I’m instantly hard as a rock.
“I’m taking you on an adventure, Lincoln.”
Last night comes back to me in vivid images. Nova on the verge of tears because no one hugs her anymore, forcing me to acknowledge my heart isn’t dead after all. How could it be when her confession made it weigh a thousand pounds?
All the money in the world and I couldn’t give her that.
It shouldn’t bother me so much that I can’t hug this fairy, make her feel safe and wanted. The fact that it bothers me to the extreme is alarming, to say the least. Since when do I give a shit about anyone’s wants or needs? I see the world in black and white. Good investments and bad. There is no room for this beautiful ray of sunshine giggling and dancing around on my bed, joyful simply to be awake.
Another moving image from last night consumes my mind, making precome leak out onto my thigh and I stifle a groan. Nova fucking the arm of the couch, her sweet ass cheeks flexing, hips writhing, back arched, tits bouncing, head thrown back. There are men in my position who pay millions of dollars seeking sexual thrills like the one she offered last night, but those men are never fulfilled. Never satisfied.
Nova is the epitome of what those men hunt for, desperate for fulfilment. Some proof that pure innocence still exists in this world. I’ve got her here, all to myself.
And I’m too fucking damaged to possess her the way she deserves.
The way any man would do in my position.
My fist curls in the bedclothes, twisting with enough force to rip the seams. The idea of another man even looking at Nova enrages me. What sense does that make when I know she can’t be mine? Not completely.
I don’t have time for this.
I am not built for this.
Romance and me? I scoff out loud. What a ridiculous notion.
“I have work to do, Nova,” I growl, climbing out of bed and performing my usual routine of putting on my watch, making sure it matches to the second with my phone. There are seventy-six emails, all demanding my attention and I plan to give it to them. Not her.
So why can’t I bring myself to press the button to open my messages?
Instead, my gaze is trained on the mirror behind my bed. Her angelic image fills it and my heart knocks against my ribcage, wishing I was free to pin her down beneath me and spend the morning fucking her brains out. Feeding her, bathing her, letting her doze. Then starting the process all over again. My dick is thick and heavy in my briefs, eager to be seated in her virgin pussy, but my stubborn mind deters me from acting on those urges.
“Oh,” she says, shoulders slumping a little, before she brightens again. “Can I help?”
I turn with a raised eyebrow. “Help me work?”
Too late, I realize she can now see my raging hard-on. Her lips part, those incredible green eyes popping wide. She crosses her arms over her tits, but not before I watch her nipples go erect. “Um…yes. Yes, I can help you work. I’m an excellent negotiator, you know.”
Amusement teases up the corner of my lips. “Are you?”
She drops into a cross-legged position in the center of the bed, looking kind of smug over capturing my attention. Little does she know the effort was unnecessary. I can’t get my fucking eyes off her. “Mmhmm. It’s how I get out of working my shifts at the restaurant.”
I’m shocked to realize a full two minutes has passed without me thinking of the emails on my phone. Normally I would already have ten of them answered. “Explain.”
“I will.” She plops sideways, snuggling her cheek into the comforter and the scarf rides up around her hips, leaving her sexy, little buns awash in sunlight. “Like I told you last night, I know the most beautiful parts of the island. That’s because I like to sneak off and go visit them when I should be working.”
“Rather irresponsible of you, little fairy.”
“I like when you call me that,” she whispers, blushing.
My pulse thickens, everywhere, beating all over my body. “Why?”
“Because a nickname means we’re friends.” She turns over on her back, showing off her pussy, barely hidden by a white bikini bottom, her tits spilling out of the top—and her innocent expression tells me she’s completely unaware of her innate sensuality. “Are we friends, Lincoln?”
A bead of sweat rolls down my spine. “What we did last night wasn’t exactly friend-like.”
Her blush intensifies. “Maybe we’re special friends.”
“Yes,” I say, my voice jagged. “Special friends.” The grateful smile she gives me is almost my undoing. “You still haven’t explained why you’re an excellent negotiator,” I say briskly, worried if we keep talking about the benefits of our friendship, I’m going to climb on top of her and attempt to discover more of them. That cannot happen, though. My affliction could lead to me hurting her feelings and I think—no, I know—that might kill me.
“Oh yes,” Nova says, seeming to finally realize the scarf is hiked up and hurriedly tugging it down. “The places on the island where I go have the best coconuts. You can’t get them anywhere else. I use them to barter for time off.”
“Clever.”
“Yes,” she sighs, her smile dimming. “But I won’t be doing that anymore. I should have been pulling my weight more at the restaurant.” Her little chin firms. “I’m going to work harder like you, Lincoln.”
“No,” I say abruptly, an odd pressure hitting me in the chest. “You will not work harder. You’ll stay exactly the same.”
She pushes her wealth of blonde hair out of her face and climbs off the bed. “No, my sisters do a lot of work and I’m just…a silly dreamer. It’s not fair to them. Sneaking off just to see pretty places is a waste of time.”
“It is not a waste—” I curse under my breath, confused by this urgency to validate Nova. Make her understand what an incredible gift she is that certainly does not need changing. “Give me ten minutes and I’ll let you show me these places. All right?”
Her hands clasp together under her chin, hopefulness swimming in her eyes. “Really?”
“Yes,” I mutter, alarmed to find myself smiling.
She bounds toward me, obviously intending to throw herself into my arms—and something shatters inside me when she skids to a halt. “Oh, I’m—I forgot. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I say gruffly. “I’ll…meet your downstairs.”
I watch her leave the room with what feels, rather suspiciously, like longing.
What the hell am I going to do about this girl?
Five mornings a week, I wake up extra early and spend two hours in the gym running and lifting weights, yet I still can barely keep up with Nova. And she’s barefoot.
First, we walked along a path overlooking the rocky coastline, fragrant air blowing her hair in eight directions, her smile beaming at me amidst the blonde strands. Now I follow her closely in a hike up the side of the mountain on the south end of the island, wondering what the hell I’m going to do if she slips. Catch her, of course. No question. If she got hurt, I think I would rip the sky down the middle.
The possibility of catching her, however, is unnerving when I haven’t touched another human being in well over a decade, but there’s also a confusing part of me…hoping she slips.