My heart is in my throat and tears are in my eyes as he gives me the answer I never realized I wanted. The only answer I realize now I would ever accept.

  I rise from my chair and move to him, and his eyes don’t leave mine the entire time. Without a word and with a shy smile, I climb on the couch and straddle his thighs.

  “Sutton.” He breathes the word out as I run my hands up the plane of his chest to cup his face.

  “Callahan,” I whisper back before my lips press ever so softly to his. Almost as if I’m scared to kiss him, scared to accept the power of the emotion that’s reverberating between us.

  His hands trace my sides as I deepen the kiss. Whereas earlier there was an urgency to brand and claim and take, there is none of that now. There is just him and me in this darkened room with an unspoken understanding between us—we’re willingly crossing the line we’ve flirted around.

  And I’m not talking about the physical one. I’m talking emotional.

  We express ourselves in movements. His hand fisting, tongues licking, and hips grinding. In soft moans and quiet pleas. In the silence no longer screaming all around us.

  Along the way we lose our shirts. My bra. His pants are shoved down and my skirt is pulled up and over my head.

  There is quiet desperation to our movements now. To knowing what is going to happen and anticipating that bliss.

  “Christ, you’re beautiful,” Callahan says as he kisses a line down my neck and takes one of my nipples in his mouth. “To touch you. To feel you. To have you . . .”

  His last word falls off on a strangled groan when I sink down onto him, inch by inch, until he’s fully seated within me.

  “Look at me,” he whispers. My eyes flutter up to meet his. To take in the look on his face. The pained pleasure. The desperate longing. The want that’s now turned into need.

  I begin to move. To rock my hips back and forth over his. To keep my eyes locked on his even when I want to close them and give in to the pleasure surging through me.

  “Do you know how much I missed this?” he says, leaning forward and slanting his lips over mine once again. “Missed you?”

  I want to tell him I’ve been here all along, but I haven’t. He’s right. This is different. Right now is different. We are different and hell if it isn’t the headiest thing I’ve ever experienced.

  We move in a slow, luxurious sync. Our hips grinding, our tongues tangling, and our bodies slowly whirling in the eddy of pleasure together.

  He lets me control the pace. A deepening of the kiss as I rise and then slowly lower myself back down onto his cock. I grind my hips, letting him feel how wet he’s made me. Letting him know how much he turns me on.

  He palms both cheeks of my ass and then guides me back up again. I tighten my muscles almost as if my body is desperate for us not to part. His groan at the sensation is sensual foreplay. It’s a sexy rumble that turns into a growled sigh when I seat myself back down on him once again.

  We move like this for some time. There are no words. No whispered promises. Just him needing and me wanting.

  I feel like I can’t get enough of his touch. Of his taste. Of his soft groans that wash over me. Of the ecstasy when he slides in and out of me.

  I just want him. More of him. All of him. Endless amounts of him.

  There is no hurry as our bodies climb and then crash over the edge. His guttural groan as I pulse around him and he empties himself in me.

  And when we follow each other to his bed afterwards, we know that without uttering a single word, things have irrevocably changed between us.

  Making love a second time only cements that. The way he worships my body and caters to my pleasure leaves me at a further loss for words.

  And when I fall asleep, curled up against him in the early hours of the morning, there is only one constant stream of thought.

  Regret.

  That I waited this long to do this with him.

  That our time is limited.

  That . . . I’ve fallen for him when I know there’s no future.

  That we have an expiration date.

  Sutton

  “Stay in bed,” Callahan murmurs against the top of my head when I startle awake.

  “It’s early. Where are—”

  “I’m going to drive my brother to the airport.” A soft kiss on my lips. “When I come back, I want to find you in exactly the same place as you are right now.”

  “Callahan.” I sit up and stare at his silhouette in the open doorway. He turns to look at me with a soft smile. His hair is wet and wavy from the shower.

  He nods ever so slightly, almost as if to tell me, yes, he is coming back.

  And even though I know he is, I stay staring at the empty doorway long after I hear the front door shut.

  I put my fingers to my lips as if I can still feel his kiss. But I don’t need to touch them to feel it.

  I don’t think I’ll ever forget it. Or him.

  With a sigh, I flop back on the bed and wrap sheets that smell like him around me.

  You get one hour to feel sorry for yourself, Sutton. One hour to be angry at yourself for waiting so long to let this happen. One hour to cry about what’s never going to be.

  You knew this going in to whatever this is.

  You knew he wasn’t staying.

  You knew he wasn’t a keeper.

  Then why is the little voice in my head saying, “But you knew all this before you really knew him at all . . .”

  Callahan

  I sit in the car and watch Ledger’s plane take off from the airport until it’s a speck of silver in the pinks and oranges of the morning sunrise.

  With my hand on the steering wheel and my head leaned back against the seat, I try to unpack the past twenty-four hours.

  But how is that even possible?

  How do you process your world being rocked? How do you lay down the anger you’ve worn like armor for the past year without feeling like you’re missing something? And how do you fathom going home to slide into bed with a woman when all you’ve ever done is slip out of one quietly to avoid complication?

