That takes me aback. Does she think there’s any way I don’t want to hear this? “Of course.”

  “Thank you. That’s all I ask.”

  Her fingertips drag slowly across my skin, as if she’s reluctant to withdraw her touch. Once she does, she clasps her hands in her lap again, not saying another word until we reach the inn.

  When I roll into the parking lot and shove the car in park, I turn to her expectantly. “Go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “Come upstairs with me? Please. The explanation is long.”

  I tap my thumb against the wheel, but what is there to decide? I want to hear how she’ll talk her way out of this. I need to hear her side of the story I’ve been chasing for weeks. Now that she finally seems willing to give it, I’m anxious it will change everything between us. I’m dreading she’ll tell me she’s guilty…and I’ll realize it doesn’t matter as much as it should.

  Because I’ll still be stupidly in love with her.

  Regardless, I can’t run away. This is my responsibility. She might be a cheat and a liar, but I doubt she’s capable of doing me bodily harm, so I’ve got no reason to decline.

  “All right.”

  In silence, I follow her up the stairs. I hear her keys rattling as she inserts hers in the lock with trembling fingers and enters the dark ohana. She doesn’t bother with the lights.

  Instead, she turns as I shut the door behind me and throws herself against me, barreling me against the portal. “Clint?”

  Her nearness throws me into a tailspin. My head tells me to watch myself, but my body is seemingly wired to respond to her. All she has to do is brush against me and turn her face up, stare at me with those wide green eyes, and I’m more than aching for her.

  Fuck.

  “What, Beth?” I manage to get out gruffly. “Spit it out.”

  “I know what you heard sounded awful, but my father is a manipulative bastard. I told him what I had to in order to get away from him. I’ll explain more. Everything. I promise. Just… Would you make love to me one more time? In case you hate me after I’ve told you all I know. Please.”

  I should say no. Her assurance helps some. Still, I shouldn’t let sex cloud our discussion. But Bethany rarely asks me for anything, especially closeness, affection, or sex. And like her, I’m afraid of how the truth will change us. I don’t know what I’ll think or believe after I hear her side of the story. I also don’t know where we’ll stand after I tell her my secrets.

  This may be the very last time I touch Bethany.

  Swallowing down my desperation at the thought, I cup her nape, urge her body closer, and plaster every inch of her against me, then slant my lips over hers. She meets me halfway with a cry, clinging to me.

  Under the press of my mouth, she opens eagerly. As I dip inside, I taste the need in her kiss and I can’t help but groan.

  In the past, she’s always been more assertive in bed than in conversation, almost like she felt compelled to perform for my pleasure. Given what I know now about her corporate sex life, that makes sense. But what we have feels different. Real. Not like she’s trying to coax or dazzle me, but more like she simply wants to be close to me.

  Right or wrong, smart or not, I want the same.

  Time turns meaningless when I pull her T-shirt over her head. The yellow bikini top she wore all evening distracted me each time I caught a glimpse of the strappy, suggestive thing. Now it’s just in my way.

  When I tug on the string at her back, the two triangles of fabric fall away from her breasts. I break the kiss long enough to pull the rest of the bathing suit top over her head. Bethany barely has a moment to gasp before I’m back her mouth again, eating at her like I’m starved, and cradling her perfect breasts in my hands, thumbs stimulating her nipples.

  She encourages me by deepening the kiss and dropping her hands to my fly. With a few snaps of her deft fingers, she opens my shorts, shoves my underwear aside, and wraps her fingers around my aching length.

  “Beth.” I can’t stop the moan. “Fuck, you do this to me…”

  “What?” she whispers as she presses her lips up my neck and dusts them across my jaw.

  “Turn me on and inside out. No woman has ever done to me what you can.”

  Shit. I’m giving her power over me, handing it to her on a silver platter. If she’s only taking advantage of me for cover or merely having a fling for her amusement, I shouldn’t make using me so easy. But her touch is like that favorite song I’ll never stop wanting to hear. It calls to me, excites yet comforts me. It gets stuck in my head until I’m unable to think of anything else.

