Page 13 of Secret Offer
“Greedy, aren’t you, Sunshine?”
Raking my nails over the muscles on his back, I can’t form words as he pounds into me. Soon enough we find a rhythm, each glorious pump of his cock taking both our breaths away. We’re caught up in the pleasure of it, moaning in tandem, and just when I think the crest that’s been building won’t actually amount to anything—which I’m absolutely okay with, because no guy has ever gotten me off twice in a row—he shifts his hips and angles his cock just right and suddenly I’m coming all over again.
“Oh my God yes, yes,yes,” I moan, eyes shut tight, colors exploding behind my lids.
With a groan, his lips crash against mine, and he jackhammers into me, releasing in a hot burst, his cock slamming into me hard enough to bruise. I hope it does.
His chest moves with harsh, shallow breaths as he rolls over to lie beside me, and I turn onto my side and rest my head on his bicep. The last thing I remember is him pulling the sheet over us as I drift into a blissful slumber.
I’m woken up the next morning by the insistent buzz of a text from Brooke:Don’t hate me, but Chase wants to take me out for breakfast on a catamaran! Can we do dinner instead?
There’s already a smile on my face as I tap back an affirmative, because now I don’t have to ask her for a raincheck on breakfast like I’d planned. Scowl is still passed out next to me, and I wouldn’t mind sleeping in. Maybe when he wakes up, he’ll be ready for round three.
It’s a nice surprise that he’s still here. I fully expected him to tiptoe out in the middle of the night, as most one-nighters do. His arm goes immediately around me as I settle back under the covers.
The next thing I know, he’s kissing me awake, his lips cruising over my back and shoulders as the sun streams in through the windows.
“What time is it?” I mumble drowsily.
“Almost eleven.”
I sit up like a shot, and that’s when I realize that he’s just gotten out of the shower, a towel wrapped around his waist and his hair still damp. He looks good enough to eat. Except that I’m starving, and I literally need to eat, preferably as soon as humanly possible.
“Eleven? How’d that happen? Do you think it’s too late for breakfast?”
“It’s never too late for breakfast,” he says seriously.
“Do you want to hit the buffet?” I ask. “It comes with the room. It’s all-inclusive.”
He smiles and says, “I’ve got a better idea.”
His better idea is him calling in an order at a café by the beach while I’m in the shower. Once I’m dressed and ready to go, we stroll down to pick it up and end up taking it back to the cove where we met yesterday. That’s when I find out that it’s actually aprivatebeach. No wonder it was empty yesterday.
“We should go,” I say, pointing at the No Trespassing signs.
But Scowl just takes my hand and keeps tugging me along. “A members-only resort owns this cove,” he says. “But I’m friends with the owners. Trust me, we’re welcome here.”
“Okay,” I say, happy to let him lead me toward the shady palm grove.
It turns out that the food he ordered is far better than anything I’ve had at the Espadrilles buffet. As we watch the waves lap in and out, I gorge myself on sliced papaya and mango, shrimp and grits, and coconut pancakes. We also share a rum-roasted coffee, which I’ve never had before. It’s excellent.
In between bites, I chatter about how excited I am to start working for my family’s business, and though I don’t mention the phrase “New York Rockets” or “Tisdale Corporation,” I make it clear that the company is a Very Big Deal and that I’m looking forward to climbing the corporate ladder and someday taking over. For once, I’m not embarrassed to nerd out about my career aspirations in front of a guy, because Scowl seems content to lie back and listen to me talk, nodding along so I know he’s following.
“You’re barely eating,” I point out as I push my to-go container away, gesturing at his still-loaded plate. “Not hungry?”
“I’m not much of a breakfast person.”
“So this was all for me, then,” I tease. “Well, thank you. I feel so spoiled.”
“You should,” he says. “I usually just have a protein shake on my way out the door.”
“What’s your favorite food, then?” I ask, taking one last bite of pancake.
He thinks about it and then says, “Steak. Or really anything with grill marks on it.”
“Ha! So basically, char is your favorite food.”
“Definitely,” he says, taking my razzing with good humor. “I’m a connoisseur of char.”
