I rarely make an appearance at these things. I prefer to let my employees have a good time without feeling intimidated and, besides, any event with booze and loud ass music reminds me too much of my hard partying days. When I was still playing baseball and more interested in getting drunk and laid, than my multi-million dollar contract. Tonight is different, though. There’s a travel reviewer here from some big website. I took my lawyer’s advice and showed for the sake of getting the word out to travelers and potential investors that Gabe Carter is a team-fucking-player. It’s a good thing I came because this is quickly becoming the best night I’ve had since I came to Honolulu four years ago.

And it’s all thanks to the petite brunette with her fingernails digging into the nape of my neck and her lush body molded to mine.

There’s nothing between us but a few scraps of cotton, so I’m painfully aware of the size of her tits and the generous flare of her hips as my tongue explores her mouth. She tastes like a mixture of cinnamon gum and a cocktail. Cinnamon, lime and rum, and desperation. I recognized the look in her eyes the second she went in for the kill and kissed me. Before I blew out my shoulder, and my chance at a World Series championship, I’d seen that wild, trapped expression time and time again. We’re not on the field and I’m not staring down a batter, but this woman’s desperation is obvious.

She’s using me hard to get back at someone.

Lucky for her, I’ve never been one to turn down being used—rough and hard—for pleasure.

I skim one hand from her shoulder down her spine, fisting her flimsy blue sundress. A gasp leaps from the back of her throat when I release her dress and splay my fingers over the small of her back. Christ, she’s built. Exquisitely built. I’ve never been much for stick thin women—I like ass and tits and hips to hold on to—so the woman writhing beneath my grip is just my type. She’s all curves and softness, the kind of body that makes my cock twitch. My hand wanders lower, to the swell of her ass. She lets out another sound. A breathy moan that makes me want to fuck her right here, right now.

Using my lips and tongue, I drown out having to hear a repeat of that sexy moan.

I don’t even know this woman’s name, and she’s already drawing one hell of a response from me. God only knows what she’s doing to the son-of-a-bitch she’s trying to avoid.

I aim to make this all worth her while.

Trailing my hand away from her shoulder, I bury my fingers into her dark hair and tilt her head far back. I kiss her rough and greedily. She moves her small hands from my neck, curling her fingers into the front of my shirt and whispers something incoherent. When she finally stumbles away from me, a pulse of sheer satisfaction beats at my gut as I witness the sharp rise and fall of her chest and the shiver that ripples through her.

Yeah, that’s desperation all right, but I don’t think it has anything to do with getting away from another man anymore.

She pinches her lower lip between her fingers and hugs her other arm over her chest, her full tits coming dangerously close to tumbling right out of the low-cut top of her sundress. My dick stiffens into a full hard-on, like it’s never been around a set of C-cups before. I put another sliver of space between us before I give her a cocky grin.

“You know, most conversations start with hello, my name is…” I drawl. “Let me guess—new hire?” I would remember this woman in a heartbeat, and since I personally speak to all new employees, I know she doesn’t work for Elite. Still, I’m not willing to let her go so fast. Hell, I’ll stand here and talk about the weather if it means I get to watch her tongue dart across her lips for a few minutes longer.

“Hello, my name is Maggie.” She angles her head back until I’m staring into a set of stunning green eyes framed by long, silky lashes. She’s more beautiful than I thought. “And I came with a friend.”

“The guy you’re running away from?” He does work for me, though I can’t immediately place why the sight of him set off alarm bells in my head. I wrench my gaze from her face for a split second to scan the crowd for him. She follows suit, peeking over her shoulder, as I say, “I’m Gabe Carter, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Carter,” she murmurs and glances over her other shoulder. “I should probably find my friend Lani and—” She starts to back away, but I step forward and grip her ass. It’s a perfect handful. She trembles again and lets out a low, raspy sound from the back of her throat.

“Can I ask you one thing before you go?” I wait until she gives me a dazed look and a nod before I demand, “Do you kiss every stranger you meet?”

“No, I don’t.” Her skin flushing pink, she sways slightly. She goes quiet as she studies my features. Instead of the usual star-struck look I’ve gotten since opening the hotel, she closes her eyes and shrugs. “But you said you were single.”

“I am.” She doesn’t try to draw away from me again. Doesn’t even look around for the other guy and I relax. She’s as good as mine. “Since you just tackled me in the middle of a party, I’m assuming you are, too.” She had better be. I don’t fuck with in-a-relationship, married, or it’s-complicated, and Maggie is a woman I plan to fuck—all night long.

“Trust me, I am.” She laughs, and I decide it’s the sexiest sound I’ve ever heard. “I wouldn’t have done … that … if I wasn’t.”

Good. A waitress saunters by with a tray of champagne, and I pluck the entire bottle off. “Have a drink with me,” I say to Maggie.

I expect her to say she needs to find her friend again, but she nibbles on her bottom lip as her features squeeze into a frown. She eyes the champagne bottle. “No glasses?”

Dropping my hand from her ass, I grin wickedly, and move slowly away from her. “Don’t tell me you’re scared to drink after me. We’ve already tasted each other, remember?” In my peripherals, I finally spot the poor asshole that started this whole thing standing on the sidelines, dejection written all over his face. His loss is hopefully my gain. “There’s really no need for formalities, don’t you agree?”

