: Chapter 11

YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING IDIOT.

What the hell were you thinking?

Touching her.

Caressing her.

Watching her touch herself…

You weren’t thinking—that’s the problem.

You saw her in your shirt and you lost your goddamn mind. All mental clarity was shot out the window and you thought with your dick.

You turned ravenous and needed to touch her.

Taste her.

Suck on her.

And watch her fall apart in your hands and mouth.

Fucking idiot.

Because now that I’ve seen it, now that I’ve heard the way she comes, I’m never getting that out of my head. It was the sweetest, sexiest, most erotic thing I’ve ever experienced. The way she handed herself over to me without question. How she begged for it. Talked to me. Told me what she needed.

Jesus Christ.

And then seeing her naked. Her bare pussy, flat stomach, curvy hips, and easily the best tits I’ve ever seen in my life.

I’m done.

Fucking roasted.

There is no coming back from this.

Nothing will be as good.

No one will be as good.

I knew it day fucking one. She was too gorgeous, too funny, too perfect. Gary knew it too. If I got involved, I was going to fuck myself over and alienate my best friend. And I’ve held back. I’ve had small moments, but tonight…fuck, tonight was colossal, and it was such a bad but delicious idea.

And now that it’s over, and I’m facing away from her with the most painful erection of my goddamn life, I can’t stop thinking about turning over again and playing with her some more. Would that be so bad?

Yes, you fucking idiot.

It would be bad.

Leave her alone.

Not for you.

I love you, man…but no.

I’ve heard Gary’s warnings over and over in my head for years, and yet…I just went against my best friend’s warning and messed around with her anyway. I could not be more stupid.

The mattress dips, and I quiet my thoughts as I feel her move in behind me.

Fuck…

Don’t touch me, Maggie. Please don’t fucking touch me. There’s no way I could stop you.

Her warm body moves in closer, and I squeeze my eyes shut, begging, pleading for her to stay away, but then her arm slips around my bare torso.

Her hand runs along my abs as my erection jolts in my briefs.

Her lips caress my shoulder blade, sending chills down my spine.

And then her fingers move past the waistband of my briefs and my stomach contracts in anticipation, hollowing out as her fingers pass over the tip of my cock.

“Fuck,” I whisper, unable to hold back.

It’s a light pass of her fingers, but it still pushes me to a point of no return.

I’m not stopping her.

I’m hers.

Whatever she fucking wants. I’m hers.

And I wait.

I wait for the next caress.

Totally fucking intoxicated by this woman.

Her fingers swirl around the tip of my erection and my eyes roll to the back of my head.

Fuck, yes.

If this is all she ever does, I’m happy. Just her gentle strokes are enough.

Because this is a goddamn fantasy coming true. I’ve wanted this for so long, ever since the wedding, the way she looked in her red dress, the desire on her face as I pushed her against the wall. I’ve wanted her hands on me, all over me, caressing me, tugging me, stroking me.

I let out a pent-up breath as her fingers slide down my length briefly, my cock twitching with every stroke.

“You want this,” she whispers.

“You know I fucking do,” I say.

“Then lie on your back.”

I gulp. “I shouldn’t.”

“But don’t you want sweet release?”

Oh fuck do I want release.

I want to come on her tits.

Deep inside of her.

In her mouth.

I want to play with her all goddamn night.

Every night we’re here.

But I have this niggling feeling in the back of my mind, telling me to stop. To pull her hand out of my briefs. To go sleep on the lounger outside and get as far away from her as I can.

She has different plans though.

She tugs on my shoulder, gently rolling me onto my back. I’m useless at this point, spent. I’m so goddamn hard for this woman that even though I know this is a bad idea, I can’t help but follow her lead.

That’s when I see that she’s completely naked.

My shirt is nowhere to be found and she’s hovering over me, so goddamn hot, and looking to give me one hell of a good time.

Bad idea, man.

Tell her no.

Tell her to stop.

But as she straddles my lap, I let it happen.

When she positions herself over my straining cock, just my briefs between us, I don’t move.

And when she starts to move her hips over my length, I hold my breath, because Jesus fuck, this is everything.

Her body undulates over me, her tits perky, bouncing as she moves.

She drags her hand through her hair, giving me one hell of a show.

And her warmth shrouds my cock, creating an intense friction that has my entire body shaking.

“Fuck…” I drawl out as I grip her thighs.

“You’re huge,” she says. Her hands connect with my chest, and she leans down, her tongue peeking out, which she passes over one of my nipples.

Yup, there’s no stopping her.

Whatever she wants to do, I’m hers.

She can have me.

“I’m still so turned on,” she says as she starts to move a touch faster over my cock.

I squeeze her breast, loving the weight in my hand, the feeling of her pebbled nipple pressing against my palm.

“You made me come so hard, Brody,” she says, her voice breathless. She lifts up again, taking both of her breasts in her hands and squeezing them together as she continues to pleasure herself. “And…I can feel another orgasm…fuck,” she groans, her hands falling to my stomach.

Her hips move faster.

Her teeth pull over her bottom lip.

Her stomach contracts with her pulses over my cock.

“Fuck, baby,” I say as I help her by gripping her hips. I love the way she has no problem using me to come again.

She’s just taking what she wants, and nothing’s hotter.

“That’s it, Maggie, come for me again.”

Her head falls back.

Her mouth parts.

“Oh…fuck,” she says in surprise.

I move her faster.

Her arousal’s dripping over my cock, which is straining against my briefs now.

I can see the tension coiling in her body.

And the moment her orgasm starts to hit her, it seizes her every muscle.

“Fuck…fuck…” she screams as her hips ride me so hard, so fast that I can’t even keep up.

Her hands press against my chest, her fingers digging into my pecs, and with one giant breath out, she comes.

“Fuck, Brody…oh my God!” She continues to pulse over me, riding out her orgasm until she’s completely done.

My cheeks are red.

My neck is hot.

My cock is hard as a goddamn rock.

Pulsing, twitching for more.

I was not expecting that.

