Chapter Two

Alaska

The ground was cold and damp. Burying my feet into the sand, I plopped down and stared off into the sparkling ocean water. The sand spilled between my toes, crunching against my skin as I wiggled them in deeper.

I always loved the ocean, it reminded me of my mother. The last vivid memory I had of her was us walking down the beach, scanning the sand for seashells. I missed her, I missed everything about her.

Her hair and the way it would frizzle up when it rained, her eyes that would squint when she smiled. Even the sound of her voice was imprinted in my head even though I was barely four when she passed away.

So much time had gone by, and yet, that one day was still so fresh in my mind. Flicking a small twisted shell with my toe, I picked it up and tucked it into my pocket. Seashells had this special meaning, it was something tangible that seemed to help keep that memory alive.

I loved holding one in my hand, smelling the salt, feeling the crisp crunch of sand between my fingertips.

But everything had changed, my life had dissolved before my eyes in a matter of seconds. I never expected that one single, stupid show would destroy me the way it had.

How could I?

The past month had taken a downward spiral. I tried to accept what happened, I tried to find the good in what my father had done. But this gnawing pain kept twisting in my gut. There was nothing I could grasp onto that could help transform what he did into a different light.

He tried to use me to get what he wanted. Not once had he thought of me or how baring my virginity for everyone to watch could change who I was. My father didn't care if it would hurt me, scar me, maime me in the public's eye.

He just didn't care.

I had to get out, I needed to yank myself free of the chaos that controlled my life. And for the first time ever, I finally did something for me. I ran, hopping on a bus wearing a giant hat and dark sunglasses, praying no one would be able to pick me out of the crowd.

To my relief, it worked.

I kept my face buried against the glass, not talking to anyone else. I wanted to disappear, start over and finally be myself; even if that meant creating a new version that no one would recognize.

When I was little, I used to dream about exploring all this world had to offer. I wanted to travel the globe, visit the pyramids, feel the heat of the jungle forest, and smell the frozen air of an icy wasteland.

But I knew that would never happen. Not now.

Instead, my world would be consumed by living under the radar, I would need a new name, a new identity, a new. . . Everything. I'd have to become someone else just to go to a store in a small town, I'd have to fabricate memories that never existed, all to have what everyone else did.

Normalcy.

Dropping my head into my hands, I let out a heavy breath. I don't have a life. . .

“Excuse me, Miss?”

Lifting my face, I looked up. With the sun bursting from behind the figure, a man stood over me, his face soft and curious.

“What?” I didn't want to talk, but I didn't want to be rude either. Inside, I was wishing he was just lost and looking for directions. I could tell him I was new here and send him on his way. Then I could crawl back into this sorry hole I dug out for myself.

“You're Alaska Landry, right?”

Shit. I knew I couldn't hide forever.

I couldn't take much more of this. The questions never stopped screaming from the front page, more poking and prodding was the last thing I needed.

All I wanted was to be alone. Cameras were everywhere, my face was plastered on every magazine, in every tabloid and news story. I was the virgin who vanished.

Squinting one eye, my head fell to my shoulder. My defense system had activated, a figurative wall now divided the stranger and myself. He couldn't see it, but it was there.

“That depends, who's asking?” My back stiffened, chest tight and itching with worry.

He knows who you are. Everyone knows who you are.

“I'm sorry,” he said, holding out his hand. “I'm Dean, Dean Coswell. I work for the Valcor Press. I was wondering if I could get a quick interview with you?”

Jumping to my feet, I pursed my lips, and started off in the other direction. Reporters were vultures. There was no doubt in my mind about that. The top headlines I'd seen so far had punctured my heart and left me empty.

'Vanished virgin runs from past filled with sex, lies, and deceit.'

'L.A. pimp claims runaway virgin is a prostitute and he has the proof!'

'Alaska Landry, the virgin that never was. A look inside her secret bondage past.'

The lies never stopped, the false accusations just kept coming. I wasn't sure where the stories came from or who was getting paid to keep them alive.

But deep in my gut I knew it was probably my father feeding the hungry lions. At this point, I wouldn't doubt he would do and say anything just to get paid and slander my name.

I wasn't going to say another word to this reporter, he could shove his tiny little notepad right up his ass sideways.

No more reporters!

“If I could just have five minutes of your time—”

“No,” I snapped, picking up my pace and pushing through the sand. I tried not to look at him anymore than was necessary to get my point across.

Go away!

“Ms. Landry, I want to give you the chance to tell your side of the story. This could be your opportunity to get it out there. Tell the world why you decided to take off after such a bold attempt to claim your virginity was real.” Gripping my shoulder, Dean tried to slow me down, pressing his fingers into the dip of my collar bone.

