Page 68 of Hawaii Can Suck It

But still, a tiny, relentless voice in the back of my mind won’t shut up. What if he’s as consumed by this as me? What if this daring man is feeling the same electric charge? What if we gave in?

I shake my head, pushing the thoughts away. No, I cannot go there. Can’t let myself hope. Reece is acting insane today; tomorrow he’ll be back to normal. I gotta stay strong and maintain focus.He’s off-limits and a jerk. Ignore him calling you “gorgeous.” Push down how intensely your body is responding.

I tighten my grip on the paintbrush, forcing my eyes to return to the canvas. I’m going to finish this painting and prove to myself that I can resist him. Iwillcontrol these crazy, reckless desires.

I’ve spent years being told that I am not good enough. He doesn’t get to flip the script in one afternoon. No way in hell does he get the satisfaction of knowing how badly I crave him.

CHAPTER TEN

REECE

SMACK.Rightacrossmygoddamn face.

Ouch! I jolt awake, eyes snapping open, and immediately get hit with round two—a solid palm to the jaw, followed by a knee to the thigh.

Jesus Christ. I’m under attack.

No. Correction.

Cam is in full cling-wrap mode, and once again, I’m the unwilling victim of her nighttime assault antics.

Violence shouldn’t be this adorable, but here I am getting bitch-slapped at four a.m. by my videographer in her skimpy yellow pajamas. And holy hell—her toes are doing this lazy little dance against my dick through the blanket. Her skin is fever-hot even through five layers of protective fabric, and my traitorous body is memorizing every point of contact.

Carefully, I pry her off. It’s a painfully delicate process. One arm, then the other. I slowly slide her leg from mine, peeling her away like removing a stubborn twenty percent off sticker from a book cover.

Cam makes a softhmmnoise as I roll her onto her side. My fingers graze warm, bare skin, and the edge of her pink lacy underwear peek out from her tiny-ass yellow shorts.

Fuuuuuccck.

She nuzzles into her pillow, lashes resting against her cheeks. Her lips are plush and relaxed, as if waiting for a kiss. So beautiful. And so completely unaware of the absolute chaos she’s wreaking on my self-control.

I pull the blanket up and cover her then roll onto my back, staring at my reflection in the mirrored ceiling. Won’t forget those peekaboo panties anytime soon. The ocean murmurs against the shore, each wave rising and falling in perfect harmony with Cam’s gentle breath.

It’s still dark and our alarm is set to buzz any second—ready to wake us for our early trek to watch the sunrise at Mount Haleakala. But my mind is elsewhere, lingering on last night and the heat I swore I saw in Cam’s gaze as we prepared for bed.Did I imagine it?Maybe I wanted to see desire in her after my little strip show for the art class.

There I was, standing naked in front of a bunch of cheering geriatric women, when I caught sight of Cam—her jaw dropped, her eyes locked on my dick. She stared for a full ten seconds, completely entranced.

And I thought—naively thought—she was impressed.

Until she didn’t say a word. Not one appreciative comment about my body. She’d just… painted. And what did she paint? A fuckingpencilwhere my penis should be. A yellow number two pencil, complete with a tiny eraser for the head of my cock.

“I present to you: ‘The Littlest Pencil: A Portrait of An Erasable Ego,’” she’d announced with a smirk, her expression nothing but trouble. “We can hang it in your office. It’ll keep you humble.”

Disappointed yes, but unimpressed? Never. I actually love that about her. How she doesn’t worship at the altar of Reece Dare like I’m YouTube royalty. She’s not afraid to give me shit, to challenge me, to make me grin even when I’m grouchy.

Because everyone else? They idolize the brand. They kiss my ass, say whatever they think I want to hear, and treat me as if I’m the center of the universe.

Not Cam. She has never once put me on the celebrity pedestal. She knows I’m exactly the kind of man who deserves to be dragged.

And it makes me want her so damn much, it’s ridiculous.

My cock perks up as if it’s been summoned, and I grip the sheets. Because for the thousandth time, my mind’s back to that fucking shower incident—how her full breasts felt in my palms, like slippery velvet pillows.How natural it would be to step into her next shower, let the steam swallow us both, and pick up right where we left off.

There’d be no hesitation. With adrenaline pumping, I’d press her against those rocks while water rushed over our bodies, fully immersed in the heat of her skin, dropping to my knees so I can worship her with my mouth and—

Dude, get your shit together. You have to stop this obsession. She’s your employee.

We have a working relationship to maintain. And in less than two weeks, we go back to the real world. Where there’s no way Camilia Morales wants anything to do with me romantically after the way I’ve—

---