  “Fuck,” I mutter to myself as I chew the inside of my cheek. Is this what normalcy feels like? A family that’s working on things, a woman you can’t wait to be with, and a job that takes up the space between?

  The sun rises. Slowly. Steadily. It rises over the horizon with a quiet beauty like always.

  Which horizon will I be watching it from in the coming weeks? What beach, what country, what mountaintop will I be admiring it from?

  The thought used to bring me peace in the early days of this venture. It used to be my fallback to get me through.

  Then why does it sound less appealing now?

  Why does it seem less . . . everything?

  Sutton

  “It’s all the mind-blowing sex you’re having.”

  I glance up and grin at Callahan standing at the foot of the couch where I’m currently curled up in a blanket despite the gorgeous weather outside. “Oh, really?”

  “Yep.” He takes a seat on its edge and pats my thigh. “You’ve exerted so much energy over the past few days that your body has caught a case of sex-itis.”

  I snort despite my misery.

  “I have sore muscles.”

  “From all the new positions we’ve tried.”

  “And a fever,” I add.

  “I’ve always thought you were hot.” He shrugs unapologetically.

  “And a sore throat.”

  “Next time don’t take me so deep. I know I’m big.” He fights his grin. “I apologize if it’s stretched you too wide and your tonsils hate me.”

  I roll my eyes. “I assure you that’s not it.”

  “Any other symptoms I can diagnose?”

  “Just general bleh. How are you going to diagnose that, smarty-pants?”

  He brushes my hair off my forehead. “The general bleh is a manufactured symptom whereas the patient complains about malaise—”

  “Malaise?” I lift my eyebrows. “I’m impressed.”

  “You should be. But please, let me finish my diagnosis.” He leans over and presses a kiss to my forehead. “The complaints about malaise are simply a ruse because they are too embarrassed to admit that their man has more stamina than they do.”

  “My man?” I laugh out.

  “Yes. That would be me.”

  “And the cure?”

  “Dick.”

  I burst out laughing. “So let me get this straight. The sickness is from too much dick and the cure is more dick?”

  “Correct. That’s what all my schooling tells me.” He angles his head and studies me. “Seriously though, get some rest.”

  “I feel like I should be there. Solomon—”

  “Can be tricky, yes.” He nods. “But I assure you I’m not worried.”

  “You sure? I mean—”

  “Sutton. I’m a big boy. I’ve got it handled.”

  “Okay. Yes. Tucking away my control freak tendencies as we speak.”

  He tucks the blanket around my feet more. “Get some rest. I’ll report back with good news.”

  I watch him grab his laptop and files full of papers and wonder how in the hell we went from meeting in a bar to this.

  Like how is that possible?

  I blow out a breath and snuggle deeper in the blanket, my head foggy (Callahan would say it’s because it’s filled with thoughts of dick), and my mind running over the whirlwind of the past few days since A.L.—After Ledger.

  Because everything has changed since then. Yes, we are still keeping things secretive and on the down-low, but there is no more purposeful avoidance when the other is at the villa. There are sexy texts sent back and forth while I’m sitting at my desk and he’s in his office, and then later, strategically planned departures from said office. There are late night “working” dinners delivered from The Cove to the villa so we can laugh and talk and tease out of sight of everyone else.

  And there is a lack of sleep. So much sleep lost . . . but this girl definitely isn’t complaining.

  Not at all.

  But the clock is counting down, the days here are numbered, and as much as I’m trying not to think about it, I’m still thinking about it.

  Stop it, Sutt.

  No pity.

  All party.

  Callahan

  There’s a thrill in the art of negotiation. In sitting face to face with a smug bastard like Solomon and challenging him over and over to validate the demands he was championing for.

  Keone was definitely right, though. Trouble was brewing amongst the Ocean’s Edge staff. Wage complaints, benefit grumbles, and just issues in general about shifts and overtime.

  With Brady explaining the lay of the land regarding what other resorts are offering and Keone telling us what’s being said in private amongst the staff, Sutton and I were able to bring what we thought was a fair and comprehensive employment package to the table. Higher wages, more perks for the staff, guaranteed one weekend day off unless otherwise specified, matching 401(k) up to six percent, and on and on.

  Of course, we thought it was fair. Solomon, on the other hand, did his job handily over the past three hours, trying to advocate for more, more, more for the staff.

  Some things I budged on.

  Others, not an inch.

  I still might not care for Solomon, but I think we both left the table with a solid agreement that is good for both the employees and Sharpe International.

  “Boss Man.” Keone chuckles. “What are you doing here midday? Your day that bad you need a drink already?”

  “No drink. I can’t stay,” I say, hitting my fist on the bar. “But I wanted to thank you for the heads-up on the staff rumblings.”

  “Oh yeah? Me?” Keone wipes his hands on a towel, a crooked smile on his lips. “I helped?”

  “You did. And I appreciate it. I wanted to say thank you. New contracts and benefits will be offered by the week’s end.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit.”

  “You going to see your lady now?”

  I falter at his words. My reaction a dead giveaway that I am. But how does he know?

  “What do you mean?” I feign innocence.

