Page 38 of Hawaii Can Suck It

“A hoodie? In Hawaii?” She gestures to the literal tropical paradise outside the balcony. “Oh, I’m sorry. Let me just slip into my thermal onesie so you can sleep better.”

“Fine. Don’t wear a hoodie. Just don’t”—I wave my hand at her—“do that.”

“Do what?”

I scowl. “Bounce.”

Her mouth drops open. And then… she bursts out laughing.

I hate her. I hate what she does to me.

“Oh my God,” she wheezes, clutching her stomach. “Did you just tell my boobs to stop bouncing?”

“I toldyouto stop bouncing.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, catching her breath. “Is that why you’re wearing a bathrobe over sweats? Afraid you’ll tempt me with your dick flopping around?”

“I’m cold.”

“It’s eighty-five degrees. The humidity alone is a weighted blanket.”

“I run cold.”

“Ha! You’re powered by a nuclear reactor of pent-up rage.”

“How are those pajamaswork-appropriate?“ I snap.

“Well, one: I wasn’t supposed to be sharing a room with you. And two: you’ve already seen me naked, so what’s the big deal?”

My dick perks up at the wordnakedlike it’s been given theall clearto rejoin the conversation.

“I’m your boss.”

“Okay, Mr. Dare. Got it. Loud and clear. My skin offends you. So, what do you want me to do about it?”

I want to be honest and tell you how goddamn hot you are. I want you to ask me to fuck you so hard they’ll hear you screaming my name on the next island.

“I just want to be clear that I wasn’ttryingto see you naked.”

She smirks.

“I’m your boss,” I repeat. “This fake relationship is for the cameras. That’s it. You don’t need to worry about me touching you.”

“Says the guy who grabbed two handfuls of—”

My eyes betray me, darting to her breasts. I jerk my gaze back up, but I know I look guilty as hell.

“That was an accident,” I bite out.

“Twice?” She taps her chin with her finger. “You know, most guys butter me up with carbs before rounding second. You owe me some breadsticks.”

“I’m serious. I’m not trying to take advantage. I’m here for business and nothing else. Wear whatever you want.”

Her smirk fades.

Wait. Why does she seem… disappointed?

“Are we done with theyou-find-everything-about-me-offensiveconversation?“ she asks, clicking at her laptop again. “Because Gordon needs me to upload tomorrow’s video.”

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