stars as I breathe. In and out. In and out. Every sound is strange and muffled in my ears as I come back from wherever I’ve just been. Heaven, I think. Of course, it’s not heaven. I’m not that drunk despite the cocktails. But Griffin’s mouth… if heaven was a place on earth, it would be there. Underneath his soft lips, behind his perfect, white teeth; on the tip of his strong, commanding, filthy tongue. There’s no doubt about it.
“Maria?” His voice sounds far away.
I lift my head from where I’ve collapsed against the ground and am met with blue.
Bright, clear, mesmerizing blue.
I open my mouth to say something—anything—but am stopped short by a ringing from inside his hut.
“Fuck off,” he calls without breaking my eye contact.
He pulls me up to a sitting position. My legs have turned to jelly, so I let him hold me by the waist and slide me into the water in front of him. I couldn’t move by myself even if I wanted to.
The ringing inside stops, then immediately starts again.
“Fuck’s sake,” he hisses underneath his breath.
He turns, looking over his shoulder at the open door to his hut.
“What if it’s the hotel?” I ask as the ringing stops again.
He turns to me, his eyes looking almost silver as they catch the glow from the moon in them.
“Then they’ll call back.”
I look at him, unsure of what to say. His lips, chin, half of his entire face is shining. I swallow down the flutter in my throat. It’s me. My orgasm. He’s made no attempt to wipe it off in the water. He’s wearing it like a badge of honor on his sinfully handsome face.
The ringing starts for a third time and Griffin groans, tipping his head back to the sky.
“Stay right here.”
His hands leave my waist, and he turns and swims over to his deck, lifting himself out of the water on strong arms. Each muscle in his back ripples and beads of water run down his skin as he stands.
He grabs a towel from the lounger and walks into his hut without looking back.
The ringing stops as he barks out, “This better be important.”
The sound of his voice, all business-like on the phone, the one I’m so used to hearing at work when he’s terse or short-tempered with me, slaps me in the face like cold air, instantly sobering me up.
What the fuck have I done?
I whip my head from side to side. The pool is deserted, as well as the beach behind me. I can’t believe he booked all eight huts so he could have his privacy. Then again, it makes perfect sense. It’s the kind of thing billionaires must do all the time. I’m surprised he doesn’t have a holiday home here that he stays in. But the beach? Anyone could have walked past and seen us. Heard me.
Shit.
I just spread it all out for my boss on a business trip. If only I were his secretary, it would complete the cliché. I didn’t work as hard as I have to ruin it all by being stupid enough to mix business and men together again.
My heart races in my chest. Griffin has switched a lamp on in his hut, and I can just make out his back to me as he talks on the phone in a low voice. I need to go now, before he sees me. If he comes back out here, I don’t know what will happen. It’s obvious I lack control when he touches me.
I cut through the water as quickly as I can and climb out onto my deck, making as little sound as possible. My heart hammers in my ears at the possibility of him coming back any second.
My bikini bottoms are in a crumpled heap on the floor, where Griffin threw them earlier. I scoop them up and tiptoe into my hut, closing and locking the door behind me and then I press the button on the wall until the white curtain slides all the way across, blocking out the stars, the pool… him.
“Good morning, Mr. Parker. How was your stay?”
The voices outside grab my attention and I walk to the door and peek through the spy hole. The guy who brought my luggage to my hut yesterday morning loads the same tan leather holdall I saw when I arrived, and a suit carrier onto his trolley.
“Just meetings, the usual,” a voice I would recognize anywhere replies.
Just meetings?
My face burns with humiliation. He sounds so unfazed, whereas I’ve been up half the night wondering what to say to him this morning. What do you say to your boss the morning after a night like that?
We shouldn’t have done it? We crossed a line? You made me come so hard I thought I was going to pass out?
I swallow as he appears into view, in full CEO mode. A pristine navy suit, shiny Italian leather shoes and a white shirt that looks even whiter in the dazzling sunshine. He takes a few notes from his wallet and hands them to the hotel porter, who dips his head in response.
“Thank you, Mr. Parker.”
I turn and lean back against the door. How am I supposed to explain last night? How am I supposed to work with him again? I inhale, holding it inside for a few seconds, then exhale slowly. Well, fuck it. If he’s not bothered, then neither am I. In fact, if he doesn’t mention it again, it’ll be much better. Leave it on the island where it belongs. A few too many drinks. A momentary lack of judgment.
A mistake.
“Will this be all?” the porter asks.
“No. Can you get next door’s luggage, please?”
I glance at my watch. It’s eight forty-five. He said we were leaving at nine. I’m ready; I just need to put my shoes on.
I reach down to grab them and take another deep breath, stealing myself for the knock at the door.
“Of course, Mr. Parker.”
“Thank you. And tell my employee I will meet her in the lobby.”
My mouth drops open, heat firing across the back of my neck. I resist the urge to open the door and hurl my shoe at him. Employee? Who the hell does he think he is? Pompous asshole. I bet he knows I can hear him from my hut. He’s not even going to wait for me? He obviously had no intention of knocking for me.
I step into my stiletto pumps and grab my bag, casting my eyes around the hut one last time. Such a beautiful room. Such a perfect location. Such a waste.
I give my bag to the bellboy and then take my time walking to the lobby, snorting to myself as I pass the frangipani bushes. What an idiot I was, thinking that moment last night was romantic.
Griffin isn’t in the lobby, so I check out at the desk and then walk over to the open fronted main entrance, lifting my head to the sun and taking a deep breath.
”Ms. Taylor?”
A driver calls my name as he walks around the front of a sleek black car. He smiles and opens the rear door for me.
