“You’d know, considering you’re the one who begged.”
I swat at him with a pillow that’s within reach. “I did not.”
“Okay, Crazy Hair.”
And I know the perfect way to win this battle. To shut him up and to get exactly what I want. Him in me. My lips spread into a slow smile. “Best cure for my crazy hair is to wrap it around your fist when you’re—”
I yelp out, can’t even finish the words as he flips me over onto my stomach in what feels like a nanosecond. His dick lays thick and heavy on the top of my ass. He fists a hand in my hair—just like I said—and takes control while running his tongue down the length of my spine.
“I like the way you think, Ships.”
I’m dragging my feet, unable to come to terms with the reality settling in that our time is ending here. Soon we’ll have to get used to real life—a new normal—if we want to make this work.
I think of our morning. The cuddling. The sex in the shower. The cup of coffee shared on the patio. One last swim in the ocean off the villa. A walk on the beach hand in hand. How we soaked up every last moment with each other before resorting to having to pack.
“See? We were able to do it. To shut the world out and unplug for the whole weekend. As a reward, here’s your phone, madam.” I look up to see Hayes with my phone outstretched to me and realize he’s perfectly right. I have been so consumed with him that my thoughts about DeeDee handling the bakery and any other trivial thing fell to the wayside without my phone.
I smile, just as I seem to do whenever I look at him. “You make it easy to shut the world out, Hayes.” My fingertips brush over his hand when I take my phone.
“Don’t be sad.” He pulls me into his arms and squeezes me tight. “We’ll figure this out. We’ll make it work. I promise.”
Talk is cheap. I hate the words that ghost through my mind. The ones that cause doubt to wedge into my psyche and seize up my throat because I know we’re never going to get this time back.
“I know. Do we have to turn them on?”
He runs his hands up and down my back. “Unfortunately. It takes a minute to connect to service or so I was told. At least we have that.”
“I guess we should soak those minutes up then, huh?”
“Most definitely.”
His lips meet mine in the most tender of kisses. The kind that makes your toes curl and body ache in the sweetest of ways. We sink into it, into each other, and the bittersweet emotions we’re feeling.
Somewhere in the villa Hayes’s cell phone rings. We both tense at the sound followed by his audible exhalation. “And so it begins.” He chuckles against my lips before pressing one more kiss to them, tapping a finger on my nose, and heading off to find his phone.
I watch him leave and then lower myself to the edge of my bed, utterly enamored with him and completely depressed over having to leave this paradise without him.
But I’m so very thankful for this time where we were able to make amends, and unexpectedly strengthen the bond we’ve shared for years. And in doing so, I feel like he’s helping me find the old, carefree Saylor from the past.
Begrudgingly I power up my cell and lie back on the bed. It doesn’t surprise me that Hayes is already on the phone. Muffled bits and pieces of his conversation float down the hall. I can’t quite catch enough to know what he’s saying, but he sounds agitated, and I hate that within a few minutes of plugging back in reality is back in full effect.
I’m not ready for the real world to ruin our idyllic time in paradise.
And no sooner does the thought cross my mind, my cell begins to chirp like crazy, ding after ding after ding notifying me of texts. I squeeze my eyes shut, try to ignore them, but then start to worry when the alerts keep sounding.
Something has happened. There is text after text from DeeDee lighting up my screen and the few words displayed from each one confirms it. I’m freaked out.
DeeDee: I’m so sorry they did this to you. The oven’s . . .
Unknown: An interview perhaps?
DeeDee: I don’t want to bug you with everything that’s going on, but . . .
Private Caller: I’d like to do a feature on you for the magazine . . .
Ryder: I’m going to kill him . . .
DeeDee: I’m baking from my house until Ryder can figure out pricing . . .
Ryder: I’m trying to get it handled . . .
DeeDee: The damn oven is on the fritz again, should I . . .
I’m on my feet instantly, number dialed, pacing the room as I wait for her to pick up. Unable to look at my texts while calling out, I try to make sense of the words I caught a glimpse of. Why is Ryder going to kill Mitch? Did the oven finally die? A feature? And interview? Maybe Ryder’s and Hayes’s theories were correct.