It’s a twenty-minute drive back up to the villa. I’ve driven it hundreds of times before, I know every twist and road sign. Yet this is the longest it’s ever been. Every traffic light sets my teeth on edge and has me barking with road rage. Cheyenne giggles at me but claims she’s not going anywhere all the same. I make her put her number in my phone while we are at one stop. She sends herself a message quickly so she has mine as well, but I’ll put a tracking app on her device in the morning.
Don’t want to be taking any risks with my mate.
We park, and I don’t miss Dino eyeing me at the gate with a smirk on his lips. That nosey little shit. While getting out to open Cheyenne’s door, I send a text to the vacation family group chat for a meeting before breakfast. My phone immediately starts going off, but I put it in do-not-disturb mode.
We are not being interrupted.
Cheyenne intertwines her fingers with mine as we walk into the foyer. She looks unsure of what to do next. I hope she doesn’t think I’m changing my mind because, fuck me, she is everything I need right now and for the rest of my life.
“Grab what you need to stay in my suite tonight,” I say. “It’s up the stairs and to the right, last door on the left.”
I kiss her because I can’t stop myself. And why should I? From what I can hear, most of the villa is either sleeping or doing exactly what I plan to be doing with my mate in a few minutes. My teeth drag across her bottom lip with hunger just thinking about how her thick thighs are going to feel wrapped around my waist.
But I break the kiss like a good boy. She’s less interested in stopping, but when I tap her ass, Cheyenne gets moving. I watch her go, enjoying the view. I’m disgustedly excited to find out what kind of pyjamas she wears to bed. I hope they tear easily.
Chapter eight
Cheyenne
Itake another deep breath as I swipe the makeup removal wipe over my lashes. As much as I’d rather roll my whole suitcase into Valentino’s suite, I’m not sure he’d appreciate that level of progression. If the orgasm he gave me is anything to go by, sex with him is going to be intense and, dare I say, magical. He says he’s interested, but I shouldn’t push how deep that interest goes. I need to hold on to my heart a little longer and keep the part of me desperate for romantic love hidden. I should keep this at a stage three cling for now.
One downside of thinking I’d be mostly ignored on this vacation was that I brought my favourite pj’s, not my sexiest. The crop top and bleach-stainedsweatpants from Old Armoury glare at me from where they rest on the closed toilet seat.
No, no, I hate sleeping without bottoms on. My thighs get all stuck together and end up irritated. I need to be honest about my comforts and likes if this is going to work out. And I like sleeping with pants on. No matter how warm it is or how hot my bed partner might be, I can’t sleep naked.
I brush my hair and loosely braid it so it stays dry while I take a quick shower. Out of curiosity, I wrap my fist around the length just to see if I can, to see if maybe Valentino could if he fucked me from behind. The length of hair coils easily around my hand.
Definitely should have put a scene like that in one of my books.
I groan a little and turn on the water, trying not to think about how lost I am for ideas. Shouldn’t writers always have them? I’ve been doing this for almost a decade, and with so many books on my backlist, maybe I’ve used all the words I have.
Once it’s hot, I step in and let the water drown my thoughts. It stings with my fading sunburn, but I’ve sweated more on this vacation than I have all year. Isn’t this sort of detox supposed to energise a person? In truth though, I have even less energy now that I don’t have a deadline looming over me. There’s no drive in my body to keep me going.
Everyone is right. I’m burnt out and this fucking sucks. I rest my head on the shower wall, a pathetic whine building in the back of my throat. Who cares if my hair gets wet now? I don’t hate admitting it, but I hate accepting that I can’t just go, go, go like I used to. Maybe having a new boyfriend will help inspire me.
Boyfriend.
He called himself that so it’s not me rushing into it. He said it, and my heart nearly leapt out of my chest. Dinner was a whirlwind I never wanted to end, yet after he helped me put my dress back into place, I couldn’t eat fast enough.
But what now? I feel locked between two revelations, one of admitting I’m exhausted from never allowing myself to rest and the other of throwing myself into a wild holiday romance that will be short-lived and leave my heart broken once I board the plane home.
The door to my room unlocks and shuts quickly.
I pause my mental descent into uncertainty and limp exhaustion, waiting for Junelle to call out. It must be her, because she knows I was on a date tonight. The hot gossip can’t possibly wait till morning.
And to be fair, it’s piping hot.
“I couldn’t wait.”
My whole body flinches, my heart jumping right into my throat while my stomach dive-bombs to my feet.Valentino stands in my bathroom, slowly removing his clothes while he stares at me. I don’t make a sound, transfixed on watching him.
He isn’t a hard-muscle gym bro or even that old-school wrestler strong. His pectorals are soft, his stomach curves out in a way that tells me he enjoys life to its fullest. But he was still able to lift me onto the table at dinner. His shoulders, arms, and thighs are padded, but beneath their surface lies unbelievable strength.
For as long as I can, I avoid looking at his dick. It’s going to be devastatingly beautiful, I can feel it in my gut. I want to appreciate the whole package first before I zero in on what will be the cock to end all cocks.
Valentino steps into the shower, and rather than face him, I let him press his body into mine. The weight against me is more relaxing than the hot water.
“You could’ve showered in my room.” He smiles against my shoulder, leaving a trail of kisses across my skin. “Could’ve let me unlace that corset and kiss every inch of you.”