And yet, it was everything I could have fucking asked for.

After a few seconds, she brushes her hair out of her face and when our eyes meet, there’s still surprise in them, as if she wasn’t expecting to do that either.

“You’re so fucking sexy,” I say, which brings a grin to those delicious lips.

She wets them and then to my absolute pleasure, she moves down my stomach, her hair dragging along my skin, her mouth licking and sucking along the way, adding to the sensation as she reaches my abs.

Please fuck…please, suck my cock.

Christ, I wouldn’t ever recover if she did.

I want it.

Badly.

I marvel in the way her tongue follows the divots and lines of my abdomen, spending extra time on the lower set until she reaches the elastic band of my briefs.

This is where you should stop her, man.

This is where you lift her chin up and tell her that you can take care of it yourself.

And yet, I lie still, breath caught in my chest as she pulls my briefs down, allowing my cock to surge upward, hard as fucking stone.

Her eyes widen as she takes me in.

That’s what you do to me, Maggie.

This is how fucking much I’ve wanted you.

With a tilt of her lips, she leans down, and I hold my breath.

I lift up on my elbows and catch her running her tongue up the underside of my cock.

“Mother…fucker…” I sigh, collapsing back down to the mattress. Because it’s too good.

This feels too fucking good, though all she did was lick me once. And yet, I’m ready to show her how much she turns me on. How much I’ve fucking wanted her. How much I can easily come just from looking at her holding me in her petite hands.

But she doesn’t allow it. She lightly pumps my length up and down while licking the underside of the head of my cock, right in this magical spot. It feels like every sense in my body is gathered into this one location.

“Yes, Maggie. Fuck, yes,” I say as I spread my legs, making more room for her.

She continues to stroke my length, giving me the perfect amount of pressure that my eyes start to roll in the back of my head and my impending orgasm builds to a point of no return.

Jesus, that was so fucking quick.

I try to hold off.

I try to tell myself this isn’t all my fantasies coming true.

That I haven’t thought about this a thousand times.

That I’ve never pictured her between my legs rocking my goddamn world with her tongue.

But it’s no use.

She builds me up. She knows how to pleasure me without even fucking thinking about it.

Because it’s her. It’s Maggie. The girl I’ve lusted after for years now.

This is real.

This is so fucking real that I need a better look. I lift up on my elbows again and I cup her face, loving how her cheek hollows as she sucks the tip of my cock.

“Maggie,” I say, breathless.

She smirks, her mouth full of my cock, and it’s my undoing.

“I’m going to come,” I say as I try to pull away from her, but she plants her body firmly on mine and then deep throats me in one big swallow, taking me all the way to the back of her throat.

My toes curl.

My quads seize.

Every bone in my body stills as my balls tighten, my cock swells, and with a ravenous roar I’m coming all the way down her throat.

Pump after pump.

“Holy fuck,” I cry out as she continues to suck, swallowing every last drop until I’m sated. “Jesus Christ.” I drape my arm over my eyes, unable to comprehend the way she just took me.

The way she made me come so fucking fast.

Her mouth releases me and she gets off the bed, but I’m too spent to even move, to look in her direction, to marvel at her naked body.

I hear her in the bathroom, taking care of things and after a few minutes, she comes up to my side of the bed. I lift my arm to find her with a wet washcloth. She gently cleans me up and then moves my briefs back over my cock.

Well, fuck, I’ve never had that happen to me before, it’s always the other way around. I’m the one cleaning the girl up. Then again, this is Maggie, and she seems to do things on her own terms.

When she comes back to the bed, she puts my shirt back on and then curls into her pillow. With a sweet, but satisfied whisper, she says, “Good night, Brody.”

Jesus.

Yeah…good fucking night.

I’m woken from a deep slumber with the sound of the front door closing. Fear races through me as I sit up, thinking that Maggie left, but when I see her wheel in a breakfast cart, still wearing my shirt, that fear is immediately squashed—especially when I get a good look at her.

Her hair is tousled to the side and her makeup-free face radiates satiated joy in the sunlight pouring in through the sliding glass door.

Thoughts of last night scream through my head.

Her moans.

Her body writhing.

Her mouth on me.

My desperation.

And the way she took me all the way to the back of her throat.

It was a bad idea, but such a good one too and, now, in this unflinching morning light, I’m wondering what the hell she might be thinking.

I sit up and scratch my chest as she glances over in my direction. “Good morning,” she says.

“Morning,” I reply, appreciating the way my shirt barely covers her ass as she pushes the cart out to the deck. “Need help?” I ask.

“No, I’m good.” She stops the cart at the small bistro table set up on the deck and takes a seat. She peeks around the cart and says, “You joining me?”

Fuck, yes.

“Yeah,” I answer as I get out of bed. “Let me just go to the bathroom first.”

I quickly relieve myself, wash my hands, and because I’m so fucking attracted to this girl and don’t want her to regret last night, I adjust my hair in the mirror and then head out to the deck. There, she’s uncovered a plate of eggs, a plate of pancakes, a fruit platter, and some bacon.

She’s pouring coffee for both of us when I sit.

“Did you order this?” I ask.

“No. Reginald sent it with another card.” She lifts up the envelope and I glance at it.

“Have you read it?” She shakes her head, so I take it from her. “If this says anything about my snake bite, I’m leaving this island.” She chuckles as I read it out loud. “‘Good morning. Hope you slept well. The family is going on the yacht today to a private island. We would love for you to join us. Meet in the lobby at ten.”

“A private island? Sounds fancy,” Maggie says, as if we didn’t just rock each other’s worlds last night.

Okay, so we’re not going to talk about it. Good to know.

“A yacht sounds even fancier.” I set the card down. “Do you think you can get seasick on a yacht?”

She cuts into her pancakes but pauses when I pose my question. “Do you get seasick?”

“Well, I didn’t think I did until we had to take a boat from the airport to the resort. That’s when I found out waves and I don’t go well together.”

“That was a little boat—I think yachts are better.” She raises her brow at me. “Do you think you’ll get seasick?”

