I narrow my eyes.
“It’s two bedrooms. I know that might not be ideal, but after all the bullshit here and with the money I’ll need to sink into righting all the delays and rehiring Fredrick caused, I’d like to conserve money.”
“You can’t be serious. You’re conserving money? That’s the best you can do?” I cross my arms, calling him out on his excuse. Grant Lancaster doesn’t need to conserve money. The thought is absurd.
“Okay, that was lame. I’m sorry.”
“Totally lame, Lancaster. I told you on the plane we weren’t going to complicate this trip, and staying with you sounds like one epic complication.” I cross my arms over my chest, waiting for what he’ll throw at me next. Instead of more excuses, his head falls, making him look like a wounded puppy.
“I’m not trying to complicate things, Bridget. I just want you close to me. I know that’s a lot to ask, but please.”
The idea of staying in a room with Grant has my legs shaking nervously. I shouldn’t, but God help me, I want to. “Okay. Let’s just get back. I’m exhausted.”
After I check the property to find Fredrick and his crew completely vacated and no signs of vandalism, my job is done. Grant hasn’t been away from me for more than an hour, securing a new crew. One he trusts to get the job done right. Then he keeps his word.
We are walking down the beautiful beach of St. Barts, taking in the translucent rolling waters and sun-filled aqua skies. The grains of sand beneath our feet blur out for miles. They lull me into a blissful trance of new beginnings and endless tomorrows. I now get why he’d choose this location as home of one of the newest L hotels.
“What are you thinking?” Grant asks from beside me.
“How gorgeous it is here. You truly picked a wonderful location to build.”
“I feel good about it. Now that I have a crew I trust in place, I’m excited for this expansion.”
“You really are brilliant,” I say, squinting up at him through my lashes.
I’m rewarded with a breathtaking smile. One that fills my heart more than it should.
“Thank you for coming out here. I know it probably feels like it was a waste of your time, but you don’t know what it meant to have your support. You’re one of the only people I trust.”
His words touch me. I wish I could tell him what I’m feeling, but I know better. It will only be met with heartache.
“Our lunch is ready.” Grant points to a spot in front of us where a beach blanket is spread out across the white sand. Atop it is a large picnic basket. He motions for me to sit as we get closer, so I do, and he goes about unpacking the contents. I’m in awe. Cheeses, vegetables, fruit, and delicious pastries are all laid out in an assortment of color. Lastly, he removes a bottle of champagne. “To celebrate a successful firing and rehiring,” he says shyly.
“How did you do this? When?” I’m literally speechless at the thought he put into all of this.
“I must admit, the concierge at the hotel arranged this at my request.”
“It’s amazing, Grant.” I smile broadly. “Thank you for going to such trouble.”
“I’d do anything for you, Bridget.”
He wouldn’t. If that were true, my heart wouldn’t be breaking in two. We’d be planning a future and not saying our goodbyes in a matter of days.
“Can we just enjoy this day? No expectations but good company and conversation? A celebration of sorts.”
I nod, needing it as much as he seems to.
Two hours later and we’re back at his suite with almost two bottles of champagne emptied. I’m feeling suitably tipsy. Instead of getting more talkative as I normally do, I find myself retreating into silence. Grant is doing the same. Neither of us wants to bring up the one thing that’s clearly on our minds.
“I should go.”
“I’m not ready,” he says, and we both know we’re not just talking about leaving the room.
My words were loaded. I need to leave St. Barts, leave The L . . . leave him. I’m a smart girl. I know all these things. But coming to terms with them is something else entirely.
“I have to,” I mumble. “I’ve decided I’ll resign as soon as we’re back tomorrow.”
“Please don’t, Bridget. The L needs you.”
“I can’t work there. Don’t you get that? It’s too hard.”
“I’m going to make sure you get the job of your dreams, Bridget. My recommendation will afford you your choice of employment. I’ll make damn sure of it. I might’ve fucked everything up, but I can make this right. I can do something right.”
Tears fall down my face as I study him. He looks dejected and utterly broken himself. Saying goodbye will be the hardest thing I’ll ever do in my life, but it’s what’s best for us both. This push and pull won’t go away, and neither will Chelsea’s threats.
“Don’t cry,” he says, taking my hand in his. “Please don’t. I can’t stand to see you sad, especially knowing I’ve caused it. It kills me, Bridget. It fucking tears me apart that I can’t fix this.”
He’s sitting too close. I can smell him. I can feel him. He’s too close, and if he doesn’t move away . . .
He kisses me.
Everything around us disappears. Every ounce of sadness is snuffed out, if only for a moment. This magical mirage begs me to stay forever, to never leave its embrace.
I let him kiss me, and I kiss him back with fervor. Every single part of my body wants more. Craves more. Grant pulls away, looking into my eyes with a fierceness I haven’t seen before. It is carnal, it is lethal, and it can ruin every moment I’d spent trying to get over him.
“Give me one last night with you. One perfect night before it’s all over.”
One perfect night? The thought sounds sublime. But can I do it? No. I should say no.
“I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, but I’m just a man. A weak man who’s desperate for a woman he can’t have.” His eyes beg me. “A man who’s fallen—”
I cut off his words, not wanting to hear any more. Kissing him again, I smother all chance of him saying the three words I’ve hoped for. Prayed for. The three words that will surely end me.
“You’re beautiful,” he whispers as I walk us back toward the bed.
I want to tell him to never leave me. That I crossed the invisible line we set. I want to tell him I did the one thing I promised I wouldn’t.
I fell in love.
But I don’t. Tears threaten to fall as I move closer to him. I bury my face in his neck and cry.
“I love you,” I whisper into his skin, but he can’t hear me. I don’t dare voice the words out loud. “I’ll say goodbye. I will. But not now. Now, I just want you to hold me. Touch me.”
After we remove our clothes, I lie back with him hovering above me. He widens my legs and positions himself at my entrance, but he doesn’t move. “Condom?”
“I’m on the pill. I want to feel you. I want to feel all of you.”
“I’m clean,” he replies.
“I know.”
He thrusts into me. Over and over again. “You’re perfect.” His passion consumes me. Enflames me. Owns me.