I’m every possible shade of furious, and I know I’m probably coming off like a madman, banging on the door of her bungalow. I’m not even supposed to know which one is hers, but one of the receptionists wilted in the face of my fury. My expression must have been icier than anything she’d ever seen, because even though she dismissed me—confidentiality of guests, all that—she came hurrying after me as I stalked back down the hall, stopping to whisper the number into my ear.

Josephine is such a....such a spoiled brat. 

How dare she abandon me in the middle of dinner?

The embarrassment is made a hundred times worse by the fact that she paid. God. I’ve never been more mortified in my life than when the waiter came over and told me that the lady had taken care of the bill and walked out. Nobody does that to me.

I can’t begin to explain why I’m chasing her. I can’t begin to explain why I’m at the door to her bungalow right now, calling—no, demanding—for her to come out.

The door flies open. I still have my hand raised to pound on it, but I drop it to my side at the sight of her.

Her hair is wet from the shower, and if I’m not mistaken, all she has on is one of the fluffy towels given out like candy by the resort. Josephine’s dark eyes are full of fire, and I have to stop my jaw from dropping open. She’s pissed at me? She’s the one who walked out on a perfectly cordial dinner. It’s not my fucking fault that Adam causes more problems than he fixes. It’s definitely not my fault that she’s here on an extended girls’ night out and I’m here to work.

“What are you doing here?” she hisses, drawing herself up to her full height.

“I had to find out if you were all right!” I’m keeping my voice under control…almost. I don’t want to cause a scene. I want to handle this the right way. But I’m so pissed, and it’s all mixed up in the fact that I want her. I want her badly. If the towel fell, I’d die a happy man. Standing here, breathing her in, is driving me crazy. “You walked out on me in the middle of dinner.”

She has the nerve to roll her eyes. “You didn’t care,” she says, her tone as acidic as mine. “You spent the whole time looking at your phone. Let me guess. Some emergency at work that only you can fix from across the ocean?”

Her words sting, and it shocks me even deeper into this moment. “You’re right. I have responsibilities. I can’t abandon my business and my family. But you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you? You’re spoiled, and helpless, and—”

Josephine’s hand flies through the air, her palm aimed squarely at my face, but it’s clear she’s not slapped people very often, because I see it coming from a mile away.

I put my hand up to stop her, wrapping my fingers around her wrist.

She gasps, two red spots high on her cheeks, her other hand scrambling for the towel, breasts rising, threatening to spill over the top.

We’re frozen like that for the space of one heartbeat. I’ll never forget how she looks in this moment—indignant, yes, but also powerful in a way I didn’t expect. She looks like a fucking pissed-off goddess who also might be turned on, ready to go.

Which one of us moves first? I can’t tell, but everything in my body responds. She’s tilting her face up toward mine, offering herself up at the same time that I move to take her. My momentum carries us both into the bungalow and the door swings shut behind us. I don’t give a fuck about the door. I am consumed in the act of pressing her up against the wall in the entryway and kissing her like I’ve never kissed anyone.

Josephine is panting, her arms thrown around my neck, and the towel crumples to the ground. Neither of us reaches for it.

I reach for her instead.

Holy fuck, it feels good to touch her, and I do, everywhere that I can think to get my skin against hers. I have my hands on her face, pulling her in, trailing down over her shoulders, her waist, her hips, cupping her ass. Josephine doesn’t resist. She melts into me, lifting one knee like she can climb straight up and onto me, and if she could pull it off, I would let her.

She sucks my bottom lip between her teeth, biting down hard enough for it to hurt, and then pulls back, breathing hard. “You’re such an asshole.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

Then we’re crashing together again.

Why not? Let the world burn.

I don’t bother to think about it, not for another moment. I let the animal instinct take over, and there’s a blur of her lips on mine and her hair in my face and the scent of her shampoo and another sweetness layered beneath that’s all her. On the other side of that blur, I resurface to find us both on the bed, my clothes abandoned on the way over.

Josephine stretches, her arms high over her head, her legs spread wide, and I drag my lips over every available inch of her skin. She lets out a low moan when I circle her nipples with my tongue, one after the other, my hands gripping her hips, and the sound makes my cock twitch.

I work my way up the side of her neck, letting the head of my iron-hard cock linger between her legs, teasing. She catches my face in her hands, her eyes bottomless pools of desire, and kisses me, fierce and hard.

“I hate you,” she whispers.

“You’re not going to hate this,” I tell her, and it’s like putting a match to dry tinder. Josephine wraps her legs around me, and she’s biting at my lip. It hurts and I feel alive for the first time in months. 

I draw back, take the barest instant to position myself, and then thrust inside her to the hilt, taking her for my own.