“No idea.” I lift up my coffee. “But I don’t think I should miss out on a private island thing.” I shrug. “It’s not like I haven’t puked in front of them already.”

“Very true,” she says, “but maybe grab some anti-nausea medication.” With that, she casually returns to her pancakes, not a worry in the world.

Doesn’t she want to talk about what happened last night?

Doesn’t she want to at least acknowledge the fact that she had my dick in her mouth?

Brainstorm a solution for handling this moving forward?

Our contract could use about a thousand new addendums at this point.

Am I allowed to kiss her?

Hold her hand while we’re eating breakfast?

Is that too fucking clingy?

Yes, Brody. It’s way too clingy.

Read the room. She’s casual. So you act fucking casual.

She’s probably acting cool and calm because she’s more of a professional than you’ll ever be. Here I am, crushing on a girl when I should be figuring out a way to get Reginald on my good side.

But I’m just not built that way.

Jaleesa could sense it when she said I was getting distracted—I’m a bit of a cinnamon roll. Sure, I’m a touch crusty on the outside, held together by sarcasm and hard work, but on the inside, I’m a fucking gooey mess, clinging to the fact that the woman sitting across from me is my dream girl. All I want to do is kiss her and hold her and tell her she is so fucking beautiful. But I don’t think she’s there.

So where is she?

Should I ask?

No…don’t ask.

You’ll look like a tool.

But I need to fucking know.

I need to know how to proceed. Was this a one-time thing for her? Can she come sit on my lap right now? Can I strip her out of my shirt and lick syrup off her nipples?

Sorry, but I can’t sit here in a state of uncertainty.

“So…last night,” I say like a chump because I don’t know how else to approach the topic.

“What about it?” she asks as she takes a bite of her pancakes.

Uh…what about it?

How about the fact that I feel like a different fucking man this morning, like you transformed me and I’m still trying to process how it was the best and worst decision of my life.

But I attempt to remain as casual as her. “You licked my nipple.”

Okay, maybe that wasn’t casual.

Her brows rise in such a cute way that it makes me want to pull her onto my lap and never let her go. “You licked my nipple as well. Is this a tit for tit thing?” she asks.

“Do you want it to be?”

Her nose crinkles in confusion until a small smile pulls at her lips. “Aw, Brody, do you not know how to handle a morning after?”

Apparently not.

“That’s cute.” She sits back in her chair and crosses one leg over the other. “No need to discuss—we can just go on with our regularly scheduled activities.”

So…she doesn’t want me to tell her that she gave me the best orgasm of my life and it was with just her mouth? She doesn’t want to know that I’m afraid I might be addicted to her tits? Or that if it were up to me, I’d be pulling her into that plunge pool right now, and stripping her down to nothing so I can have her again, but this time, have all of her?

Instead of pouring out my fucking heart over here—Jesus, man, get a grip—I cooly nod and say, “Great. Just the way I like it.”

She smiles and goes back to her pancakes.

What?

How can she be so casual about this?

I heard her last night.

I saw the way she shook.

The sounds she made.

The…

I freeze as the worst thing I could ever think of crosses through my mind. “Did you fake it last night?”

That causes her to stop her fork midway to her mouth. She blinks twice. “You’re asking if I faked it last night?”

“Uh…yes?” I ask in the form of a question, because the look in her eyes is actually sort of scaring me.

She sets her fork down and crosses her arms over her chest.

Uh-oh. She’s in defensive mode.

Is there a way to jump back to seconds ago and possibly ask her a different question?

Maybe something less offensive and more…thought-provoking? Like…how did my dick taste?

“Let’s get one thing straight,” she says. Oh boy, here we go. “I’ll never waste my time faking an orgasm. If you can’t get the job done, then I get it done myself. I’m not here to preserve any fragile man egos.”

Wouldn’t expect it any other way, but…I’m still relieved.

“Oh, yeah, sure.” I nod, glancing down at and concentrating on piercing my pancakes with my fork.

After a few seconds of silence, she adds, “And since it seems like you need to know, that was single-handedly one of the best orgasms of my life. I still felt it when I woke up this morning. Does that satisfy your appetite for morning-after chatter?”

I mean…**brushes shoulder off**

“Yup. Thanks,” I say as my chest warms with pride.

Don’t smile, you dick, she’ll hate you if she sees you smiling.

Remain neutral, you can smile your ass off in the shower later, where she can’t see you. For now, just relish in your studliness, because you gave her the best orgasm she’s ever had.

Good job, you asshole.

So, when I say Maggie doesn’t like to have the morning-after talk, I’m not lying. My question put her in a sour mood.

She’s silent, annoyed, and really not interested in me at all, which, of course, hurts my man feelings. And sure, I should be happy over here, celebrating the fact that I got a taste of her even though it seems like she’s not interested in future encounters. One and done.

Her brother doesn’t have to know. We can move on.

Not even the possibility of an oopsie pregnancy because well, you can’t get pregnant the way she did things.

We’re in the clear.

And yet, I’m irritated that she didn’t hold my hand on the way to the yacht.

I’m frustrated that she’s talked to Haisley more than me this morning.

And I’m feeling all sorts of lonely because the last thing I want to do is sit on this huge, multi-level luxurious yacht in the middle of the most crystal-blue water you have ever seen and try to act like I’m remotely interested in impressing these people. All I want to do is hang out in the bungalow with Maggie, being lazy in bed. I want time just with her.

And yet, here we are, once again with the Hoppers.

And suuuurrrre, this is what I’m here for.

But doesn’t make me any less bitter.

Knowing I should be talking to Reginald and his sons, I grumble under my breath, lift from where I’m seated at the head of the boat, and I travel toward the back where the men are gathered.

Seems like the perfect time to talk business.

“Hey,” Hardy says in greeting. “Join us.” He holds out a cigar to me.

Gross.

Never smoked one in my life but fake it until you make it, right?

I take the cigar and hold it between my fingers as I say thank you. Maybe I don’t even have to light it. I can just hold it like this, and no one will be the wiser.

