I consider her words for only a moment before landing on a solution. “You can be whoever you want to be here, Greer. No one knows who we are or why we’re here, so let’s have fun with it. So just decide—who do you want to be?”
Greer’s dark eyes light up with the possibility. “Well, damn. I’ve never thought about that. I need some time.”
Cav doesn’t realize what he’s done by setting loose my imagination. Has anything ever been quite so seductive as that one question—who do you want to be? As if I can just choose whoever that is and it can happen. But maybe here, on this island where no one knows who we are, I truly can.
Rea comes in and cleans up breakfast as I make my way back to the bedroom. The cool tile is refreshing under my feet as the heat from the sun is already warming the house.
Yes, paradise, I really do love you.
In my borrowed shorts and tank, I investigate my swimsuit options in the walk-in closet. The lure of the infinity pool is strong, and it seems like the perfect place to relax and decide exactly what or who I want to be while I’m here.
In my head, one answer is already bubbling to the surface and mocking me. Do I have the guts to say it aloud?
If this is all pretend and temporary, why not play the part? I’m not going to get to keep Cav Westman, but maybe I can pretend for a little while.
It’s going to take a hell of a lot of liquor to find the lady balls to say what I’m thinking.
Slipping into a neon-pink suit that’s only a little too small in the tits and ass areas, because apparently whoever owns this place has curves that are less generous than mine, I grab some sunscreen out of the bathroom cabinet and wander out toward the pool.
I pause and admire the sight before me when I see Cav has already stripped off his shirt. His board shorts are riding low, exposing the vee cut at his hips. Those lines really do make girls stupid. I had his dick in my mouth just before breakfast, and now I want to sink to my knees and lick those indents and then those abs . . .
The critics who say he’s been photoshopped? Liars. All liars. Because damn, if the ladies of the world could see what I’m seeing right now, I’m pretty sure they’d all want to hunt me down and take my place. Headlines would read GREER KARAS SHANKS RIVAL WOMEN IN CAT FIGHT OVER HOLLYWOOD SEX GOD.
God, wouldn’t Creighton be pissed then?
“You need someone to volunteer to help you with that sunscreen, baby?”
Silencing the giggle bubbling up my throat before it can come out, I nod. “Yes, but I do think it’s time to ditch the whitest white girl on the beach look.”
“You’re not the whitest white girl on the beach.” He tilts his head to the side, studying me. “But you do have a touch of that New York city dweller look to you.”
“I’m a ghost because I stay indoors all the time. As opposed to you, sun-bronzed god over there, living it up in Cali and looking fine.”
One eyebrow rises at my blurted words. “The only place you need to think I’m a god is in the bedroom, baby.”
He looks from one side of the secluded deck to the other. The neighbors’ houses are at least fifty yards away on each side and nearly impossible to see through the thick forest of coconut and palm trees.
“Lose the top. There’s no reason for unnecessary tan lines.”
I don’t have major body-confidence issues, and it’s not like he hasn’t already seen me naked, but something about stripping outside seems so . . . naughty.
Cav’s expression takes on a serious cast I haven’t seen before. “Did you think there was something optional about that? It was an order, Greer. I want to see those pretty tits in the sunlight.”
I blink twice, not sure I heard him correctly. “Wha—what did you say?”
Cav steps toward me, solidly masculine and sexy as hell. But what’s with the bossiness? The sensation of the cool granite on my cheek as I laid over the countertop in my kitchen resurfaces in my memory. He was plenty bossy then. But I thought maybe it was something that only extended to sex.
He stops in front of me and studies me. “You heard me, baby girl. I’ve decided who I want you to be while we’re here. Now you just have to tell me you want it too.”
“Want what?” My confusion comes out in my tone. “I thought this was supposed to be my decision. Whoever I wanted to be?”
“You can still be whoever you want, but this is my layer of . . . extra, that I want.”
Heat flushes my skin and dampness gathers between my legs. Is this really turning me on?
Cav lifts a hand and instead of reaching for the bikini strap, he skims the back of his hand over my very hard nipple that’s obviously poking against the top.
So that’s a yes from my body.
“You want it too, Greer. You want me to tell you what I want from you and make you give it to me.” He steps closer, continuing to speak before I can form words to respond. “You’ve been waiting for someone to come into your life and treat you like the dirty girl we both know you are, haven’t you?”
Skip damp—my bikini bottoms are now soaked, and I haven’t dipped a toe in the pool. How did he get inside my head and pull out my most forbidden thoughts? I think I instinctively hadn’t trusted Tristan enough to give him that kind of power, but with Cav I have a completely different gut-level feeling.
I swallow, trying to come up with a response. My internal struggle must be emblazoned on my reddening cheeks, because Cav lifts a hand to my chin and tilts it up to face him. “All you have to do is say yes, Greer.”