Save Me, Daddy

That’s all it is.

This time

when I turn around, I avoid looking at myself. It’s just easier not to have to read the expressions on my own damn face.

A few moments later, I leave the bathroom, pulling the towel tight around me. The last door has a huge walk-in closet. Someone, presumably Irina, unpacked my clothes. A quick search reveals my underwear in one of the drawers built into the closet. Nestled snugly alongside Jayson’s.

Barf.

I’m not proud of it, but I reach out a shaking hand to lift a pair of his. The silky black material is cool against my fingers, though I can imagine how hot it might be with his skin underneath. I find myself picturing him wearing nothing but boxer briefs, his golden, suntanned skin and… and then nothing.

With a growl of annoyance, I drop the underwear, snatch up a pair of my panties, and slam the drawer shut. Whatever is wrong with me has to stop now. It’s taken far too long for me to become completely and perfectly immune to Jayson’s presence, but I did it. To risk destroying all that effort by allowing myself to think about him naked is not helping one bit.

Frustration.

That’s all it is.

I’m physically frustrated, and since we’re so close to the end of our marriage of convenience, my body is simply stirring to life. It’s a long time for a girl my age, to have no sexual contact with anyone. And what can I say? I’m curious. I’ve never had sex before. Within just a few months, I’ll be able to indulge in all my natural urges.

To have desire while married to Jayson would ruin everything, so I just shut off that part of me, ruthlessly quashing any sexual sparks that cropped up. The vacation and change of scenery must be the cause of this temporary insanity. The fresh ocean air. That’s all it is. The last thing I want is to feel attracted to Jayson again, when I’m so close to being free.

Slipping out of the towel, I drape it on a hook, and slide on the white panties I grabbed randomly from the drawer. They might be comfortable, but they’re not at all sexy.

And that’s fine. What do I need to be sexy for?

Sorting through my clothes, I finally choose a sleeveless, backless yellow dress. The sun is gone, but it’ll still be hot, especially if we eat outside. That was the custom the last time I visited the island.

To my horror, as I pull the dress from its hanger, the main door opens. I scramble to slip on the dress, trying to cover my nakedness before Jayson sees me. Somehow, I manage to wriggle into it, thankful the built-in bra of the dress hides my nipples.

I’m so flushed and flustered that when Jayson stops at the entryway to the closet and leans in slightly, I feel like he knows I was practically naked just a millisecond ago. Are his eyes lingering on my breasts? It’s just for a moment before his gaze rises to meet mine.

“Are you ready for dinner?” His tone is casual, but his dark eyes sparkle with amusement.

“Of course,” I nod. I grab a pair of golden sandals from the small selection on the floor, sliding them onto my feet as fast as possible. I can practically feel the heat of his gaze caressing my ass as I kneel to adjust the straps.

I turn around, quickly. There’s no hint that he was ogling me, but I do find myself ogling him. He’s stripped off his shirt and is reaching for another. Sure, khaki slacks and being bare from the waist up for a moment before he slides on a polo shirt isn’t sexual—but tell that to my nether regions, which are getting that telltale tingling feeling. Soon my white panties are going to be wet. I want to slide my hands all over his soft skin, to trace the angles of his body..

I clear my throat and yank my gaze from the rippling muscles of his tanned torso, sidling past him. “Excuse me,” I say as my body touches his. My adrenaline kicks in and I run from the closet and the master suite, anxious to put space between us.

It’s almost over, and I’m already out of control.

By the time I fly past the marble staircase on the way to the salon, I’ve regained my cool, collected self. And if I haven’t, I’ll fake it till I make it.

Sophie’s on a white velvet couch, casually clad in capris and a modest halter top. That means there will be no guests tonight, to my great relief. I’m just not up to putting on the usual married act. When Jayson and I socialize, I’m required, of course, to act like the doting wife of the powerful man.

I just sit down on the couch when Jayson appears. He looks at ease in casual clothes, not like the CEO of an international corporation that has made him one of the richest men in the world. He seems nearly approachable, which makes my stomach knot with tension. It’s easier when Jayson is remote, distracted, and buried in his work. Seeing him so relaxed puts me off. At least it’ll be my last vacation with him. I won’t have to worry for much longer.

Irina appears in the doorway. “Dinner is served,” she says with a small smile.

I jump to my feet as though propelled by a spring, hurrying forward. I’m desperate to escape this room they call the salon, since Jayson seems to consume all the oxygen and take up all the space. If we’re outside, I won’t notice his larger-than-life presence. Or his beautiful body in those clothes. Or imagine him naked again.

Forcing myself to fall into step with Jayson and Sophie instead of racing ahead, my head swims for a moment when Jayson places his large, warm hand on my bare back. It’s nothing more than a courteous gesture, but his fingers scorch my skin, making me shift with discomfort, though I don’t break contact. It just wouldn’t be polite to act like I can’t stand him to touch me at all.

Choosing not to step away has nothing to do with liking his touch entirely too much.

It’s a relief to break free of his touch and settle into the chair he pulls out for me before he does the same for Sophie. I’m reading too much into Jayson’s behavior. He’s mostly freed from the burden of work for the first time since we got married, and it’s only natural that he’s more open and friendly. It means nothing. I mean nothing to him. There’s no doubt about that, despite a little chivalry today.

Thank heaven, Sophie is chattering away as we dine on olives and eggplant marinated in olive oil, followed by fish in a yogurt-mint sauce, perfectly grilled vegetables, and a plate of cheese and figs that round out the meal. I contribute to the conversation on autopilot while my brain continuously scolds me.