Daniel arrived at my side with my backpack slung over his shoulder. “Let’s go, princess,” he said, holding his hand out for me to take.

I grabbed his hand and he led me up the front steps to a set of tall double doors. He entered a code on the deadbolt and the door swung inward. A cool air-conditioned breeze washed over me. The air smelled of lavender and leather and wood polish, probably an assortment of cleaners used by his housekeeper.

“Do you want to hit the beach or the pool first?” he asked, pulling me into the foyer.

The marble floor and wooden banister on the grand staircase gleamed with a mirrored shine. Through an opening on our left, I could see what looked like a very worldly library or study with rich mahogany shelves lined with thousands of books. The walls in the foyer and the room on our right, which looked like a living room, were covered in fine art pieces. The glass table against the wall in the foyer was topped with a sculpture I recognized.

The clay bust depicted a beautiful child wearing a veil over her sobering expression. Sculpting a realistic bust with the appearance of a wispy veil over the face was not something many sculptors could pull off. This was either a very good replica or it was a genuine Philippe Faraut sculpture entitled “Child Bride.” It was a sculpture that had haunted me when I first lay eyes on it in one of my college textbooks.

“Are you okay?” Daniel asked, when he realized I had become immovable.

“You said you weren’t into art,” I said, trying to swallow the lump of emotion in my throat caused by seeing the sculpture in such an intimate setting. It was even more beautiful and heartrending up close.

I tore my gaze away from the sculpture and Daniel was now staring at it. He was silent for a moment, then he seemed to have a similarly visceral reaction to the piece.

He turned back to me, his expression serious. “I have to tell you something. This house…it’s not technically mine.”

My jaw dropped and he held up his hands, a nonverbal gesture I supposed was meant to keep me from jumping to conclusions.

“It’s my family’s summer home,” he continued, setting my backpack down at the bottom of the stairs. “Well, it belongs to me and my siblings now that my mom is gone. It’s just easier to say it’s mine. They’re vacationing in New Zealand this summer.”

Now that his mom was gone? I thought his mother died a few years ago and he supposedly just purchased this property, hence the MB sign on the gate. Either he was lying to me or I was making a big deal out of nothing. Or we had a different definition of a few years.

I let out a soft chuckle. “You scared me,” I said, lightly smacking his arm. “I thought you were going to tell me it was your boss’s house, or that you’d broken in or something.”

He chuckled, but I could sense tension in his laughter. “Do I look like someone who’d break into a place like this?” he asked. “That’s some psycho Norman Bates shit.”

I smiled sheepishly. “So…your siblings are into art?” I said, walking very slowly toward the sculpture on the table. “Is this an original Philippe Faraut?”

He followed closely behind me. “To be honest, I wouldn’t know an original Philippe Fart from my left hand.”

I laughed uncontrollably at his mispronunciation of Philippe’s last name. “Philippe Fart?” I repeated, through wheezing laughter.

He smiled as he shook his head. “See? I don’t know a fart from my own hand when it comes to art. Can we go to the beach now?”

I quickly composed myself and made my way toward the staircase. “Where can I change?”

“There’s a guest bathroom right behind the stairs,” he said, pointing to the right of the staircase.

I grabbed my backpack and walked around the staircase toward the door in the corridor behind the stairs, feeling a bit slighted as Daniel ran up the stairs to change. Why didn’t he invite me to change in an upstairs bathroom?

The bathroom was deceptively large. I would have expected a bathroom under the stairs to be the size of Harry Potter’s bedroom in the Dursleys’ house. Of course, the grand staircase was nothing like the Dursleys’, and Daniel’s beach house was no ordinary house. All surfaces—the walls and the floor—were covered with what appeared to be water-resistant cedar planks. The wall on my left was lined with four modern pedestal sinks and mirrors to match. On my right, a door stood open, which led to a private water closet. Another door to the left of the water closet led to a sauna. The rear wall was lined with hooks, hung with six plush white bathrobes.

Daniel told me he had two sisters and one brother. He also told me his father was in prison, and he was raised by his mother who died a few years ago. I supposed that left two extra bathrobes for guests. I wondered how often Daniel brought female guests here.

I placed my backpack on top of a wooden spa bench next to the sauna, and pulled my bikini out. My heart began to race as I changed into the swimsuit, wondering if maybe I should have brought a one-piece instead.

Would Daniel think I was trying to seduce him? But, he was the one who invited me to spend the weekend with him. If anyone was trying to seduce anyone, it was Daniel trying to seduce me.

And, boy, was I ready for it.

