Chapter 9

9

W hat the hell am I doing? And why is she so goddamn addictive?

Rain continues splattering against the deck and windows. What was a steady pummeling is now more of an intermittent tropical shower. Tinsley is fast asleep, her nude body curled into mine, and if I didn't feel like a total and complete asshole before, I do when I realize Tinsley is the first woman to sleep in my bed since my second year of medical school, and that night there was no cuddling or holding the way there is now. There certainly wasn't any pleasure at the sight of her the way I feel right now when I glance down at Tinsley beside me.

So again, what the hell am I doing?

But more importantly, what the hell is she doing to me?

I'm already thinking about the next time I can be inside of her. And the time after that. I'm chasing the end—the moment where I've had enough and she's out of my system—only there's a small voice in the back of my head laughing at that ridiculous notion.

I have a haunting premonition there will be no end to wanting her.

I suppose that's karmic justice. I've been a player, just as she said. Sleeping with women and moving on to the next without a second's thought or backward glance. I was always honest. Always upfront. I had no time or desire to try for more, and no one held my interest in a way that challenged me to change that.

Until now.

I didn't see her and Forest together a lot. They were kids, and then they were in LA. The last time I saw them together was here on the boat, and they spent most of the weekend fighting about one thing or another. I know how Forest felt about her. I know how he still feels, how he's been distant with all of us over the last year since their break.

But Tinsley is done with him and has been for a while.

It shouldn't make this easier for me, but somehow it does.

I run a possessive hand down her spine and curl it around her hip, dragging her closer. She doesn't stir. She's either an incredibly heavy sleeper or I wore her out. In addition to the fun tongue fucking I gave her and the pounding against the navigation desk, I fucked her two more times in this bed.

The sex wasn't what I'm used to, but that might be what made it better than anything I've ever had before. The fact that I took her bare only heightened that. There's something about her, and with how quickly I reacted to her that first night, I can't help but wonder now if she's somehow been there all along, but I ignored it or pretended it away because she was Forest's. It wasn't just the flash of her naked body that stirred this up. There was a reason I had her keep her distance from me.

Part of me knew I wasn't safe around her, but moreover, she wasn't safe around me.

Now it's too late, and the man in me hates what I've done to Forest. The I'm a dirtbag part who is staring at the naked and dreamy girl beside him says it's only for a week, so no harm, no foul. I slip down the sheet covering her and take in the soft lines of her body. Her full, perfect tits and peach nipples beg for my mouth, and I slide lower until I'm able to capture one between my teeth.

She squirms and hisses, her eyes still closed. "That hurts."

"But I bet it feels good too."

I get a sleepy smile for that.

My finger slides between her legs and... "Christ, how are you already this wet?"

She giggles lightly, and the sound makes my chest inflate, and a smile of my own springs to my lips. "Because I was having a dirty dream about you."

I open my mouth wide, taking as much of her breast in as I can. She moans, her hands in my hair, pressing me deeper. "So I did this to you? What was your dream about, Little Rose?"

"You know Rose is the character who arguably let her guy die, right?"

"True, but I like the name for you. Roses are pretty and smell good but have annoying thorns that like to poke. Just like you. Now answer my question."

"You were going down on me."

Immediately I flip her onto her back and trail kisses down her belly. "Go on. How did I eat you? Was it soft and gentle, or did I eat you like your pussy is the last meal I'm ever going to have because I'm on death row?"

"Death row. You hiked my legs up and made me scream."

Fuck. Like holy fuck. My heart gives a thump as if to say, dude, you sure we can only have one week of her ?

I've never wanted to keep any woman, and it's not because I'm anti-relationship. I'm not. My parents are the happiest fucking couple on the planet, as are all my uncles and aunts. The notion of love and forever doesn't scare me. I simply liked being single and wasn't ready for that yet. Being single fit me. It was easy with zero drama. I figured that'd come later when I met the right someone. That now was the time for fun and not serious.

But Tinsley Monroe is fucking with my head and my head cannot be fucked with on this. She doesn't belong to me. She never will. I cannot want, I cannot imagine, I cannot pretend. Not where she's concerned.

That doesn't mean I won't fulfill her dirty dreams about me. I hike her up and spread her legs until she's gorgeously open and exposed to me, and ring her clit with my tongue. Her hips jolt, and she moans—her sounds make me hard like nothing else—while her fingers find my hair.