“Here,” Reginald says stepping forward with a lighter. Of fucking course. “Light it, smoke it, don’t just hold it.”

“Thanks,” I say as I bring the cigar up to my mouth and try to remember the way my grandpa used to do it. Light and puff.

Reginald lights my cigar and I take a few puffs to help get the flame going, impressed with myself until a wave of smoke flows to the back of my throat, causing me to gag and cough.

Death.

Death is upon me.

I gag some more.

Cough a few more times.

Nearly keel over as my eyes pop out of their sockets.

“Wow,” Hardy says as he pats me on the back. “You okay, boss?”

Nope.

Dying.

I’m dying.

But, I’m all about saving face, so I nod and cough a few more times.

Once my throat calms down, I say, “Saliva went down the wrong tube.”

“Is that what it was?” Reginald asks, cocking his head, a bemused look on his face.

“Yeah.” I smile and then leave my lit cigar by my side. One puff is good enough for me. “So, what are you guys talking about?”

Please say work. Please say work.

“The wedding,” Hudson says. “Grilling Jude on whether he has cold feet or not.”

I glance over at Jude who looks as stoic as they come. “Not even a little, he says. I’m counting down the days until I can call Haisley my wife.”

Reginald beams.

The boys nod with appreciation.

“Are you staying here for your honeymoon,” I ask, “or going somewhere else?” Just then, the boat picks up speed, rocking us just slightly back and forth. Oh boy.

Keep it together, Brody.

“We plan on a few more nights here, but then Reginald has something planned for us,” Jude answers, the slight rock of the boat not the least bit soothing.

“Something I know they will love,” Reginald says with pride.

Not sure I’d be cool with my father-in-law planning my honeymoon, but that’s just me. From the way Jude is so possessive over Haisley, I’m going to assume they won’t care where they go, as long as they’re together.

“Do you know when you get back to the States?” I ask.

“Two weeks,” Jude answers. “Haisley and I have renovations we need to finish up, and I know there are some pending projects she’s been working on that she wants to be home to complete.”

“Two weeks is a good amount of time, though.”

“Wish it was more,” Jude says.

Don’t we all wish we had more time with the people we like, well in his case, love.

“What about you?” Reginald says, taking a puff of his cigar and motioning for me to join him in puffing. Damn it. “When are you going to propose to Maggie?”

I take a puff of my cigar but do it very, very lightly and then let out the smoke, feeling my entire face turn green from the taste.

Fuck, these are disgusting. How does anyone do this and feel normal?

After I ensure that I’m not going to cough…or throw up, despite the nausea starting to roll around in my stomach from the rocking yacht, I say, “I don’t think she wants to get married yet. She’s very dedicated to her business and I don’t want to interfere with that.”

There. Great answer. Shows that I care about her and her career, and that she’s a committed businesswoman. Not sure I could have done a better job.

Reginald nods. “Sounds to me like she’s not convinced yet that you’re the right man.”

Or not.

“Dad,” Hardy says with some censure in his voice.

“What?” he asks, as if he didn’t just insult me offhandedly. “Maggie’s a brilliant woman, and she deserves someone to offer her the same sort of brilliance in her life, someone like…Hudson.”

Uh…pardon me?

“Jesus, Dad.” Hudson rolls his eyes and then looks at me. “Don’t listen to him. I’m not stepping in on your girl. There’s no interest there.”

“You mentioned how beautiful she looked the other night,” Reginald says, making me want to snap my cigar in half.

“Dad, what are you doing?” Hardy asks, looking irritated.

Jude remains calm, but his eyes shift away, betraying his discomfort.

“You asked me if I thought Maggie looked beautiful,” Hudson says. “I said yes. I wasn’t seeking to compliment her. She’s clearly in love with Brody.” Hudson gestures to me.

If only she was.

Hudson turns toward me, eyes wide. “I’d never do anything to jeopardize your relationship with Maggie. I respect the fact that you two are in love and with each other.”

“I appreciate that, man,” I say even though it’s taking everything in me not to push Reginald over the side of the boat. Old man overboard.

God, wouldn’t that be fucking great.

But not wanting to make anyone else uncomfortable and to avoid any more awkwardness from Reginald, I hand Hudson my cigar. “I’m actually going to grab a drink. Does anyone need anything?”

“We’re good,” Reginald says, a smarmy look on his face.

Jesus, this guy.

At first, he seemed decent, down-to-earth and really generous. But as I think back over the past few days, his little comments and microaggressions, I’ve realized something very important: he’s not kind, he’s calculated.

And he’s not a fan of me at all.

And I have no idea why.

Too exhausted and queasy to figure it out, I take off toward the dining area near the center of the yacht where drinks and food are laid out for the picking. I move right past the food—for the second time since I’ve been around these people, I can feel myself growing more nauseous by the second.

I reach for a can of water and snap it open. I want to wash the taste of smoke out of my mouth, but I think it’s going to take a heavy-duty bristle brush and some bleach to accomplish that.

“Hey,” I hear Hudson say as he comes up behind me, looking apologetic.

“Dude, it’s really okay,” I say. “I’m not offended or anything.”

“I appreciate you saying that, but I just want to apologize for my dad. He can be…a bit of an asshole sometimes. And I don’t know why, but he seems to sense weakness in you and he’s pressing your buttons.”

Shit, not what I was expecting to hear. How reminiscent of those words my dad used to say to me.

“You’ll always do well, Brody, but you’re not meant for greatness. People will always appreciate you because you’re humble but get the job done.” In other words, I’ll never aspire to much. Seems Dad was right, because the great and mighty Reginald Hopper seems to see the same lacking in me. Fuck.

“He sees weakness in me?”

Hudson sighs. “Yeah, I don’t know why, but I’ve seen it time and again with everyone—cousins, employees, friends. He does this. He picks on one person, insisting he’s helping them grow, but he’s really just antagonizing them. He did it to Jude, and it wasn’t until Jude basically told him to fuck off that my dad started respecting him. Now, I don’t suggest you do that since you work for us, but…just letting you know.”

