10. Cooper
10
COOPER
D ay two on the island and I woke with a start not knowing where I was or how I’d gotten there for the first few moments my eyes were open. I shifted my gaze from side to side, trying to bring my memory back into focus.
Soft sea air blew in the windows and stirred the mosquito netting. A ceiling fan whirled overhead, and the roar of the ocean came from outside.
I sat up and rubbed my head, trying to get it to work right. Oh, right. I was on Bali with Renée Palmer.
The banger of all headaches pressed from inside my eyes as if it wanted to push them out like one of the long dead characters from Beetlejuice .
A funky taste sat on my tongue. I got up and grabbed my bag. Someone had brought it inside along with the clothes we’d abandoned on the beach. Whether Renée or one of the silent and ninja-like resort staff had performed the service, I didn’t know.
After brushing my teeth, taking a shower, and putting on some clean clothes, I felt at least somewhat normal again. In order to stick the landing on that one, I needed an entire pot of coffee and a few energy drinks.
I’d fucked so much the night before I was seriously dehydrated.
Where in the hell had Renée gone?
I looked around the room then went out to the deck. I didn’t see her there. When I stepped to the railing, she stood near the waterline, writing something in the wet sand with a stick.
I watched her for a while, contemplating what I knew about her from her public persona, and what I suspected from interacting with her one-on-one for the past twelve or so hours.
My take—she was an enigma.
About as vanilla in the bedroom as one could get without being a virgin. Yet, someone who ran a billion-dollar empire. She was worldly and innocent all at the same time.
Back when I had been so freaking disgruntled over her seminar, I had done a deep dive into her online. She was not only the face of the company, but also the CEO of Palmer, Inc. Her first few books had been published by a traditional New York publisher, until she’d grown so big, she’d wrested control of all her publishing and distribution to her own company. She also had a subsidiary of Palmer, Inc. that published self-help books and non-fiction titles that were uplifting and message oriented, called Palmer Books.
One of the tenets of her platform was to lift others up. By doing so, it elevated the one doing the lifting.
That touchy-feely message alone was enough to make me roll my eyes and have a serious case of the dry heaves.
My life hadn’t been set up in a way that allowed me to elevate others. I’d seen my older brother and younger sister get all the accolades in my family. I was the screw up. The one they all rolled their eyes at whenever I brought up another goal or dream. Just how badly was I going to screw that up before I gave up and dropped out?
The mantra around the Thorne home was that I was a no-good screw up. Hearing that every day of my life while growing up pretty much sealed my fate. One minute after graduation, I packed a duffle bag and headed out.
I don’t think my family even noticed. If they did, they certainly didn’t care I’d gone. Maybe it was a relief not to have me under foot, messing up the image.
People like Renée Palmer had no idea that blowing sunshine and rainbows up someone’s ass did nothing but promote hemorrhoids.
And yet, there was something in the depths of her eyes that suggested she was way over her head in this arrangement with me. That by selecting me to spend the weekend with, she’d bitten off more than she could chew, and she knew it.
Good. I wanted to keep her on her toes and guessing right up until the moment that I got on the transport boat back to the mainland.
How would it be going back home after the weekend? Knowing what I did about her? That every time I saw her in an interview or passed by one of her books in a bookstore, I knew intimately how her pussy tasted and how it felt to plunge my cock so far inside her that she lost her powers of speech?
From my perspective and the morning after, it felt pretty damn good.
She finally looked up and waved for me to come down to her.
Not going to lie, I wanted to be standing on that beach with her. Almost to the exact spot where I’d ate her senseless the day before.
I took my time going down the stairs and crossing the sand to her. From the distance, I couldn’t read what she’d written. By the time I reached her, the waves had done their duty in erasing the words from existence.
Curiosity ate me up. I wanted more than anything to ask her, but kept my mouth shut. If she wanted me to know, she wouldn’t have written it where the waterline took it out to sea.
“You didn’t wake me.” I rubbed a hand across my stomach as I gazed down at her. She wore a pair of dark sunglasses and had her long, dark hair up in a ponytail. From what I could tell, she wasn’t even wearing makeup. She looked about sixteen. “I don’t want you complaining you aren’t getting your money’s worth.”
A knowing smile lifted the corner of her mouth, and I had the overwhelming urge to kiss it. “So far, I’d say I’ve gotten a real bargain. Besides, you were tired after travel.”
A let a bark of laughter fill the space between us. “Yeah. Didn’t realize how much until I laid down on the bed. Sorry about that.”
She lifted a shoulder. “It’s entirely fine.”
I watched in fascination as color crept up her neck and painted her cheeks. She cleared her throat. “I needed a break as well.”
Then, I did laugh. I reached out for her hand. “Did you want to go for a walk with me and then find something to eat?”
Renée nodded eagerly and placed her delicate hand in mine. “I’d like that.”