Chapter 13
God, he has my body reeling, desperate and needy. It’s been so fucking long since I’ve had sex, and if I’m being honest, I’ve never had good sex. The only orgasms I’ve had have come from my fingers or a vibrator, and that never seemed to matter to Sean.
Once, I mentioned it to him, and he laughed it off. After that, I became the picture of faking an orgasm—head thrown back, mouth open, loud moans, dramatic and over the top. It got so bad that became a joke to me, trying to outdo myself every time.
The only thing it did was make Sean come faster than ever, leaving me with little opportunity to even attempt to come. He became a two-pump chump, and he seemed strangely proud of that.
But all of that makes sense now, after getting to witness him pounding into that blonde. His needs were being met by a different vagina and getting off on the idea of getting caught.
My porn star act was just not enough.
“I don’t want to be a conquest, Kai,” I tell him, taking a page out of his book and being brutally honest.
“Trust me,” he starts, stopping to let out a knowing chuckle. “Scratch that. I know you don’t really trust anyone right now, but give me time. You’ll never be a conquest.”
I don’t say anything, not really convinced by his comment, and as if he can sense my unease, he runs the pad of his thumb over my cheek.
I lean into it, loving the feel of his rough, calloused skin against mine.
I hate the way my body, my mind and my heart all war against each other, but more than that, I hate that Sean ruined something exciting and new and exhilarating for me.
But I wouldn’t be here now if that hadn’t happened.
“Since we’re going the whole honesty route,” I start, smiling as I say, “I really want to fuck you too because something tells me you’ll be amazing.”
“Anytime you want, Quinn, anytime,” he murmurs. Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “Surfing tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sounds great. Good night, Kai.”
“Night, Quinn.”
I wake the next morning to my phone ringing, and it’s early. Smiling, thinking it’s Kai reminding me to wake up and meet him, I pluck it off my nightstand.
The number glowing on the screen is my lawyer’s, and the last thing I want to do is start my day talking about that whole fucked up mess. I’m guessing Sean’s lawyer called her to complain when I didn’t respond to his shitty text.
Against my better judgment, I answer it. Sounding groggy and still half asleep, I mutter, “Hey.”
“Hi Quinn, Nancy Melton. How are you doing?” she asks—formal, but trying to make it friendly. We aren’t friends. She’s doing a job, a job I hope she does well because I want this over with quickly.
“I’m fine,” I tell her. I would be better if she hadn’t called, letting me enjoy the morning surfing with Kai.
“So, I’ve got some great news,” she says, and I roll my eyes. Great news? Please, nothing she can tell me would ever constitute as “great news” unless she has a time machine, and I can go back and never marry Sean.
When I don’t say anything, she continues, “He’s agreed to everything, but he would like you to sign an NDA in exchange for two million, and he’ll have your car shipped to you and the title transferred to your name.
” She pauses, waiting for me to say something, and when I don’t, she clears her throat, almost as if she’s trying to encourage me to just agree to it.
“Quinn, you there?”
“Yeah, I’m here.”
“This is a great offer. As your lawyer, I’m going to advise you to take it,” she adds, sounding firmer this time. “We can have everything signed and done by the end of the month.”
“I’m not going to do that,” I respond, and she lets out a hard sigh of annoyance.
“He’s given you everything you asked for,” she asserts, and I’m starting to wonder if I’ve hired the wrong person.
I literally asked for nothing. No money, no cut of our condo, not my car, nothing. And if she were a good lawyer, she’d know that despite signing a prenup, there’s a cheating clause in there, allowing me to fight for something more.
But this offer isn’t nothing. It’s not what I asked for. It allows him to win, which is exactly what he wants.
“I won’t sign that NDA,” I tell her, and this time it’s me sounding harsh and demanding.
My heart begins to race, hammering hard, and the threat of tears stings my nose. That isn’t an offer, and maybe I’m the only one who can see that.
“What would you like me to tell them?” she presses, again with the annoyed sigh, a bite to her words. I don’t want to argue with her. That isn’t who I am, but I’ve also made a promise to myself to no longer be a doormat.
“Tell them just what I said. I’m not signing that NDA and present my initial offer for the divorce.”
“But this is a better offer. That kind of money could—” I cut her off before she can say it. I know what she thinks of me now, some stupid masseuse could use two million dollars.
It’s the kind of money I’ll never make in my lifetime, but that’s not the point. And I get that most—hell, probably all—people wouldn’t turn it down, but this comes with a catch.
“I don’t want his money.”
“Whatever you say. I work for you, and if you want me to go back with that, I will,” she simply states now.
“That’s what I want.”
We end the call with somewhat defensive and hostile “goodbyes,” and I flop back down against my pillow. Scrunching my eyes shut tight, I will myself not to start crying.
That whole conversation just brought me back to the reason I left in the first place, to all the shit that has happened in my past that I chose to ignore.
