Cruel Kiss

Sam glanced at his girlfriend and back, as if checking to see that she wasn’t paying attention. “Finally?”

“Hey, I’m not a dick,” I grumbled.

Court held his fist out, and I thumped mine with his. “Oh, you’re going to have a fun vacation.”

The girls turned back to us at that.

English narrowed her eyes at Court. “What are you talking about?”

He pulled her in close. “Nothing, honey.”

Court winked at me. I could barely suppress a smug look. My friends were assholes. I had been loyal to Robert about Whit since the start. I shouldn’t move in on her when she was in rebound mode. But, damn … hadn’t I waited long enough?

3

WHITLEY

I’d never get used to taking a private jet. Let alone to the most exclusive resort in Puerto Rico that my friend’s family owned.

I’d been born and raised in Dallas, Texas, by parents who wanted nothing more than for me to succeed when all they’d feared was that I’d end up in prison. I might have been a little wild in my youth. Of course, they’d all but disowned me when they found out that not only was I a bi girl, but I was—gasp—going into plastic surgery as well. Yes, plastic surgery was nearly as bad as bringing home my first girlfriend.

But either way, I hadn’t grown up with the money of these Upper East Siders. I’d lucked into this friend group, and I never took them for granted. I was living my best life. Or at least, I was determined to continue to do so despite the two dozen sad text messages from Robert when I landed on the island.

“Wow,” Lark said, glancing at my phone as it went off, one after the other after the other. “What’s that?”

I shot her a look. “Robert.”

“Eesh,” English said. “Are you sure you want to break up with him?”

“I’m sure,” I said as I reached for the bag.

“Okay.” English held her hands up.

“Well, let’s get to our private villas,” Lark said. “That should help.”

“Definitely,” I agreed.

We pulled up in front of St. Vincent’s Resort, and my jaw hit the ground. It was a sprawling complex of structures surrounding eight Olympic-sized pools. It looked like a total dream. A manager with sunbaked brown skin and floppy brown hair waited for us when we stepped out of the car.

“Hello, and welcome to St. Vincent’s Resort: Puerto Rico. I am Paulo, your personal guide for the remainder of your stay. Should you need anything, I will assist you.”

“Nice to meet you,” Lark said.

“Larkin St. Vincent,” Paulo said. “It is an honor to make your acquaintance.”

She nodded at him. “We’re delighted to be here.”

Paulo had staff take care of the luggage and then sent the couples off with other personal guides.

“Whitley Bowen and Robert Dawson?” Paulo asked when Gavin and I were the only ones left.

“Oh, no,” I said with a laugh. “Robert couldn’t make it.”

“Gavin King,” he said, holding his hand out.

“Ah, I see. My apologies. I have you in separate villas. Would you prefer to be together?”

Gavin’s eyes slid to mine. A question in them. Was he actually asking me if I’d prefer to stay in a villa with him?

A strangled laugh escaped my lips. “Aren’t you going to have so much action that you’ll want your own place?”

He chuckled. “Something like that.”

“Separate then,” Paulo said, making a note on an iPad. “This way.”

He directed us down a cobbled path toward the villas. I was glad that I’d changed out of my winter clothes and into a sundress on the flight. It was eighty degrees and sunny. A perfect, beautiful day.

“This one is yours, Ms. Bowen,” Paulo said, gesturing to a villa. “And this one is yours.”

I glanced over and saw that Gavin King was right next door. We were a short distance from the rest of the villas. As if we’d been secluded together. I gulped.

“Thank you, Paulo.”

I was on the patio, looking in on the giant suite before I realized Gavin still stood with Paulo.

He slipped him cash. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Let me know if I can be of assistance.”

As Paulo walked off, I bit my lip. “Should I have tipped him?”

“Don’t worry about it. I got it.” He hopped onto my patio and peered inside. “Your place is nice.”

“I feel like an interloper.”

Gavin laughed. “No way, Whit. You belong here. With us.”

My phone dinged, and I rolled my eyes. Robert again. Man, I was going to have to block his number. I’d made my decision and flown out of the country without him.

Gavin took a step backward at the sound though. “I’ll go check out my place. Meet you at the bar?”

“Sure,” I said, meeting his gaze.

I sighed as Gavin walked out of the villa and left me all alone in this big room. No amount of excitement over the huge king-size bed, eighty-inch TV, hot tub, waterfall shower, or freestanding bathtub could make up for how empty it was.