Page 102 of Hawaii Can Suck It

“Ethan Hunt doesn’t do downtime. He does impossible. His idea of a relaxing weekend is disarming a nuclear bomb while hanging upside down from a helicopter.”

“Sounds like someone else I know,” I say, poking him in the ribs.

He meets my eyes, the corners of his mouth lifting in that devastating half-smile. My toes curl. He leans down, pressing his lips against mine in a kiss that starts gentle but quickly veers into heated territory. His tongue slides against the seam of my lips, demanding entry I’m all too happy to grant. Right as I’m getting into it, the iconic action movie theme intensifies—and his attention snaps back to the screen.

“Seriously? Tom Cruise over me?”

“We agreed on rest time,” he reminds me, his eyes glued to the screen even as his hand gives my thigh a squeeze. “This is me being the mature one and giving your perfect pussy a well-earned rest.”

I settle back against his naked torso, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath my cheek.How is this fake relationship feeling more real than any real one I’ve ever had?

“All right, keep watching. It’s almost the chase scene.”

Who knew that hidden beneath all that grump was this adorkable man-child who gets giddy over Tom Cruise action sequences?

Still, he’s right—wedidagree to some rest time, and holy hell, we needed it. Because the romp-fest we had? Relentless. Ferocious. Mind-altering.

Bed?Obviously.

Shower?Slippery yet successful.

Sex swing?Five stars.

I can’t get enough of the new Reece. The one who’s uninhibited and ridiculously playful—who performed Tom Cruise’sRisky Businessdance routine, going full “underwear slide,” while being serenaded by those creepy mechanical birds and their pre-programmed mating calls.

Then the sock-sliding goofball transformed into a sex god in zero point five seconds, hoisting me into that hanging contraption with biceps and a ferocity I’ve never seen.

He went to town on me, and I’m still feeling… not sure what you call it. Residual bliss? Phantom sensations? Whatever it is, this tingling aftermath is all his doing.

I look up and—yep—he’s still smiling. No trace of the signature scowl he’s worn since the day we met. He hasn’t stopped grinning, not even in his sleep. It’s like he’s been infected with some rare happiness virus, and apparently, I’m the carrier.

The wildness. The joy. The heat. The absolute filthy things he whispers in my ear as he’s buried deep inside me.

This Reece Dare is totally free and un-fucking-believably happy.

He turns and catches me staring. “This scene is crucial to the plot,” he says, tapping the screen. “You need to focus so you don’t miss important details.”

“But then I’d miss out on the real action—watching you watch the movie,” I reply, tracing a finger along his jawline.

He passes me a stern look that would be more convincing if his lips weren’t twitching at the corners, fighting a grin. I redirect my attention back to the laptop, but my mind wanders.

All this time, I thought Reece was a tightly wound control freak with impossibly high standards, someone with a permanent grudge against happiness. But it turns out he was controlling himself—around me. With that perspective, I rewatch every moment from the past two years like a brand-new director’s cut. The fleeting smiles he tried to hide. The way his jaw clenched whenever I adjusted my shirt. Every frustrated sigh. Every unnecessary bark of criticism.

After the way he’s completely ravaged me these past three days, it’s no wonder he struggled to hold back.

I am well aware there are big things to be discussed that we are neglecting. Such as Gordon’s contract extension and continuing to play Reece’s fake girlfriend—which I can’t do because I’m finally leaving to start my own channel. The resignation email I sent to Gordon hangs over me like a tropical storm. Reece has no idea I gave my two weeks’ notice way back before we got on the plane to Hawaii. He doesn’t have a clue that while he’s planning our fake relationship tour, I’m planning my exit strategy.

No more morning routines.

No more sponsorship stunts.

No more jumping off things for clicks.

It’s time to move on and make videos about important things. About people who need help. About places like Lahaina, still struggling to rebuild while tourists take fun sunset selfies at resorts half a mile away.

It’s my calling—the path I’ve always known I should take but kept putting off. No more. I will not let my insecurities convince me I’m not good enough, not experienced enough, not ready enough. Reece has shown me that I am ready. That people absolutely want to hear what I have to say.

Still, I want to stay in this bubble with him a little longer. In this dream world where the only thing that exists is us and this bed and the ridiculous amount of pleasure we can wring from each other’s bodies. Where he makes me feel worshipped and cherished and so fucking sexy that I strut around in nothing but his rhino shirt as if I’m JLo herself.

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