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25
Sky
The boat’sjourney across the water is calm, but my stomach isn’t. I sit on the edge of the small boat and stare at the horizon, the huge blue sky meeting the azure water and blending into one. The small island grows bigger as we approach. Dylan rubs my back and I focus on not throwing up.
“The water is completely still, how can you feel sick?” The smirk I suspected is in his voice.
“I just do,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Good job the trip from the mainland is short.” He places a warm hand on my clammy forehead. “I’ll leave buying the yacht I had my eye on then, if you don’t like boats.”
“You don’t have a yacht? You’ll get kicked out of the billionaire club,” I mutter.
“A private island isn’t one better?”
When Dylan suggested we go somewhere for Christmas, I thought he meant a secluded hotel somewhere. At most, his house in LA he’s mentioned before. He refused to tell me where, and we landed in the Bahamas where I presumed we’d visit a secret and exclusive resort. When Dylan told me he owns an island, I thought he was teasing. Yet here it is, looming out of the water in front of us. As we get closer, the white sandy beach stretches back into long strips of green trees. The pilot edges the boat around the other side and a house, a white painted wooden building with a terracotta-tiled roof emerges, half-hidden by the trees, set on the beach.
I’m dreaming. I have to be.
Stumbling off the boat and relieved to be on land, I sink onto the sand beneath the hot sun. I’m sure in the movies when girls are taken to tropical paradises by smoking hot men, they don’t sit on the beach trying not to vomit. “Did I tell you I don’t like boats?”
Dylan looks down at me, his figure shading the sun. “About twenty times in the last half hour. Come on, you can’t stay there.”
The guy from the boat strides by carrying bags and laughs at me, saying something I don’t catch. Embarrassed, I let Dylan pull me to my feet and heave in breaths.
“Do you want me to carry you?” he asks.
“No.” I pull off my sandals and trudge through the white sand after the man.
The wooden and glass double doors are propped open, and the white gauzy curtains blow in the gentle breeze. I sink into the nearest chair, a wicker seat with plump blue cushions. Dylan appears with a glass of water and a smile.
“Will you stop laughing at me?” I groan.
“I’m not, I’m smiling because I’m happy we’re here.”
I take in the surroundings. A large ceiling fan, set into a wooden ceiling, twists slowly above. A cream tiled floor gleams and spreads through the open plan house into the kitchen. A bedroom lies opposite, the door open to reveal the edge of a bed.
Is this real or a seasick induced illusion?
“Slightly different to the last place we stayed at by the sea,” I say.
“A little.” Dylan sits next to me and laces his hand through mine.
The sound of the boat leaving the shore fades. “Why didn’t you come here, instead of heading to Broadbeach? I doubt anyone could get close enough to bother you on an island.”
“I wasn’t just running from the press. This place is a part of rock star Dylan Morgan, who I also ran from.”
“And Christmas? Why go back to London when you could spend time here away from everyone and everything?”
If I owned this place, I’d never leave.
“I had more chance I’d see you in the UK.”
I stroke his hand with my thumb. “I’m glad you did.”
“You look pale, are you still feeling sick?” He touches my forehead. “You could rest until you feel better? Want me to show you the bedroom?”
I open my mouth to respond and see the teasing glint to his eye. He cups my face with his hand and brushes his lips against mine. My nausea is replaced by the slow burn his lips cause inside and I press my lips harder to his. Dylan slides his hand to the nape of my neck, gripping my head to his and thrusting his tongue into my parted lips. Shocked by the sudden intensity of the kiss, and my body’s immediate arousal, I pull away. He slides his hand along my back, sneaking fingers beneath my shirt and lightly running them across my skin. I know where this is leading. I grab Dylan’s hand and lean away from him.
