Indecent (24 Book Alpha Male Romance Box Set)

“You need to go.” His voice is so emotionless, it freezes me.

He turns. His expression is like a knife through my heart. Stupid, what we just did was special to me, but to someone like him, it was everyday, probably not even that great.

“Did I do something wrong?” I hate myself for asking, but I have to know.

The question seems to enrage him.

“Did you do something wrong? You? Well yeah, you came to my room, didn’t you? It’s the worst thing you could’ve done. I hurt everyone who gets close to me, and even plenty of people who don’t. You need to listen to me, when I say to get out. Get. The. Fuck. Out.”

His voice is so harsh, so cold, such a contrast to the heated way he spoke when we were in bed together.

I dress quickly, pulling my scarf around my shoulders, and flee from him, and his stupid villa.





Chapter 7





Of all the bad luck, several of the maids are walking past Villa Seven as I exit. It’s early. They must be reporting to Sheila for the beginning of their shift. Dawn is one of them. My hair is a mess, and I’m wearing the same clothes as yesterday.

I hear some giggles and one of them mutters something about the walk of shame.

“Damn girl,” a maid whose name I can’t remember says. “You have excellent taste in men.”

I give her a wry smile.

Dawn separates herself from her friends, gesturing for them to go on, and falls into step beside me.

“You feel good about this?” she asks.

I stay quiet and keep walking.

“Just a warning. You can’t keep up with him.”

“I wouldn’t dream of trying.”

She hears the coolness in my voice and seems determined to get her point through to me. “You’re nothing but a kid,” she says. “A college kid. What did you graduate, a few weeks ago? You can’t handle Cruise.”

“I said I wouldn’t try.” I’m starting to get angry. Even worse, I can feel tears starting in the corners of my eyes.

“He’s screwed up. Really screwed up. Maybe you saw that?”

I don’t answer but she sees the answer in my eyes.

“Cruise parties like partying is his job. His career. He doesn't even enjoy it; he just does it to forget. He does everything to forget. Are you hearing me? Everything. Even whatever you just did together. I hope you didn’t think it was anything special.”

The tears are threatening to fall, and that’s the last thing I want her to see.

“So you’re telling me you don’t enjoy partying with him?” Striking back at her is the only way I can keep from actually bursting into tears.

“I didn’t say that. He may be screwed up, but he’s deliciously hot. Maybe more hot than before he was screwed up. That’s fine for a girl like me. But not for someone like you. You’ll just get hurt. Take my advice. Stay far away from Villa Seven.”

She walks away. Just in time, because tears course down my cheeks. I turn back, unwilling to walk into the hotel like this, and sit at the edge of where the concrete walkway meets the sand, my knees pressed to my chest.

Finally, when my emotions are under control, I slip through the side door and up the staff stairway to the fourth floor. The only employee who sees me is Sheila Fields and she doesn’t say anything.

The sun is already up, but I throw myself into my bed and pull a pillow over my face. It would be nice to sleep, to be able to forget the emotions that are overwhelming me. Shame, at the way he used me and then told me to get out. Confusion. Bursts of amazement, even if I never speak to him again, I made the choice to go to his villa, I knew what I was doing. I told myself I should try to experience new things this summer, and last night, I definitely did.

Sleep seems impossible, so I roll out of bed, splash some water on my face, and decide, since I’m at a seaside resort, the best way to forget my heartache and confusion is to enjoy the beach.

I lace my running shoes, and jog through the empty streets of Seascape Village. It’s silent and peaceful. The rhythm of my feet against the pavement is hypnotic, until it begins to remind me of Cruise, pressing me into his mattress. I feel my body start to respond. Just thinking about him is too much for me. I force myself to focus, pushing myself to run until I can’t think of anything beyond the burning in my lungs, the need to inhale and exhale. Running has always calmed me. It’s how I’ve dealt with anxiety since high school.

Panting from exertion, I abandon the village, kicking off my shoes to avoid getting them wet. I cross the beach, enjoying the solitude. By the time I’ve walked to the edge of the hotel’s property and begun the walk back, a hotel worker is out, removing any seaweed or debris that’s washed up on the beach overnight, and families are starting to emerge for a day of sunbathing.

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