Prologue
Harrison Decker
Catalina Island - Avalon
I don’t fall for chicks.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not heartless. I’m just wise as to why they’re trying to pin me down. If I’ve learned one thing while growing up in Los Angeles with my last name, it’s that nothing comes without strings attached. Everyone wants something from me. Besides my good looks.
At this point in my life, I’m more interested in building my career in real estate and proving to my dad that I’ve earned a spot in the family business. Women are fun but a major distraction. I leave my dates sexually satisfied while keeping my emotions out of it. I get in, in every sense, and I get out.
So why am I staring at the woman sleeping naked beside me, trying to figure out how to make this last more than one night?
I’m not sure if it was being on a yacht in Catalina Harbor where her smile stole my attention away from the sunset, or how her laughter was the prettiest song I ever heard. She was a siren who called me to her restless sea. And I dived in headfirst, getting lost in her deep ocean.
On the yacht. On her balcony. Within her sheets.
Honestly, I’m surprised either of us is awake after the physical fun we’ve had. But just after midnight, she looked up at me. Bare before me as she lay on the bed, she was a study in art and composition with her tanned skin and dark hair poised on a background of crumpled white sheets.
“We should make a pact.”
“Oh yeah?” I like that I don’t know what to expect from her. She’s been up for anything and has made me forget the stress I have back home. I grin stupidly while rubbing my hand down her back. “What kind?”
She’s caught me at the right time. I would give her anything she wants to be able to spend more time together. Our connection is more than our physical attraction. We might be more than just a wild night in Catalina. I’ve never before felt chemistry with someone like what’s sparking between us.
An unfamiliar feeling in my chest I can’t quite describe.
A longing.
A desire that sex won’t satisfy.
I can tell she’s feeling it, too. It doesn’t matter that we live across the country from each other. I make good money, so we have the freedom to travel and, more importantly, the desire to make something work. Who cares if it’s long-distance?
There’s so much I want to discover about her. I’d make the effort because we’re more than a weekend.
It’s a flight.
A three-day road trip.
At worst, a week apart.
Reaching up, she caresses my scruffy cheek. I slide down next to her and angle my body to look into her eyes. I’m what my little sister would call smitten.
Being with her has me feeling happier than I have in years. That’s because of Tate. She makes me feel like more than just a one-track robot doing what my dad expects of me.
“I think we need to keep this simple,” Tatum whispers.
“All right.”
She curls to the side and strokes my cheek. “This is so good, the best night ever.”
“Yeah, I think so, too.”
“Good,” she says, smiling softly. “Let’s not blow it by pretending it can be more.”
“What?” My heart sinks . . .
“Let’s not be one of those ridiculous couples who think they’re different, that they’re special enough to survive a long-distance relationship. I know this is just another night for you, and I’m not the clingy type.” Her eyes dip closed, her smile going with it. She’s hard to read, but her expression doesn’t seem to match her words. Does she actually want more too, but isn’t sure what I want?
“You’re not?” It’s not what I want to ask.
Her eyes find mine in the moonlight. “I can’t even keep a plant alive, much less a vacation fling.” Her mood lightens. “I know how this goes, so let’s just set the ground rules and continue the fun.”
I’m still lost in where this went so horribly wrong when she slips her hand under the sheet and runs her fingertips across my abs. She kisses my shoulder, and then asks, “Are you in?” Right now, I’m not even sure I have a choice.
I rub my temple and then scrub my hand over my face, utterly confused. “What are we agreeing to?”
With a smile still residing on her face like she’s just given me a million dollars with no strings attached, she laughs and then taps my nose. “One good night does not make us destined to be together.” Rolling onto her back again, she stares up at the ceiling, but then her gaze slides over to mine. “We’re having fun, am I right?”
Is there any other answer I can give her? I am having fun, so did I just break a cardinal rule—don’t fall for a one-night stand? Get in. Get out. Move on with my life. “Yeah, sure.”
My mind is reeling that I’m being dumped by the only woman I considered worthy of more time. Sure, I’ve had girlfriends, but I didn’t feel like this . . . how I felt before she just rejected me, that is. What the fuck is happening?
As if her idea energizes her, she sits up and faces me. “You don’t have to pretend this is the best sex you’ve ever had.”
“It is.”
Giggling, she says, “Me too. Well, you don’t have to lie to me in the morning about an early flight or that you’ll call me. I’m letting you off the hook, Harrison. It is what it is. A one-night stand. I’m so glad we’re on the same page.”
“What if—?”
A finger silences me. “No what-ifs. Those will only get us in trouble.” As her hand takes hold of my dick under the sheet, her eyes close, and her mouth presses to mine.
She’s just given me a free pass to move on without guilt if I don’t call or text her. Ever.
Great tits. Firm ass. Fan-fucking-tastic mouth. Likes sex. A lot. All without commitment. She’s a wet dream come true for most guys. But if it’s such a good deal, why do I feel like I just got punched in the chest?
Holding out her hand, she asks, “Deal?”
Is it the early morning hour messing with my head? This is an offer I can’t resist and one I shouldn’t refuse. I should be celebrating, but all I can think about is that I’m going to be leaving this room in a few hours, and I’ll have no way of ever contacting her again. Fuck.
I take her hand, and she begins to shake it.
Her brows pull together. “Are you okay?” I am not okay.
This not only surprises me but also hurts my ego. Yet I don’t care because there’s no way I’m going to become the clingy one. Fuck that. I cup her face and move in so close that my breath is hers, and hers becomes mine. The faintest hint of wine still lingers from the bottle we finished hours ago, her lips full from the impact of kissing most of the night. “I’m more than okay, baby.”
Just as she grins, I kiss her. I kiss her so fucking hard that an inferno burns inside, a blaze that only an orgasm can tame. Fuck it.
If I only get one night with her, it’s going to be the best night of our lives.
1
Tatum Devreux
Four and a half years later . . .