Page 33 of Hawaii Can Suck It

But I’m not… blonde enough. Not contoured enough. NotAstridenough.

“¡Ay, Dios mío! Get it together, Camila,” I scold my reflection. “You’re a badass! You’ve filmed parkour stunts! You’ve scaled buildings for the perfect angle! You’ve eaten gas station sushi! And most impressively, you’ve survived two years with Reece.”

I don’t give a damn if some cranky-ass piece of man candy doesn’t think I’m sexy.

“You’re going to be the best ever fake girlfriend. Get that channel promotion from Reece. And try not to kill him in his sleep.” I give myself a confident nod.

The second I hit the control panel for the open shower, I am in awe.

Hot water sluices over black volcanic rock, creating a waterfall effect, wrapping me in a warm, misty embrace. The air is thick with steam, the scent of jasmine and plumeria curling around me like an aphrodisiac. The stone floor beneath my feet is heated, because of course it is.

I tip my head back, letting the water rush through my hair, sliding over my shoulders, down my back.

“Damn, Kai,” I moan, tilting my face into the spray. “You’re right. This isn’t a shower. This is an experience.”

Logically speaking, he should be the star of my tropical hookup fantasy. The man is gorgeous. A Hawaiian god. Built like he wrestles sharks for sport. He’s a walking, talking romance novel cover come to life.

But the idea of him thrusting into me while whispering deep, soulful things about love flowing like lava? Hard pass. That doesn’t make me swoon; it makes me feel like I’m stuck in a cheesy porno movie.

Still, seeing Reece get all flustered around him?

That’s fun.

It’s like watching a grumpy cat try to out-alpha a Great Dane who’s too busy wagging his tail and winning hearts to notice.

Every time Kai so much as breathes near me, Reece gets so irrationally irritated. I find it hilarious.

But also?

Confusing.

Because why does Reece care? Why does he get so pissed off when Kai flirts with me? It sure as hell isn’t jealousy.

“Although…” I work coconut-scented shampoo into my hair, trying desperately not to replay the way Reece’s hands felt on my body. The firm grip on my hip when he caught me. The heat of his palm sliding up my thigh on the plane. The way his pupils dilated, turning those steel-blue eyes almost black…

“¡Mierda!” My thighs clench involuntarily.

“‘She’s not Astrid,’” I mimic his deep voice, adding extra grump. “Yeah? Well, your attitude’s not my type either, pendejo!”

Still this throb between my legs isn’t taking no for an answer. Am I really so desperate I’m actively lusting after my grouchy, uninterested boss?

This is a new low.

For a wild moment, I consider retrieving the Godzilla vibrator from Kai’s gift bag. But that thing’s got more horsepower than a Harley—Reece will absolutely hear it buzzing through the door.

Then I remember…

I reach behind the slick stone wall, fingers skimming over the hidden panel, finding the shower wand Kai demonstrated. A sleek, curved attachment, perfectly positioned for, well… this.

I flip it over, inspecting the settings. Sultry. Pulse. Volcanic.

“Hello there.” I eye the balcony curtain—still firmly closed—then turn the wand, positioning it where I need it most, and press the sultry button.

The first burst of warm, streaming water hits, and my breath catches.

“Oh…Yes…“ A slow shiver rolls through me. I press my back into the rock, letting the rhythmic pressure do its work.

And since I’m here… There’s no harm in fantasizing.

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