  “I never really enjoyed sex until you,” she admits. “And now all I want is to spend time with you, block out the rest of the world, and learn every part of you. I want to know how much better it feels when I pleasure you because I choose to.”

  What is she saying? My muddled mind can’t quite untangle her meaning while her fingers glide up and down my cock.

  My flesh is on fire. I can’t stand clothes between us. I don’t want anything separating us—especially not the dubious past or our uncertain future. I only want right now and the two of us naked.

  “Jesus, Beth…” I hiss when her fist pulls its way down my length again. Her free hand tugs at my shirt in impatience.

  As soon as I yank the cotton over my head and cede my bare torso to her, her lips are all over me. She nips at my shoulder, strokes my arm, laves my nipples. Her every touch makes me shudder. There’s no stopping this or worrying about sanity. It’s as if we both want to wring every ounce of pleasure possible out of this moment.

  In case it never comes again.

  When I reach for her shorts, Bethany dodges my grasp by sinking to her knees. I feel her hot breath on the crest of my cock, now aching and straining for her. The cynic inside me tells me she’s offering me a blow job to distract me. She’s sucked other schmucks like me to make them compliant, not to make love.

  Then she takes me in her mouth, cradling my dick on her tongue, then draws her lips around me in a slow, sensual tug. An electric zap charges up my spine with primal need to have her—possess her—in every way possible. God, this feels like it means something.

  “Oh…yeah.” I tangle my fingers in her hair, tug away the elastic band holding it up, then grab the silky skeins by the fistful. “Beth!”

  As I ride her mouth, she hums around me, seemingly greedy to have all of me. I hold nothing back because nothing else happening between us matters in this moment—not my suspicions, my worries, or my fear of heartbreak. Our connection matters. The woman I’ve fallen for is touching me, and I swear I feel her giving me something far beyond a mere blow job. She’s giving me all of herself.

  The nagging cynic inside me shouts that I’m romanticizing this moment because I want her to be innocent and every swipe of her tongue feels so good that my eyes are rolling in the back of my head. Yes, what she’s doing to me feels epic, but that’s not why I’m refusing to listen to that nasty voice in my head right now.

  I’m choosing to listen to my heart. It urges me to pull her closer, melt into her, give her every bit of me.

  I do.

  With another surge, I sink more than my cock into her mouth. I surrender to the worship of her tongue and the devotion of her lips. I silence the argument in my head to focus on her alone.

  Her fingers dig into my thighs, then curl around my hips to pull me even closer. She eases back to heap pleasure and adoration on my sensitive crest, then slips down my length in a dizzying, suction-filled glide. I feel her nose against my abdomen, her hot breath against my skin. Through the shadows, I watch her, an open-mouthed siren, staring at me like she’d do anything to make me love her.

  Bethany repeats the process, picking up speed until I’m gasping. I watch her lose herself in the moment, see her seemingly let go of all her inhibitions and focus on exalting me.

  Not going to lie, getting head is always great. But the way she showers me with bliss and simply gives herself is the biggest turn-on of all.

  “Beth…” My strangled yelp is all the warning I can give. I’m about to lose it.

  She doubles her efforts to touch me everywhere, seemingly dedicating herself to my ecstasy. I know I’m not the only man who’s ever been in her bed—or in her mouth—but right now I feel like the most important.

  And I have no doubt this is going to be the most cataclysmic orgasm of my life.

  Seconds later, it crashes down on me. I’m helpless to do anything but growl out as need overtakes me, jolts my body, then sends me hurtling into a euphoria that’s the closest thing to nirvana I’ve ever experienced. I lose myself in its crushing throes, forgetting all sense of time, place, purpose. Of anything but her.

  When the massive orgasm comes to its devastating end, I blink and pant, swaying on my feet, heart pounding. Somewhere along the way, I melted against the wall. I’m still holding Beth’s silky hair in my fists, just as I did while she wrung every bit of pleasure from my body that I had to give.

  Holy shit. What the hell has she done to me?

  With a soft pop, she releases my cock from her lips and slowly stands, looking shy as she kisses my shoulder, my pectoral, my cheek. “Clint?”

