Chapter Three
Day Two
Lyla
The morning sun is merciless against my eyes as I walk down to the villa’s kitchen for breakfast. The place hums with two spectrums of controlled chaos: the contestants fill their breakfast plates, nursing hangovers, while the crew murmurs to each other and coordinates which camera goes where.
I sit at the foot of the table, absentmindedly eating a plate of eggs that have long gone cold.
If I have a couple of those citrus margaritas I saw sitting on the bar, would it make this situation any better? Probably not, though the thought is tempting.
Being on a reality dating show is crazy. But being on a dating show with your ex is insane and filled with nothing but headaches. Why didn’t I see it coming? Why didn’t I smell the bullshit when it was practically staring me in the face?
There was no way I could have known.
That may be true, but it doesn’t change the fact that I slept in the same room with Scott Bennett for the first time in a decade.
I barely slept, if I did at all. And even when I did drift off, Scott’s even breathing and soft snoring were right there to wake me back up again. But it wasn’t the volume that kept me up. It was the fact that he was even in the room in the first place.
The low creak of the couch when he shifted… His proximity is now so close, it freaks me out. Close enough to reach—and far enough to remind me why I built my walls in the first place.
I hear strong, deliberate footsteps behind me, coming closer. Then before I can blink, I see a muscular hand take the plate in front of me, replacing it with a strawberry yogurt with granola on top.
My favorite. Where did he get that?
I searched high and low for some, but the kitchen swore up and down they didn’t have any.
I don’t turn around.
“If you’re hoping to catch me off guard, you lost the element of surprise a while ago.”
As if finding my favorite breakfast is going to get us back together.
His voice is against my ear, making me jump a little in surprise.
“Eat this. You’re going to need your strength today.”
Annoyed, I turn to face him.
Big mistake.
Seeing him at night for the first time in ten years is one thing.
Seeing him in daylight for the first time in ten years makes what I feel so much worse.
A white tank hugs his body, which looks like it’s been carved by gods.
His tanned skin glows in the sun’s rays.
I see more detail to his face. It’s harder.
Less boy. Those blue eyes lock onto mine, as though he could still stare into my soul.
He seems more like a man who knows what he’s capable of.
“Not hungry.” My stomach growls as soon as the words leave my lips. I wince.
Why do I have to be my own traitor?
He hands me a spoon. His expression turns fixed, staring directly into my eyes. His voice goes down an octave. “Eat.”
His response isn’t a question. Not a mild suggestion. There’s a powerfulness to his presence, his demand of me. It sends shivers up my spine, yet hurt curls low in my belly.
I just reunited with this man twelve hours ago, and he’s already confusing me.
My breath catches. And his stare becomes more insistent the longer I don’t eat.
Reluctantly, I scoop the yogurt onto the spoon, placing a large helping into my mouth. The yogurt melts onto my tongue, exactly the way I’ve always liked it. I can’t help but moan as I take a second bite.
“Thank you,” he sounds relieved as he takes the seat to my right, watching me eat. “And no, that’s not what I was going for.”
I swallow my second bite. “Then what are you going for? You have me trapped here. What’s the next phase of your plan?”
“Lyla, despite what you may think, I don’t have any ulterior motives against you.”
“You ambushed me on cable television. That’s one to start. So it only makes sense that you have another trick up your sleeve.”
“I know me showing up was the last thing you expected, but I’m here to see you. There’s so much I want to say. There’s so much for you to know.”
“And you thought telling me whatever bullshit story you think I want to hear on cable television was a great idea?”
He sighs. “I’ll admit, the environment isn’t ideal. But it couldn’t wait.”
I scoff. “Right, because ten years wasn’t long enough of a wait for you.”
“I’m here for you.”
I shake my head at his words. “Given where we are, and how long you’ve been absent, forgive me if I don’t believe you.
” I finish the last bite of my yogurt before resting the spoon against the rim of the bowl and setting it aside.
