She glares at me. “No. You don’t like me. I know what I know. And I get it. We’re trapped here on this island under very weird circumstances. So if we want to hate fuck just to get it out of our systems, I don’t see a problem. It’s a stress relief or whatever. I’m down for that. But I’m not gonna play some fucked up mind game you want me to play. I’m not gonna beg.”
I can’t suppress my smirk. Because she was begging just a minute ago.
She backs up a step, fire in her eyes. “You got me off. Fine. Don’t be a dick about it.”
“Guess what, Peanut. I’m a dick about everything. But every time you say I don’t like you, I will argue with you about that. Because you’re wrong.”
She throws up her hands in obvious frustration. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You can’t possibly like me. You never want to talk to me. You never want to see me.” She gestures broadly toward the front door. “If the world wasn’t coming to an end outside this cottage, you never would’ve even touched me.”
I huff out a breath. She’s not wrong. If this stupid storm hadn’t brought us together, I never would have touched her. I never would’ve sought her out. I would never have put her in the position of knowing how much I wanted her.
Since I don’t know what else to say, I say exactly that.
“You’re right.”
She jabs a finger in my direction with a kind of defiant glee. “I knew it.”
“If it wasn’t for the storm, I wouldn’t have let you stay on the island. Or I wouldn’t have stayed. I would’ve left the second you showed up. But it’s not because I don’t want to be around you. It’s because I can’t be around you and not want to touch you. You are a fucking wet dream come true.”
She makes a noise that’s almost a laugh, but tinged with bitterness and wraps her arms around her waist.
I feel her retreat like a physical punch. I hate the way she’s closing in on herself. So I step forward, grab her arms again, and hold them out so I can look at her. Her hair is wet, but still in those damn braids I want to pull. Which means she didn’t wash her hair and it’s damp from the rain, not the shower. She’s got on a simple tank dress that’s the color of the Caribbean Sea and hits her just above the knees. There is nothing fancy about my girl, but she is everything. She is perfect.
“Damn, Peanut, you’re so fucking gorgeous it hurts to even look at you. And if it was just that—if it was just that I can’t stop fantasizing about holding on to those braids of yours while I come in your mouth, if it was just that I want to fuck your tits, if it was just physical—then maybe I could give you that hate fuck you want from me.”
I tug her closer, slide my hand up her neck to cup the back of her head. I angle her head so she’s poised for my kiss. Lips almost on hers, I tell her everything. Everything I’ve tried to hide from her for more than a year.
“Yeah. If it was just that, I could fuck your brains out and then walk away. But it’s not just that.” I can’t even look at her while I talk, so I let my eyes close, whispering the words against her mouth, while her breath mingles with mine and the taste of her orgasm is still on my lips. “I can’t stop thinking about you. From the moment we met, I’ve wanted nothing else but you. I don’t want anyone else. Anything else. I’m obsessed with you.”
“I don’t…” Her breath brushes against my skin. “I don’t understand.”
“I know you didn’t want a real husband. I know this marriage wasn’t supposed to be personal, so I tried to stay away. I really did. And I would have if you hadn’t shown up on my doorstep. But I’m in love with you.”
“You can’t be. You don’t even know me.”
I open my eyes now and pull back just enough to look down at her. “Yeah, I do. I know you better than you think. My mom talks about you all the time. I read your blog. I watch your videos about the island. And that email. Fuck me, Clara, I’ve read that email you sent so many times it’s practically etched on the back of my eyelids.”
She groans, her eyes fluttering closed as a delightful blush creeps into her cheeks.
“Do I know you as well as I want to? No. I could spend the rest of my life learning everything about you. And I would. I know that’s not what you want or need from me. But I would. That’s why I will always say you don’t know what you’re talking about when you say shit about how I don’t even like you. And that’s why I’m not going to fuck you right now just so you can get it out of your system or relieve some stress. That might be enough for you, but it will never be enough for me.”
I take in one more deep breath, sucking in the smell of her. The smell of sunshine and rain and coconuts and sunscreen.
And then I step away, putting distance between us. I pace for a second, considering my options and coming up with only one decent solution.
Then I turn and walk out of the cottage. I’m almost to the beach when I realize my damn shorts are still unzipped. And that I’m hard all over again.
chapternineteen
Clara
I watch Jonah leave with my heart thundering in my chest and my lungs. I’m shaking as I watch him leave. Actually, shaking doesn’t even begin to cover it. My skin is hot, practically burning, but I’m shivering, cold from the rain. Adrenaline pumping through my veins.
What the hell?
What the actual hell?
What the fuck was that?
