should wait until morning. It is just past midnight. But I know me. I’ll only lie here all night, chewing over it, and I won’t get a wink of sleep.
And he might still be awake. Or asleep.
But I won’t know that unless I go over there.
Okay.
I stand up.
I’ll go over there now. Knock on his door. If he doesn’t answer, then I know he’s sleeping, and I’ll just wait until morning to tell him. And if he answers, then I’ll tell him that I’ve thought it over and I have to say no.
See, easy.
I stride over to the door and open it.
Then, I stop, run back, and grab my key off the table. Don’t want to lock myself out again. The sliding doors are closed and locked, so there’d be no getting back in that way. And honestly, I wouldn’t fancy wading through the lagoon in the pitch-dark. Knowing my luck, a shark would come along and bite my fucking leg off. No way would I want to walk to reception in the dark in my pajamas either. And sleeping in West’s villa again would be a no-no after telling him that I don’t want to be in a fling with him for the next couple of weeks.
Actually, should I change out of my pajamas? Is it a bit weird, going over there, wearing them?
Honestly, I don’t know why I’m worrying about this. The guy saw me in my ugly bra and panties yesterday. My Primark pajamas aren’t going to faze him.
And I’m not trying to impress him anyway.
Okay. Maybe I am a teeny-tiny bit.
Fluffing my hair, I walk out into the night and close the door behind me, locking it.
I walk down from my villa onto the jetty and pause to look at the night sky. It’s so clear, no smog here. I can see every star in the sky. It’s beautiful. All those other worlds out there.
I wonder if there’s some female alien on some other planet, going through the same thing I am right now.
Trying to fix her broken heart after the worst betrayal. And currently going to turn down sex with the hottest man alive. Or hottest alien alive in her case.
You know, I’m so glad that no one can hear my thoughts because I’m really fucking weird at times.
Sighing, I look over at West’s villa and walk over to it.
When I reach the door, I lift my hand and knock. Not too loudly. But loud enough that if he’s awake, he’ll hear me.
I hear movement inside, and my stomach takes a dive south.
Even though I want this over with, I’m really nervous now.
The door swings open, and West is standing there.
In boxer shorts.
That’s it.
There’s inch upon inch of his golden-tanned skin on show. And I know I’ve already seen him in a similar state of undress before, but it seems to do nothing to dull my reaction to the way he looks now. To that body of his. His hair is down, kissing his shoulders. He looks gorgeous.
My mouth dries, and all words fail me.
Those abs are gonna be the death of me.
“Hey,” he says. “You okay?”
I try to speak, but nothing comes out. I’m just staring at him.
“Dillon?”
“Uh, yeah?”
“What can I do for you?”
“Oh.” I blink. It doesn’t help. I just go straight back to staring at him like a sex-starved nympho. “I was, uh, thinking about what you said.”
He leans a shoulder against the doorframe. “Oh yeah?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
And … what was I supposed to be coming over here to tell him? I forgot.
No. I’m supposed to tell him no to all the sex.
But just look at him. He’s a once-in-a-lifetime kind of sexual experience. Something to tell the grandkids about. Or not because that’d be gross. But when I’m home and alone in bed, I’d have those memories to keep me warm at night.
But it’s not a good idea, Dillon. Remember, you could get hurt again.
Hurt is bad.
But sex is soooo good.
No. Stop it. Stop thinking about the sex and how big his cock might be and how good it would feel inside you. Or how that sexy mouth of his might taste or if his muscles would feel as hard as they look.
Just say no to all of the sex with the hot American man. Say no and turn and walk back to your villa. And then get a cold shower.
Right. I’m gonna do it.
“And … well, I thought it over, and it’s a … yes.”