I slowly nod as my nausea continues to stir. “I appreciate that.” I take another sip of my water.

“Are we good?” Hudson asks. “I really don’t want you thinking I’m some asshole who tries to steal another man’s girlfriend.”

“We’re good,” I say as I feel my stomach revolt.

Oh fuck.

Hudson sticks his hand out for a shake, but I turn away from him, grab the first thing I see—the ice bucket—and I barf up breakfast.

“Oh shit,” Hudson says as he comes up behind me and places his hand on my shoulder. “Dude, are you okay?”

I take a few deep breaths—away from the bucket. “I get…seasick.”

“Enough said. The captain carries nausea medicine. I can grab you some.”

“That’s okay. I can ask him.”

“Brody,” Hudson says, voice sincere, “I can do it. Let’s get you lying down first.”

Bucket and water in hand, Hudson guides me to the front of the boat where the girls are chatting. When Maggie looks up, I can see the concern in her eyes.

“Did he throw up?” she asks.

“Yeah,” Hudson says. “I’m going to get him some anti-nausea medication. I think he needs to lie down, but also fresh air will help him. I was going get him situated here.”

And I officially feel like a child.

Is he going to tuck me in as well and hand me a binky?

Either way…I don’t have it in me to care. I actually want to do what he says, though, because the boat is rocking too much for me, throwing off my equilibrium.

“I’ll take him,” Maggie says as she stands and loops her arm through mine.

Hudson takes off and the girls help me over to a lounge chair. They set it so it’s flat, and Maggie takes a seat first, then she has me lie down so my head is on her lap, my bucket and water in front of me.

“We can talk about the flower debacle later,” Haisley says.

“I have ideas, so don’t worry—we can handle it,” Maggie replies.

“I know. Thank you, Maggie.”

“Of course,” Maggie says as she slowly strokes my arm.

When they retreat, I feel her hand move up to my face and she runs a finger over my temple. “Brody, what on earth? I told you to take nausea meds.”

I don’t even argue with her. I grip her legs and I hold on tight, letting her soothe me as the boat rocks up and down.

It takes a few minutes, but when Hudson returns, he hands me an unmarked bottle. “Take two of these. You should feel better soon. The captain said take two every two hours. They’re natural so you don’t have to worry about overdosing, but they might just make you a little loopy.”

I thank him and then take two of the thick, grassy-tasting pills. When I rest my head back on Maggie’s lap, I savor the way she plays with my hair. “Thank you,” I say softly.

“You don’t need to thank me, Brody.”

“I know you’re irritated with me.”

“I’m not irritated with you,” she says.

“Then…why haven’t you talked to me?”

She runs her finger over my eyebrow. “Are you getting needy?”

“No,” I whisper, but also…yes. “Just wondering what’s going on in that beautiful head of yours.”

Her fingers pause for a moment before she continues to stroke my eyebrow. “Nothing is going on,” she says.

“Why don’t I believe you?”

“I don’t know, but let’s not talk about it, okay? You just rest. I’ll be here.”

I know she will be, because she’s been here for me this entire goddamn time.

And I’m pretty sure she will be there for me until the end as well.

“I feel amazing,” I say as a goofy grin stretches across my face.

Maggie is standing in front of me wearing one hell of a fucking bathing suit. It’s red and strappy, wrapped in all different directions and showing off everything I love about her body—most importantly those curvy hips of hers. When she took off her cover-up, I thanked the heavens above, grateful that I’m the only man on this private island who will look at her. The Hopper boys respect me enough not to glance this way. I don’t need competition.

No, I need her all to myself.

Maggie smirks as she moves farther into the crystalline water. We snuck off to the side to be alone and right now, I’m so glad we did. “I can tell. You have this permanent smile on your face. Are you sure they didn’t drug you back on the boat?”

I shrug. “Who cares if they did.” I walk toward her, but she steps back, deeper into the water. “What are you doing?” I ask, moving in closer.

“Staying away from you.”

“Why?” I ask.

“Because you look like trouble right now, and I don’t want trouble.”

“You wanted trouble last night,” I say as I reach for her hand, but she pulls it away before I can get a good grip.

“Last night was an exception.”

I shake my head. “Last night was the start of something.”

I wait for her to clam up, but instead she just smirks. “Yup, you’re drugged.”

Uh, no. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life. I’ve wanted this for so damn long and last night, fuck, it opened up the floodgates for me.

“I am not.”

She nods. “You are. I can see it in your hazy eyes. You’re completely gone.”

“Nope, I know what I want and it’s standing right in front of me, so stop making this difficult.” I spread my arms wide. “Come to me.”

“Come to me?” She laughs so hard that I fear tears might spring to her eyes. “I’m not ‘coming’ to you. You stay over there and I’m going to stay over here.”

I shake my head. “I don’t like that idea.”

“I do.”

Irritated, I kneel down in the water, letting the waves move me back and forth. “Why do you hate me, Maggie?”

“Can you keep your voice down?” she hisses, splashing toward me.

“What did you say?” I shout, making her close the space between us.

“I said keep your voice down.”

“Huh?”

Growing irritated, she takes one step closer and that’s all I need. I grab her by the wrist and pull her down into the water with me. “There, now I can hear you.”

“Oh my God,” she says as she swats at my chest. “You’re an idiot.”

But I wrap her legs around my waist and pull her against my body so we’re floating together.

“Seems like you’re the idiot because you’re the one who fell for it.” I draw my hands up her back, playing with the straps of her bathing suit.

“Don’t you even think about it,” she says, pointing her finger at me.

“Think about what?” I ask as I run my finger under one of the straps.

“We’re in public. If you remove this bathing suit, I’m going to make sure you continue to embarrass yourself in front of the Hoppers.”

“Babe, I don’t need your help with that, I’m perfectly fine at destroying my reputation all on my own.”

“Babe?” she asks with a lifted brow.

“Do you not enjoy that nickname?”

“I don’t think it’s a nickname you use for me.”

