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Once I feel like I have a handle on myself, I step out into the dark corridor. Surprise and disappointment wash over me when I find it empty. I blow out a deep breath and cross my hands over my chest. Maybe he got the message when I switched off my phone. I’m about to go back to the table when the door behind me opens and that electric feeling courses through the air. I shiver, my body’s reaction infuriating me even more when a warm body steps up behind me.
“Can’t keep away from me?” he murmurs in my ear. “Your date doesn’t have you squirming like I do, does he?”
“In your dreams, Conrad,” I huff. I intended more attitude, but Conrad has me breathless as I lean back into him.
I laugh rumbles low in his chest. “Tell me you’re not incredibly turned on right now, and I’ll walk away.”
“I don’t want this.” My mouth says one thing, but my body says another as he brushes my hair off my neck. I arch into his touch. His warm breath ghosts over my skin, goosebumps pebbling up in its wake. “It’s wrong.”
“Quit fighting this, Ivy. I know you want me as much as I want you.”
I want to fight it. I want to tell him to go fuck himself–but the hand he smooths down my back makes me shiver. My panties are soaked, and my heart is racing.
“I hate you,” I whisper, but not as much as I hate myself for reacting to him.
Conrad responds with another low chuckle. He presses an open-mouthed kiss on the back of my neck, pulling a soft moan from my lips. “I know you do, Princess. But it’s not going to stop you from kissing me back.” He spins me around, backing me up against the wall and his mouth hovers over mine, just far enough out of reach to piss me off. “Tell me again you don’t want this,” he whispers, his pupils dilating.
I should tell him I don’t want it. I should push him away. Instead, I find my hands fisting his t-shirt as his lips crash against mine.
There’s nothing sweet about this kiss. It’s reckless and messy and I’m putty in his hands. His tongue sweeps the seam of my mouth, coaxing it open on a soft moan. I slide my hands over his shoulders, around his neck to fist in his hair. His cock swells between us, hardening against my stomach. It’s a heady feeling that has me shamelessly rubbing up against him.
With a low groan, Conrad pulls away from me and rest his forehead against mine. “If you want to continue this, Princess, ditch the date and come find me.” His lips brush over my heated skin again, and he leaves me a panting mess as he walks off.
I squeeze my eyes shut, guilt coursing through my body. I’m going to hell. Granted, I don’t have even half the chemistry with RJ that I do with Conrad. But that doesn’t change anything: Conrad Foster is bad for me. I wipe my mouth clean and straighten my hair. What the hell am I supposed to do? My cheeks are flushed, my lips swollen. I can’t go back out to RJ looking like this.
I can hear the band doing soundcheck as I make my way to the end of the corridor, peering around the corner. RJ is near the stage chatting away to the guitarist. While he’s distracted, I head to the bar and order two shots of tequila, knocking them back one after the other. I wince against the burn and walk away with a vodka, lime, and soda with plenty of ice. I need to cool myself down.
With my drink in hand, I make my way over to the stage, ignoring the heat of Conrad’s intense stare. He may have just kissed me completely senseless, but I’m not going to let him ruin this date.
RJ grins when I reach them, easily slipping his arm around my waist and pressing his lips to my temple. My stomach clenches, but I force a smile as he introduces me to the band.
We spend the next forty-five minutes dancing to the band, and they’re really good. But the more time I spend with RJ, the worse I feel. There’s no denying it: I’m a horrible person. I can’t stop thinking about how my body ignites whenever Conrad’s near me, and the worst part is I don’t feel anything remotely close to that when RJ pulls me into his arms. Not a single spark.
When the band stops for their set break, I pull RJ off to the side. “I’m really sorry,” I say, unable to meet his eyes. “I think I need to go. I’m not feeling well.”
“Of course,” he says. I only feel worse when he asks, “Do you want me to walk you home?”
“That’s okay, I drove. You stay. I’ll be fine. Enjoy the band. They’re really good.”
RJ tilts my chin up to meet his eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on with you and that guy, but if there’s even a hint of a chance that you’d like to do this again, Wren has my number.” He leans in and softly brushes his lips against mine. It’s nice, but that’s all it is. “Get home safely.”
Feeling numb, I nod and walk away from him, desperately trying not to fall apart until I get outside. Knowing I’ve had too much to drink, I walk right past my car and start home.
SIXTEEN
CONRAD
IVY’S BARELY SPOKEN to me all day. She’s stubborn, I’ll give her that. The tension between us is intense, and it’s even worse with Brady rostered on as a lifeguard again. He’s spent the morning glaring at me, and I’m glad there are two other lifeguards on duty or I’d be seriously worried about someone drowning on his watch. Although, I have a feeling he’d be happy to stand there and watch if that person was me.
Ivy is encouraging a little eight-year-old girl who looks like she’s about to cry. “You’ve almost got it, Susannah.” The poor thing is the only one from our afternoon group who hasn’t been able to stand on her board yet. “You almost had that last wave. You just need to adjust your front foot slightly to help with your balance. You’ll get it this next time, I promise. We’re not giving up, okay?”
Susannah looks up at Ivy, nodding and hanging on to every word she’s saying.
“I haven’t had a surfer I couldn’t get up on a board,” Ivy adds with a wink.
“Really?” Susannah asks in a tiny voice.
“Really.” Ivy helps the girl back onto the board and follows as she paddles out to the next lot of waves. She helps turn the board so Susannah is facing the beach, holding onto the back of it to keep her steady. The next set rolls in and Ivy gives her a gentle push calling out, “Paddle, paddle, paddle, and pop!”
