Page 61 of The Playboy

No.

Because I didn’t believe that for a second.

I knew Brooklyn’s body.

I had given her everything she wanted.

I’d made her scream so many times that she was hoarse in the morning.

There was no reason for me to think he was right, no signs that pointed in that direction.

Besides, if she hadn’t liked the way I fucked, she wouldn’t have joined me in the shower the morning after. She wouldn’t have let me slip it in. She would have wiggled out of my arms while I held her against the glass wall, and she would have faked an orgasm, which I knew she hadn’t because she couldn’t fake the way her pussy pulsed around my dick.

I straightened my legs, the straps of the chair bouncing from the weight. “That’s not it, trust me. But she did mention that she was in a muddy point in her life and …” I’d recalled that morning many times in my head. Replayed it forward and backward. “Maybe I’m off, but when I explained why I was here, on Kauai, and that I worked for my family business, something inside her seemed to shift.”

“She doesn’t want to get attached if you’re leaving in a few months.”

“I can buy that.”

“So, what the fuck are you going to do about it?”

My hand left my hair to raise the drink to my lips, and I held the liquid in my mouth for several seconds before I swallowed. “I’m going to go to the club to talk to her.”

“And if she’s not there?”

“That’s her place, dancing is her thing. She’s going to show up at some point, and I’ll keep going until she does.”

“From playboy to stalker. Jesus, I never thought I’d see the day.”

“Relentless is more like it.”

“For someone who said Kauai was a big island and you were going to find out just how many women were on it, you’ve certainly taken quite the one-eighty, haven’t you?”

He wasn’t wrong.

I had flipped.

But she was worth it.

And even though I didn’t know certain details about her, like the things she enjoyed doing outside of dancing and why she’d chosen to buy that black dress and what she was majoring in and the job she currently had, I was hooked.

And I wanted those answers.

And I wanted even more.

I crossed my legs, staring across the pool, ignoring the chicks dressed in bikinis, doing late afternoon swims, and I took in the view of the light-blue ocean. “Camden, I don’t know what the fuck is happening to me.”

There was noise in the background, and then he eventually replied, “Jenner just walked in. Do you want to hear it from the both of us or just me?”

Before I could respond, Jenner voiced, “Who are you talking to?”

I could tell Camden had placed the call on speakerphone.

“Macon,” Camden said to him.

“Ahhh, my pussy-whipped friend. How’s it going, man?” Jenner shot back.

“Fuck, you’re an asshole.”

---