“I have nothing to say to you, leave me alone.” Shrugging him off my arm, I was practically in a slow jog.

Doesn't he get it?

No. They never got it. Not one reporter, newscaster, blog writer, none of them got it. All they cared about was getting their story.

But their story was my life. I was done with all of that. And even now, after all this time, it was still fresh in everyone's head. Where had I gone? Who could find me first?

The show had been canceled and everyone still had questions. They wanted the runaway virgin to pop out of the shadows and expel her hidden agenda.

There weren't any skeletons in my closet, I had nothing to hide. I figured that this sensational craze over the show would eventually just disappear, but it only seemed to heighten the curiosity when I quit and slipped away.

I came to this small town with the hopes that I could escape all the craziness my life had turned into. In my childish imagination, a place like this still had drive-in movie theaters and family-owned businesses.

There was this fictional vision in my brain that maybe cable was a luxury here and no one would recognize me. I was stupid for ever thinking I could get away.

“Miss Landry, DRC reported that you agreed to the show and they're willing to take legal action to get you back. Can you tell me why you ran?”

“I said leave! What don't you understand about that?” I tried to bite my tongue, I really did. “Just screw already!” Throwing my arms in the air, I came inches from shoving him.

“Why won't you talk to me? I'm not going anywhere, I'm not going away until you give me what I want. Isn't that what the show was about, giving some guy a piece of what you know you want to give? I bet you're not even a virgin. All the stories are true, aren't they? You really are a slut.”

That was it, he crossed the line. My arm was pulled back before I even had time to think about it. With one single swing, my fist hit the bridge of his nose. I felt my knuckles crack as his nose crunched under my hand.

“You fucking bitch!” He yelled, cupping his face.

Shit. That'll be plastered across newsstands tomorrow.

“I told you to—”

A long, thick arm slashed across my chest, grabbing the reporter by his bicep, and shoving him back. “The lady asked you to leave her alone.”

Huffing under his breath, Dean wiggled his nose. Wiping the front of his shirt, he eyed the mysterious man who came out of nowhere. “Look buddy, this is none of your business. I'm trying to have a conversation with her, that's not illegal.”

His dark shadow overpowered my small frame. Craning my neck, I looked up at the massive piece of man now standing between the dick-wad reporter and myself.

His back was curving and twisting with hard muscles. Popping up from under the collar of his shirt, the muscles of his neck pulsed with strength. Lowering my gaze, I followed the perfect v-shape down to his tight ass.

Sweet Jesus.

Instinctively, my fingers tingled by my side, eager to touch the dips and bulges. Reaching up to my neck, I stroked my throat. My heart just about threw itself out of my mouth and onto the ground. He was the purest form of man I had ever laid eyes on.

As I stood there in awe, my sex pulsed in lust-filled temptation. This raw feeling crept through my body, stealing me away from reality. I could hear my pulse, beat after beat as my heart sped up. This man had done something to me with just his presence.

I wasn't sure what it was or why it fluttered in so fast, but I couldn't deny, I liked it.

“No, but harassment is. She told you to leave her alone, but I don't think you're listening.” His voice flowed out, smooth and husky. Each word was built with intimidation and threat.

“Harassment? She hit me! She crossed the line, not me. Look, I don't know who you think you are—”

“I think—I'm getting really pissed, so I suggest you take a walk.” Flipping his fingers in the air, the man growled. “Now.”

Grimacing, Dean scrubbed his nose and gave me a sideways glance. “Whatever. This bitch is overrated anyway.” Rolling his eyes, he started back towards the parking lot, tucking his notebook into his back pocket.

Biting my lower lip, a smirk teased the edges. Ha! Take that! Asshole.

The brute man with muscles growing muscles flicked his head over his shoulder and looked down at me. “You okay?”

Nodding, my lips thinned. “Mm, hm.” I felt feverish. My body was warm, stomach twirling and jumping with a mass of butterflies.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He had just waved off a nuisance to my already horrible day, and all I could do was mumble. I suddenly felt so small, so vulnerable. And it turned me on.

I had never been this close to a man before. . . At least not a real man that wasn't hired to try and take the one thing that wasn't up for auction.

As he turned to face me, his bold blue eyes shimmered. They were huge and bright, drowning me in this feral attraction to just jump him right there in the sand. I could see it all in my head like a short film. Me lunging forward, pressing my lips against his as his arms curled around the small of my back.

Stop, Allie, just stop.

But I couldn't, despite how much I told my body to knock it off. The guy was hot, peeled right out of Sports Illustrated and plopped down in front of me.

