“Today was perfect.” Della snuggled closer to Bex on the plush love seat.
After arranging spa time in the morning and snorkeling in the afternoon, the butler had prepared an amazing movie night on the beach. He’d set up a screen and filled a table with popcorn, candy, champagne, and lemon ice water. Before the film started, though, they basked in the most stunning sight she’d ever witnessed.
“I’ve seen plenty of sunsets before but nothing like this.” Deep oranges, rich golds, and a blue that was slowly turning purple. “It feels like everything is brighter, sweeter, richer.” She glanced up at him. “I think it’s love.”
Dusk turned his tan skin bronze. “I think so, too.”
Tomorrow, they’d take a boat ride to a private island. “I guess you’re used to fancy resorts and sunset dinners, but it’s all new to me.”
Idly, he sifted his fingers through her hair. “Those things on their own aren’t what make them fun. It’s the person you’re with.” He tipped her chin. “And I only figured that out tonight. I would trade all the fancy cars and superyachts for life on a bus, as long as I get to live on it with you.”
She sat up, slinging a leg across his thighs, straddling him. Driving her fingers through his hair, she rocked on him. “Tell me Laki’s not coming back to refresh our popcorn bowl.”
“I told him I’d text him when we’re back in our room. Until then, this spot of beach is all ours.”
“Then, why are you wearing pants?”
Bex punched his hips, nearly toppling her back, but he held her firmly in place. With his free hand, he yanked down his board shorts, revealing an erection so hard it stood straight up between them. Before she could reach for it, he lifted her gauzy cover up, and she helped him toss it aside.
While he worked the tie of her bikini, he nuzzled her cleavage. Once topless, he gathered her breasts. “Tonight, I’m going to fuck these.”
A shiver traveled down her spine. Well, look at that. There was a whole other side to her man. A dirty one, and she loved it.
He lavished attention on each nipple, making her grab fistfuls of his hair with growing need. “But for now, you need to hop on my cock.”
When she got up on her knees, he untied her bottoms, letting them fall off her. Then, he clamped his hands on her ass, pulled her right up to his face, and licked into her sensitive folds.
Heat blasted through her, and she tipped her head back, catching the last glimpse of the fiery sun before it dipped beneath the horizon. Flames enveloping her, she closed her eyes, immersing herself in the swirling, heightening sensations. A cool breeze whispered across her skin, and she’d never felt more acutely aware of all her senses.
The love of her life licked and kissed her into a frenzy until she was pulling his hair and crying out. “Oh, my fucking God, Bex.” Her orgasm ripped through her, sending her soaring.
His licks turned languorous, like he was doing it for his own pleasure, and he brought her slowly down from the dizzying heights of pleasure.
Finished, he patted his lap. “Climb on. I want to watch your tits bounce while you ride me.”
Heaving out a big, dramatic sigh, she rolled her eyes. “Fine.” Once settled on him, she said, “I guess you save all the sweet talk for your fans.”
“I’ll give you all the pretty words you want. After I come inside you.”
Slowly, she sank down on him. When she hit his thighs, she swayed side-to-side, making sure to take him as deeply as he could go.
He moaned. “You feel so damn good.” His hips rocked, giving her a tease of the friction she needed. “Come on. Bounce on me. Let me watch.”
A slow smile spread across her features, as she braced her hands on his thighs. Her back arched, and she loved the way he watched himself slide in and out of her, his cock glistening in the twilight. As she rode him faster, lust tightened his features.
And when the feelings grew too intense, she straightened, setting her hands on his shoulders, and started riding him hard. His big hands lifted her ass up and down, and he was fixated on the wild jiggling of her breasts.
Color flooded his cheeks, and he tipped his head back. “Holy shit. I’m going to come so fucking hard.” Slamming her down on him, he drove up into her once, twice, three times, fusing their bodies together as he released inside of her.
She was so close, her body wound so tightly, but he’d finished, so she slumped against him.
“Keep going. I got you.” He exhaled into her ear. “Still hard as a rock.”
And so, she did. Hips pitched forward, she rode him, the scrape of him over her clit sending her soaring into a climax that released an explosion of bright, white stars behind her eyelids.
