Page 24 of Wild Life

The imagery described on those pages—coupled with the explicit pictures from my nude magazines—had been the only material available since I had never had a real woman for inspiration. Until now.

Pushing the sheets down, I fisted myself, indulging in a few harsh pumps. I preferred to sleep naked, allowing my private areas tobreathe.

My cock always came to life when Maris was around, which was all the damn time. Her loud voice. Her spicy-sweet scent. Her annoying mannerisms. It had all invaded my space, clouding my head from thinking straight.

She needed to go. To leave forever. Her presence was too distracting.

I tightened my grip, choking my length. Visions of her nipples peeking through her clumsy concealment when I had stumbled on her in the shower flashed through my mind. I had seen the full view when I found her on the beach, and that dusk shade of pink would forever be my favorite color.

I pictured her thin hands touching me—squeezing me as hard as I was doing now. Running her fingers over the tip, catching some of my liquid on them.

My chest vibrated with a growl as I worked myself faster…harder.

Thunder cracked again against the violent soundtrack of the rain.

The door opened. Instantly, I released myself and pulled the covers up to my chest, already aware of the identity of the visitor.

Her figure was far better than the mental pictures I had conjured. The door shut with a soft creak, locking the bad weather out. Step by step, she drew closer, bringing a different kind of storm with her.

She stopped beside my bed. Our breaths created a simple rhythm, one beat after the other, but somehow louder than any pet snores or any downpour beyond these four walls.

Water droplets skittered from her hair, some landing on the edge of the mattress while others pattered onto the wood floor.

“I don’t want to be alone,” she whispered softly, as if it were a secret…one she never wished to expose to the universe.

One I’d hoped she’d admit because I didn’t want to be alone either.

Not tonight.

Chapter 12

Safe and Sound

Maris

“I don’t want to be alone.”

There, I had admitted it. Not just in my head, but aloud. For another person to hear.

The words were out there, and I couldn’t take them back. I had carried them inside for so long that they had fused with my consciousness—my soul. Where they had once rested now lay a jagged wound. The admission had been painful, yet this secret had weighed me down for too long.

However, more painful than saying it aloud was waiting for his response. His stare burned my vulnerable skin, exposing more of me.

Steadily, he peeled back the thin sheet, revealing the vacant spot next to him. Enough space to alleviate my aching loneliness. It was dark, but I could make out the fabric of the covers bunched low on his waist, revealing his naked side. I visibly traced the outline of his hip, down to the side of his solid bare glute.

The gentle rise and fall of his chest matched my own, steady and incessant.

He reached out and caught my hand in his, his thumb stroking my knuckles. So warm, so inviting.

How easy it would be to slide in next to him. To curl into his side and seek the comfort I longed for. The kind I was addicted to. I could use him to meet my needs. His face was better looking than that of any man I had ever been with, and his body was that of a god.

Yes, I certainly could spend the night with him—trade sex for comfort. Except, what would happen tomorrow morning?

The same thing that always happened…I’d wake up and glimpse last night’s livingsecurity blanketfrom the corner of my eye while I awkwardly tried to avoid conversation as I hurried out of bed. Then, the minute he left, my old pals Guilt and Self-loathing would suffocate me, and I would be reminded of why I needed an occupied bed in the first place. The cycle would continue like a pitiful hamster wheel, never really addressing any of the underlying anxiety and sadness I had been carrying for decades.

God, what is wrong with me? I’m so desperate for affection that I’m considering hopping into bed with a stranger.

This island was getting to me, and this man clouded my judgment. I needed to get home and focus on myself, once and for all. I needed to find the beach.

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