  “You’re a different man these last couple days. You do this job long enough you know the signs of a man who’s happy.” He puts his hands on his hips and smiles. “It’s not the redhead, is it? Jessica Rabbit? The one who came here and you play hard to get with?”

  I laugh at his description of Gia Diamante and shake my head. “No. It’s not Jessica Rabbit. But that’s a good one.”

  “Man, whoever she is, she must be good if you passing up that.”

  I just grin and wink. “Later, Ke. Thanks again.”

  Man, she must be good if you passing up that.

  He has no idea.

  And the thought pervades as I walk into the villa and find Sutton sitting there with expectant eyes looking my way. “Well?” She pats the cushion on the couch beside her.

  “It’s done.”

  She squeals in laughter. “It’s done as in the agreement is done, or it’s done as in the agreement is signed?”

  Sutton looks at me with shock on her face and fuck if my ego doesn’t soar. “As in signed, signed.”

  “No way.”

  “Truth.” I hold my hands up.

  “I was waiting to hear sirens because you’d reached across the table and strangled him for being an ass but then felt guilty for doing so, so you called 911.”

  I take a seat beside her. “I may have done that mentally once or twice.” My smile widens. “But it’s done, Collins. We agreed on all terms. I gave a little. He gave a lot. The deal is done. In fact, the agreements are being written up for all members of staff, and Brady will have them delivered by the end of the week.”

  She stares at me with her jaw lax and eyes wide and it fills me with such a sense of purpose that I never knew I needed or wanted.

  “I’m so proud of you. That’s incredible. We should celebrate . . .” She laughs. “When I feel better of course.”

  “Nope. We’re not waiting. Who says we can’t celebrate when you’re sick?” I link my fingers with hers. “There’s a lot to be said for sitting on the couch, putting your feet up on the table, and eating candy by the handfuls straight from oversized bags.”

  “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

  “Dead serious.” I hook a thumb over my shoulder. “What did you think was in the bags?” I rise from the couch. “Pick a movie and I’ll go get changed real quick.”

  “Hey?” Sutton says and tugs on my hand before I can walk away.

  “What?”

  She has more color in her cheeks than when I left her. Her eyes a little less glassy. She smiles softly. “You know you’re good at this, right? Have you ever considered that you love the job but not the part you’ve been given to do?”

  “Sutton.” Her name is a sigh.

  “Hear me out and I won’t mention it again.” She lifts her eyebrows as if pleading for me to agree.

  “Fine. What?”

  “You’ve always dealt with everything on the macro level of this business, but I’ve sat here, day in and day out, and watched you work on the micro level and do an absolutely phenomenal job.” She squeezes my fingers. “Maybe that’s your niche. The on-site details of making a deal work instead of the broad overview of one. The devil is in the details, Callahan, and you seem to know how to deal with them.”

  I nod and head toward the bedroom.

  “It’s a shame you’re going to walk away from something you’re so skilled at,” she says.

  I hear her. But I don’t respond. Can’t. Because I’m not one hundred percent sure how her words make me feel.

  And it’s not until later, when her head is resting on my chest where she fell asleep during the movie, that I allow myself to think about her words again.

  That I allow myself to wonder if she might be right.

  But it doesn’t matter if she’s right or wrong because I have plans a little over a week from now. I’m going to close my eyes and put a finger on a map of the world and that’s where I’ll end up.

  Just like I’ve wanted to for some time.

  At least this time I can do it without any guilt for not fulfilling my promise to my brothers.

  But what about Sutton?

  I close my eyes and listen to her soft breathing and rationalize my thoughts away.

  “You know that, don’t you? What a good man you are? That’s why I’ve fallen for you.”

  There’s no promise to break with her because I never made one in the first place.

  Keep telling yourself that, Sharpe.

  Keep telling yourself that and you might actually believe you’re not falling for her too.

  Sutton

  “Where are you taking me?” I laugh as he parks the topless Jeep in an empty parking lot on the opposite side of the island from Ocean’s Edge.

  “Don’t worry about it.” He reaches out a hand to me. “Just come with me.”

  We trek down a trail where native plants tangle around our legs, and we have to push them away so they don’t hit our faces. Our laughter is the only sound as I follow him until I utter a soft “Oh,” when we reach the clearing.

  We’re on a small patch of beach where a hammock hangs between what looks like two strategically placed palm trees. And the hammock is set up to overlook a small sand bluff above the sea. To the left is a pile of rocks that I have to give a double take because of their precarious stacking that gives the illusion of a man’s profile. But best of all, is the view I can already tell it will have of the sunset.

  “Callahan.” I take a few steps forward and admire the view. “This is breathtaking.”

  “It is, isn’t it?” He steps up beside me. “Our wine vendor told me about it at one of my dinner meetings. It’s a friend of a friend of his who owns the land or something like that.”

  “Just when I thought this place couldn’t get any more incredible, you give me this.”

  A shy smile ghosts over his lips and our gazes hold. “I can’t exactly take you out on a date because people might see us—and on this island, everybody knows somebody—but I can give you this.” He holds up the bag he’s carrying in his hand. “Some wine. Some cheese and crackers. A sunset. And some company to enjoy it with.”