"Is that what you dreamed about?"

"Yes. Oh, yes. Christ, your tongue. Do it again. Do it all. Make me come. And whatever you do, don't stop until we have to."

It's as if she's echoing my thoughts.

"Your wish is my command."

I eat her until she comes. Until she's screaming and writhing and unable to take another second of the pleasure and pressure I'm giving her. Then, in one smooth motion, because I can't wait another second, I slide inside her. And her eyes—those pretty violet eyes—they hold mine. All sweet and innocent and drunk on lust.

This girl affects me like nothing else.

I thrust into her, my hips smacking against hers as I continuously slide inside her tight body until we're both weak in the knees and our minds are quiet.

Mason: I shouldn't have to ask Vander to check your ship's navigation to let us know that you're still alive.

I smirk through my yawn as I rub a hand up and down my face. I fell back to sleep only to wake to the loud ping of my phone. I had the volume up in case the Coast Guard or my parents were trying to reach me. Blinking, I shift in the bed, looking to my left and finding the space Tinsley occupied empty. After I took Tinsley again, I sailed us into port and then came back to bed and crashed.

Me: But you did, so you know we not only survived but made it into Nassau.

Vander is a cybersecurity company owner and CEO by day, and by night, he's one of the world's best hackers. I had no illusions that he was tracking me, and I know better than to argue about it.

Owen: And you see, all I caught from that was we and something tells me you're not talking about Benthesicyme.

I stare at his text, reading it over a few times as the words don't quite make sense. And then it dawns on me. Shit.

Mason: The plot thickens. Spill. Who's the honey you're shacking up with?

Double shit.

Me: No one. I was talking about Benthesicyme.

Vander: You wouldn't lie to your best friends and family, would you?

Triple shit.

That's not something we do. It's a pact, more or less. Mason comes from a family of football royalty and it's his first year playing in the NFL. Vander's mother owned and ran Monroe Securities, and Vander dropped out of MIT after being arrested for hacking—though the arrest has magically disappeared—to take over the company. Owen is Owen Fucking Fritz, the eldest grandson in our Fritz family, and with that, especially in Boston, famous simply for being a billionaire Fritz. I'm also a Fritz, son of the eldest Fritz son and heir to the Abbot-Fritz foundation .

So yeah, trust in our world isn't all that easy to come by and I won't be the one to break it. Even if I won't give details.

Me: Fine. Yes, I'm here with someone.

Owen: And who is someone? Do we know her?

Yes, of course they know her. Mason and Vander's dads are best friends with her father. They were in Central Square together, a famous rock band together for fuck's sake. Plus, Owen's little sister, Wren, is best friends with Tinsley.

Me: She's just a girl.

Mason: Except aren't you there to get your mental game back?

Me: She needed a bit of rescuing, and I was in the right place at the right time. That's all it is. For real. I'm still here getting my mental shit back together.

I hope. Part of me feels like being with Tinsley derailed some of that, but it's too late now.

Owen: Best wishes.

Confetti crackles across my screen, and I groan even as I reluctantly smile.

Owen: On not focusing on the woman you're rescuing. I'm sure that'll work out well for you. But more importantly, if you're saving her, then you're already headed in the right direction for coming back to work.

Owen works with me at Boston Children's Hospital where he's a general surgeon.

Me: Thanks. Here's hoping. I'll catch up with you later.

Mason: Enjoy your rescue mission.

Vander: And remember, if you do want to tell us about her or anything else, it's us. And this is where it stays. But I promise not to dig either if you want it to stay between you and your dick.

Me: I appreciate that. I'll be in touch.

I climb out of bed and take a quick shower, enjoying the few minutes of quiet. Hot water cascades over me, energizing my limbs and relaxing my muscles.

Immediately, images of last night flicker through my head, and my tired dick jerks. Jesus. How is that even possible right now? My forehead plants onto the marble wall. A week of Tinsley. It'll be a week of wanting her constantly. Of not being able to get enough because I know our time will come to a fast end. All she has to do is look at me or smile or simply breathe, and I'm harder than steel.

Better still, she seems to be as insatiable as I feel.

I've crossed the Rubicon. My die is cast.

Time to go find my girl and figure out what's next.