  “Beth.” I manage to pull her closer, even though my legs threaten to stop supporting me. “Oh, my god…”

  When she lays her head on my chest, I feel a hint of her smile. “Finally, I get the chance to make you feel half as good as you’ve made me feel. I’ve wanted to do that for a long time. It’s the first time I’ve ever wanted to do that at all.”

  Really? “What else have you wanted to do?”

  She blinks up at me. “Honestly? Give more than my body to you.”

  Does she want to be open and honest with her body before she’s the same with her story? Or is she hoping to butter me up with what she thinks I want to hear so I’ll be so happy and sated and, of course, believe whatever she tells me?

  Fuck, I hate this suspicion and indecision. What if the truth pulls us apart?

  “How?”

  She peels off the rest of her clothes to stand before me in the dark. “I’ve never, ever surrendered complete control of my body to any man. I was always in charge. I pulled the strings and held myself separate, despite the physical closeness. You’re different. I don’t want to manipulate you by doing things to you. I want to do them with and for you. I want to yield myself and give you whatever you desire.”

  Fuck, I want to believe her so much the ache is a physical pang. If she’s serious, then I’m staggered and humbled by how much she’s allowed herself to become vulnerable with me in less than two weeks. On the other hand, she might be telling me what she thinks I want to hear. I can’t discount that…no matter how I’m dying to.

  Either way, I’m not turning her down.

  After kicking away my flip-flops, shorts, and underwear, I take her hand and lead her through the darkened ohana, through the kitchenette, and beyond her bedroom. I fling open the doors to the little balcony that faces the ocean and urge her outside.

  Immediately, the night air caresses our skin. It’s cool, but not chilly. The wind is like a soft caress. Palm trees sway. Ocean waves break.

  Her breathing grows choppy and loud. “Clint?”

  I turn to her. “No one will see us. The inn’s guests are asleep. If Maxon and Keeley are awake, it’s because they’re with the baby, so they’ll be too busy to care about us.”

  “But—”

  “You asked me what I wanted. I want your trust. I want you to believe that I will treat you exactly as you deserve.”

  Whatever that might be.

  And maybe after she’s divulged her story, it will seem like the perfect time to tell her exactly who I am and why I pursued her. Maybe I’ll even believe her enough to confess how much my feelings have changed since we met. In a perfect world, she’ll believe me in return and admit she loves me, too.

  Or everything will blow up in my face, and I’ll wind up both empty-handed and alone.

  “All right.” Her murmur is so soft the wind almost sweeps it away.

  I drop an approving kiss on her shoulder. “Lean forward. Put your elbows on the rail.”

  She does, looking back at me over her shoulder with trembling trust.

  The acceptance on her face revs me up again. “Are you on the pill?”

  “Yes.”

  Even if I hadn’t seen evidence of that myself less than a week ago, I would have believed her earnest tone. “Have you ever had sex without a condom?”

  “No.”

  I spread kisses up her spine as I reach around her body to cup her mound. She’s drenched, as she always seems to be for me. At my touch she gasps, then melts with a moan.

  My hand shakes as I align my crest to her entrance. “I’ve never had sex without a condom, either.”

  Dad drilled the notion of safe sex into us, and I never wanted to be that guy who got a random girl pregnant, then paid for my carelessness for the next eighteen years. But I’m not asking her about this simply because I left my condoms on the other side of the cottage. I want this because everything inside me is driving me to take Bethany without any barriers between us. Am I daring her to prove that she trusts me? Am I trying to get as close to her as possible?

  Probably. Yes. And I’m done questioning it. Right now, I’m just feeling.

  Despite the orgasm I had a few minutes ago, my cock is hard and my body is primed. I want her. I want to imprint myself on her. No matter what happens, I’m never going to forget this woman. I’m going to make damn sure she never forgets me.

  “Do you want me?” I nudge my bare cock against her so she knows exactly what I’m asking.

  For a moment, she hesitates, then she nods—slowly at first. Soon, she’s looking back at me with something desperate in her eyes. “Please.”