I slowly spin us around in the water. We’re in our own little part of the island. It seems like all of the couples have gone off together and, yes, I’m counting Hardy and Hudson as a couple too.

“Why not?” I ask. “You’re my girlfriend. I think I have all the right to call you babe.”

She plants her hand on my chest. “I’m your fake girlfriend.”

“But I thought we discussed it this morning—there was nothing fake about last night.”

“Oh my God, Brody.” She rolls her eyes, but I find it fascinating that she doesn’t push me away. Yeah, I might feel a little loopy, but fuck, are my worries gone. I throw caution to the wind and plow forward.

“How long have you wanted to do that with me?”

“What?” she asks, her brow knitting together above her cute nose. “I haven’t wanted to do anything.”

“Liar,” I say as I slip my hands under the straps of her bathing suit. “Just tell me the truth.”

“There’s no truth to tell.”

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go first. The first time I met you at your parents’ house during Thanksgiving break with Gary, I thought you were pretty.”

Her eyes search mine. “Really?”

I nod. “Really fucking pretty, but too young for me. Then I saw you at your twenty-first birthday party and I don’t know…well, you were older, for one, but there was something about how carefree you were that night that really jumpstarted my crush.”

“Stop, no, you didn’t.”

She tries to push away, but I stop her, keeping my grip around her firm. “Yeah, I did. And then at Gary’s wedding, when I saw you walk down the aisle in your bridesmaid dress, I knew I was fucked, a goner. I knew there was no way I’d be able to avoid you.”

“Well, you did a good job pushing me away,” she says, glancing toward the shore behind me.

“Because if I didn’t, Gary would have had my balls. I already shouldn’t have kissed you. He told me to stay away, but I couldn’t help myself and when things grew more intense, I knew I had to stop. And I did.”

“So…you pulled away that night because of Gary?” Annoyance flashes through her eyes.

I nod and slide my hands down to her ass, slipping my thumbs under her swimsuit bottom. “I didn’t want to, trust me. I wanted so much more that night.”

“So, you let my idiot brother dictate what you did?”

“He’s my best friend, Maggie.”

“Yeah, but that night made me feel awful,” she says as she pushes away, the intimacy between us washed away with the waves. “I thought there was something wrong with me. For years I thought something was wrong with me. That I was gross to you or something.”

“Maggie,” I say as I reach for her, but she pulls away and wades back to shore.

“No.” She turns and looks me in the eyes. “I never want to feel that way about myself, like I’m disgusting or unlovable, and that’s how you made me feel. You could have just told me, talked to me, said something.”

“And risk you not listening to me?” I ask. “When I pulled away, that was all the resolve I had. If you’d told me that you didn’t care what Gary thought, I would have charged forward. I would have taken you that night. I would have ruined my friendship.” I rush after her, emerging onto the hot sand.

“Well, you ruined my confidence for a solid two years,” she says. “Guess someone had to take the fall. Better me than you, right?” She picks up her towel and wraps it around her waist.

“Maggie, stop,” I say, standing in front of her and holding her shoulders. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t think I mattered that much to you—that it was just a kiss.”

“Well, you were wrong.”

I study her for a moment, the reality of her feelings hitting me. “So, I mattered to you?”

“Of course you did,” she says, her eyes widening. “God, Brody, are you really that much of an idiot?”

“I like to think that I’m not, but this vacation has proven otherwise.”

“You were my brother’s hot friend. The moment he brought you home, I was enamored. And the fact that you even paid attention to me at Gary’s wedding made me feel special. You were actually talking to me. You told me I looked nice. You flirted at the bar. You joked about feeding me cake. You kissed me…and then you took all that away. Your actions…the derision on your face. I’ve never believed myself to be that…laughable. Insufficient. I swore I would never give you or any other man the chance to annihilate my self-confidence again.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, realizing I’ve never felt an apology this deeply. I don’t want her angry with me. I want her…hell, I want her lying beside me on the hot sand, enjoying the sun and the day. I don’t want her thinking I’m some dick who blew her off, even though that’s what I did. “I’m really sorry, Maggie. I didn’t know you felt that way—I was being an idiot.”

She crosses her arms over her chest as she looks up at me. “And what’s changed now?”

I scratch the back of my neck. “What’s changed now is that I don’t know how to tell myself to stop.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Shit, Maggie, I don’t know.” I push my hand through my hair. “I’m here to show the Hopper family that I’m a great guy to work with, that I’m trustworthy and respectable and that I have a good head on my shoulders. But I’m fucking up every which way, throwing up whenever I get the chance, and screaming like a feral cat over a goddamn bush.” She smirks. “And honestly, the only thing that I care about is you. I’m distracted by you. I can’t think with you around. And whenever I see you, my mind goes blank, my heart thumps in my chest, and all I want to do is hold you…even when we’re not pretending.” I swallow hard. “I like you, okay? And I don’t think that feeling is going to just stop. I think it’s here to stay.”

She slowly nods but doesn’t say anything. She just stares at something over my shoulder.

“Maggie, are you—?”

“There you are,” I hear Haisley say.

God.

Damnit.

Planting a smile on my face, I turn around and drape my arm over Maggie’s shoulder. We weren’t just fighting, nope.

“How do you feel, Brody?” Haisley frowns, concern on her face.

“Better,” I say.

She studies me from under her sun hat. “You look better, less green. I’m glad those pills helped.”

“Yeah, they’ve been interesting. I feel all kinds of strange.”

She chuckles. “That’ll happen. I know at one point when I took them, I danced around the beach with a sheet from my bed, for the whole resort to see—so watch out, strange things can happen.”

Maggie laughs. “Strange things are already happening.”

Is she talking about my confession? Because there’s nothing strange about that conversation. It’s from the heart. It’s what I’ve felt for years.

It’s been coiled in my goddamn soul, straining to escape.

Although, I could see her using it as an excuse, claiming I’m on these fucking pills and saying weird things I don’t mean.

“Well, if you’re feeling a little better, I was hoping I could steal Maggie away. We have some wedding things I need help with. Would you mind?”

