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Debonair.
The man knew how to wear a suit and how to strip it off in seconds. There were nights where that man still occupied my mind, despite the fact that he’d moved on. Despite the fact that he’d broken my heart.
Despite the fact that I’d fallen in love with him.
He was my muse. The three months we’d spent together were unlike anything I’d ever experienced. And every time I was with him, I felt my creative juices kick into overdrive. It was the most productive three months of my life as a writer, and in some ways I was still creatively chasing those moments. I tried to replicate them. Go on dates with men that resembled him and attempt to find someone who could replace the muse that had walked away from me back in college.
But it was fruitless.
Writing had always been my passion. My dream. I took freelancing gigs writing blog posts and articles, but nothing compared to crafting the perfect story and falling in love with my own characters. That was what I wanted to do for the rest of my life, and with Kevin? Well, he convinced me it was possible.
At least, he did when he wasn’t forgetting about me because of work.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m taking a dip in the ocean. I need it after that long ass flight,” Morgan said.
“Sure. Sounds good,” “I said mindlessly.
“Earth to Brooke. You there?”
“I answered you, didn’t I?”
“Oh, no. Put that laptop down. You’re taking a swim first.”
“Why?” I asked. “The whole point of this is for me to write.”
“No. The whole point of this is for you to get out and have fun as a single woman. The writing is just a byproduct of you releasing your pain. Now come on. Get in your damn bathing suit and swim with me,” she said.
With a massive groan, I set my laptop down and changed into my bathing suit. We could dive right into the ocean from the balcony of our hut, and I had to admit the water was refreshing. It felt like I was being baptized in the healing crystal waters of heaven. I swam underneath and felt the waves sloshing against my body, pushing me towards a side of the beach that was covered with foliage.
But when I came up for air and wiped the salted water from my eyes, I couldn’t breathe.
No. It couldn’t be.
Those sea blue eyes turned towards me and locked onto my form. His dark brown hair was soaking wet, which dripped water down his chiseled jawline. His shoulders were broad, wrapped in thick pads of muscle that trickled down his chest. His abs were dripping with the crystal waters of the island and the lines of his strength disappeared behind red and white swim trucks.
I felt everything fade into the background.
I felt my heart slamming against my chest.
Those stoic eyes. That pulsing chest. Those dexterous fingers.
Hello fuck.
Kevin Spencer is on Nassau Island with me.
“You good?” Morgan asked.
But I couldn’t speak. I couldn’t even collect my thoughts as he started walking closer. I could tell he was just as taken aback. Just as surprised to see me.
And his eyes.
The way they traveled my body.
“Brooke?” he asked. “Is that you?”
“Oh. Holy. Shit,” Morgan said.
I watched him swim over as my eyes drifted behind him. To the two kids coming down a slide together off the side of the vacation home. Perched on its own private beach and facing the beautiful horizon the sun set underneath every night. They were having a grand time. Falling into the water and splashing around.
