Chapter 4

4

TORI

T his time was different.

That was what I told myself as I sat on the balcony, staring out over the deserted pool. During the day, someone had come out and set up all the furniture that the tornado had upended. Some was missing, and I assumed that furniture had been taken away due to damage.

Sighing, I took another sip of the overpriced water I'd grabbed from the desk in my room. I knew I'd regret it once I saw the bill at checkout, but I didn't have it in me to go out in search of something to drink. I just wanted to sit here on my balcony, hydrate, and chide myself for getting sexual with a guy who was clearly going to dump me.

Crap . He'd actually said that word after I'd given way too much of myself. I'd never even been naked in front of a guy before, let alone touched and licked a man's...private parts. I blushed just thinking about what I'd done.

But a part of me warned that I was going down an all-too-familiar path right now. I was looking for excuses to run rather than sticking around to see what might happen next. I was afraid. Terrified. And it was easier to push him away than to risk having my heart stomped on.

A distant banging sound brought me out of my thoughts. Oh great. They were rebuilding something somewhere nearby. Strange they were doing it at night, though. It had to be outside—that was the only area affected by the storms on this particular property.

But the banging noise continued, and now that I listened to it, it sounded close. It sounded like it was coming from behind me. Maybe in my own room?

The door. Someone was at my door.

My first thought, as I pushed myself up from the chair and headed inside, was that Dyson had tracked me down. But I knew better than to get my hopes up. It was probably just someone from the retreat center staff, reminding me checkout was at eleven tomorrow.

When I rose on tiptoe to look through the peephole, I froze at what I saw. No, definitely not a retreat center employee. Dyson stood there, holding two plastic cups.

I weighed my options. I could send him away. Or I could yank open this door and face my own demons. Whether he dumped me or not, working out my own shit was something nobody could take from me.

I crossed my arms over my chest and stepped back. "Can I help you?"

"I'm off work," he said. "I come bearing drinks. We made you a real Hurricane."

Did that mean the bartender had shown up? Or had the kitchen staff helped out?

What the hell did it matter? A Hurricane wouldn't tempt me to open the door. A piece of that chocolate cake people had been talking about all week might, though. I was a huge chocoholic.

But there was a bigger temptation here than chocolate or alcohol, and his name was Dyson. I couldn't tell him to go away any more than I could stop breathing. I had to see him again.

Taking a deep breath and holding it, I pushed aside the deadbolt and opened the door.

And then I was facing him again, and I wondered how I could have ever found the strength to push him away. But I also knew that opening this door might turn out to be a huge mistake if his goal was to break my heart.

"May I come in?" he asked.

"Sure." I took a step back, holding the door open with my butt. "I guess the bartender finally showed up."

Those words were just meant as a way to make conversation as he breezed past me. He stopped in the middle of the room and turned to face me, still holding the drinks.

"No, some real estate agent showed up. Apparently, she has a talent for making drinks. Does it as a side job. She's watching the bar for the rest of the night."

"That's nice of her."

This discussion was just weird. We were making small talk in my hotel room after the guy had given me my first-ever orgasm. Not only that—he'd masturbated in front of me.

"You just left," he said.

I stopped a good distance away from him. Too far for him to hand me one of the drinks, even. I crossed my arms over my chest as though daring him to get past the wall I always put up.

"I'm tired," I said. "It's been a long day."

He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes at me. "That's not what this is all about." He stepped toward me and held up the drink in his right hand. "Tell me if this tastes better than the other one."

I lifted the drink to my mouth and sipped. A combination of sweet tropical flavors hit my tastebuds, and I couldn't help but close my eyes and savor it.

"It's perfect," I said when I opened my eyes again. "I've never had a Hurricane, but it's a delicious drink."

"Mariah said we should call it a tornado. She modified it a little. No idea how, though. She just said to trust her."

Mariah. That was the real estate agent he'd mentioned, I assumed. I felt a stab of jealousy, even though I had no right. Would he take up with her once I was gone? Maybe she was closer to his age. They might get married and have kids.

I was being a complete lunatic, and I knew it. But as I stood there, looking into his eyes, I was overwhelmed by an unfamiliar feeling—safety. I could trust this guy. He'd take care of me.