His hair was blowing in the ocean breeze, teasing his forehead. The deep tan on his skin was kissed with tiny grains of sand that speckled against the sun. His jaw was cut with sharp lines and covered in a light stubble. I had the urge to brush my hand against his cheek just to feel how rough it was.

Wrapping my arms behind my back, I teetered on my heels while a playful smile itched on my face. I had to get control of myself, it was ridiculous.

One of his brows shot up, head ticking a hair into his shoulder. “You sure you're alright? You have this. . .” Pausing, his eyes fell over my face. “Look.”

I could feel my cheeks flush, thinking he might be able to read my body language. Turning my lips down, my eyes shot wide. “No no, I'm good.” Taking a deep breath, I tried to calm my nerves. “Thanks for that. You didn't have to, but thank you.”

“I didn't have to?”

“No, I had it under control.”

A chuckle spilled from his mouth as his head raised towards the clear blue sky. “Right, right. He totally looked like he was about to give up and stop stalking you.”

He's right, that guy probably would've followed me for the rest of the day.

“Okay, so maybe I would've had a stalker today, but I would've worn him down. I know how to drop assholes like that.” Holding up one finger, I bounced it in the air.

“Do you? And what would you have done to get him to leave? You nailed the guy and he still didn't get it.”

He stumped me. I didn't have a clue. In all reality, I probably would've ended up giving him the finger, screaming profanities and having one hell of a front page news story tomorrow.

I punched him. He's already got his headline.

And I'll probably have a lawsuit hanging over my head.

Besides, that certainly wasn't the type of behavior the world expected to see from its most famous virgin.

Because. . . That's who I was.

I hated the title those stupid tabloids made for me. But I hated that my father put me in that position to begin with. My virginity wasn't his to sell, especially for some stupid reality television show.

Nowadays, that was all it took to get noticed. My father wanted that, he craved that. He spent years trying to build a name for himself in Hollywood. . .

And sadly, he played me to get it.

I had no clue, not one fucking clue that they wanted it to be real.

A show, a fucking show was going to expose my most personal, intimate moment.

The sharks at his studio ate up his pitch, they offered him more money than he had ever seen to get the rights to his idea. And when he brought me the contract, I honestly didn't think they expected me to have sex with the winner.

I signed it blindly, trusting him.

If I had only known what the ink I was laying down in that moment meant for me, I would have torn that shit up.

“I don't know, but I'd figure something out.” I tried to play it cool, like it was no big deal. But just having this man standing less than a foot away was torture on my nerves.

The butterflies sped up in my gut, spinning and fluttering in a frenzy. It was like they had just downed an energy drink and hit warp speed. The handsome man's eyes licked my body, his teeth shining brightly as he smiled down on me.

That wasn't a feeling I was used to, but I was enjoying it. The dancing in my belly and the fire coasting up and down through my body was a rush.

Holding out his hand, he said, “I'm Kealen.”

I stayed static, fiddling with my fingers as my knees grew weak, and I tried desperately to keep myself upright.

His face grew hard, arm stiff. “And you are. . .” His words trailed off as he bounced his hand. “You realize this is where you shake my hand and tell me your name.”

For a second I had to replay his words in my head. He doesn't know my name? Seriously? No, he's screwing with me.

Holding my palm up, my brows crinkled into the bridge of my nose. “Wait, you don't know who I am?”

“Should I? Have we met before?” Scrunching his lips, his eyes slit tight. “Did we sleep together and I never called you back? Because if I did, I apologize.”

“What? No. No.” Shaking my head, my hair whipped across my face. Giggling, I suddenly felt lighter, like there was a chance that maybe I could create a new life for myself. “You really don't know who I am?”

“Look, I'm sorry if I should, but I don't. Did we go to school together, work together? Help me out here.”

Quickly I latched onto his hand, the spark of his skin against mine sizzled up my arm. It was an intoxicating sensation, making me feel numb. “Allie, my name's Allie.”

His grip was strong, his fingers speckled in small rough patches and coarse scars. He had the hands of a working man.

I suddenly found myself wondering if they would hurt if he ran them over my ribs or up my back. Would he hold me close and still tender, would his hands take what they wanted and not be forgiving?

“Well, Allie, you have yourself a nice day.” Letting his fingers loosen, his thumb grazed the top of my palm.

His smile was incredible, drawing me in. I wanted to smell him, feel him, taste him. Shaking my head, I glanced at the ground, afraid that I might kiss him if I stared at him any longer. “Yeah, you too. Thanks again.”

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Kealen strolled off down into the sand.

And I was left with this heavy pressure on my chest as my lungs struggled to regain control and take in a breath of air.

Taking one last glance over his shoulder, a slight smirk hitched at the corner of his lip. I couldn't stop the smile that plastered itself across my face.

There could be a chance for me.

I can make it.