Page 52 of The Playboy

Since I normally left for work so early, it was hard for me to sleep past six. That was the time I’d gotten up today, according to the clock on his nightstand, and now, it was past seven. Rather than climbing out of this cozy bed, I’d spent the last hour in this exact position, frozen so I wouldn’t wake him, recapping our whole evening together.

The images that flipped through my head began at the club, where he’d joined me on the stage, and continued all the way until now.

And they repeated.

Nonstop.

During each loop, my brain slowed for the intimate moments, like the three times we’d had sex last night, dragging me through the details so I wouldn’t just recall them, but I would also experience his touch all over again.

From there, I was reminded of the way I’d felt while his body was wrapped around mine. How, even hours later, I could still feel the soft kiss he’d placed on my cheek right before I fell asleep.

And as I turned toward him, I was hit again, this time with his appearance. His messy hair all seductive-looking, his beard thicker and even sexier than it had been yesterday. The temptation boiling within his eyes.

My God.

Macon wasn’t just handsome. That word wasn’t nearly strong enough for him.

He was a vibe.

A mood.

He could even be a religion.

And he was a man who, by just glancing at me, made everything inside me tingle.

But he was also a man who would distract me, who would take up an immense amount of my time, who was everything I didn’t need right now.

I sighed, “Morning,” and yawned as though I’d just risen myself.

His leg extended further across me, knotting us together. “Did you sleep well?”

I’d slept like I’d spent the night tucked inside a cloud. A real mattress with luxury bedding and fluffy down pillows—it was about a million and a half times more comfortable than my setup at home. The silence in the room was also quite different from hearing one of my sisters flush the toilet, waking me in the middle of the night, or the creak of the fridge when one of them grabbed some water.

But those weren’t the only reasons I’d slept so perfectly. The feel of him next to me definitely added to it. So had the sense of protection when his arms stayed around me all night, the warmth of his skin against mine—things I could certainly get used to.

And things I needed to forget the second I left this hotel room.

“Soundlessly,” I replied softly.

But once my eyes had flicked open, I’d remembered where I was and who I was with, and the thoughts had begun to drown me, tugging me in directions I hadn’t been prepared for.

He traced the side of my face, his touch so gentle.

Sensual.

Inviting.

Consuming.

“You said you don’t have to work today.” He kissed my shoulder and then my collarbone. “And, just by chance, I don’t either. How about we grab some breakfast?”

“Breakfast …hmm.”

A meal that would lead to conversation, allowing us to get to know each other better.

Even if I was tempted, why bother?

Because even if Macon was a good fit for me—which he wasn’t—he was only on Kauai for a short time. His home was a place way too far from here. And I wasn’t in a situation where I could start this—this being something so heavy and off-balance that it would never work.

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