because I was a man of honor. I just didn’t know it yet.”
With her free hand, she cups my face, thumb brushing my cheek. I’m having a hard time keeping myself together. I can’t even look at her right now. What the hell is going on? It’s as if Keeley has found all my weak spots and is determined to poke at them one by one.
“Do you know it now?” she asks softly.
I think—hard. “I’m not sure.”
The frown that furrows her brow again upsets me. She takes another pull of the wine. “Are you wearing the watch?”
“Never. I keep it in a safe deposit box.”
“Didn’t he give it to you to wear?”
It’s an obvious but somehow baffling question. Granddad probably had, but I’d always thought it was too valuable and breakable. So I locked it away. “No. He gave it to me to keep safe, so that’s what I do. You’ve asked me a million questions. Tell me more about you. Keeley Sunshine isn’t your real name, I’m guessing.”
“No. It’s Keeley Kent. Not much to tell. I’m an open book. Grew up in Phoenix. Since shortly after high school graduation, I’ve moved around, looking for a place that fits me. I started in San Diego. It didn’t feel right—or maybe I hated the letch who owned the restaurant where I waitressed—so I made my way up the coast. Frisco wasn’t for me since all the guys I thought were hot didn’t play for my team. Seattle was too rainy. That’s where I picked up my ex, who suggested Maui. And here I am.”
A part of me wonders if this girl has ever done permanence but I guess I shouldn’t care. We’re two ships, and she’ll probably pass me by after tonight. That’s cool. I’ll be more than happy to dock in her port once or twice before we sail on.
“What do you want to be, Keeley?”
She frowns as if that’s a bizarre question, then avails herself of more wine. “What does anyone want to be? Happy.”
I wonder if she intentionally misunderstood my question, then I realize that’s exactly what she wants. I barely know her, but I see now that how she reaches happy is irrelevant to her as long as it works out.
That concept has never once crossed my mind in thirty-three years. I’ve always known I want to be at the top of the food chain, so to speak. I’ve never stopped to question whether that would make me happy.
I blink, taken aback.
“Did I say something wrong?” she asks.
“No. It’s actually…an interesting answer.”
And still I realize I would rather be successful than happy. I don’t even hesitate. After all, what’s happy, really? I’m not sure happy would fulfill me the way wiping the floor with my competitors does.
Keeley cocks her head and her pillowy lips softly part before wrapping around the neck of the bottle again. “I’m not sure ‘interesting’ is good.”
“We’re just different. That’s all right.” I can’t stop staring at her mouth.
“I suppose. Tell me about your family.”
I’m frustrated. I want to kiss this girl so badly. I have no doubt taking her to bed will be amazing, but I feel an urge to lay my lips over hers—not to silence her but to make sure she feels the chemistry between us. The desire is so strong it nearly chokes me. But she needs to know me to be comfortable. I’m not sure why that matters so much to me, but somehow it does.
“We moved here from L.A. when I was fifteen. My parents headed back to California a few years ago. They took my little sister with them. Harlow will be twenty-six next month. You’d like her.”
“What a pretty name. You two close?” She takes another sip.
I shrug. Probably not as close as we should be. “We talk now and then. She’s been busy finishing her master’s and planning her wedding, so she’s got a lot going on, too.”
“Have you met her fiancé?”
“No. They’re supposedly getting married on the island in May, so I guess I will then.” Which means I’ll have to see Griff. “What about you?”
“I’m an only child, and my mom and stepdad have turned into crazy world travelers since retiring. I think they’re on a South Pacific cruise right now.” She fixes her gaze on me. “Didn’t you say you had a brother, too?”
I really don’t want to get into this now. Griff will be between us soon enough. I want Keeley all to myself tonight. “Yeah. He’s an asshole who lives two miles down the road. We don’t speak.”
“Why?” The feeling she breathes into that word makes it sound like the biggest tragedy ever.
How much do I tell her? I’d rather not dredge this up. I don’t owe her anything. Yet I know she won’t stop asking me questions until I give her something. “We used to be in business together until a professional disagreement. Then, just for fun, he decided to start sleeping with my ex-girlfriend three days after we ended a two-year relationship.”
“Ouch.” She winced. “Did he say why?”
“I don’t give a shit why.” Every time I think about that period in my life, I get worked up and pissed off. “Look, Keeley. I like you. And I want you. I’m not good at talking or relationships or letting people know me. I’m good in bed. Can that be enough for tonight?”
I find myself holding my breath. If she says no, I have no fucking idea what I’m going to do. After a handful of probing questions, I already feel oddly raw. I rub at a sore spot along my breastbone.
“Yes. Sorry. I have a terrible tendency to be nosy. You’re interesting…and I really am not a fan of sleeping with strangers. But I think I know who you are, Maxon… Damn it. What’s your last name?” She gives an embarrassed little laugh. “Oh, that sounds brilliant.”
Her joke totally lightens the mood. I need that. “Reed.”
“Well, Maxon Reed, are you going to stand there all night or kiss me in the moonlight?”
The second I get the green light, my tolerance for banter flies out the window. I become a hunter who’s just settled on his prey of choice, and I’m looking forward to fully sating my hunger.
I don’t bother with words. Instead, I take the bottle from her hands and set it in the sand beside us. Then I fuse my stare to hers and tilt her head where I can most effectively devour her. Her eyes flash with something. Excitement, yes. Apprehension. That surprises me but no denying what I see. And hope… Maybe she’s not the only one feeling unexpected things.
Then she parts those bee-stung lips again, and all my thoughts dissolve.
I lower my head and kiss her with a groan.
Fuck if her lips aren’t every bit as soft as I imagined. She opens to me, presses against me, wrapping her arms around my neck like she needs to touch me every bit as much as I’m dying to have her bare against me. I’m sizzling, my senses reeling. I’m actually dizzy the longer I kiss her, but I urge her lips apart with my own and plunge inside.
I’m lost.
She’s so sweet. Not like a Snickers, which I love. Her flavor is more refined, and the pleasure I get from her is like savoring a good red wine paired with a lush dark chocolate. Then she kisses me back with a sensual sway of her tongue and an indrawn breath that lets me know I’m getting to her, too.
I’m drowning.
My hands are suddenly in her hair, tugging until she gives me full access to every part of her mouth. I go in even deeper as if I’m trying to own her all at once. I haven’t had the sort of drought she has, but I can’t imagine another five minutes without being inside her, taking full possession of her. It’s chemical. It’s electric. I don’t know how the fuck to describe it because I’ve never felt anything quite like this.
Suddenly, she breaks away from my kiss, nipping at my lips like a kitten, before tilting her head back completely. Her lips aren’t on mine anymore.
I’m dying.
Not kissing her is unacceptable. Then…I see the arch of her delicate throat. She’s exposed one of the most vulnerable parts of herself to me. Her ivory flesh glows in the moonlight. Even in the pale gleam, I see the flush staining her skin. I hear the catch of her breathy inhalations. I feel the hard beads
of her nipples against my chest. How can I absorb her all at once, experience every facet of her in a single moment? I can’t, but I’m damn impatient to try.
“Maxon?” She sounds shaky, uncertain.