Chapter 32
thirty-two
ELLIOTT
It was the night of the bonfire. The wedding party and a swarm of other guests were scattered between the infinity pool, the fire pits, and the dark stretch of the shore. The sky was a bruised portrait of red, orange, and pink hues—it looked like something ripped right out of an influencer’s feed.
The glass bottle of beer was sweating in my hand, but I was just holding it for the sake of having something to do. I had no interest in the party. I was too busy calculating how this week had spiraled from bad to an absolute disaster.
It was true—I had sent the blonde to her room on purpose.
I’d wanted to hurt her with a fraction of the sting she’d caused me.
Maybe this was what we were doomed to; maybe we’d never get past this stage of mutual destruction.
All I knew was that nothing could stop me from thinking about her.
Whether I was waking up or closing my eyes, Vanessa was at the forefront of my mind, a permanent fixture I couldn't evict.
I was sitting in a chair a ways off from the bonfire when I noticed movement at the edge of the infinity pool.
Normally, I wouldn’t have looked twice, but it only took a few seconds for me to realize that the brunette with her hair in a messy bun was her.
She was leaning her arms against the ledge, the water concealing everything but the string bikini tied at her neck.
I didn’t know when she had slipped into the water, but I mentally kicked myself for not noticing sooner—especially when I saw some frat-type from Richard’s corporate office start to approach her.
I didn’t think. I stood up immediately, abandoned my beer, and waded into the pool. I heard a few words exchanged before the guy caught the look on my face and swam off in a hurry. I didn't slow down. I swam up directly behind her, caging her against the edge with my arms.
I could tell by the way she tensed that she knew it was me. It was a surge of pure relief when she didn’t immediately try to dive away.
“What do you want?” she asked. Her voice was soft, sounding more defeated than I was used to.
“Just figured I’d make sure nobody else bothers you,” I rasped.
“You’re bothering me,” she said, leaning her head against her arms on the ledge.
I caged her in further, erasing the space between us. My body reacted instantly, a sharp, demanding ache that I didn’t even bother to hide. I couldn't help it. My body had a mind of its own when she was around, especially now, when she was barely covered by scraps of fabric and strings.
“Why aren’t you at the bonfire?” I asked, leaning into her personal space.
I let my five o'clock shadow rub against the shell of her ear.
I saw goosebumps erupt on her arms, and despite her anger, I felt her body push back against mine.
Warmth flooded me. I felt like I was going to catch fire right there in the water.
“The water feels good on my leg,” she said softly.
“Is it hurting again?” The irritation in my chest was instantly replaced by a sharp, jagged concern.
“It’s just a dull ache now. I just can’t do the pain pills, Elliott. They make me too groggy. I’ve already missed most of the week.”
“Come sit with me by the fire. Or a cabana,” I suggested, my voice dropping an octave. “I’ll massage it. Would that help?”
She shrugged her shoulders, and I took the opportunity to sink my fingers into the muscles of her neck. She pushed her body harder into mine, and I had to grit my teeth to keep from groaning.
“Careful, Ness,” I warned, my hands moving to work the knots in her traps.
A small moan escaped her, muffled by her arms, and whatever fraying control I had left finally snapped. I was rock-hard, battling a sudden, primitive urge to just scoop her up and carry her away—to hide her from the world and never let her out of my sight again.
“Come on, Ness. Let’s go to a cabana. It’ll give us some privacy,” I murmured, my lips brushing her temple. “You can moan all you want there.”
She twisted her head back, shooting me daggers that could have drawn blood.
“I was joking,” I lied, though we both knew better. I tightened my hold on her waist under the water, pulling her flush against me. “But I’m not kidding about the rest. I don’t want anyone else watching you.”
When she finally turned around, the sight of her in that bikini nearly snapped the last thread of my sanity.
Vanessa was drop-dead gorgeous—she always had been.
Long limbs, sun-kissed skin, and curves that seemed designed specifically to ruin me.
She wasn’t ashamed of them, either; that raw, unbought confidence was more intoxicating than any drink at the bar.
We moved toward the pool steps. Before she could climb out on that aching leg, I reached down, hooked one arm behind her back and the other under her knees, and lifted her. She didn’t object. Instead, she wrapped her arms around my neck, her wet skin slick against mine.
I found an open cabana, grabbed a towel on the way in, and pulled the cord to drop the privacy curtain. I sat on the cushioned bench with her still in my lap, her legs draped over mine.
I immediately got to work on her left leg.
She buried her face in the crook of my neck, letting out a jagged moan as I kneaded the deep ache in her muscle.
After a few minutes, she guided my hand higher, to the meat of her thigh.
As she wriggled against the pressure, she shifted positions, straddling me with her left leg extended so I had better access.
She placed her hands on my chest, her breath hot against my skin.
I kept rubbing her knee, reading her body language—learning when to dig deep and when to be soft.
Somewhere along the line, her hips started moving against me.
Whether her body knew what it was doing or not, the friction was a match to a fuse.
When her lips sucked softly at a spot on my neck, I burst into flames.
My hands landed on the small of her back, sliding down to the curve of her ass.
I pulled her closer, kneading her skin, and she responded by grinding against me, a desperate, rhythmic friction that made my vision go dark at the edges.
“Ness, you’re killing me, baby,” I whispered against her hair.
“Let’s go back to my room,” I said, my voice thick and strained, as if I’d just run a marathon. Her hips were relentless against my groin, and I was seconds away from losing every ounce of restraint.
She froze.
The movement didn't just slow down; it stopped entirely. Vanessa pulled back, her eyes glassy and unfocused for a second before they sharpened into something cold—something terrified. She looked down at where my hands were gripped tight on her skin, then up at my face.
“Your room?” she whispered, the softness vanishing. “Right. Back to the room, where you can take care of me until you decide you’re bored again? Or until I’m not a ‘project’ anymore?”
“Ness, what are you talking about? That’s not what this is.” I tried to pull her back, but she scrambled off my lap, her movements clumsy as she struggled to find her footing on her weak leg.
“Isn’t it?” She grabbed a towel, wrapping it around herself like armor. “This is what we do, Elliott. You get close when I’m broken, and then you remind me why I shouldn't have let you in the first place. You fired me, remember? You called my mother because you think I can't handle my own life.”
“I was trying to help you!” I stood up, the space in the cabana suddenly feeling way too small. “You were dying on a trail, Vanessa! I’m not allowed to care?”
“You don't get to care and be the villain at the same time!” she yelled, her voice cracking. The intimacy of the last ten minutes felt like a fever dream that had turned into a nightmare. “You can’t be the one who destroys my career and the one who rubs my leg. Pick a side, Elliott. Because I can’t keep doing this whiplash with you. ”
“I’m on your side!” I roared, stepping toward her.
She flinched—a tiny, almost imperceptible movement that felt like a knife to my chest. She didn't think I was going to hurt her, but she looked like she was bracing for the rejection she was sure was coming.
“No,” she breathed, shaking her head. “You’re on your own side. You always have been.”
She didn't wait for a rebuttal. She ripped the curtain back and limped out into the night, disappearing into the shadows of the resort before I could even get her name out of my throat.
I stood in the empty cabana, the scent of her still clinging to my skin, and kicked the wicker table until it shattered. I’d had her. I’d had her right there, and once again, the ten years of wreckage between us had risen up like a wall I couldn't climb.
I walked back to my room alone, the silence of the hallway feeling like a goddamn sentence.