Our friends laugh, as if the idea of the two of us having sex is funny. Is that so inconceivable? I smile and laugh at all the right spots, however, before allowing the grateful manager to lead Hazel and me to our villa. I have no idea why it bothers me so much.
While Hazel wanders away, enthusiastically snapping pictures of the room with her phone, I tip the manager and the porter and send them on their way.
We’ll be secret lovers.
Never in the office. Never in front of other people.
We’ll never tell.
Would our friends really react that badly? Do I want them to know that we’re a couple, too, even if we’re only temporary and not forever? Dev and Max would worry like old biddies. They’d wonder if it was too soon, if I was really over Molly, if I was risking an amazing business partnership for sex because I was lonely.
The villa’s so huge that I practically need a bread-crumb trail to track down Hazel. Wherever she is, it would be nice if she was naked. Or relaxed. It’s been a rough week at the office and she’s strung tight. Orgasms help with that, but I’m hoping some R & R works its magic.
She’s not outside in the private infinity pool or lounging on the massive deck that overlooks the ocean, so I work my way through the rooms. Lola called it Tuscan meets Santa Fe when she was describing it to Maple on the plane, which turns out to mean tall ceilings, wooden beams, terra-cotta walls and lots of stone. The living room offers a plush sofa that I can imagine spooning Hazel on and a coffee table made from a large slab of Mexican wood. There’s also an enormous television, a bookcase stocked with books about the desert and local wildlife, and binoculars for whale-watching from the deck surrounding the pool.
I find Hazel on the little balcony just off the master bedroom that faces out onto the ocean. She’s less tense than she has been. I hope. She stands in front of the wide-open French doors, face turned into the breeze. She doesn’t turn around when I pad toward her, but she knows I’m here. I’m too big to move quietly.
Her pretty, beachy clothes flutter around her body. I check but I don’t think anyone can see in, not unless they’re suspended in midair above our balcony, so I prowl closer. Hazel’s always so put-together and in control, but the ocean’s making a mess of that perfect front. Little wisps of hair fly around her face, teasing her skin with butterfly kisses. I love messed-up, imperfect Zee.
I contemplate giving her some space, because things feel a little weird between us and I know she doesn’t want the others finding out we’re more than just friends. But I do want to have sex with her, the sooner the better, and I also miss holding her. Zee is addictive.
I’m overthinking... I think. I move behind her, bracing her body with mine. She relaxes against me, the fingers of her right hand tangling with mine. We stand there like that, staring out at the ocean. The sun set on our way here and now it’s completely dark, although the moon spills a pale, silvery light across the bay. It’s calm enough that there would be no point in taking out the boards.
“Are you meeting up with the guys?”
I raise her hand to my mouth. It’s silly, the gesture of a white knight from centuries ago, but I do it, anyway, pressing my lips against her knuckles. I can feel the fine bones of her fingers.
I press my cheek against her hair and stare out at the ocean with her. The horseshoe-shaped bay cups the darker water of the Pacific Ocean, waves breaking on the rocky formations and licking at the golden sand.
“You should go swimming.” She smirks at me. “If you promise to swim naked, I’ll join you.”
There’s a beat and then a little frown puckers her forehead. “Unless there are sharks.”
I grin into her hair. Thank God she can’t see me smile or she’d kill me. Hazel doesn’t believe in admitting fear. “You can take on a roomful of pissed-off investors and convince them you shit rainbows and fart glitter, but you’re worried about fish?”
“I’m worried about really big fish with scary teeth. I need to check.” She twists in my arms, patting her pockets. She seems more interested in googling Cabo predators than the romantic setup we have going on. Which is fine. We’re not that kind of couple.
“They have giant squid here,” I tell her. “They’re particularly partial to divers.”
Hazel hums, clearly trying to decide if I’m pulling her leg or not. I’m mostly not. There is a fifteen-foot squid here that’s been making a bid for the apex predator spot as the shark population has declined. Cabo is rough and gorgeous, wild and dangerous, golden brown and never entirely safe. It’s very much like life in that respect.
It’s not that I don’t know what Hazel expects from me: she wants my dick. She wants sex and closeness—but only up to a certain point. We’re friends and business partners, but we’re not lovers. Not really. We’re just two people screwing each other while we wait for something more permanent to come along.
Still, part of me is angry that she’s willing to settle. That she hasn’t held out for what Dev and Lola have. They’re getting married tomorrow, which means they’ll stand up in front of us all and choose each other. They’re making promises and plans. They’re banking on forever. Of course, I, of all people, know that forever can end up being measured in years, months and days, but at least Molly and I had that long even if we didn’t have forever. It’s more than many people have.
And now Hazel eclipses all thoughts of Molly. She wriggles back against me, her ass finding my dick like a heat-seeking missile. Jesus, she makes me
