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I have no choice but to open my mouth and succumb to his invasion as he laps at me in an overbearing, almost suffocating way. There’s too much of everything in his kiss. It’s sloppy and suffocating, and I push against his chest with all my might to put some distance between us, finally managing to break the kiss.
I dry his saliva from my mouth with the back of my hand, taking a step back from him. There’s a hungry, aggressive look in his eyes, and I know that if I don’t put an end to this walk, he’ll probably try to kiss me again.
I knew that there was no spark between us from the beginning but this kiss just confirmed it without a shadow of a doubt. If anything, I feel a little turned off by him now, and I frantically think about the best way to make it clear, coming up completely empty.
I guess the best way to deliver the message is avoidance, at least for tonight.
“I’m sorry, Tristan, but I’m just really beat. I must still be on London time, and I’m afraid I’m not going to be much fun tonight. You have fun and hang out, but I must go to bed before I pass out on you.”
A smirk passes across his features, and it’s fleeting, but something in the way he smiles makes me think that me passing out on him wouldn’t be an entirely unwelcome occurrence and not necessarily a deal breaker for him.
I suppress an involuntary shudder at the idea and try to suggest that we part ways. “I’m going to go back to my room, and I’ll see you tomorrow. Would you mind letting my parents know that I’ve retired for the night?”
My attempt isn’t as successful as I hoped, because he takes my hand again. “Sure, but first I’ll walk you to your room. It’s always better for a lady to be escorted, you never know what might lurk in the dark.”
My first thought is that the only unpleasant thing that happened to me in the dark so far was his unwanted advances, but I bite my tongue.
I’m truly tired, and maybe in the light of day, Tristan won’t be quite so annoying and intimidating at the same time. He truly didn’t do anything wrong, and I didn’t exactly tell him to stop or to get away from me. He probably got the wrong idea about me from the way my sister was eye fucking him at dinner.
All I’ll have to do in the light of day will be to make him understand that he’s chosen the wrong sister. Not because I don’t want a summer fling, but because I really don’t think we’re a good match. Chelsea will probably be more his speed, and she seemed pretty eager earlier on.
We make our way to the side of the main building that connects the beach to the main property with a garden.
It doesn’t have the same grandeur of the front entrance, but there’s a private staircase to the side that gives the owner’s suite private access to the garden, and the door is shaded by a small porch.
“Thank you for the walk. Have a good night, Tristan,” I say on the doorstep, blocking his access to the door with my body as I realize he wants to come upstairs with me. There’s no chance in hell.
“Are you sure you won’t feel lonely up there all by yourself?” he asks, taking a step toward me and making me retreat until my back hits the door. “I could tuck you in…”
“Good night, Tristan.”
He grabs me before I can turn to open the door and his tongue invades my mouth again. Our second kiss all but confirms that I’m definitely not a fan of his kisses. I push against his chest as hard as I can, trying to put some distance between us, but he pushes closer, flattening me against the door. I’m caged, and between all that tongue and the clammy feel of his shirt, sticky with perspiration, I feel positively claustrophobic.
I push harder, wanting to get free, but the only result is him gripping my wrists in a vise-like grip, keeping me still against the door while he keeps mauling me.
Drew
I’ve had better nights. Seriously. I wish Brady hadn’t come to help unload the delivery for the luau style party the owner wants to throw in three days’ time. I was just done helping the kitchen staff with the cleanup after we closed dinner, and I was already tired and pretty aggravated with the way Mrs. Manning kept suspiciously eyeing every course that was served at their table as if it were a direct attempt against her figure. I could practicallyseeher counting the calories of everything the servers put in front of her.
That was why I made myself scarce and just observed from a far corner. The only ones who seemed to really enjoy the meal were Mr. Manning and his youngest daughter, Greer. I was even a little disappointed that she wasn’t there when I went to greet the table at the end of the meal. Her approval during tea meant a lot to me, especially with her mother openly doubting my skills because of my age.
I know Mrs. Manning would love to see me get fired, and I guarantee it isn’t just because I don’t have enough experience in the kitchen. She came onto me a couple of weeks ago when her husband left for a short business trip, and the fact that I turned her down must be one big reason why she doesn’t think I deserve the chance to prove myself at the job I was hired for.
I’ve been tense since Mrs. Manning joined her husband, knowing that with my job on the line, I can’t afford even the smallest mistake. If I want a chance to make my dream come true with my brothers, I fucking need this job.
I knew something was up and that it wasn’t good when I noticed the tension in Brady’s shoulders and the tic in his jaw while we were carrying a whole pig into the refrigerated part of the pantry.
I stepped in front of him, clapping his shoulder and forcing him to look at me. “What’s wrong, dude? Did one of those rich daddy’s girls grope you again during a surf lesson?”
His eyes darkened as he shrugged me off. “I wish it was just that. We can talk about it later. Matt and I can swing by your cottage on our way to the bonfire.”
I shook my head, crossing my arms over my chest. “Nope, not a fucking chance. It’ll take me about one more hour to put all this stuff away and get everything prepared for breakfast tomorrow. You look like someone just pissed in your beer, so I want to know what the fuck’s wrong now rather than later.”
I had that tone that I learned from my first boss, the one that only accepted a “Yes, Chef” as a possible response, so he sighed and ran a hand through his short blond hair in his telltale nervous gesture.
“I fucked up, Drew. Thanks to me, we might have to forget our whole plan to buy Sam’s shack.”
When the whole story came out, my first instinct had been to punch Brady in the nuts. After all, that was the part responsible for the fuck up of epic proportions he just made me aware of.