When she came down to earth, she found him watching her with a big smile. “What?”
“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
As she kissed him, she sifted her fingers through the hair at the back of his neck, awash in cool evening breezes and the shush of ocean water dragging on sand. When she pulled away, finally sated, she sighed. “That was perfect. You’re perfect.”
She wanted to stay on this island in a bubble of happiness forever.
Instead of going to bed after the movie, they snuggled in the hammock built for two. The ocean lapped against their porch, and palm trees swayed in the breeze. Their bodies were pressed so tightly together, she couldn’t figure out where she ended, and he began. Idly, she caressed his chest. “Is the band really over?”
He bent his arm, letting his head rest on his hand. “Yes. My brother’s done. You helped us see that.”
“I’m going to be the most hated person in America.”
“Nah, this has been brewing a long time.” His fingertips traced lazy patterns on her back. “We just kept ignoring it. Everyone wants us to keep going, keep pumping out the hits, keep touring, but you’re the first person who’s ever bothered to ask us what we want, if we’re happy. So, yes, now that we’ve discussed it…it’s over.”
“And you’re not sad?”
“Not sad so much as…worried. I’ve never seen myself doing anything else. I don’t know who I am without Van Claybourne.”
“Who you are is the music you write when you’re alone and no one’s listening.”
“No one but you.”
“I know you’re not ready to hear this, but that should be the next phase of your life. Whether you’re performing it or selling it, those songs are Bexley Sinclair, and the world needs them. And Van…I think he’s got real potential as a photographer.”
“Reid,” he said quietly. “That’s his real name.”
“Reid and Bexley Sinclair. So where did Van Claybourne come from?”
“Believe it or not, it’s not related to us at all. We had to come up with something that wouldn’t tie back to our family.”
“Are you kidding me? You pulled a name out of a hat?”
He nodded. “Pretty much.”
“You both must be so tired of pretending and hiding. Well, you’ve made enough money to provide for your family, so no one ever has to work again. You can take a nice, long break and figure out the direction you want to take next.”
He gazed out across the ocean. “I already know what direction I want to take.”
“Oh. You do?”
“I want to be with you.”
Happiness bubbled in her chest. “Well, that’s a given. But you’ve still got to do something other than rocking in a hammock with me on a private island.”
“Why?”
She grinned. “Oh, come on. You couldn’t stop writing songs if you tried.”
“I’m not going back to that life, Della. I can’t do it. It’s not just Van who’s done. I am, too.”
“The next phase of your life doesn’t have to look like this one. You can make an album of your songs. You can tour them. It doesn’t have to be an eight-bus production where you mastermind behind the scenes. You can play small venues instead of stadiums. You can make an album and not tour. It’s your choice. But isn’t it time to come out of the shadows and be the real Bexley Sinclair?”
“This is him. Right here. You get him. Why would you want to share him?”
“I don’t.” And yet she couldn’t shake the sense he was still hiding from his true self.
“What do you want to do?” he asked.
She buried her face in his chest. “I told you. I’m going to start an event planning company.”
“But what about your poetry? If I should be playing ballads, shouldn’t you be writing poems?”
“That’s not exactly a lucrative profession.” She said it like it was some big joke. Like, what an idiot she was for majoring in something she couldn’t put to practical use. But really, she was interested to hear his ideas.
“Can I read some of your poetry?”
She rolled onto her back, taking in a sky full of twinkling stars. “The greatest lyricist in the history of music? Not hardly.”
He brushed the hair off her forehead. “I hope one day you’ll trust me enough to let me read them.”
And right then it became clear. They’d both lost a parent. They’d both had their sense of safety in the world shattered.
They wouldn’t truly trust each other until they were their authentic selves.
And she wanted him enough to take that risk. She sat up. “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll show you my poetry if you do something for me.”
He watched her warily.
“You’ve got to perform your ballads live.”
“Sure. I’ll bring my guitar to the pool tomorrow.”
“Nope. If I find the right venue in Malé…” She held his gaze. “Will you do it?”
