Heat Wave (7 page)

Ah, another
haole
, like me and Charlie.

I want to keep talking to Kate, shoot the shit, maybe get more information on Logan. But my tongue feels fuzzy, my head is swimming.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” I tell her, waving the papers at her. “Thanks.”

The unit is only a few steps from the reception building, so it’s a matter of seconds until I’m waving the keycard in front of the door and stepping inside.

The wood fans whir overhead, and it’s only then that I notice there is no air-conditioning in here, and no television or phone either.

It doesn’t matter. The minute I open the balcony doors, keeping the screen closed, and the ocean breeze comes wafting in, I hit the bed.

I fall asleep with my clothes on.

CHAPTER FIVE

I’m dreaming.

I have to be.

I’m hiking through a jungle in the dark. Only a sliver of moonlight is breaking through the tops of the canopies, illuminating the leaf-strewn floor in cuts of silver and white.

I’m barefoot, in shorts and a tank top. The air is rich, as warm as an embrace.

I’m alone.

At least I think I am. I keep hearing a soft breath at my back, but I can’t turn around. My dream holds me captive, makes my limbs feel like lead. I can only move forward on the dark and twisting trail, while the presence behind me gets closer and closer.

I can feel the heat of the person, the man, at my back. As I walk, the mud squishing between my toes, branches reach out and caress my skin, as tender as a lover’s hands.

The path rises until the trees drop away and I am on the top of a razor-backed ridge. The world seems to fall away, leaving no distance between me and the stars, the ocean a blanket at my feet.

The back of my neck tingles as the heat intensifies.

I suck in my breath with a startled gasp as hot breath skirts over my skin.

The man is behind me. I can’t see him but I can feel him.

I can feel all of him.

He presses himself against me, slowly, deliberately, as his hands wrap around my elbows, holding me back. His erection is hard against the top of my ass, and even though I’m dreaming, I’m calculating how tall he must be. His grip is strong, everything about him radiates strength.

He doesn’t talk—he doesn’t need to.

This is a man I know, a man who belongs to me. He can do whatever he wants and I want him to do whatever he can.

I close my eyes as one of his hands lets go of my elbow and roughly moves up to my hair. He makes a tight fist, yanking my head to the side, exposing my neck. His lips are both hard and soft as they press against my skin, his teeth nipping gently.

I want him harder and the response is automatic. He bites my neck, hard enough for pain to wash over me, the hand in my hair yanking me back, pulling at the strands. It’s a sharp ache and I want more of it. He pushes further against me and his breath is hot and ragged at my ear, like some kind of primal beast.

I’m going to give it to you hard
,
so fucking hard
, his voice says, sliding inside my brain, a voice I feel more than hear.
Starting now
.

Suddenly I’m on my knees, sinking into the mud. My shorts are slipped down over my ass, my head is pushed forward until I have to put my hands out to brace myself.

He lowers himself behind me. The heat of his body is unbearable. I know he’s naked, that he’s just inches from my ass. I want to twist around and see him in all his glory, stare at his cock, take it all in, but I can’t turn. I can’t do anything but wriggle in anticipation. The moon starts to glow purple, pulsing like the heat between my legs.

How long have you wanted me?
He asks gruffly, the accent fading in and out.
How long have you dreamed of this?

How long have you
? I want to ask but my mouth doesn’t move, and I’m not sure if my thoughts reach him as his reach me. Every inch of me is coiled in waiting and it’s then I know that as I sleep, my body in my bed is just as tensed up.

A rough hand glides over my ass before smacking it. One cheek. The other.

Crack.

CRACK.

His fingers glide down over the raw skin, down to where I’m wet and open.

They slide in with ease and I let out a moan, arching my back, wanting more.

So much more.

You may want to be quiet,
he says as he reaches over and covers my mouth with his hand.
No one can know but us. It will only ever be between us.

I don’t want to listen to what he’s saying. He’s speaking truth and truth has no place in a dream.

In fact, I can feel it start to pull me out. Awareness trickles in at the corners of the frame.

I fight against it. Keep my eyes closed, willing myself to succumb back into the moment.

“Please,” I manage to mutter against his hot palm.

How long have you wanted me?
His voice is nearly a growl, rumbling inside my brain.

“Since the moment I met you.”

Will you stay quiet?

I nod but his hand tightens over my mouth.

He leans forward until his lips are at my ear. His teeth graze my lobe.

It should have been you, Veronica.

I feel the hard tip of his cock sliding over my wetness.

Logan pulls back slightly and I brace myself for him to slam inside me.

But the dream fades away, the sensation falling off like rain.

I’m barely awake but I’m turned on as hell, my hand between my legs, that half-conscious state where you’re aching to return to something your conscious mind would disown you over.

I drift off to sleep.

But I don’t dream again.

“Hawaii lesson number one,” a voice says, breaking into the inky darkness. For a moment I think I’m back in Chicago at my parent’s house, snoozing in the guest bedroom and maybe I fell asleep with the radio on.

But then it all comes back to me. Hawaii.

The dream.

Logan.

I lick my lips and groan, my hands skimming over my body, everything damp. Dear lord, did I sweat my way through that sex dream?

“When you leave the door open all night, you’ll wake up wet,” the voice goes on.

