Chapter 23
Caroline
I went into the office the next day to meet with the two journalists who were picking up my workload, to ensure they understood everything in my notes.
It ended up being productive, both for the pieces themselves and for my own mental health.
It helped reiterate that this was just a temporary sabbatical, rather than me getting fired.
Eddie came out of his office and asked if I wanted to talk about everything, but I shook my head. “I’m not mad. You were right. I was struggling to do both jobs. I should be focusing on one thing at a time. When this biography is done, I’ll come back fresh.”
He adjusted the glasses on his nose. “That’s awfully self-aware of you.”
In reality, part of me was happy about all of this. I hadn’t realized how cluttered my mind had been lately until I was finally able to narrow my focus onto one thing.
I took the extra time to go through my notes, finish my rough outline, and then finally sat down and wrote the first chapter.
“Glad you decided to come,” Rafael said on the flight down to the Caribbean. Harrison was in the bedroom at the back of the plane, with the door closed.
“I was forced to go on sabbatical from my day job,” I explained. “Which sucks, but at least it means I can focus on this.”
“And you get to enjoy the fringe benefits, like spending a week on a tropical island.”
“Is that why you like working for Harrison?”
He chuckled. “It’s not a negative, that’s for sure.”
I crossed one leg over the other, brushing my foot against Rafael’s leg under the table. It was an accident, but Rafael smiled knowingly at me like I was intentionally flirting with him.
Rather than disabusing him of that, I gave him a smile.
Harrison’s property on St. Kitts was right on the beach, a dozen individual sleeping huts that all walked out to the impossibly-clear water.
It was hot, but there was a constant breeze that made it comfortable.
A white-clad servant escorted me to my own private hut, which only looked primitive on the outside.
With a king-sized bed, a fully-stocked bar, and a massive bathroom, the interior was as luxurious as a five-star hotel.
I had just changed into a bikini when a knock came at my door. I expected it to be another servant, but Rafael was the man standing there when I opened the door. He was wearing khakis and sandals, with a white linen shirt that fluttered in the ocean breeze.
“Harrison has a meeting with an investor on the beach in an hour, if you want to sit in on it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And rather than call, you decided to walk down here to tell me?”
His eyes were unreadable behind his Ray-Ban sunglasses. “Harrison asked me to tell you, and your hut was on the way to the bar,” Rafael replied. “Want to get a drink?”
“Are you allowed to drink on the job?” I teased.
“I’m technically off the clock for this entire trip,” he replied. “One of those fringe benefits of working for Harrison that you mentioned.”
“I just poured myself a cocktail from my bar,” I said, stepping to the side. “If you want a sip.”
That mischievous look sparkled in his eyes again, and he stepped inside. “I think I want more than a sip.”
“Good,” I replied, closing the door. “Because I wasn’t talking about the drink.”
Rafael dropped all pretext, pushing me up against the door and crushing his lips to mine.
Despite the days that had passed since our affair in Paris, it felt like we were picking right up where we left off.
Everything about him—his fingers on the small of my back, his thigh wedged between my legs, the way his tongue danced in my mouth—felt familiar and new all at once.
“Hurry,” I begged.
He spun me around, planted a hand on my back, then bent me over the bar. A few seconds later, his pants dropped to the floor and I felt his hard length pressing into my entrance.
We cried out together as he slid inside, inch after thick inch, until I was completely filled.
If our first time having sex was slow and sensual beneath the Paris moonlight, this time was fast and hard and rough.
Rafael drilled me from behind, slamming his cock into me so hard that the bottles on the bar rattled.
One of them even toppled over, but I couldn’t reach it—and wouldn’t have bothered even if I could.
All of my focus was devoted to the grip of his fingers on my waist, the tightening of his fist in my hair, the way he grunted softly with every thrust.
We shouldn’t have been doing it, which of course made it so much hotter. And with Rafael, I felt comfortable enough to tell him what I wanted. To ask for it rather than simply hoping it would happen.
“I’m yours,” I cried out. “Treat me like your fuck toy.”
“I am,” he said with a groan-filled chuckle.
“I’ll do anything you want,” I said, reaching down and touching myself. My clit was on fire for him. “Use me.”
His fingers tightened on my waist, digging into my flesh as he pumped into me. “You have to come first. Then I’ll tell you what I want.”
The desire in his voice was intoxicating. A beautiful little orgasm surprised me, rippling outward from my core and turning my legs to jelly. I clamped my free hand over my mouth, terrified that someone outside the hut would hear us.
And then, when my muffled ecstasy dwindled, Rafael asked, “Are you my fuck toy?”
“Mmm hmm,” I managed to say.
He pumped into me faster, almost recklessly. Bottles rattled and the bar shook. Then he pulled out.
“Get on your knees,” he commanded.
I spun around and dropped to my knees, still rubbing my clit. Rafael reached behind my ear and grabbed a fistful of my hair, stroking himself to completion.
“I’m going to come all over your chest,” he warned. “Oh God, oh fuck…”
“Come on me,” I begged, my fingers moving faster on my clit. “Cover me, Rafael.”
He groaned, and yanked my head back with his tight grip. Then he erupted all over me, rope after rope landing on my neck, my shoulder, and my cleavage. I drank in the sight of his pleasure, which was written all over his face as he gazed down at me.
“Good girl,” he finally said, pulling my lips up to his in a rough kiss.
God, it felt good to hear him say that.
Rafael left first, and I followed a few strategic minutes later—after changing into a new dress. I found him at the beachside Tiki bar, leaning on the counter and gazing out at the water.
“It’s beautiful here,” I said.
“It is now,” he replied, dragging his gaze over me.
I snorted. “That was cheesy.”
“It was meant to be cheesy. I like your new clothes.”
“I had to change,” I said casually. “My other clothes got dirty.”
“Sometimes it feels good to ruin something expensive.” He slid a glass over to me. “I took the liberty of ordering you a vodka tonic, since all the ice melted in the one you made yourself in your hut.”
“My hero.”
We clinked our glasses together, then gazed out at the beach. Harrison was standing underneath a beach canopy, stripping his shirt and folding it onto the back of his chair. He saw us, and raised his hand in greeting.
“I thought we had agreed we would only do this twice,” I said casually while waving back.
“I thought so too,” Rafael replied. “Until you invited me into your hut for a sip.”
“Only because you showed up at my door looking like a sexy little beach snack!” I whispered back.
“Which I only did because you were playing footsie with me on the flight,” he pointed out.
“Believe it or not, that was totally an accident,” I told him.
“You’ve never given me a reason not to believe you,” he replied. “But I’m glad I misinterpreted it as a come-on.”
“I’m glad, too.”
He leaned into me, and I returned the gesture, the two of us sharing our space for a few precious heartbeats before going back to pretending like we didn’t share a sexy little secret.