  “Fuck,” I hiss, then drop my mouth to the sensitive spot between her neck and her shoulder. “I want you so goddamn bad.”

  “Take me.” Her voice is a whisper in the night. “Don’t stop.”

  I know a dozen good reasons why I probably should walk away, but none of them compel me more than the connection I feel with Bethany right now.

  I grip her hips, bend my knees, then surge inside her in one long, rough thrust.

  She gasps and tosses her head back. The sight of all her platinum hair spilling down her narrow back and flirting with my hands at her waist turns me the fuck on. The feel of her, hot and silken and without a single barrier between us, almost undoes me where I stand.

  It’s so good. I groan and surge deeper before I settle into a slow, grinding rhythm that has her gripping the railing like a lifeline and writhing with me in a silent plea for more. I give it to her as I settle my fingers over her clit and rub in soft circles. I’ve paid attention and learned her body. This is how she likes it best. So even though it’s killing me to put the brakes on my cadence, it feels totally worth it when she tightens around me and her needy bud turns to stone under my touch in seconds.

  “Clint…” she keens.

  “Right here,” I mutter in her ear. “Wanting you to feel so good.”

  “Oh, god.” She clutches the rail like her legs are threatening to dissolve beneath her.

  Eventually, I’ll speed up and send her careening toward orgasm, but I want to make this moment last as close to forever as possible. So I keep it slow, each bareback stroke of my cock a steady press inside her, a nudge against that sensitive spot high inside her, coupled with a lingering touch of her pouting clit. The friction sizzles me with so much sensation I swear I’m going to lose my damn mind. But I keep it up. For her.

  “No. No!” she begs. “More.”

  “I will, sweetheart. Eventually…” I taunt. “First, I want to feel you, see you, listen to you beg.”

  “Please,” she pants. “Please!”

  Loving the knowledge that I hold her satisfaction in my hands probably makes me a caveman, but there’s nothing better. Sure, I love orgasm. Who doesn’t? But I derive a thrill out of knowing she’s lowered her defenses and allowed me as deep inside her body and soul as a man can get. I never really understood the importance of that until this moment. But her honest responses to my touch are totally doing it for me, even as they’re turning me inside out.

  I nip at her shoulder as I fuck her deeper…and lift my fingers away from her pussy.

  Instantly, she wails. “Clint!”

  With a grin, I slip my slick digits in my mouth. “Hmm. You’re so sweet on my tongue.”

  She only manages to answer with another toss of her head and a high-pitched whimper.

  Moving the cascade of her hair aside, I press my lips to her ear. “I want to lay you across the kitchen table and have you for breakfast. Coffee and your pussy—the two best things in life. I would never need sugar or cream for my java if I had you spread out in front of me.”

  Maybe that’s over the top, but it fits my mood.

  And Bethany likes what I’m saying if that heavy-lidded look she sends over her shoulder is any indication.

  Fuck, this is so hot, and I’d love to drag this out endlessly—just stay with her—but unfortunately my restraint has limits. And this slow, flesh-to-flesh seduction is killing what’s left of mine.

  Settling my thumb above her clit again, I strum it in rhythm with my quickening thrusts. She moans and grabs my arm, nails sinking into skin as her walls grip me tight.

  She’s close—so, so close. I can’t resist pushing her even closer to the edge.

  “Your orgasm is right there, isn’t it?”

  With a choppy, indrawn breath, Bethany nods and jerks back against me, as if she’s trying to speed up my thrusts.

  “You want it?”

  She nods more emphatically.

  I grip her hip in warning. “Then stop trying to control my pace. Beg me for it. Give all of yourself to me.”

  Again, she whimpers. Not a protest, but as if the idea of relinquishing the last bit of power is terrifying. Still, she syncs up with my rhythm, softens against me, and allows me to take her exactly where I want her to go.

  In seconds, her breath begins to hitch, her body tenses, her cries turn keening. She freezes for a long moment, then her entire body shudders with an involuntary spasm. The jerk of her clit against my fingers and the hard grip of her pussy match her hoarse groan of ecstasy as she gives herself over to me without an ounce of reluctance.