Savage Lover: A steamy Ex-Boyfriend’s Dad, Billionaire Single Father, Primal-Play Romance (Off-Limit

Chapter 1

“Holy shit, girl. You are not going to believe this.”

Sally holds up her phone, where she’s got the Instagram app open. It’s Ainsley’s profile, of course, and he’s posted a photo of himself at a beach resort with a woman.

A beach resort that’s definitely not on Faraday Island.

And a woman who sure the fuck isn’t me.

Guess that explains why he didn’t show up last night.

Biting my lip, I try to keep my emotions from showing.

“What a fucking dick,” she mutters to her phone screen, shaking her head and sinking deeper into the tropical print cushions on her rattan framed chair.

I snort trying to take a drink of my mojito, and kick my bare feet up onto the low, wooden table between our chairs in the shady beach bar, watching my silver painted toenails glitter in the light from the coconut lamp hanging overhead. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

“What are you going to do?” Sally loves gossip, and this shit is gold.

“What can I do?” I shrug as my insides slowly turn to stone.

It wasn’t that I expected Ainsley, the rich, young trust-funder to be my forever. I just expected a little…I don’t know. Respect?

I should have known better.

No, damn it. I did know better. The guy didn’t take the time to remember anything about me. He barely remembered my name.

And not my last name.

After two months of…hanging out.

“I could never figure out why you chose that fuckboy anyway. I mean, you could seriously have any guy on this island,” Sally says, not looking up from her phone.

I would generally try to dissuade people from stereotyping someone like that, but it’s hard to argue with her right now.

Two months of practically living together, spending every night together, and the man wouldn’t even consider calling me anything other than a friend.

“I’m just not looking for a relationship right now…”

The words threaten to burn a hole through the lining of my skull as they play over and over in my head.

I will not cry.

Will. Not. Cry.

“It’s a really low blow.” Her tone is sympathetic. Probably more than I deserve.

“I knew better,” I finally manage.

“You keep saying that, but I’m not sure it’s entirely true. I mean, you two were hanging out for a while. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for you to have thought that maybe it would turn into something.” Good ol’ Sally, always on my side.

“Maybe it wouldn’t have been unreasonable for someone else, but this is me we’re talking about. This is how it always goes with guys. Either I like them and they’re unavailable, or they like me, and I’m not interested.”

“And your solution is to just keep hanging around the unavailable ones for a while hoping they become available?” She sounds less sympathetic now.

I shake my head and sigh. “I know it’s stupid. I sometimes think they just need time. Like, I’m going to prove myself worthy of girlfriend status or something.” I wave off her eye roll. “I know it’s pathetic and I’m stupid and I fell for another one. You can save me the lecture. The punishment is built in.”

“I get hanging out with someone who isn’t ready to commit thinking maybe it will turn into something. I mean, if we didn’t do that, I’m not sure any of us would be in relationships. It’s not like guys are posting “message me if you’re ready for marriage and kids because I sure am” in their dating profiles. They have an internal security system, and it goes haywire when a new girl hangs around for more than one night. That’s all normal. What’s not normal is the way you just take it.”

“As if I have a choice?”

“Of course you have a choice. If you’re going to play the game, you gotta be as much of a player as those assholes.” She takes a long pull on her straw and starts to grin, playing absentmindedly with the bright pink paper umbrella. “You know what I think you should do?”

I roll my eyes, knowing full well that whatever idea she’s come up with is not something I’m going to do.

“Find someone else to fuck and post a pic of the two of you on your Instagram,” she says far more matter of factly than the statement deserves.

I can’t help but smile. It’s such a Sally thing to say. I have no doubt that’s exactly what she would do. “It hardly seems like he’s stalking my Instagram feed right now.”

She shrugs. “You never know. I mean, pics don’t just appear on the app automatically. He took the time to upload it, even typed out a caption.” She scrolls down and grimaces. “Ick. You should not read that.”

I grab for her phone, but she pulls it away.

“No, seriously, Vic.”

I flop back into the big, comfy chair and lay my head back, closing my eyes.

