Page 36 of Promise Not To Fall

Rylee and I, we indulge in the full experience—massages, facials, body wraps, getting our hair done, and then our nails. It’s like we’re preparing for a night at the Oscars. I don’t think I’ve ever been more pampered in my life. The massage though, fuck that hurts like hell. And the tiny little woman giving me my massage, she notices the bruises on my hips and arms. Apparently, Jake’s hold was a little more than I had thought. I have bruises all over my body. It’s crazy. I have them around my neck and thighs as well. He really did give it to me, didn’t he?

“What happened to you, honey?” Her accent is thick, so maybe she doesn’t say exactly that, but I think that’s what she said.

Lifting my head, I smile. “Only the best fucking night ever.”

Rylee bursts out laughing at me, as does my little masseuse.

They don’t stop me from reliving those memories though. No one can stop this high. It’s like he drugged me last night. And that drug isn’t wearing off anytime soon. They say some drugs you get addicted to after the first hit… Well, Jake is my drug of choice, and after my first “hit” from him, I can bet my black and blue ass I’m going back for round two tonight.

Any time I’ve ever been pampered, I feel the need to go out afterward. I have the same feeling after I go through the car wash. I drive around town showing off my shiny baby while avoiding any pothole and the occasional rogue sprinkler spraying on the street. But, as luck always has it living in Phoenix, the moment you pull in to your driveway, a fucking dust storm will roll through.

That’s beside the point. Now that I’m all sparkly and clean, I’m sure you can guess where I’m going.

Later that afternoon, Rylee finds Wesley in the casino. They make plans to go sit by the beach, and while that sounds fine, Island Boy’s drinks are calling my name. Or maybe his dick, but whatever.

There’s something thrilling and new about the way he makes my insides all fluttery and excited. I know—well, I have an idea—I’m not the first city girl to feel this way about him, but it doesn’t matter, and I refuse to let it deter my plans for round two.

After changing out of my yoga pants, I put on a pair of jean shorts and a loose-fitting light pink tank top with a pair of flip-flops, and head back up the beach. The walk seems shorter than last night—maybe that’s because I practically sprint toward the bar.

When I spot the familiar deck and signs scattering the entrance, the place looks different.

I justify returning with the excuse that Jake didn’t charge me enough on my bar tab last night. When I glanced at the receipt this morning, he’d only charged me for two drinks. I had so many I lost count. At something like $12 a piece, I was expecting a bar tab in the hundreds and only got one for $34. Something was wrong.

That’s my ruse for returning.

I want to pretend I’m going in there for a reason and not in search of island dick.

Trying to look less obvious, I retrieve the receipt from my purse and have it ready should I need to defend myself.

For a Monday afternoon, the bar is packed and blaring with what sounds like a mix of the same music I’d heard last night: rock and hip-hop. Holding my receipt like a lifeline, I find the only open seat at the bar.

At first I don’t see him, but I do see Nash. He grins, widely, like the surfer boy I remember, and gives me that head nod most men do. Nash is attractive, very attractive, but he has nothing on Island Boy.

My eyes seek Jake out, scanning wildly around the bar until they land onhimcoming around the corner with two plates of tacos. His dark hair is chaotic and tangled, which only makes him sexier. His eyes, they’re bloodshot but still sky blue and bright behind the black shadows of his eyelashes. Damn, still so hot and delicious. My tummy flips at the reminder of last night and what it felt like to have those eyes on my naked body and the way they fluttered closed when he came.

Fuck, it’s really hot in here.

Without looking at me, he passes by and delivers the food to a table behind me.

He nods once, acknowledging me when he walks by, heading for the back of the bar into the kitchen. Crap on a cracker. That’s all I get? A head nod? What the fuck?

For a moment, I contemplate leaving to save myself the crushing blow of his denial. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me. That’s how one-night stands work.

Or… maybe he’s busy. I’ve definitely had one-night stands I hadn’t cared to see again the next day. I once spent an hour walking around the grocery store randomly, ducking behind grapefruits and end displays all in an effort to avoid the previous night’s hookup. I know how this works. Maybe that’s the deal here. Maybe I made a terrible mistake by returning.

But the determined part of me requires I stay.

I have never been scared to see a guy I’d slept with the next morning, until now. I’m not sure why, but something about Jake is different from the guys I’d been with in the past.

While my mind obsesses over the meaning behind a nod, Jake’s gone for about five minutes before he returns with two more baskets of food, delivers those to tables, and then stands in front of me, smirking.

You’re so fucking hot it should be a goddamn sin.

Crossing his arms over his chest, a look of smug satisfaction appears. “Welcome back, City Girl. How are you feeling?”

Hearing his voice again sends a pinch of excitement through my body. I shift, leaning forward without wanting to, reminded of the soreness between my legs.

“I’m okay.” It’s then I remember throwing up after he left this morning and the soreness settling in my ribcage. “I feel like someone shoved their dick down my throat, but other than that, I’m good.”

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