I didn't know how I knew that. It came from somewhere deep inside.

"My parents abandoned me when I was a baby," I blurted. "Both of them ran off together and left me with my dad's mom. She did her best to raise me, but she wasn't the most loving person in the world."

That was the understatement of the year. My grandmother was harsh and critical. She had no idea what to do. She hadn't even raised her own son well, so how could anybody expect her to do a good job with me?

As a result, I'd grown up with a fear of being rejected, like my parents had rejected me. I felt unlovable.

Dyson took a few steps back and looked around. "Why don't we sit down?"

That was a good idea. I was suddenly feeling lightheaded, and I had no idea why. The alcohol maybe? Or it could just be that everything that had happened in the past couple of hours had finally caught up with me.

He took the chair in the corner, while I settled onto the end of the bed. Close enough to see him but not so close that it would scramble my brainwaves. I needed to think clearly. I needed to work through whatever was going on with me...before I lost this guy forever.

"You felt rejected when your parents did that," he said.

"All my life," I said. "I was too young to really understand it when it happened, of course. But later, I'd ask my grandmother questions, and she'd refuse to answer. She just said my dad married that hussy and got what he deserved."

"Whoa," he said. "Your grandmother told you that?"

I nodded. "She did the best she could at the time. She never signed on to raise her son's daughter."

"You deserved a parent who loved you," Dyson said. "Every kid deserves that."

"I agree."

After a long silence where he stared down at his drink, he asked, "Is that why you ran out of that closet?"

His somber tone tugged at my heart. Was it possible I'd hurt him? It wouldn't be the first time. I'd crushed a few guys over the years—friends who wanted to be more, first dates that never led to anything... But those wounds had been surface. Those guys weren't all that invested.

This time was different, and I couldn't pinpoint the reason. Maybe it was that this time, I was invested. For the first time in my life, I wanted something to work out.

"I've always pushed people away," I said. "That's why I'm telling you all this. ‘Reject them before they can reject you.' That's pretty much been my default mode."

"Do you think I'm going to hurt you?"

He looked up at me then, and I saw it in his eyes. Not just hurt. No, this went deeper. Beneath that tough exterior, he was a guy who was just as afraid of this as I was. He didn't want to have his heart broken, and I stood to break it.

Because he really cared.

That thought slammed into me, making the reality of this situation all too clear.He cared. Already. And this was only the beginning.

"I'm scared," I said, breaking a long silence.

"Me too," he said. "I think that's a sign we're really living, though."

He made a good point. I was only twenty-three, but if I kept pushing people away, I'd spend the rest of my life alone, and that was no way to live. I wanted a husband and kids. I wanted the family I'd never had.

"I'm sorry I walked out," I said, staring down at my drink. "I've never done anything like that. I wasn't sure how to act afterward, and..."

We'd already established I was scared, so I went silent. What else was there to say?

But when I looked up, it was clear there was plenty more to say. He was staring at me, eyes wide. It might be my imagination, but I'd swear he was a couple of shades whiter than he'd been before.

"You've never done anything like what?" he asked.

Oh. I'd dropped a bomb without even realizing it. I could tell him I'd never done any of it—been naked in front of a man, touched a penis, had an orgasm, done anything in a closet, including kissing. But there was one piece of information he needed to know more than all that.

"I'm a virgin," I blurted.

A long silence followed. I didn't dare move. I barely breathed. I waited for his reaction, hoping he wouldn't be repulsed by my lack of experience.

"I don't understand," he finally said, narrowing his eyes as he seemed to study me. "You said you went to college."

Had I said that? I didn't even remember.

"I push people away," I reminded him. "I'm twenty-three years old, though, and I don't want to push people away anymore. I don't want to push you away."

With that, I stood and set my drink on the dresser. Then I whipped off my top and reached for the button on my pants. I had them down and kicked off, along with my shoes, before he could stop me.

Not that he would've stopped me. He was staring at my chest as though he'd never seen anything so beautiful. And I wore the unsexiest bra ever. I reached back and unclasped it, shrugging it off before sliding my underwear off.

For the first time, I was completely naked in front of a man. Head to toe. But I wasn't just physically naked. I was baring everything to him—my body, my heart, and my soul.

"I want you to take my virginity," I said. "Tonight."