It’s fine. I’ll be fine.

It”s just…why does this kind of thing keep happening?

I know that on some level Sally’s right. All the girls I know go through this kind of thing with guys. But it seems like they always end up finding someone who thinks they’re worth taking themselves off the market for. Me…not so much.

“You could fuck his dad.”

I don’t even bother to lift my head or open my eyes. “Great advice. Thanks, Sal.”

“No, seriously. He’s sitting right over there looking hot as hell.”

My head snaps up, and I follow her gaze over to the bar where, indeed, Ben Adams, one of the resort’s owners and a super-rich lawyer from the States, is sitting alone in a dark suit.

“Who wears a suit to a beach bar in the tropics?” Sally muses, reading my mind. “You should go take it off him.”

I laugh at her brazenness. “I’m not fucking anyone’s dad.”

It’s not that I’m holding out hope that Ainsley will come back to Faraday and explain that this whole thing was just some giant misunderstanding, but…I mean, he could.

Right?

“Well, you gotta do something. You aren’t doing yourself any favors letting guys walk all over you like this.”

“So, I go fuck his dad and then all the future guys will take one look at me and think ‘don’t mess with that one, she’s a dad fucker’.”

Sally cracks up. “Dad fucker!”

I sigh. “I’m so glad my heartbreak keeps you amused.”

“Don’t start with that shit, girl. As soon as you call this heartbreak, you’ve given the bastard far too much power over you.”

I bite my lip and consider. She’s right, of course. I’m in no way brokenhearted over the loss of my most recent non-relationship.

It’s just…

I pound the rest of my cocktail.

“You know what I’m going to do?”I ask.

Sally sits up excitedly, feeling the new energy that’s coming off me.

“I’m going to go tell his dad what a douchebag his son is.”

“Oh, yeah, girl. That’s a perfect plan.”

The fact that she agrees so readily gives me a moment of pause. She isn’t exactly the person I take life advice from. But in the end, I shake it off.

Sally’s excitement is palpable as I stand and smooth my short, black dress down over my thighs.

“Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck. You’re a fucking knockout.”

I toss her a grateful smile and turn to make my way over to the bar.

The man in question is sitting alone with two empty seats on either side of him at the otherwise full bar. Like he’s someone to be feared.

He’s certainly a formidable presence. Even with his back to me, I can feel the power radiating from him. It could be the obvious strength hiding underneath those expensive looking clothes, but I think it’s more than that. He’s broody, as if shadows emanate from him in all directions.

I slide onto the tall, wooden chair directly to his left and lean on the bar, head tilted in his direction. “Hey.”

His head turns to me, eyes meeting mine directly.

I’m struck dumb by the intensity in those dark brown eyes, momentarily unable to breathe.

I watch, breath held, as his eyes drift down my body to where my elbows rest on the bar, and then briefly toward my legs and then back up to my lips. His expression is not what I’m used to seeing on the faces of men checking me out. If anything, I’d say the guy looks sad.

His eyes touch on mine briefly once more before he turns his full attention back to his drink. “Hey.”

The exchange is so unexpected that it takes me a second to process. My whole reason for coming over here vanishes as I sit beside this man who is definitely dealing with something heavier than whatever silly shit I’ve got going on.

“Are you okay?” I fully planned to start reading him the riot act about his playboy son, but now, I just can’t.

His face turns toward me again just enough for me to see one corner of his mouth tick up. I catch his eye for a split second.

“Yeah. I’m just having a hard week.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

He inhales deeply and lets it out before turning his head back to me. “You want to hear about my problems?”

I shrug.

I mean, the honest answer is no, I want to tell him about my problems, but the guy just looks so forlorn…and so fucking hot.

Like, so hot.

I can see from my vantage point that his cream dress shirt is unbuttoned enough to show off a patch of dark hair gracing his skin. His face is every bit the dashing hero I grew up fantasizing about, even more so than Ainsley. As a matter of fact, this guy looks like what you would get if you fed a picture of Ainsley into an AI generator and requested it turn him into a mafia boss/underwear model. Dark hair, dark eyes, and five o’clock shadow I have a feeling isn’t usual.