I bit my lip at this thought, then I zipped up my backpack. I had to stop worrying about who was seducing who and just have fun. I was spending a romantic weekend on one of the most beautiful beaches in the world with the sexiest man I’d ever met. Like the people who lived in these gorgeous houses, I needed to be less fretful and more grateful.

I felt more than a little self-conscious, coming out of the bathroom in just a bikini, but I was relieved to find Daniel standing right outside in the corridor. He was shirtless, showing off those immense shoulders I’d become so obsessed with. He wore neon green and black board shorts slung low enough for me to notice the well-defined V in his abs, which disappeared below the waist of his shorts.

“Is it okay if I leave my backpack in there?” I asked, noticing the amazingly detailed tattoo of a vintage-style astronaut on his left bicep.

He made no attempt to hide the way his gaze raked over me, from head to toe. “Sweetheart, you can do anything you want here. Mi casa es tu casa,” he said in a perfect Spanish accent.

I smiled as he held out his hand to me, and I laced my fingers through his as I got a glimpse of the tattoo on his right bicep, but all I could read were the letters R.I.P. “Can you speak Spanish?” I asked.

“Of course. My mom is Puerto Rican,” he replied, leading me through a swinging door into an enormous gourmet kitchen with built-in appliances and two large marble islands. “Do you want some free Spanish lessons?”

I stole sideways glances at his chest, trying to make out the designs of the tattoos, but I couldn’t see much from this angle. “Maybe you can start by teaching me how to say, ‘Your house is ridiculously gorgeous.’”

He squeezed my hand as he led me through the kitchen and into a casual dining area with a long farmhouse table and galvanized dining chairs. Just beyond the breakfast nook was a sitting area with large, overstuffed gray sofas and more art on the walls and above the fireplace. On our right, a wall lined with four French doors and ceiling-height windows overlooked a gorgeous veranda, which looked out onto a stunning view of the infinity pool. From this vantage point, the sparkling surface of the infinity pool seemed to merge with the glimmering ocean just beyond.

“How about I teach you how to say something else?” he said, opening one of the French doors, and we stepped out onto the breezy veranda that smelled briny like the ocean and sweet like the potted honeysuckle on either side of the doors. “Repeat after me: No hay nadie.”

“No hay nadie,” I repeated, trying not to laugh at how awful my accent sounded.

“Mas hermosa.”

“Mas hermosa.”

“Que yo.”

“Que yo.” I paused for a moment, and when he didn’t continue, I asked, “So what does that mean?”

He smiled down at me, but I was unable to hide that flicker of hesitation I was beginning to recognize so well. “I’ll tell you later,” he said, as his gaze traveled down the length of my body again. “For now, we can pretend it means… You’re mine now.”

I yelped as he scooped me up in his arms and sped across the veranda, then down the steps to the lower deck. Before I could even register what was happening, or mount a protest, he tossed me into the pool. The surface of the pool smacked my ass before I sank down a few feet into the warm water. Kicking off the bottom, I emerged seconds later just in time to see Daniel cannonball into the pool right next to me. A large splash hit me in the face, filling my open mouth with what tasted like saltwater.

I spat it out and gasped as Daniel resurfaced next to me. “You bastard!” I said, as he grabbed my waist and pulled me close.

“I had to make sure you knew how to swim before we go in the ocean,” he said, smiling as I wrapped my arms around his sturdy neck.

I shook my head. “You’re a jerk.”

“A sexy jerk, right?”

I suppressed a grin. “A mean jerk.”

His hands came up to grab my face as he gently brushed the water off my eyelashes. “Thank you for spending the weekend with me,” he said, his eyes locked on mine.

“Thank you for inviting me,” I replied, wishing he would just hurry up and kiss me so I didn’t have to keep staring at his perfect mouth.

Then, my wish came true and his lips were on mine. I tightened my arms around his neck and, before I could stop myself, I wrapped my legs around his hips. He groaned lightly into my mouth, eliciting a soft moan from me in response.

Oh, God. Please let this be it. Let this be the day his promising package is unwrapped.

Almost as soon as this ridiculous thought crossed my mind, Daniel grabbed both sides of my waist and pushed me toward the side of the pool. Before I could protest, he lifted me out of the water and sat me down on the ledge with my feet still dangling on the surface.

“What are you doing?” I asked far too quickly, because my question was soon answered.

He kissed the inside of my thigh and looked up at me with a fierce hunger in his eyes. His lips traced a slow trail of kisses up my wet leg, coming to a stop at the apex. My chest heaved gulps of salty air in anticipation as he reached up and slid the fabric of my bikini bottom aside.