“Even if you were telling me the truth, you only came for you. Let’s face it; you left back then for greener pastures, and now that time has passed, you feel guilty for your adolescent impulses and came onto this show for closure or whatever version of redemption you think will help you sleep better at night. ”
His jaw tightens. “I know you have no reason to believe me, but I’m serious. And I don’t need to be a TV personality for closure.”
“Then what do you need? Because I certainly don’t need you.” I say the words, but deep down something in my gut tells me that’s a lie. For a moment it irks me before I shove it down.
“You.” He takes my hand. “I need you, Lyla.”
The moment his hand makes contact with mine, the pool noise fades. My pulse stutters. I’m quick to pull it back.
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t say things like that. Things you don’t mean.”
“Why not?”
Because I might start to believe you.
Because I still remember exactly how your hands feel on me.
Because the bundle of nerves between my legs is craving for your touch.
I lift my chin. “Because you forfeited that right.”
“Little one—”
“Don’t call me that.”
Silence falls between us. On the other side of the table, laughter and chatter erupt. A camera follows one of the guys with one of the girls. The world around us continues to move.
But here, between us, it’s static.
“You can’t just…show up and expect me to take you back like nothing happened.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t expect you to. But…” He lifts his hand, brushing two fingers lightly at my cheek, resting at my jaw. The contact is barely there yet electrifying all at once. “I have every intention of proving to you we belong together.”
Heat floods over my skin. I can’t move. I can’t think of anything other than his touch, his stare, his words.
Is this man insane?
“You look flushed.”
“You’re imagining things,” I deny.
His thumb presses lightly beneath my chin, forcing eye contact. His blue eyes are all I see.
The audacity of this man.
For a moment, I melt into his touch. Firm but gentle.
His gaze softens.
Heat curls and tightens low in my belly. My girl parts flutter.
Hell, no.
I’m only feeling this way because he’s right there. My feelings for him died long ago. At least that’s what I tell myself.
I quickly shove his hand away. “You’re imagining things.”
His stare turns incredulous. He makes it obvious I’m not that convincing.
“I could always read you. Still can.”
I shake my head. Anger surges hot and saving. “I’m not the same girl you left behind.”
“You’re right; you’re not. But I’d like to know the person you are now.”
I scoff. “No thanks.”
He had so long to get to know me then. To show his face. Instead, he chose now.
There was a time when I would have given him all of myself. But that was before. Before he left. Before silence carved me open. Before I bled alone.
I immediately stand from my seat, walking away from everyone. From him. Anywhere is better than under his exposing gaze.
He’s way too close.
Seeing no physical person around, I walk over to the terrace and try to take deep breaths. I pace back and forth. My mind spirals in multiple directions.
I need to get off this island. But I’m stuck here—and I can’t afford to spend six figures just to get away from a man.
Shit.
“Lyla.”
I whirl to find him walking toward me. I groan.
“Just go away.”
He shakes his head. “We both know that’s not what you want.”
“You don’t know what I want. Not anymore.”
He immediately closes the distance between us, and his eyes darken. His stature towers over me possessively. His voice is low and rough. “I lost you once, little one. I’m going to win you back.”
I cross my arms. Anything to get some distance. “And whose fault is that?”
His mouth flattens. “Entirely my own. I admit that.”
Tense silence stretches between us. I hear muffled sounds of laughter erupting near the bar. Sounds of water splashing. The world keeps moving.
“You can’t just pop back into my life and expect to pick up where we left off.”
“That’s not my intention. Too much has happened.”
“Yes, it has.” I stand my ground.
He lowers his gaze to my hand, taking it into his again.
I stiffen. I should pull back, but his grasp is warm, inviting.
When his gaze meets mine again, his lips are so close to mine. The heat of his body radiates over me. The pull I’ve been trying to ignore grows into an uncontrollable need.
My nipples tighten beneath the thin fabric of my swimsuit top. My breath goes shallow.