Because her gut told her their future hung on his response.
There’s something very wrong with me.
I had the hottest rock star in the world all to myself—we could be cuddled on the rocker overlooking the ocean or banging in the open-air shower.
But no, I had to make him prove himself to me.
She’d worked with their butler to find the perfect venue for a solo acoustic gig, and now Della sat alone watching the crowd drink, chat, and listen to the soulful music piped in through speakers.
Bex didn’t look happy on that stage. In his fake mustache, a ball cap that hid all his sexy, tousled hair, he sat on a stool adjusting a microphone. The audience completely ignored him. He might’ve been a dentist for all they knew.
It just felt like there was so much at stake. They’d gotten so close, so fast. They’d declared their love for each other.
She wished she didn’t need proof from him. Because truthfully, there were no guarantees. With love, you just had to jump in with your whole heart and try to make it work.
After the show, she’d back off. Trust that it would work out between them.
She just hoped this crowd appreciated him. And if they didn’t, if this was a big flop, what damage might she do? Thanks to Freemont Street, he had a terrible association with performing.
Everyone in the club seemed cool, though. Except that one group in the center. A large, boisterous man in a Hawaiian-print shirt told one story after another, using laughter to punctuate his sentences. His friends were in his thrall.
The longer she waited for the show to begin, the more anxious she grew. She pulled out her phone to text the butler.
Della: You’re sure this is the right venue? What if this crowd’s expecting rock ‘n’ roll?
Laki: This is the right venue because it is the only one whose act cancelled at the last minute. Therefore, it is the only venue.
Della: Haha. That is not reassuring.
Laki: Art is subjective, no? Look, if it’s not going well, you can get up on stage and distract them with your poetry. Poetry slam!
Well, she supposed if she’d wanted a serious butler-guest relationship, she shouldn’t have joked around with him.
Della: You’re making me sweat. I can’t sweat in a dress like this.
Laki: The Della I know glistens. She most certainly does not sweat.
Looking down at her phone, she chuckled. And really, he was right to distract her because Bex was on that stage, and he was going to sing, so she could imagine the worst, or she could trust that this unbelievably talented man would win over the crowd.
Bex started strumming. “Evening.” Only a few stopped talking to pay attention to him. “How’s everyone enjoying paradise?”
The scattered applause and single call of “Woo hoo” was disheartening. Most of the patrons continued drinking and chatting.
As much as she wanted to stand up and tell everyone to pay attention to this brilliant man, she kept her butt firmly in the chair. She didn’t even clap or whistle.
He needed to get the response from the crowd. Not his lover.
“All righty, so here goes.” He glanced up, eyes hidden by the bill of his cap.
But nothing could hide that shy, sweet grin.
Please be good to him.
I beg you all…listen.
You’ll be blown away.
And then he shot her a look. I’m doing this for you.
She gave him a big smile. I’m so damn proud of you I can’t even stand it.
And even if you bomb, I’m still going to peel your clothes off with my teeth.
He chuckled.
He could read her so well.
And then…he started strumming.
He got about halfway through his first song when the boisterous man cupped his hands over his mouth and shouted, “Kick it up a notch, why don’t ya?”
Consummate professional that he was, Bex played right through it. As soon as he finished, he went right into the next tune, not giving the man the slightest opportunity to disrupt his set.
But the group continued to slam back shots and talk over the music.
Someone from another table said, “Hey. Come on. Quiet down.”
The man pushed his chair back and stood up. “Enough with the sad folk song shit. We’re here to party.”
“Go back to your cruise ship, asshole,” someone in the corner called.
Bex continued to play, not giving the man any attention. She was so damn proud of him. So happy to see him immersed in his songs. And, frankly, other than that one table, everyone else was mesmerized in his gorgeous melodies and riveted by his performance. Even the servers stopped what they were doing to listen.
And then he finished.
He set down his guitar and looked up.
Everyone stared. Not a single sound in the room.
Bex forced a smile. “Thanks for putting up with me tonight.” Tipping his hat back, he scanned the room, features tense with anxiety.
And not a single person clapped.
The room was dead silent.