“No, he’ll be great on his own,” Maggie says as she pulls away from me.

Fuck.

“Great. Thank you.” Haisley points toward a grouping of palm trees. “The boys are over there if you want to hang out with them. Not sure what they’re talking about, but it might be interesting.”

“I’ll think about it,” I say. “But you girls have fun.”

“Thanks,” Haisley says and then she and Maggie walk off, down the beach.

Defeated, I drop down on the sand and stare out over the water, the gorgeous, endless blue doing nothing to lift my mood.

Well, just like the rest of this vacation, that went horribly wrong.

“Hey, Brody,” Hardy calls out as he jogs up to me. “How you doing?”

I flash him a grin. “Good. Much better.”

Why does it look like he has two heads?

“Great.” He waves at me to come with him. “Then let’s go.”

“Let’s go?”

“Yeah, we’re going to do some spearfishing.”

“Spearfishing?” I ask. “Uh, sorry to say, good sir, but given my track record this whole week, taking me spearfishing is just asking for a spear to end up in your rear.”

Hardy chuckles. “I promise, it’s all very…authentic. The captain is a master at it, and he loves giving us lessons. The fishing is all done by hand, nothing electronic involved. So, if you end up with a spear in your rear, it had to be pre-planned by the person throwing it.”

Bet Daddy Reggie would want to spear my rear.

I eye him. “Still seems dangerous, and I’m on those seasick pills.”

“You’ll be fine. If anything, just come watch.”

Well, as a spectator, we’re out of harm’s way. I don’t think anything could happen if I just watch…

I gather my shirt, towel, and sandals. “Okay, but if something happens to me, it’s all your fault.”

He holds his hands up in defense. “I’ll take the blame. Promise.”

Well, if he takes the blame, then I should be good, right? Only one way to find out. I rise from my spot on the sand, grab my towel, and we walk down the beach. Well, Hardy walks, I sort of stumble in his wake.

I like Hardy and Hudson—they’re really good, down-to-earth guys. Which is odd given the prick that their father is.

Ooops. **Inwardly chuckles** Did I just call their dad a prick?

Did I say that out loud?

“Prick,” I mutter.

“Huh?” Hardy asks.

I glance over at him. “What?”

“You said something.”

“I think you did.” I point at him.

Hardy studies me for a second and then shakes his head, unable to repress a smile. “Dude, how many of those pills have you had?”

“Can’t be sure.” I grin at him.

“Yeah, I’m going to stay as far away from you as I can when we pull out the spears.”

I nod at him. “Very smart idea.”

“You know, from your response, I’m going to assume you’ve never been spearfishing before.”

“Dude, I’ve never been on a boat until this trip, so we’re talking a whole new world over here.”

He chuckles. “Right, hence why you’re taking the captain’s special pills.”

“What’s in those, by the way?” I say, feeling like my feet are sinking farther into the sand than they should.

“No one asks. I think they’re some sort of natural relaxant, but I’ve never looked into it. I took them once when we went parasailing one summer. I was freaking out—I don’t love heights—and the captain gave me some. It was like a wild trip up there in the sky.”

I laugh. “Sort of feels like everything is in slow motion, but it’s not.”

“Yeah…you’re in the sweet spot. I wouldn’t take any more unless you want to be wandering around the beach, flinging your trunks in the air while your willy hangs out.”

I pause and look at him. “Personal experience?”

“Not me, someone else.”

“Hudson?” I ask as we continue down the beach.

“Nope.”

“Not Jude,” I say. I couldn’t see that gentle giant doing anything like that. He’s so reserved. So quiet. Although, if the pills were that effective, maybe they unleashed his wild side.

“Not Jude…”

“Then who?” I ask.

Hardy smiles. “I’m only telling you this because you’ve had one hell of a week.” He chuckles again. “Don’t repeat this to anyone, but it was my dad.”

That stops me right in my tracks. “No fucking way. Willy out?”

Hardy laughs and nods. “Yup. Stripped down to nothing and ran these very beaches with his dong bobbing about. My mom chased after him, yelling for him to put his shorts back on. Hudson and I had to finally grab him, wrap him up in a blanket, and force him to sleep in the boat.”

I can’t hold back my laughter as I tilt my head back and let loose.

Oh fuck. That has got to be the greatest thing I’ve ever heard.

Reginald Tightwad.

Daddy Reggie.

Free and loose with his nakedness.

God, I’ll cherish that story for the rest of my life.

“I think I owe you something,” I say as I grip my chest, still chuckling. “Because I think that was the greatest gift I’ve ever received.”

Hardy nudges his shoulder with mine. “I knew you’d like that. But listen, you share that with nobody. My own mother forced the crew and us—her very own kids—to sign an NDA after that and to never utter it to another human.”

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks, man.”

We continue down the beach, and as we round a bend, the men come into view, gathered around in the ocean with spears in their hands. More spears of varying lengths are lined up on the sand. I knew it smelled like masculinity as we grew closer.

I slow down. “Are you sure this is safe for me?”

“Positive. You can stay on the beach. Nothing will happen to you.”

“I’m holding you to that,” I say as we walk up to the guys.

“Hey, man,” Hudson says. “How you feeling?”

“Little loopy but good. I think I’m just going to watch.”

“Good idea, you can observe us all making fools of ourselves.” Hudson pats me on the back.

Seriously, these two. I could see them being good friends.

I lay out my towel on the beach and take a seat while the captain hands out spears to the guys. Apparently, they’ve already had their lesson and now it’s up to them to see if they can catch a fish or not. I try not to stare at Reginald, but the old man looks like he’s about to tilt over into the water at any point, ready to drench that stupid Tommy Bahama shirt he has on. God, wouldn’t that be amazing? He’s been such an asshole this entire time that I would enjoy nothing more than to experience a willy-out, running-around-the beach moment—even if it’s him struggling in the ocean with a spear.

Unfortunately for me, he moves into a nice, wide stance, which supports him as he looks around the water, arm poised to stab.

Maybe a gusty wind will blow him over. One can only hope.

