Josephine sleeps deeply, arms wrapped around a pillow like she’s clinging to it for dear life, her hair flowing across the pillows. I want to run my fingers through it, but I don’t.

I’m doing the right thing.

She didn’t have a place to stay, so I gave her one.

She wants to have a good time, and she wants to have it with me, and I’m not going to fucking fight it. Even if she is next-level infuriating.

Josie is starting to grow on me. I can admit it in the gentle early morning light filtering into my suite through the sheer curtains. I like looking at her. I can’t get enough of her body. And there are moments when her eyes glimmer in the sun, alive and impish, that an energy races through me like I’ve never felt before.

There’s got to be more there. Josephine Paxton was always a bit of a mystery in school. People didn’t know much about her then, other than that she was dating Greg and liked to get drunk at parties, and I hated her superficially, based on that alone.

The party girl type isn’t my favorite, to be honest, but the more time I spend with her, the more I wonder if it’s all an act. Or partially an act.

I should check my phone. I should be tending to Cash Industries. I don’t care if Dex thinks he has it under control. The Adam situation, which seems to get worse the longer he stays in Italy, can’t be handled by anyone else.

Instead, I spend a few more minutes watching the sunlight play off her hair.

Josie stirs as if she can feel my eyes on her, rolling over on her back. She made a point of getting dressed last night after round two, which took place in the bed and not the shower, but it’s a sheer tank top and I can see her nipples right through it. My cock rises to attention at the sight. Get control of yourself, I order myself in my firmest mental tone.

She opens her dark eyes, catches sight of me, and grins a little. “You’re still here.”

“No, you’re still here. This is my room.”

A look of surprise flits across her face. “Right. Right.” Then she props herself up on one elbow, brushing her hair back from her face. “That was crazy.” The words are all right, but the emotion isn’t there.

I want to call her out on it, to ask her what she really thinks about almost being crushed by a tree while on vacation, but I know that would destroy this moment. 

I don’t want that.

“Lucky for you—”

“You forced me to take a walk?”

“—I had a suite and don’t despise you enough to leave you out in the cold.”

She laughs. “I don’t think it gets very cold here.”

“Maybe not here, but you never know about that second-class island they might have sent you to.” The phrase second-class makes her frown for a split second, and my curiosity rages. There’s more to Josephine than she’s letting on. In order to find out, though, I might have to release my iron grip on Cash Industries for the rest of my time on the island.

Not likely.

She frowns. “Speaking of your suite—”

“Is it not good enough?” I look around like I’m seeing it for the first time. “I’d get another, but they’re all booked up.”

“No, it’s a nice suite.” Josie gives me a wicked look. “I especially appreciate the shower. But I’m not sure that our…arrangement is going to be feasible.”

“Which arrangement?”

“The one where you’re supposed to leave me alone so I can have the time of my life. The one where we rendezvous once a day.” She purses her lips. “I don’t know if we can avoid each other in such a small space.”

I put a hand on her waist and trail my fingers down to the curve of her hip. “Are we being honest with each other?”

She looks offended. “I’m always honest.”

“I don’t want to avoid you.”

For the first time, a genuine smile crosses her face. “I’m willing to renegotiate.”

I tug at the waistband of shorts she put on to sleep, running my finger between the elastic and her skin. She shivers at my touch. “What are your terms?”

“My terms—” Josie closes her eyes for a few heartbeats, and I keep up the slow, languid movement of my fingers traipsing across her skin, tugging a little at her shorts. When she opens her eyes, they’re black pools of desire. “My terms are that you take a vacation.”

“I’m taking a vacation. I’m at a resort on a tropical island, am I not?”

“I mean you put away your phone. Come to the beach. Do all the tourist, vacation bullshit we can find on this island.”

“But I can’t—”

“You can,” she insists, grabbing my hand and bringing my fingers to her mouth. “You absolutely can.” Her eyes sparkle when she presses my fingertips to her lips, the tip of her tongue dancing out to tease me. “You have to want it.”

“I want you.”

Why does she make me feel so raw, so out of control? Why do I want her so badly now, when I never saw anything in her before? Why do I have this desperate, gnawing urge to know her, to really know her, to find out what’s hidden behind those dark eyes? 

Josephine lets go of my hand and reaches under the comforter, wrapping her fingers around my steeled cock and giving it a confident squeeze. “Come on vacation.”

“I’ll come. I can guarantee you that.”

Then she laughs and twists toward me, throwing one leg over my waist. The tank top is the first to go, and then I’m treated to a show of her wriggling her shorts off over her spread legs. 

It’s a long time before we emerge from the bedroom.