AllFreeNovel
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"I think you should follow your instinct."
Somehow, that’s worse. I’m not quite sure what my instinct is telling me at this stage. I place the golf ball on the tee, then widen my stance, bending my knees slightly. I raise my golf-club, hit the ball, and it whizzes up through the air, beyond the body of water, and toward the tree line.
"Whoa, and you said you've never played golf before?"
I shake my head. "I’m a quick study, though."
"Let me go get the ball." Finn turns toward the golf cart, but I stop him. "I’ll get it."
"You sure?" He turns. "I can do it."
"Nah, you hang out here with Dirty Harry, I’ll get it. Also, I can do with the exercise." And with time out to think about my options.
I jog toward the tree line. I hear Finn say something to Harry, then their conversation fades. A slight breeze ruffles my hair, and birdsong wafts over me. The rustle of leaves grows louder, and I enter the small grove of trees. I slow to a stop, searching the grass. I increase the perimeter of my seeking eyes until I reach the shrubs. I take in my surroundings again. Nope, can’t see the ball. I blow out a breath, then head for the bushes, push aside the leaves, and forage in the undergrowth.
The hair on the back of my neck rises. A shiver runs down my spine. I straighten, looking around. I'm in a small clearing. A gust of wind blows the hair across my face. I push it aside, then commence searching through the brush. A flash of white peeks out through the vegetation on my right. "There you are!" I bend down, reach for it, but I can’t touch it. "Oh, whatever." I drop to my knees and crawl through the scrub. My fingers stroke against the shell of the ball. I lean in closer, snatching it up. "Gotcha."
"I’d say so."
"What the—?" I fall face-forward into the greenery, then flip over onto my back. I tilt my head up, meet the gaze of the man standing in front. "What are you doing here?"
53
Declan
"I just need a minute of your time."
Her features flush. Her lips flatten. She makes no move to rise up. "I don’t want to talk to you."
"But I need to speak with you."
She tips up her chin, "We can’t always get what we want or need. Time you realized that, Mr. Heartthrob-Wannabe."
I arch an eyebrow. "You’ve been stalking my social media feeds again, Rabbit."
"I fucking hate it when you call me by that name."
"That’s not what you said the last time I made you come."
Her cheeks flush. Her lips tremble. Those emerald eyes of hers flash with a mixture of anger and helplessness and lust. Oh yeah, she can try to deny it, but her body recognizes its master. I stalk over to stand over her, then hold out my hand.
She glances at it, then at me. Juts out her lower lip in that expression which hints at that stubbornness in her. The one I noticed the very first time I met her, when she was trying to fight off those men on the beach in Napoli. We’ve come a long way since then.
I’ve faced my inner demons, had to find that core of resilience in me, had to challenge the devils that pre-occupied me during the time I was fighting preconceived notions of what a leading man in Hollywood should look like. I broke down barriers—I was fortunate to have the money and circumstances on my side. And it’s one of the reasons I’m attracted to her.
Like me, she's had to overcome her impediment and break free of the situation holding her back. I always knew all she needed was the chance to thrive. To share her voice with the world, and they’d see what I recognized all those years ago. That she’s special, unique, and her voice is a window to the beauty inside of her. Talented, alluring, and magnificent. She holds people’s attention because she’s stunning, exquisite, ravishing, bewitching, and all mine.
Only I know her hidden insecurities. That she’s sick with nerves before every concert. That she yearns to break free of all constraints. That she hates being tied down. She’s a free spirit, my Rabbit. And also, an old soul. She has that innate goodness inside of her which makes her want to trust people, which makes her believe the best in them. Which is why, despite the fact that her brother never allowed her to embrace her talent, she came to his rescue when I began to beat him up that day in her room. It’s what made me stop and led to his men thrashing me instead. And I hated her for so long for that…
But now I understand she did it because it’s the kind of person she is. Loyal, tender-hearted and caring. It’s why she accompanied me to LA when I gave her the chance. That, and the fact that she loves me. Or at least, she loved me before I shattered her heart. And now, it’s up to me to make it up to her. To give her what she wants… What she doesn’t know she needs… Yet.
"Take my hand, Rabbit." I lower my voice to a hush. Narrow my gaze. I infuse just enough dominance into my tone, and she shivers. Her pupils dilate, a tell-tale sign she’s turned on. Could I bring her to orgasm with just my voice? Hmm… something to try out.
"Take my hand. Now."
She grabs my palm. I haul her to her feet, then reach down and lock my fingers with hers.
Her gaze widens, and her lips part. She swallows, leans forward, I hold up my hand, with the white golf ball locked between my fingers. I throw it over my shoulder and take a step forward, until the tips of my boots brush against her sneakers. My chest brushes against her breasts, her nipples standing at attention, little buttons of delight waiting for my delectation. The thickness at my groin stabs into her belly, and she shudders, then tilts her head back so her gaze is fixed on mine. I tuck a lock of her gorgeous hair behind her ear. The pulse at the base of her throat speeds up. I cup her cheek. She draws in a breath, then turns her face into my palm. She kisses the base of my thumb, and my heartbeat grows erratic.