Signing that NDA would be the worst decision I could make. It’s what he wants, and it’s controlling and a desperate way to silence me.
Money buys everything.
Cars.
Houses.
People.
Silence.
My silence.
I’m staring up at the ceiling, contemplating if what I did was completely ridiculous. He has me questioning my decisions like he always did, and he’s not even here.
Two million dollars is a fuckload of money, and I just turned it down.
My phone chimes, a text coming through, and this time it has to be Kai, but again, it isn’t.
Glancing down, I see my lawyer’s name pop up.
Nancy: They’ve now offered $11 million. Think this over and call me when you get a chance.
I launch my phone into the oversized chair that sits in the corner of the bedroom. It’s currently stacked with clothes I have yet to put away. The phone lands there with a soft thud, just as a knock comes on my front door.
“Fuck you,” I mutter. “You can stay there.”
I climb out of bed, bitter and crabby, and make my way to the front door. This time it has to be Kai because my lawyer can’t get here that fast.
And when I pull it open, he’s standing there, coffee in hand, and a smile on his beautiful, tanned face.
“Good morning,” he says, holding one out for me. “Best coffee on the island. Took a guess at what you like based on your response to Daze’s coconut cake last night.”
He winks at me, and I step aside to let him in. He’s wearing a pair of low-slung boardshorts, shirtless with his impressive abs on display.
“It’s a Hawaiian latte. Trust me, you’ll love it,” he says, and there are those words again.
Trust him.
Right now, men suck. They suck so badly that I even want to hate Kai, and he’s done nothing to me other than show up here with coffee and treat me with kindness.
“It’s been a rough morning,” I admit, taking a sip of the coffee, and holy shit, it’s good. “Oh my god, this is incredible.”
“Hawaiian latte,” he states with a cockiness that only he can exude. “Macadamia nut and coconut syrup, steamed milk, and milk foam. I knew you’d like it. Now get moving. We’ve got waves to catch.”
“Are you always like this so early in the morning?” I question, pulling out a chair and taking another sip of coffee.
“Yes, yes, I always am, and if you don’t get moving, we’re going to miss the best part of the day when it comes to surfing.”
He flicks his hands at me and then points to my bedroom. Rolling my eyes, I haul my ass out of the chair. He’s quite demanding this early. The sun hasn’t even come up yet.
Ten minutes later, I’m in the passenger seat of his truck, coffee in hand as he backs down the long gravel driveway.
“I promise you, it will be worth it,” he says, reaching over to pat my thigh. Giving it a little squeeze, he smiles, and as shitty as my morning was, he’s able to get a smile out of me too.
“So, are you high all the time?” I blurt out, and he gives a hearty laugh in response.
“Don’t get me wrong, I love an edible or a joint now and then, but no, Quinn, I’m not high all the time. Fuck, living here, getting to surf and make boards, it’s my life, and I love it.”
I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who isn’t constantly chasing money, always wanting more, but with Kai, it’s like he doesn’t even care.
He has the water, and he’s happy.
“Wanna tell me about your rough morning?” he now says, echoing the words I said to him back at me.
I look over at him, not saying anything, unsure if I even want to share it with him. The last thing I want to be is that girl who overshares and telling him about this shitshow feels that way.
I already broke down once in front of him, and while he handled it really well, that doesn’t mean he will this time.
“Your mouth might not be saying anything, but the subtitles are written all over your face,” he jokes, mimicking a scowl back at me, and I laugh.
He pulls off the road, stopping to park in an area that is totally empty. There’s not a car around, and I wonder if he’s taken me someplace that the locals go.
“No one’s here,” I say, both of us climbing out of the truck.
Walking around back, he pulls the boards from it and hands mine to me. I tuck it under my arm like he taught me and begin following him.
“Yeah, this isn’t a popular area. All my friends are down the road. The swell there is epic, but you’re not ready for that yet.”
“Kai,” I start, but he stops me.
“Nah, all good, Quinn. I said yet. You’ll get there. I wanna hang out with you, so no big deal. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be here right now.” He pauses for a few seconds, looking over at me, that cheeky grin on his face. “And no, you’re still not a conquest.”
I shake my head, laughing a little. He’s like no one I’ve ever met before, reading my thoughts but also responding in an honest and real way.
“I wanted to get out here before the sun starts to rise. It looks amazing out on the water. Come on,” he says, jogging a bit, his feet kicking up sand behind him.
He waits for me, and I make quick work of my shorts and tank. I tuck my board back under my arm and follow him into the water.
“Stay close,” he tells me, and I do, paddling in line next to him. Once we’re out past the break, he stops.
Slinging a leg over his board, me following suit, we watch as the sun just begins to come up over the mountains far beyond us.
“So, tell me what went down this morning, and why do I think it has something to do with your ex?” he says casually.
I look over at him and tap the end of my nose, but I’m not even sure where to begin.