I moaned softly while he kissed my spot as if it were my mouth. His tongue slid into me, discovering my wetness and drawing it upward, where he used it to sweep the tip of his warm tongue over my center in slow circles. I cried out louder this time as I realized there was no reason to temper my passion. We were completely alone.

The way he used his mouth was pure, sweet torment.

It didn’t take long before my thighs began to tremble. I leaned back, placing my hands on the pavement to brace myself as my core tightened. But he didn’t rush. He drew out the pleasure like a patient conductor leading an orchestra to a slowly building crescendo.

Then, suddenly, like a snake recoiling into a defensive position, all my muscles contracted inward. The wet hair on the top of Daniel’s head rubbed against my belly as I curled over him with my thighs locked around his head.

He continued licking ever so softly as the orgasm rocked me, spasms rolling through my legs and abdomen. Just when I thought I could take no more, a blinding, white-hot explosion of atomic proportions sent shock waves through my entire body. Like a spool of ribbon unwinding, my muscles unfurled all at once.

“Oh, God,” I sighed as I lay back on the concrete, my body slack, my muscles still twitching as I stared up at the bright blue sky and tried to catch my breath.

“God?” he murmured, and a shiver passed through me as he took his sweet time straightening the crotch of my bikini, his fingers lingering on my swollen flesh. “I know I’m good, but I’m probably not a god...yet.” He laid a tender kiss on the inside of my thigh as his thumb rubbed the fabric of my bikini, right over my spot. “But you can be my goddess if it means I get to worship this temple anytime I want.”

I let out a high-pitched moan as he kissed my bikini. With a layer of clothing between his mouth and my center, the frustration was unbearable. The longing for his mouth on my skin was so intense that I could think of nothing else but the way his tongue massaged me. The sexual frustration was so infuriatingly hot that I climaxed again within minutes.

I hastily pushed him away, letting out a scream so loud I probably scared the ocean away.

He chuckled as he watched me readjust my bikini and brace my hands on the edge of the pool as I tried once again to catch my breath. “You taste as exquisite as you look,” he said, spreading my knees apart so he could stand in front of me and wrap his arms around my waist. “But holy fuck, you scream like a banshee.”

I smacked his bicep, right over the astronaut tattoo. “You kind of took me by surprise there.”

He planted a warm kiss on my belly and smiled up at me. “Let’s go to the beach.”

I nodded and he laid another soft kiss on the top of my thigh before he exited the pool. I wobbled a bit as I stood up. My legs were like rubber.

From the poolside, I could see the beach was empty, which probably meant that this was a private stretch of beach belonging to the property. Daniel grabbed a couple of striped beach towels out of a storage building near the other side of the pool, then we set off.

A briny ocean breeze lifted the few dry hairs at my nape, sending chills over my damp skin as we walked down a wooden pathway carved through the shoulder-high seagrass, leading down to the ocean. When we reached the sand, I stopped, wiggling my toes in the warm sand as I closed my eyes and leaned my head back.

Please don’t let this be a dream, I begged silently. But if it is, please don’t let me wake up.

When I opened my eyes, Daniel was still standing next to me smiling as he waited for me to finish having my moment.

“Last one to the water has to make breakfast tomorrow,” he said before he took off running.

I sprinted after him, almost stumbling as my feet adjusted to the soft sand. “You said you were making me breakfast!” I shouted.

He reached the water first, his feet splashing through the small waves. I reached him seconds later, gasping as the cold water shocked me out of my playful mind-set and straight into competition mode. I pushed through the frigid water, passing Daniel in a quest to go deeper. He caught up to me quickly, where the water was waist-high, pushing us back a few feet with each successive crashing wave.

“You have to stay within arm’s distance,” he said, grabbing my hand firmly. “When the tide rolls out, there’s no fighting the power of the ocean… I can’t lose you.”

I turned my back to the water as another wave crashed into us, sending a sheet of water over the back of my head. I turned around, laughing as stinging saltwater cutting trails over my scalp and face. I licked my lips and couldn’t believe how salty the water was. I hadn’t been to the beach in so long, I’d forgotten how aggressive the ocean was in its salinity and sheer force.

Tightening my grip on Daniel’s hand and digging my feet into the mushy sand, the next wave didn’t push us quite as far back. The next wave moved us even less, until eventually we became an immovable force, as much a part of the ocean as the rolling tides.

I didn’t know how long this thing with Daniel would last. The beautiful things in my life were never permanent. For now, it didn’t matter. For now, I was unsinkable.

We’d been in the water no more than ten minutes, Daniel with his back to the waves, taking the brunt of the force for both of us, when his eyes widened suddenly.