I narrow my eyes at the vehicle.
Where’s Griffin?
“How are you today?”
“Well, thank you.” I give him a polite smile as I step into the car and slide onto the cool leather seat.
The scent of tropical air after rain fills the car, and despite last night and this morning, its scent is even more alluring in its assault on me as my stomach twists with a mix of anger and arousal.
I pull my lips into a tight line as the door closes behind me.
“Morning,” Griffin says, his eyes never leaving the paperwork he’s reading.
“Morning,” I reply, looking at him out of the corner of my eye.
He looks perfectly well rested. Not a single hint of a dark shadow beneath his eyes. His dark hair is immaculately styled, and he’s freshly shaven.
His Adam’s apple moves as he clears his throat. He puts the pen he’s holding between his teeth as turns the page on the paperwork he’s holding and then reaches down to the seat between us to retrieve another document from a pile that’s stacked there, his class ring glinting on his hand.
I force my eyes away from his lips as he takes the pen back out.
“Do you have enough space?” He makes some notes on the document he’s holding, and then flicks to the next page.
I look at the middle seat and back at him. He lifts his eyes to mine, raising a brow as he makes the first eye contact of the morning with me.
“Do you have enough space?” he repeats slowly, as though I’m stupid.
My stomach twists again, but no longer in anger and arousal. This time, it twists in humiliation.
There’s nothing in his eyes. No flash of recognition when he looks at me. No sign that anything happened last night. Just cool, calm Griffin Parker in full asshole mode.
It meant nothing.
I swallow down the acid in my throat. If he wants to pretend it never happened, then that’s fine with me.
“Yes, plenty, thank you.” I sweep my hair over my shoulder, and he snaps his eyes away from me and back to his paperwork, running one hand down over his tie as he frowns, his dark brows pulling low over unblinking eyes.
The car falls silent, and I reach down into my bag and pull out my notebook, turning to the last page I was working on yesterday. Since our meeting with Ken, I’ve been brainstorming ideas for new spa products using the cocoa butter he’s going to provide us with. I have a few already, which I need to run by Todd.
I’m so engrossed in what I’m doing that we are at the airport the next time I look up. When I flew over, I came into Nassau first, and then caught a smaller plane over to San Andros. I look out of the window as we sail past the terminal building. Griffin seems unfazed. He’s packed his paperwork away and has one elbow leaning on the car door, his fingers against his lips, and his jaw set as he stares straight ahead.
The car pulls up to a barrier and our driver says something to the guard on duty, who then presses a button, opening the barrier and waving us through as he says something into his handheld radio. I frown as we drive along the airfield and pull into an aircraft hangar.
“What are we doing here?”
“Flying back to New York,” Griffin replies, not looking at me.
The car comes to a stop and the driver gets out, opening the door for Griffin first, and then coming around to open mine. I step out and look over the top of the car. There’s a private jet with its door open, a smiling flight attendant standing at the top of the stairs.
I walk around the car, casting my eyes up and down the jet’s sleek fuselage as our driver carries our luggage onto the plane and then returns, bidding us both goodbye.
“After you.” Griffin holds his hand out, his expression unreadable as I look at him.
I frown, looking from him, to the jet, and back again.
His eyes darken and his jaw ticks. “Sometime today would be preferable.”
I glare at him, pulling my shoulders back.
Jerk.
I climb the steps and say hello to the flight attendant and two pilots who are standing by the cockpit. Griffin boards behind me and shakes the pilots’ hands, greeting them by name. I rein in my gasp as I walk into the cabin. It’s all cream leather and mahogany, with large, individual seats separated by a narrow central aisle. It’s like something from a music video.
“May I offer you some champagne?” The flight attendant appears beside me and directs me to a wide seat on one side of the aisle.
“Oh. No. No alcohol, thank you.” I place my purse on the console table built into the side of the seat and sit down.
“Some iced water, then?” She smiles.
“Perfect. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
She turns to Griffin on the other side of the aisle, who’s undoing the button of his suit jacket with one hand. He takes it off, revealing his broad torso in his crisp white shirt and hands it to her.
“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Parker.” Her smile for him is wider than the one she gave me, and her gaze roams appreciatively over his chest and back to his face.
“You too, Melissa,” he replies, her name rolling smoothly off his tongue.
Ugh. Really?
He flashes her a charming smile as she walks away with his jacket.
I scowl and turn away, the muscles in my shoulders tensing. I roll them in circles and tilt my head from side to side as I try to loosen up. Melissa returns with my drink, and one for Griffin. She didn’t ask him what he wanted. She must see him often enough that she knows him well and doesn’t need to ask. I stare at her back as she walks to the front and closes the aircraft door.
“Why don’t you get some sleep on the flight?” Griffin says without looking at me. Melissa walks by again and flashes him a smile. He keeps his eyes on hers, smiling back at her as he says to me, “You look tired.”
Fire licks at my tongue as I consider hitting back with something that will tell him what a jerk he’s being. It’s a total contrast to the man I had dinner with last night. We’re back to alpha boss-hole, a role he plays so well he probably created it himself.
Instead, I take a deep, calming breath and ignore him. I reach into my bag and pull out an aromatherapy rollerball I made myself. It’s got chamomile, rose and lavender oils in—perfect to help me get some rest on the flight.
I apply it to my wrists and behind my ears, then pull out a sleep mask. Despite it being Griffin’s suggestion, I could do with the rest after the drinks and lack of sleep. Plus, it will mean I don’t have to look at his face all flight or witness every time Melissa bats her eyelashes at him.
Perfect.