I slowly open my eyes, blinking hard at the light.

“And that’s not innuendo,” the voice adds.

A shadow passes over me and Kate’s face comes into focus.

Right. My new roommate.

Who looks like she wants to murder me.

“What?” I mumble and try to sit up, my head super swimmy. The light streaming in through the shades has this soft, airy quality to it, making me think it’s early in the morning.

Kate puts her hands on her slender hips and jerks her head to the screen door. “You left the door open all night.”

Did I? I barely remember doing anything. I mean I’m still wearing my clothes from yesterday. Thankfully. Because I half expected to wake up with my shorts half-off, my hand in my underwear.

“It was hot,” I tell her, my throat parched.

“You’ll get used to it,” she says, strutting out of the room. She’s wearing the tiniest boy shorts and I find myself both admiring her tiny, peach-shaped ass and envying it. No way I’m walking around like that. I have something called a booty and cellulite.

“But,” she continues, her voice coming from the kitchen, “it’s so hella humid here that everything will be soaked overnight. It will take days for our sheets to feel close to normal again.”

I sit up and run my hands over them. She’s right. They’re almost sticky.

“Sorry,” I tell her, feeling like a total boob. “Won’t happen again.”

“Oh I know. We always learn.”

I sigh, swinging my feet over the edge of the bed.

“Coffee?” Kate asks, appearing back in front of me with a mug in hand. “Wasn’t sure if you drank it or not but then I remember you’re a chef. It’s in your blood.”

I manage a smile and tell her thanks as I take the mug, not bothering to correct her that I’m not quite a chef yet. I hope to god that whatever moaning I was doing in my dream I wasn’t doing in real life. Jesus. What the hell was I doing having a sex dream about Logan anyway? I can practically still feel his breath at my back, the way he made me feel deep down in my soul, like I was finally submitting to something that had been denied to me for so long.

I shake my head.

“Jetlagged?” Kate asks. I look up to see her frowning at me.

“Oh. Well, yeah,” I tell her, busying myself with a sip of my coffee. At least she knows how to make a decent pot. “What time is it?”

“Six thirty,” she says. “Normally I wouldn’t expect you to get up when I get up but I remember the first week I was here, dealing with the time change. My eyes were open like
bing!
Every morning at four am. It was great actually. Got in some morning surfs. There’s nothing better.”

“You surf?” I ask her, folding my legs under me into a cross-legged position, the damn sheets sticking to my skin.

She gives me a look of disbelief. “Yes. It’s kind of what you do here.”

“Is that why you moved here?”

She seems to think that over, tilting her head until her dark hair falls half across her face. “I thought it was. I honestly just wanted to live in paradise. I thought coming here would make my life a million times better.”

“And did it?”

She gives me a look I can’t read. “Maybe. A job is a job. A home is a home. Why not have both those things in a place like this?” She nods to the ocean.

“And love?”

She snorts, rolling her eyes. “You are far too deep for this time of day. No one comes to Hawaii looking for love, got it? Love of life, maybe. But men? Nah. I had better luck in San Francisco, believe it or not. It might not seem like it right now but an island is a small place. Just 60,000 people live on this island and there’s no escape. Pretty sure I’ve dated everyone there is.”

Now it’s my turn to let out a snort. “Really?”

She manages a wry grin. “It feels like it, anyway.”

“Anyone from here? Moonwater?”

She shrugs and turns away, walking back to the kitchen. “Maybe.”

Maybe. Right. Well, I’m going to go ahead and assume that Charlie was one of them, just because the two of them are both very attractive young people with a similar approach to the opposite sex.

Then a terrible thought strikes me.

Logan.

Kate is so damn pretty, it would be extremely easy to imagine her and Logan together. Fuck. What if
she
was the other woman?

I try not to think about it. I have to tell myself that there would be no way that Kate would still be working here if that were the case. She seems to have some decency.

“Not that it’s any of my business,” Kate says from the kitchen. I can hear toast pop up in the toaster. “But what exactly brought you out here? I’ve seen your resume. I can’t imagine that working at Moonwater is a step up for you.”

I’m not sure how truthfully I want to answer. I give her my stock one, which is still the truth. “It’s not easy finding a job in Chicago. The restaurant scene is highly competitive. I had to move back in with my parents and I was pretty much going crazy when this opportunity came up.”

“Right,” she says, coming back into view, munching on a piece of toast with avocado mashed on top. She leans casually against the wall. Still in her underwear. “So is Logan helping you out or are you helping Logan out?”

I swallow down the rest of the coffee. “Maybe a bit of both.”

“Can I give you some advice?” she says. “You’re helping Logan out. That’s all you need to know. Never give him the upper hand.”

I raise my brows, my grip tightening on the empty mug. “Personal experience?”

“We don’t see eye to eye either. But I still like my job. I’ve learned to roll with it. And part of that reason is because I refuse to let him get under my skin. See…everyone liked working for Juliet. She was a lot more diplomatic than Logan. She was the one who dealt with the staff, not him. So when she…when she was gone, it was hard for all of us, and for Logan, to make that transition. It’s still hard. But I don’t put up with his shit. He’s not doing me any favors; I’m doing him one. And that’s really the only way to survive here.”