Don't Promise (Don't 3)

“I do have a point to prove,” I growled.

I thought I felt her go weak in my arms.

“Wh-what is that?”

“That if I fuck you again, you’ll never want another man. That one time with me will ruin you from ever wanting someone else.”

“You’re arrogant,” she whispered.

“Arrogant because I know it’s true.” My lips dipped to her ear. “I’ll be so deep inside you, baby, so fucking hard. And you like it slow, right?” I brushed my finger over her bare shoulder. “I’ll ruin you.”

She went silent.

I let her go and she staggered backward.

“You are an ass, Blake Wyatt. A complete and total ass.”

I chuckled. “Before you leave this island you’ll be knocking on my door. I’m sure of it.”

I turned for the boat. She was under my skin. Maybe more than I was under hers. If I didn’t get out of here now I would pick her up and take her upstairs to her bedroom—somewhere I’d never been.

“That’s not happening,” she called after me.

I waved over my shoulder. “See you later, darlin’.” I could hear her fuming before I started the engine. I put the boat in reverse, leaving a very hot and bothered blonde in my wake.

15

Sierra

Just like that he was gone. The boat turned past the marina and I couldn’t see him anymore. I stomped up the stairs. I didn’t know if I was more pissed that he would say something like that to me, or the fact that I was on the verge of begging for him to make good on his promise.

I dumped the drenched beach bag in the utility sink and pulled out the soaking wet towels to hang outside. I plucked four clothes pins from the line and clipped them to the colorful edges of towels. I ducked around the billowing towel, shimmied out of my cutoff shorts, and pulled the tank top over my head. Everything I had was coated in wet sand. I shook the clothes to loosen the sand stuck to the fabric. There was no point. I knew it would be tomorrow before I could properly shake these out.

I leaned against the tree on the other side of the clothesline. I closed my eyes as images of his hands and hard chest washed through my mind like those unwanted waves.

I kicked off my sandy flip-flops by the back door, and traipsed into the house in search of some ice tea. I grabbed a tall glass from the cabinet and filled it with ice and a few lemon slices.

I had left my phone on the counter. There was a message from work. I listened to the voicemail.

“Hey Sierra. I know you’re on leave, but we need you back at the station. Turns out Wendy needs to take maternity leave early and there isn’t another anchor we can get on short notice to fill in for her. Give me a call. It’s Brody, by the way.”

I groaned. Work was the last thing on my mind. They would have to wait until this tea was gone. I had too many things going on.

It wasn’t like I was trying to take advantage of the station. If anything I had been terrified to leave. But I hadn’t made it back for the funeral and I didn’t have any other family members. It seemed like a good idea to roll all my sick time and funeral time into one big summer break.

The head of human resources said she understood. As the sole heir, I had a lot of shit to sort through. But time was shrinking. The house was still seventy-five percent full and I hadn’t even tried to list it yet with a realtor.

I slumped onto the couch.

And Blake.

If I thought somehow I could right that wrong, I was hopeless.

The cruises. The drinks. The day at the beach—it was all to get in my pa

nts for some kind of final goodbye vengeance sex.

My skin tingled. My core ached.