great at guiding me when there’s darkness. Except tonight, the twinkling dots in the sky are silent.
“I should turn around. Nothing good can come of this,” I say out loud to the still night. A fish flops out of the water to the right of me, causing a splash. I stare as the ripple irons out backward to glass. When he flops out of the water again in front of me, toward Ryker’s hut, I smile. “You think I should go, huh?”
Taking it as a sign, I sink the oars into the water and pull my arms to my chest in one long stroke. The canoe surges forward. Spotting Ryker’s hut ahead, the lack of lights inside breaks my resolve. He’s not there. Probably out drinking, erasing me out of his memory. Why would he want to spend the rest of his vacation with a girl with a crazy father?
I slow my stroke and squeeze my eyelids shut. I’ll just leave him a note, apologizing. When I get close enough, I grab on to the dock and tie the canoe up so it doesn’t float away.
The ladder creaks under my bare feet as I climb to the platform. The boat taps against the wooden supports and the noise is deafening even though it’s not loud. I glance at a neighboring hut to see if anyone is watching me, my heart patters at a quick rate. This feels wrong.
“Whiskey, this is a surprise.” The deep raspy voice makes me jump backward in surprise. My gaze darts around the spacious deck, searching for where it came from. But it’s too dark in the corners.
“Ryker? Where are you?”
A chair scrapes across the floor, and Ryker’s tall body comes into view. With only his swim trunks on, one hand cups a glass, his rugged features highlighted by the moon’s light. He takes a slow drink, his dark eyes watching me over the rim.
“Right here,” he finally says, wiping the excess liquid from his lips with the back of his hand. His tone is harsh and instantly I regret coming.
“I was…” My voice wavers as I point to the water, not even sure how to explain what I was doing. “I didn’t think you were here.”
“Yet, here you are?” He takes a couple steps closer.
I swallow. “I was planning on leaving you a note.”
Two more steps.
“And what was it going to say?”
“Apologize for earlier,” I breathe out. He looms over me and arouses uncertainty that he wants me here. “But I can leave if you’re busy.”
“Taste this,” he demands, holding out his glass.
I take the glass from him but hesitate to drink, torn from conflicting emotions. They have taught us not to take drinks from foreigners. We’ve heard of the drugs they’ve put in drinks to take advantage of women. I stare at the amber liquid.
“Tell me what it is,” he adds.
I shake the idea from my head. He took a drink, himself. I take a small sip. A hint of aged wood followed by vanilla left in my mouth tells me what it is.
“Whiskey.” I softly smile up at him.
He shakes his head and takes the glass from me and turns to set it on the table behind him. It’s not? “See, I thought it was whiskey too.” When he turns, an intense flare flickers in his gaze, sending shivers of desire through my belly. “But you’ve ruined me. My thirst for whiskey now has only one taste. You.”
His mouth slams to mine, devouring my lips. I match the movements of his tongue and he hums in approval, churning a need to make him want me more. Heat blankets my skin, an incessant ache building between my legs. His hands grip my ass through the thin cotton material of my dress, pulling me into his hard chest and I grind my hips against him. A growl vibrates in his mouth.
“Mmm, sugared whiskey.”
I tilt my head, trying to take back control of my senses and figure out what he’s saying. “What?”
“My new addiction,” he rasps and blows out a low whistle as he takes in the full length of my body. “You’re like my two addictions rolled up in one, five-foot-two, body of perfection.”
I didn’t want to drink in his professed attraction, but my mind soaks it in, getting dizzy-drunk on it. My fingers play with the edge of my dress and his brow quirks up in anticipation. He watches as I slide the cotton up over my head, dropping the dress next to us.