When people said that Hawaii was paradise, I doubted they had in mind the particular brand of paradise I'd experienced on its sun-drenched shores. Days full of fun and laughter, and nights filled with pure, carnal delights. It was the kind of vacation that drained my batteries while also releasing every piece of pent up anxiety and stress inside of me. By Friday morning, I was feeling as relaxed as a wet noodle. And about as energetic as one too.

Dorian and I took a car to the airport where he told me he'd chartered a plane back to the mainland for the two of us. I was glad, since Enzo had been more or less ignoring the two of us since the night I found out about the bet. I hoped it was because he was embarrassed enough that he wouldn't pull anything like it again. Either way, I was glad to spend more time alone with Dorian before it was back to the real world.

“What do you want to drink?” Dorian asked as I settled into my seat.

I shook my head. “Nothing for me. I've got a lot to do when we land.”

“Suit yourself.” He grinned and poured himself a fifth of scotch. Then he sauntered back over to the seat across from me as the pilot started up the engine.

“Does it ever get old?” I asked. “Having a private plane ferry you from place to place?” I smiled, looking around at the small but elegantly furnished space. “I think I'd get a complex if this was how I traveled everywhere.”

“Doesn't everyone charter planes for private flights to Hawaii?” His eyes danced as he teased me.

I liked relaxed Dorian.

Probably too much.

That came with its own set of problems, namely that I knew it was just sex for him. After all, having a guy tell you that he's “fond” of you isn't exactly the sort of declaration every girl wants to hear. And it wasn't like we made plans to spend more time together once we were back to real life. But I didn't want that to color what had been an overall amazing trip, despite the little bump. Good sex. Good company. And, most importantly, he respected me.

“What do you want to do?” Dorian asked once we'd settled into our cruising altitude. “It's going to be a long flight.”

I grinned and started unbuttoning my shirt. “Good.”

I might not have him for much longer, but I planned on taking advantage of every second.

* * *

Arriving back at the Las Vegas airport put things into perspective for me almost immediately.

Dorian wasn't staying in the city, so I left the plane alone. He'd offered to see me all the way home, but I preferred to leave it this way. It helped demarcate between fantasy and real life. Once I left the plane, that would be it. No more. Then I could get back to my job and my life, and remember my week in Hawaii as nothing more than a fond memory.

Hopefully.

At the door, I smiled at him. “If you're ever back in Vegas, look me up. Even if you don't come back to the Rock Bay.” I winked. “Though I hope you will...even if you have to bring Enzo with you.”

Dorian laughed and reached for my face with one hand, running his thumb along the curve of my jaw. It took everything in me not to lean into him.

“I will,” he said. “And if you're ever in New York...”

“Which I won't be.”

“But if you are,” he pressed. “I would like to see you.”

It was nice of him to say, even if I wasn't sure he meant it.

I took one last, long look at him, committing his features to memory, trying to ignore the fact that I was terrified by the thought of never seeing him again. Especially because I knew I probably wouldn't.

I didn't kiss him goodbye. I turned before he had a chance to take the initiative himself, instead walking away without so much as a glance over my shoulder.

As I climbed into the car Dorian ordered for me, I cleared out a little corner of my mind for him. It was there that I stacked the memories of this week, that last image of his face, and the sensation of pure ecstasy that still clung to me like his scent from our sex-laden flight.

And then I stacked a bunch of other things in front of that corner, hoping to block it from view. Because I needed to forget him, at least for now. In a few weeks, maybe a few months, it wouldn't hurt to think about him anymore. And when that time came, I could pull these thoughts to the front of my mind and relive my time with Dorian again. Until then, I had other priorities. My daughter. My job. My own sanity.

And I couldn't be expected to focus on any of those if I acknowledged just how cracked my heart had become.

* * *

I collapsed into bed the moment I got home, intent on staying there for the rest of the afternoon. Who was going to stop me? Mikala wasn't due back until tomorrow, and Earl had agreed to give me today through the weekend off to rest and recover since, technically, it'd been a work trip.

A light knock on my door reminded me that I didn't live alone. “Briana?”

Shit.

“Come in,” I called out.

Tiffany entered the room with a huge smile on her face. “I didn't hear you come in.”

I laughed and patted the spot next to me on the bed. “I'm sorry. I totally forgot to come say hi. It's been...wow. Just wow.”

“Bad wow?”

She sank down onto the bed and rolled onto her side to look at me. I knew she meant well, but a part of me wished I could be alone. Forgetting my time with Dorian would only be possible if I was allowed to forget it. Tiffany wasn't going to let me get off that easily.

“No, I had a great time,” I replied. “I'm just very tired.” I quickly changed the subject and hoped she'd roll with it. “How was your vacation from us? Did ya miss me?”

“Not you, but I sure as hell missed Mikala.” She grinned. “I've had all this extra energy. Practically been buzzing around. I need her to come siphon it out of me so I can get some goddamn sleep.”

I tilted my head back and laughed. I'd missed Tiffany. More so, I'd missed the simplicity of spending time with her. She was the one person in my life – besides Mikala – who didn't want anything out of me other than my company. I never worried about her having ulterior motives, which was a doubt that had plagued most of my relationships since Elroy.

Something about having your boyfriend-then-husband pimp you out for drugs made it much harder to trust people. And allowing yourself to be pimped out made it much harder to trust yourself.

“So, what did you get up to?” I asked.

She snorted. “The same old shit, obviously. I wasn't the one in Hawaii with two sexy as hell billionaires, was I?” She reached down and poked my stomach. “Tell me all the details. Did you sleep with one of them?” Her eyes widened with delight. “Both of them?”

I smacked her hand away. “You're like a dog with a bone.”

She panted dramatically, then joined with my laughter with a long howl. I hoped another deflection would stop her from burrowing any deeper.

“I got you a present!” I leaped off the bed and ran to my suitcase, rummaging around inside until I found the super tacky, super hilarious coconut bra I'd gotten just for her. I held it up in front of my chest and did a little shake of my hips for emphasis.

“That is the best thing I've ever seen!” She curled into her side and laughed. “Do you think they'll let me wear it on stage?”

“I hope so!” I said, tossing it to her.

Tiffany was officially distracted. She immediately whipped off her shirt and tried on the ridiculous garment, strutting around the house like she was an island queen. By the time she started talking about incorporating hulu dancing into her routine, we were both laughing hard enough to make my stomach hurt.

When she left for work that evening, I breathed a sigh of relief. No more questions. I could spend the rest of the night relaxing and unwinding from my trip without having to dodge pieces of conversation that would only lead to pain.

Yet, despite my best efforts, I knew the pain would be hard to hold at bay.