Page 25 of Stranded with the Resort Owner

"I prefer sex when it's impersonal. I like it rough. Detached. Because when it's just a body and an orgasm, I don't have to feel anything. I don't have to open myself up to be hurt."

Again.

He turns fully now, his gaze cautious, lips parted.

"I've been keeping people at a distance—men at a distance, for a long time. Because someone once made me believe that needing more made me weak." I swallow. "So meaningless sex? That's safe."

Lucas opens his mouth, but I stop him with a hand to his chest.

"Last night wasn't meaningless." I whisper. "You're right. I lied when I said it was. I knew it before I even said the words."

Emotion flickers in his expression—wary, waiting.

"And what just happened?" I shake my head, unable to hold back the small, shaky laugh that escapes. "Lucas… I loved what you just did."

His brows pull together, confusion and disbelief clouding his features.

"I loved that you took." My voice drops. "That you weren't afraid to assert yourself. That you called me out on my bullshit. That you pushed me." I step closer, until there's barely an inch between us. "Punished me."

"If you don't believe me, then how do you explain my orgasm?" My gaze meets his, steady and exposed. "Because I came harder than I have in a long time. And it wasn't in spite of how you fucked me—it was because of it."

His jaw flexes, throat working around silence.

"I'm messy." I say. "And broken in ways I haven't figured out how to fix. But you can't take the blame for seeing me too clearly. Don't feel bad for giving me what I needed."

His brow furrows like he doesn't understand what I'm saying—like he can't understand how I could want what he just gave me.

So I step closer. Press a hand to his chest, right over his heart. Let him feel the truth.

"I've never met a man like you."

That gets his attention. His eyes flicker, guarded. But listening.

"I don't know why I'm wired the way I am. I've never trusted anyone enough to want more than the surface. It's easier with strangers. Guys who don't look too close. Because if they don't know me, they can't judge me."

A beat. A breath. Then I whisper the thing I've never said aloud.

"Because what gets me off? What I need? It's not soft or sweet or slow. It's being taken. Used. Made to feel like I don't have a choice. Like I'm a body to fuck and ruin."

He flinches.

But I don't stop. I can't. I need him to understand.

"With strangers, it's just sex. Just skin. They don't look at me the way you do." My voice catches. "You saw me, and you didn't pull back. You didn't flinch."

His eyes close, pain etched deep into every line of his face.

I press even closer, voice trembling. "I came apart because of you. Because of how you held me. How you took from me. Not inspite of it—but because of it. You didn't just fuck me—you gave me something I've never had before."

His jaw clenches. But I see it now—the shift. The understanding. The recognition.

"I've never let anyone take control the way I did with you." I whisper. "Because I can only let go like that with strangers."

His brow tightens.

"Because when it's someone I don't know, I don't have to explain it. I don't have to feel bad for wanting what I want. There's no guilt. No weight. Just the act." I pause, breath shuddering. "But you… you didn't flinch."

His gaze sharpens, still quiet. Still holding back.

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