Hudson and Hardy are off to the left, examining their spears, while Jude is far off to the right, looking like a complete natural. The man with his broad-ass shoulders, giant pecs, and tattoos hunts the ocean like a still motherfucker, waiting for the fish to come up to him. I wouldn’t be surprised if he sliced the water and grabbed a fish with his bare hand. That’s the primal instinct this guy exudes.

He hovers over the water, his eyes like lasers, and I watch as he slowly lifts his spear-throwing arm and then like a bolt of lightning, he thrusts it into the water, pulls it out, and sure as shit there’s a fish dangling on the end of it.

“Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “What an animal.”

“You got one,” the captain says as he moves over to Jude and helps him remove the fish and place it in a cooler on the beach, close to me.

“Wow, great job,” I say to Jude.

He gives me a slight nod and then lets out a breath as he stares out at the ocean, one hand on the hip, basically telling the vast blue that he just made it his bitch.

And I believe him.

Hell, if he told me to bend over so he could slap me in the ass and claim me as well, I might. He’s that commanding.

But I bet because he’s such a humble motherfucker, he’d thank me for listening as I bent over. Then I would cry into his arms for being so kind to me. He would stroke my hair and—fuck, did these pills make me high?

What am I even thinking?

Pushing those thoughts out of my head, I focus back on the guys.

After a few seconds of taking in his surroundings, Jude walks off to the left, past the bumbling brothers, who are now comparing their spears and who has the best one. Seriously, those two are future billionaires—you’d think they’d be a touch more uptight like their dad.

“Not going to fish?” Reginald asks, wading back onto the sand and walking up to me. His swim trunks slink around his old man legs, clinging and pulling in unflattering ways that I have to force myself not to stare at.

“Eh, probably not a good idea,” I say. “Given my track record and the pills in me, I’m thinking it’s best I stick to dull objects.”

Reginald holds up a spear to me. “This is a dummy spear. Not very sharp. Helps you get used to holding the spear without harm. See?”

He holds it in front of me, and since he seems like he’s being nice, I stand from my towel and take it from him. “Oh yeah, pretty dull.”

“Jude is holding the real deal. You don’t want to get near him.”

I glance at Jude who is once again still as tree in the ocean, scanning the surface.

“He’s a born hunter,” Reginald says, clearly happy with his future son-in-law. Glad someone can win his approval and best that it’s Jude since he’s joining the family. I’m just trying to keep my job.

“Yeah, he’s really good,” I say while handing the spear back to Reginald, but he holds his hand out, stopping me. “No, keep that. Practice. I’m going to grab one of these.” He reaches for one of the spears lined up on the beach, with a long, deadly-looking point on the end. Yikes, it looks like that thing could kill.

“Oh, going for it?” I ask.

“Going to catch one this time.” He heads to the water. “Come on, McFadden.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’ll just stay here.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. You have the baby spear. You’re not going to hurt anyone, at least get some practice in. When are you ever going to experience this again?”

I guess he’s right. When will I ever be in Bora-Bora, on a private island, spearfishing? The answer is never. I don’t run in these circles. My family went on road trips to national parks—vacations that I will always cherish because they were fucking amazing—but they aren’t spearfishing in Bora-Bora, so…I guess when in Rome.

I head into the water and say, “So what, I just throw it at a fish when I see one?”

“You try to pierce it. Give yourself a wide, steady stance, keep calm, and let the fish come to you.”

Okay, looks like we’re having a father-son moment, I’ll take it.

“Like this?” I ask Daddy Reggie.

“Bend your knees more.”

“Like this?” I ask, my trunks pulling on my thighs as I squat deeper.

“Yes, just like…” He pauses and his eyes go wild.

“What?” I ask as I stand there, mid squat, spear up in the air, looking like a goddamn monkey ready to attack.

“Do…not…move,” he says slowly as he raises his spear in the air, pointing it right at me.

“Uh…” I laugh nervously. “What are you doing?”

“Quiet,” he whispers. “You’ll scare it away.”

Still in a primed squatting position, my spear over my head—a position only seen in ancient hieroglyphics—I match his tone and ask, “Scare what away?”

“Shh,” he snaps and then slowly pulls his arm back.

“Uh, sir…”

But he doesn’t pause.

His gaze fixed on the water, near my legs.

His lips are quirked to the side.

And there’s a primal look of attack in his eyes that would scare the hair off any man…including me.

“Reg—”

“Hi—yah,” he shouts as his arm shoots forward, sending the spear right between my goddamn legs.

And just like any other man who has a spear headed right for his penis and testicles, I scream like a banshee.

The cry of a wounded soldier.

A scream so bone-chilling that it scratches my throat on the way out, just as the arrow slices across my board shorts.

“Mother of God,” I shout right before my shorts split open right down the center of the crotch. From the force of my squat and the force of the shorts being impaled, I’m dunked straight into the water.

When I resurface, eyes clouded in salt water, all I can hear is Reginald shout, “Damn it all to hell.” He throws his arms up in the air. “You scared it away!”

“It being my testicles?” I ask. “Because, yes, they’ve been scared up into my abdomen.”

“What’s going on?” Hardy asks, splashing toward us.

“McFadden scared away the fish I was inches from hitting.” Reginald gestures toward me.

“Uh,” I say still holding the spear over my head, though I’m not on my knees, the water lapping at my chin. “Your dad shot a spear between my legs, and I’m pretty sure he shaved off a piece of skin and some dignity.”

“Your dignity has been missing for a while,” Reginald grumbles as he struts through the water, clearly pissed. Sorry for not being happy that you were sending a pointed spear between my legs.

Jesus fuck, man.

“He gets pretty competitive,” Hardy says. “Ignore him.” He grabs me by the elbow and helps me to my feet, only for my swimsuit to gape open.

“Fuck,” I say as I clamp down on my shorts, dropping the spear in the water. I look up at Hardy and he chuckles.

“Did Dad cut your suit open?”

“Seems to be that way.” At least I have two whole testicles.

He slowly nods. “We’ll get you something else to wear.”