“Hmm,” is all she says.

To my disappointment as I back away toward a private area of the beach, her feet don’t move an inch. She drags her hand through her mess of dark brown hair, fluffing it as she worries her teeth over her bottom lip. Once more, my dick reacts to her because I can vividly picture my hands in that hair as her teeth tug on my lip.

Or vice versa. Just as long as I get to hear her moan and scream my name.

“I never do this kind of thing.” Right. She points her stare at the sand between our feet and keeps it there as she rushes on, “I don’t know what’s—”

“Even if you did, I don’t judge.” Especially after that kiss because, goddamn, I can still taste cinnamon and coconut rum. It should be a fucked-up combination, but coming from her, it’s intoxicating. “You can stay here and find another man who’ll let you use him to piss off whatever prick you’re trying to avoid. Or you can follow me. It’s one hundred percent up to you.”

Her mouth falls open and she looks at me like she’s close to giving me an earful. Then, her eyes cut to the other guy—I finally place him as the prick I’ve come close to firing for screwing guests—and she takes a step closer to me. Then another. My smirk spreads wider, until it’s damn near to the point of stretching right off my face by the time she sidles up next to me. I breathe in the citrusy scent of her shampoo and go fucking crazy with anticipation.

“You should grab another of those.” She gestures to the champagne bottle in my hand. “After all, no need for formalities,” she says huskily before pivoting on her bare feet and heading down the beach, her full hips swishing from side to side.

* * *

We only make it through half of the first bottle of champagne before Maggie’s lips are all over mine and she’s straddling me beneath a palm tree. “I really don’t do this,” she rasps between hot kisses as she reaches for the buttons of my shirt. She lets out a little moan when I fist her hair in my hand and draw her head back so that we’re eye to eye.

“I’ve already told you, I don’t judge.”

“You say that, but I know how guys can be.”

“Shut up and relax,” I growl. I slip my free hand beneath the hem of her sundress and stroke my fingertips over her thigh until they brush her panties. My cock strains because this thin scrap of material is the only thing separating me from making her mine. I slide one finger beneath the cotton and suck in a harsh breath. She’s already wet. So wet my mouth goes dry at the thought of her sitting on top and riding me, her pussy clenching around my cock as I drive her closer to a climax that’ll have her singing my name.

I circle my knuckles over her clit, and she bucks against me. Her fingers curl around my wrists, but I shake my head. “Relax. Just relax, beautiful, and let me touch you here.” I stroke her again and her eyes flutter closed. I spread her legs wide, and she jerks forward when I crook one finger inside of her. “And here.”

“Mmm … so good,” she moans, wriggling her hips.

So good is an understatement.

She’s tight. Fuck, that’s a cliché and a half, but she’s so tight and wet that I know I’m in for a wild night the second my dick makes contact. Wrapping her long hair around my other hand, I bring her face to mine until one of her small hoop earrings touches my lips. “I think we can do better, though, don’t you?” I demand, and then nudge another finger into her body. She whimpers. Arches her back so that her tits press against my lips.

She says my last name repeatedly until I’m going crazy, and I’ve got to have her.

“Gabe,” I grind out against the swell of her breasts. I want to hear her call me by my first name. Want to see her lips form around those letters and then I want them to mold around my cock. “Call me Gabe.”

Even though my fingers are buried deep inside her, and she looks like she’s a split second from coming, her body automatically seizes the instant I make my request. Confusion drags her brows together. Then her eyes thin to furious slits.

“I thought you said your name was Carter,” she hisses. I move my fingers faster, and she bounces harder against my hand, grinding her hips so that my palm strokes her clit. “I thought you said … ohhhh!”

“That’s my last name, sweetheart.” Apparently, she was too distracted when I introduced myself, but I have every intention of making sure she never forgets anything about me after tonight. “My first name, the name I want to hear you screaming when you come, is Gabe.”

“As in the owner of this hotel, Gabe?” she demands breathlessly.

This has got to be the weirdest fucking conversation I’ve ever had with a woman while I’m in the middle of making her reach an O, but I nod. “The one and only.”

Her lips purse together. Even though it irritates me that she decides to go hush, I can’t deny how satisfying it is when she climaxes a few minutes later, whimpering and clawing her nails down my back. Pulling my hand away from her tight body, I grip her curvy hips and grin down at my wet fingers. I’m going to have fun with this woman, I can already tell. I start to ask her if she’s ready for round two—because I’ve been ready since the moment she asked me if I was single—but when I look up at her, I quickly find a stream of champagne dripping down my face.

“What the—”

“That,” she seethes, scrambling off me and adjusting her panties and sundress, “is for giving me some bullshit, fake ass name.” When I clamber to my feet, eyes wide because I’m wondering what the fuck is happening, she staggers away from me. She lifts one finger in warning. “Don’t even come near me!”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I growl through tight teeth. I run my palm over my face before the champagne has a chance to blind me. “I did give you my name. You were just too busy hiding from some douchebag to pay close enough attention.”

She sucks in her cheeks and lifts her chin high, and I already know she’s not going to acknowledge her own damn mistake. “By the way, that—” She points to my erection. “—is for fucking over my family’s legacy with your stupid hotel. Have a good night, Gabe, and thanks for the free drinks.”