His gaze was focused on something behind me. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice hardly audible over the gentle roar of the ocean.

I flicked my head around and saw a thin redhead in an off-white ladies’ pantsuit stepping off the wooden pathway leading from the house onto the beach. As she walked across the sand, my heart raced. Was this one of Daniel’s sisters? Then, I remembered his single-word reaction to spotting this woman. It didn’t seem like the kind of reaction one would have to seeing a family member.

Was this woman a girlfriend? Or possibly…his wife?

God, please don’t let this be true, I prayed to myself. Please make her disappear.

“Who’s that?” I asked, the high pitch of my voice giving away my sense of uncertainty.

He looked down at me, his arms tightening around my waist as another wave crashed into his back. “A coworker,” he said, his eyes locked on mine as he waited for my reaction.

A coworker? A fucking coworker? Showing up unannounced at his beach house? On the weekend?

“Don’t you mean, she’s an employee?” I replied. “Isn’t it your company?”

He sighed as he grabbed my hand and nodded toward the beach, pulling me toward the shore. “Trust me, Sabrina does not like being called an employee.”

I didn’t know what this meant, but I assumed it meant Sabrina was a bitch. Now I really wanted her to disappear.

“Daniel,” Sabrina called out in a haughty voice, drawing out the sound of the L.

“Sabrina,” he replied, stopping a few yards away from her.

“So sorry to interrupt,” she said, glancing at our clasped hands.

I wasn’t prepared for what it would feel like when Daniel let go of my hand. That split-second moment of physical pain as an invisible wall emerged out of the sand between us.

“No need to apologize,” Daniel replied, his attention focused solely on the pointed features of Sabrina’s face.

The corner of her red lips turned up in a smirk. “I wanted to check up on you, see if you need anything. You must be simply lost without your house staff.”

“We’re fine,” Daniel said, glancing in my direction.

Sabrina turned toward me, tilting her head as she offered me a phony smile. “My, you’re a pretty one,” she said, a flicker of something—possibly jealousy—flashing in her eyes as she looked me over. “What’s your name?”

A pretty one? Did that mean I was one of many?

Daniel responded before I could. “Kristin and I were just headed inside,” he said, grabbing my hand again. He laced his fingers through mine and squeezed so tightly it almost hurt.

He seemed desperate to get away from this woman. Either he hated Sabrina, or he was afraid of what she might say to me. Maybe she would say something incriminating.

I dug my feet into the sand as he attempted to pull me toward the house, then I yanked my hand out of his and offered it to Sabrina. “I’m Kristin. Pleased to meet you,” I said, trying on a new haughty accent.

She glanced at Daniel before she took my hand and gave it a gentle shake. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Kristin,” she replied, easily out-haughty-ing me. “You don’t really look like Daniel’s type. Tell me, how did you two meet?”

Daniel returned to my side, though this time he stood slightly in front of me, as if he were trying to create a physical barrier between Sabrina and me. “It’s a long story,” he said, answering for me again. “We really should be getting inside.”

She pursed her lips. “You should let the girl speak for herself, Daniel,” she said, turning her attention back to me. “She looks like she has so much to say.”

I rolled my eyes, unimpressed with her little rich bitch act. “Actually, I do have something to say.”

Daniel looked at me, but I couldn’t tell if the intense look in his eyes was pleading with me not to provoke Sabrina or willing me to verbally destroy her. I guess I was about to find out.

I looked Sabrina in the eye and said, “This little Mean Girls act may work on other girls, but it doesn’t work on me. If you want to make someone feel inferior, you might want to try not dressing like Hillary Clinton.”

Her mouth dropped open in complete shock. As I marched away toward the house, the sound of Daniel’s laughter sounded like music to my ears.

He appeared at my side, planting a loud kiss on my cheek as he grabbed my hand. “That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

My heart raced from the surge of adrenaline. “I’m sorry. That was a really shitty thing for me to say to one of your employees.”

He glanced over his shoulder, and I did the same, making sure Sabrina was well out of earshot. “Fuck her. She thinks she needs to haze every new employee.”

“I’m not an employee,” I said, suddenly feeling sick to my stomach as I imagined that this was how it would play out every time Daniel introduced me to someone in his world of extreme wealth.

“No, you’re not,” Daniel replied. “But if that were an interview, you’d be hired on the spot. You gave her what she had coming, no more and no less.”

I smiled, though my heart was still racing. According to Daniel, I gave Sabrina what she had coming, but did she really deserve that kind of verbal takedown? Or had Sabrina done something else worse to Daniel, something that would make him feel she was getting what she deserved?