his, wrap around me like a cocoon. Embracing all my reservations and misgivings, he just holds me. Nothing is said as I mull over our situation and what I’m going to have to do and give up as we move forward.

Trusting him being the number one issue.

“Where are we?” I ask, remembering I slept or fumed most of the way here to this gorgeous beachside oasis.

“Bora Bora.” His husky words are a saccharine caress against my neck and shoulder.

His fingers lightly trail along my sides and stomach and cause me to stutter. “H-how long are w-we here f-for?” His warm lips on my ear send shivers down my spine.

“I rented it for the weekend.”

I’m slightly disappointed at the short amount of time we’ll have. “Oh.”

“I’m thinking we might need more time, though.” He spins me to face him, and before I can process what’s going on, our mouths are melting into one another. He steals my breath and leaves me panting for more all in a single second. This man flips me inside out, and yet, holds me together perfectly. His touch is soft, gentle, but oh so sweet.

He doesn’t push for more; we savor the kiss as our bodies do all the talking. I’m not ready to pass this point right now, and I’m so grateful he understands that. It doesn’t stop me from wanting him, nonetheless.

The way he holds me protectively in his embrace shows his caring disposition. The firm grip he has on my hips exhibits his dominating presence. I love both. I’ve always dreamed of the day I could hand over the control to someone who wouldn’t abuse my trust and love. For the first time, I feel like Jordan could be the one.

My one.

* * *

Sweet, innocent Megan. She has this pull that draws me to her. I can’t keep my hands to myself as she tentatively touches her tongue to my own exploring one. Having her in my arms while we’re both nearly naked is a dream. Having her underneath me would be pure bliss.

As much as she wants to fight me, I can feel her body giving in to this torrential attraction between us. The light breeze cools our overheated bodies as I deepen the kiss and draw her frame further into mine.

Her fingers dig into my biceps when I nip and suck on her lip. “Jordan,” her breathy voice makes me want to purr like a fucking kitten.

Forcing myself to pull away from her delectably addictive lips, I say, “I have plans for us today.”

Her eyes are closed as she breathes deeply. “What are we doing?”

“I can’t for the life of me fucking remember.” I groan when she bites the corner of one lip. Sheer sin. This woman is going to own me.

“Oh. Maybe we could collect seashells or something?” The light in her eyes and voice makes her seem so much younger than her years.

I couldn’t deny her if I tried. “Whatever you want, Mag-pie.”

Her smile brightens her entire face as she skips away humming and rummaging through the tiny closet. I bet she doesn’t notice that she didn’t bring a suitcase, and I had clothes sent in overnight. Reaching around her swaying ass, I grab a pair of board shorts and head to the bathroom to clean up.

If she wants to collect seashells by the seashore, we’re damn well going to do it until she’s content. I’d originally planned a snorkeling expedition, but given her pregnant state, I doubt it’d be good for her or the baby.

At this rate, I figure the peace and quiet with just the two of us will be a great chance for us to play twenty-one questions.

I can still hear her humming as I power through my shower and get dressed. Leaving the small enclosure, I see her in the tiny kitchen chopping some of the fruit I had the fridge stocked with.

“I hope this is okay?” Her shy question has me wondering where the woman from ten minutes ago went.

“Of course. You’re welcome to anything in here. Hell, anything anywhere. You want it, Megan, and it’s yours.” I’m sure I’ll have to repeat that statement every time she wants or needs something.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, going back to cutting the pineapple in her hands. I’m fascinated as I watch her work the knife with precision and skill. Not once nicking her fingers as she skins the fruit.

“Do you enjoy cooking?” I ask her. I’d love to see her in my kitchen.

“Sometimes.” Her short answer doesn’t tell me much.

“Do you prefer to do it for just you or a few friends?” She freezes at my query. Looking up, I see hesitance in her green gaze. She’s afraid to connect with me. Walking around the counter, I stand beside her, placing my hand over the one she’d just taken off the fresh fruit. “Whatever you’re afraid of, whatever you’re thinking, I want this. I want us. This may have been a marriage of convenience for us both in the beginning, but I ache to have you as my real wife. I want everything a loving marriage entails, Megan.”

We don’t look at each other after my passionate words, and she doesn’t move, which is fine. She’s likely processing the sentiments and how much she can trust them. I want her to, but I accept I’m going to have to earn everything with this woman.

* * *

All I can think about is what Jordan said in the hut. His promise to give me everything I’ve been craving, and not once assuming I’d just cater to him. My foolish heart is already falling for him, and I barely know more than his name.

With his confident, overbearing attitude, I should be scared off. But he pulls the mystique off well, makes it a good quality rather than an annoying one.

As we walk along the white, sandy beach, he always ensures a hand is touching me. Gliding down my arm, pushing the hair back from my face, playing with my fingers. It’s like he’s trying to get me addicted to his touch, and I’m sucker enough to fall for it.

The lagoon we’re staying in is one of the most stunning bodies of water I’ve ever seen. The blue and green color is the perfect mix for an artist’s palette. The sparkling coral and other rock beds and fish underneath are amazing to watch.

“How did you know about this place?” I ask Jordan. “It’s so picturesque.” I can’t help the sigh that passes my lips. I never want to leave.

“An old friend of mine from Atlanta, actually. Weston Davis had some serious making up to do with his better half after a misunderstanding. Once their life calmed down, he intended to bring her here. They ended up having a baby.” He seemed to laugh at his friend’s plight.

“Is that where you’re from?”

“Yes, and no. My grandparents live in Atlanta, and I spent summers there. Weston lived a couple of blocks away, and we hung out every year.” I love the smile the memory brings to his face.

“Do you still see him? Does he live in D.C., too?”

“Not as often since he’s moved back to Atlanta with Aspen and their kids.”

“That’s nice,” I say absently, staring off into the water. I’m at a loss at what the heck we’re doing.

“I was thinking,” he begins, and I look up to him—he’s so damn tall, “we could go on a sunset cruise around the island. It lasts a few hours but is supposed to be a sight to behold. Think peanut can handle it?” His eager face, coupled with calling my unborn baby peanut, has all my girly bits screaming to let this man own me.

My heart is racing so fast, I fear I might pass out. “I think we’d both like that.”

The two of us spend the rest of the afternoon goofing off and collecting more seashells than we know what to do with. Jordan insists on keeping every one of them and taking them back home to decorate the baby’s room with. He wants to have a mural of some sort made up for us to remember this trip.

He can’t possibly be real.

Can he?