I poured the red liquid into both paper cups and stuffed the wine bottle snugly into the sand.

“A toast?” I lifted my cup to hers.

“Oh yeah?” Her cup touched mine. “To what?”

“Being eighteen and breaking the law?”

With a laugh she threw her head back, exposing her neck to the moonlight and making my gut clench again. Her wavy black hair fell across her chest and suddenly I forgot to breath. I also forgot she was eighteen for five whole seconds. Mentally hitting myself, I cleared my throat and looked away. It was going to be one hell of a night if I couldn’t get any relief soon.

“To breaking the law,” came her soft whisper. I chanced looking at her and nearly choked as I brought the cup to my lips. Why did she have to be so pretty? Because that’s exactly what she was. I reserved the word hot only for girls who were walking sex, but Priscilla was so much more than that.

She was pure beauty.

And it radiated from her like a perfume. I leaned in, the ocean cracking in the silence.

She licked her lips and met me halfway.

Holy shit, the guys were going to murder me. But I wanted her. One taste. That was it. Just one and then my curiosity would be satisfied.

I set my wine cup in the sand next to me and cupped her face before she had a chance to say no. Her breathing picked up — the anticipation was killing me inside. What would it be like? Most women attacked me first.

And that’s when I realized.

I’d never kissed a girl before.

They’d always kissed me. They assaulted me, they attacked me. I never made the effort because I never had to.

Suddenly nervous as hell, I shuddered as her breath blew across my lips in such a sweet exhale that I was lost.

My mouth touched hers.

Her lower lip trembled. I took it between my teeth, gently sucking, and then coaxing.

Her mouth was closed, but her lips tasted like candy. Something inside my body shifted or maybe it snapped. I wanted to open her mouth with my tongue, but it seemed like I shouldn’t be taking what she wasn’t ready to offer, so I continued playing with her lips, licking the sides of her mouth, and feeling more turned on in those few seconds than I’d felt in a lifetime of being with women.

The ring of a cell phone interrupted our moment.

Priscilla jerked back and answered with a shaky, “Hello?”

I cursed myself and took a quick sip of wine. What the hell was I doing? What the hell was I thinking! Damn it! She was eight-freaking-teen!

“Sure dad! Okay, um, I’ll be right there.”

I heard her end the conversation and waited for her to slap me, or yell or tell me I was a whore.

Instead, I felt a hand touch mine.

Shit.

I looked up, her eyes were shining with excitement and maybe just a bit of wonder. And they were looking at me, as if I’d hung the bloody moon and told her I named it after her.

I knew where the story would end. My lack of self control would end up with her losing her virginity and me breaking her heart into a million pieces, she’d want a relationship, and I’d want out.

“So—” She laughed nervously.

“You should go,” I said sternly. “Don’t want Daddy getting worried.”

She flinched.

I wanted to drown myself in the ocean.

“But—”

“—look, you were right.” I smirked. “I guess my magic just doesn’t work on you. I’d planned on having you stripped and screwed by now. Instead, all clothes still intact. Count yourself lucky.”

Her eyes suddenly became glassy as if tears were trying to pour forth, but she was holding them back. I tried to reach for her, but my body was at odds with my mind. My mind said to leave it — my body demanded I fix it.

“You’re a bastard.”

“Don’t I know it.” I smiled tightly and lifted my wine cup. “Cheers.”

With a jolt, she jumped to her feet and grabbed her heels. “Rot in hell, Jaymeson.”

“Already am,” I said under my breath. “Already am.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Alec

I loved watching her sleep. I knew Nat was most likely exhausted from the night’s activity. Hell, I’d need an entire day to recuperate — but sadly, time wasn’t exactly ticking by in our favor.

I checked my watch. I needed to wake her up soon. Our flight was leaving later that day, and I knew Nat wasn’t the most cheerful of morning people. Plus, I kind of wanted to take her out to breakfast, stare at her, kiss her, take the morning slow. She sighed heavily in her sleep.

Grinning, I went over to the hotel door and pulled it open, expecting to find USA Today nestled on the ground — not a half-drunk, A-list actor who looked like he’d just been run over by a semi truck.

“Jaymeson?” I whispered. “What the hell are you doing?”

He groaned and opened his eyes. “Shit, what time is it?” Jaymeson moved to a sitting position and leaned his head against his hands. “I think I died last night.”

I kicked him.

“Ow! What the hell was that for?”

“I didn’t want to bend down and pinch you, so I thought a kick was the next best thing.” I shrugged. “Oh, and just in case you missed it, you’re alive.”

“Got that, thanks,” he muttered.

“So?” I leaned against the doorframe. “Care to explain why you’re camping outside my hotel room door? You’re lucky as hell we booked the penthouse and put security in the lobby to keep reporters and fans from getting to this floor.”