Damn him, damn my body.
“Time has changed us. Nothing may be the same,” he says quietly. “But your body can’t lie to me.”
Without thinking, acting on impulse, I fist his shirt into my palms and shove him backward toward the nearest stone column. His back hits it with a dull thud.
I breathe heavily as I stare into this man.
For half a second, surprise flashes across his face. Then it’s gone, replaced by something hot and dangerous.
“Tell me what you want, little one.”
“You want to psychoanalyze me?”
His hands move to my waist, sliding down to my hips as he pulls me closer. Firm and removing every inch of space there is left between us.
“Tell me what you want,” he repeats. His mouth brushes with mine until he claims it.
Out of instinct and familiarity, I press into him, into his kiss. My body arches.
His hands travel everywhere. One arm bands around my waist, hauling me impossibly close against him. The other fists in my hair, tugging gently at my scalp at a different angle.
His mouth opens against me, tasting of morning air and a musk that’s distinctly him, male. This kiss is slow and intimate. He doesn’t just claim; he explores. As if he’s kissing me for the first time.
The world narrows to friction as his hand slides down and grips the back of my thigh, lifting and pressing it against him.
My body melts farther into him, remembering exactly how to. Like I’ve never left his body in the ten years we’ve been apart.
His mouth drags from my lips, down to my jaw, past my throat, and to the swells of my breasts.
I close my eyes to the feel of his mouth, his tongue, on my skin. So familiar yet different. Rather than fast, he’s deliberately slow. Rather than erratic, he’s meticulous. His pleasure in this moment is all I can focus on.
His teeth then graze lightly beneath my ear. I gasp.
I rock my hips forward, desperate for friction against his hard length under my bundle of nerves.
He stills me with his large hands on my hips as his lips crash back to mine. I whimper and moan.
For a moment, he pulls back. “Tell me to stop,” he growls.
I can’t. That’s the problem.
My body hums, my skin electric. Every nerve ending is lit up like it’s been asleep—and just woke up with ravenous thirst.
But this—this moment, this heat, this pleasure—doesn’t fix anything. It can’t answer why things happened the way they did, much less erase the silence I had to endure. And it sure as hell doesn’t rebuild the trust that was lost.
I push against him, breaking from the kiss and his hold on my body. He doesn’t resist or try to pull me back.
Cool air hits my damp lips. My pulse roars in my ears as I catch my breath. My thighs are trembling. I feel damp between my legs.
“This,” I say, breath uneven, “is exactly the problem.”
His chest rises and falls slowly, but his expression remains fixed. “What is? We both still want each other.”
“That’s not the point.”
“I know it isn’t. But I still want you. I always have.” The admission hangs there for a beat.
“Wanting me physically doesn’t get me to trust you.”
“I more than want you like that. It’s always been this way for me.”
I scoff. “No, it hasn’t. You just miss what you left behind. Hell, once you’ve had me in your bed, you’ll get the hell out of Dodge and go on to the next girl.”
“You think I’m that shallow? That I’m that fickle and careless with you?”
“I don’t know. Because I don’t know who you are anymore. And I haven’t for a long time.”
He goes silent, nodding. As though he’s just realized something. “I’m never going to leave your side ever again.”
“You already did once. Actions speaks louder than words.”
His jaw tightens. “Things were very different then than they are now.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to hear your excuses. Just admit that you left and now you’re back for a good time. At this rate, telling me that ugly truth will sound more honest.”
Behind us, a producer calls for contestants to gather for the first official challenge.
I don’t hesitate to leave him there as I walk away and back toward the crowd of voices.
Moments later, I stand beside the female contestants as they stare apprehensively at the blindfolds in front of them—and the giant rope obstacle course. It stands tall and intimidating, stretching across a pool of water.
Scott steps in the circle beside me.
The trust I had with him was severed long ago. But with the way things are looking, I might have to trust him again.