After trekking across white sandy dunes, Noah introduces me to two of his band members, Slater and Marcus. Slater looks slightly out of place on a beach wearing a pair of jeans, a gray Harley Davidson shirt, and black motorcycle boots. His blond dreadlocks sit just above his shoulders, and his strong jawline has a small amount of stubble covering it. He’s attractive, but in a bad boy, your momma might faintway.
Marcus has ravishing dark skin and the most mesmerizing green eyes you could imagine. He looks more suitably dressed for a day at the beach in a pair of long black board shorts and a white t-shirt. He has a face that makes your heart beat faster and your head a little woozy.
“And this is Nick.”
Slater’s brows shoot up from Noah’s awkward introduction. If Slater and Marcus weren’t already suspicious of our prior meetings, they are now.
“Hi, Nick.” The fluttering of my heart can’t be concealed by my short greeting. There’s no denying the sexual attraction between Nick and me. I just refuse to be another name on his long list of conquests.
Nick’s chin dips in greeting before he scans my body. Today I’m wearing a pair of denim shorts and a midriff top. I tried to convince myself it was perfect beachwear, but in reality, I just wanted to see if I could spark a reaction out of Nick. From the way his eyes bugged when they zoomed in on my practically bare thighs, I'd say my plan has worked.
* * *
Over the next two hours, we sit around the campfire Noah lit. Slater keeps me in stitches by telling me stories about Marcus and Noah in their teen years. I’ve only known Slater for two hours, but it feels like I’ve known him for a lifetime. That’s how well we clicked. And Marcus. . . my god. He’s the very definition of a sweetheart. He’s well spoken, polite, and always acts like a gentleman.
Nick, on the other hand, all he has done the past two hours is glare at me. He’s not happy about the instant bond I’ve created with Slater and has no qualms ensuring everyone else is aware of it as well. I’ve tried to settle the tension. Any time I catch his gaze, I offer him a small smile. Very rarely does he smile back.
Frustrated, I make my way to the cooler to grab a drink. It’s not hot; I just need something to take the edge off Nick’s heated gaze. I’ve just snagged a can of Coke when the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention. My lungs struggle for air when a body warms my back. I should spin around to see who is approaching me, but I don’t. I know who it is. The electricity that zapped between us the past two hours is still in abundance, assuring me it’s Nick.
His hot breath fans my earlobe when he asks, “Do you want to go for a walk?”
I’m prepared to shake my head, but when my eyes flick up to his, my defenses crumble. Ignoring his calls and messages were easy, but having him standing directly in front of me makes it impossible to deny my attraction to him.
When I nod, he caresses my hand in his then guides us to the water’s edge. The sun is setting, illuminating Bronte’s Peak in shades of orange. I stop marveling at the beautiful views when Nick asks, “Why aren’t you returning any of my calls?”
I sit cross-legged on the sand. “I already told you: I don’t date players.”
“So you don’t talk to Emily on the phone?”
When he sits down next to me, his thigh rubs my kneecap. I don’t care what anyone says, I swear a spark ignited inside me when our skin touched. I shift my eyes from the ocean to him. His eyes are as murky as the waters of Bronte’s Peak when it’s plunged into darkness. He’s either genuinely frustrated by my limited contact the past month or a mighty fine actor. I have a feeling it may be a bit of both.
“I talk to Emily on the phone—every day, actually.”
He licks his dry lips. “Then why can’t you talk to me? I want to be your friend.” If I missed the sexual innuendo in his tone, I sure as hell can’t miss his avid scan of my body.
“I don’t sleep with friends.” My hammering heart minces up my words.
My breathing shallows when he locks his heavy-hooded gaze with me and murmurs, “There are things we can do that won’t require sleeping.”
Goosebumps skate across my skin when he unexpectedly presses a kiss under my left earlobe. He’s barely touching me, but every inch of my skin burns up. When he plants another kiss two inches lower than his first, I slant my head, giving him unrestricted access to my neck.
“Don’t deny it; I know you feel it too.” The deep rumble of his voice vibrates my reservations straight out of my body. I feel its shudder all the way to my pussy.
“Why fight something you know you’ll never beat? Just surrender. It’ll be a lot more fun this way.”
When he pulls away, a shameful moan escapes my mouth. He smirks, knowing he has me trapped in a lust haze. With a cocky wink that reveals this is just the beginning, he stands, pivots, then strolls back toward the campfire. I watch him interrupt Emily and Noah in the middle of a make-out session. After he bids them farewell, he climbs the stairwell that leads to the parking lot.
Once he disappears from my view, my eyes drift back to the ocean. I'm utterly confused by what just happened. I don’t know why. You’ll never make sense of a player. They’re unexplainable.
I’ve just brushed half the sand off my backside when a deep voice from behind cautions, “Don’t give him what he wants.”
When I spin around, I'm met with the concerned face of Slater. His brows are scrunched together so tightly, a large V has burrowed into his forehead, and his thick arms are crossed in front of his chest. Nothing but honesty shines in his eyes when he says, “The instant you give him what he wants, he’ll be gone.”
“I know,” I reply sullenly. I know exactly what he’s saying, but it doesn’t make my attraction to Nick any less intense. I haven’t experienced anything this crazy in a very long time—if ever.
After giving me a wary smile, Slater paces over and wraps his arm around my shoulders. In silence, we make our way back to the firepit. While the sun rapidly sets, Noah and the guys from the band pack away the equipment we’ve been using. Bronte’s Peak only has natural light, so it won’t be long before the beach plunges into darkness.
Like my mood could get any worse, the stairs of Bronte’s Peak test how low it can go. The beach is gorgeous, but the stairs you climb to access it are a mood killer. By the time I make it up to the top, my legs feel like jelly, and my body is covered in a dense layer of sweat.