Shit, if this is what Ainsley is going to look like in twenty years, maybe I should reconsider giving up on him over one stupid pic.

“It doesn”t look like you have anyone else to talk to.”

That earns me another sad smile. The man glances to his right and then back at me. “I suppose that’s true enough.”

“So, come on. What does the king of the island have on his mind that’s so bad it’s causing him to drink away his sorrows in a bar alone?”

His eyebrows lift at my insinuation that I know exactly who he is. “King of the island, huh?” His tone lightens as I apparently amuse him. I suppose it’s a step in the right direction.

“Don’t change the subject.”

His smile widens, and I can’t help but return it.

“Can I buy you a drink?” he asks, glancing down at my empty hands where they rest on the bar.

I should say no, but obviously, I don’t. “Sure.”

“What’s your poison?”

“The bartender knows.” I don’t know this sassy, confident woman I’ve apparently turned into, but I like her.

Seems Ben likes her, too.

He holds my gaze with a look so long and deep I nearly melt before he turns to signal the bartender to bring me another with just a few gestures of his hand.

My drink arrives, and I fall on it like a life raft.

Play it cool, girl.

But why? This isn’t a date or even a guy I want to impress.

I try to shut my mind up with a graceful chug of the strong, tart cocktail. I have no idea what’s going on, but I”m here for it.

“Now, are you going to tell me what’s gotten that pretty face so long?”I ask.

Seriously, who am I right now?

I get a real smile out of Ben now, big and glorious. It lights up his face, transforming him from broodingly hot to storybook prince handsome. I almost have to look away.

“That’s better,” I coo.

Who knew I could coo?

He shakes his head, looking back down at the glass in his hands.

I wait patiently.

“Sometimes, life just doesn”t go the way you expect. And there’s nothing you can do but accept it.”

Cryptic, and not offering any real information, but I nod anyway. “I know how that is.”

His face turns back to me, the expression sly, amused even. “Oh, do you? What would a young woman like you know about life not turning out as planned? You’ve hardly even begun.”

It’s my turn to shrug.I may be young, but I have a fair idea about how hard life is. The last thing I’m going to do right now is start my own sob story, though.

“You’d be surprised,” I say anyway, just to stay in character.

“Well, I suppose that could be true.” His eyes flick to mine and then down at my cleavage where they rest for a full beat. I try to hold still under his gaze, and it takes my full concentration. “It wouldn’t be the first surprise I’ve gotten tonight.”

His eyes raise to meet mine and his look officially has a name. It’s desire.

This guy wants me.

Ainsley’s dad thinks I’m picking him up at the bar.

Shit.

“Pretty girl like you got a name?”

“Victoria.”

“Victoria. Victory. Name fit for a queen.”

What the actual fuck.

He’s flirting with me.

“I’d ask for yours, but we both know that’s not necessary.”

He nods his head, accepting my statement as truth.

“So, Victoria, what brings you to The White Sands tonight?”

I take a long breath and let it out as quietly as I can. This is the part where I tell him the truth.

Right?

“Getting a drink with a friend.”

His eyebrows tick up just a hint. “And what brings you to the island?”

He’s fishing here, and I have a feeling I know what he wants to know. I take another sip of my drink, the strong liquor flaring into courage as it burns through my body. “Same as most people, I suppose. The sun, the sand, the ocean. And the fitness studio.”

That earns me a smile, and I relax just a bit. Telling the truth feels steadying, even if it’s not enough truth for him to actually know anything.

“Fitness junkie, huh?”

I shrug. “You’re clearly no stranger to the gym.”

He looks at me sidelong then, a shadow passing over his features that I can’t read. “You could say that.”

I have no idea where to take this. I’m too far gone to just come out and tell him the truth about why I came over here, and I’m still not sure if I have the gumption, or even the true desire, to keep taking this interaction in the direction it seems to be heading.

I mean, if this was any other guy on the planet, I’d be all for it. Who wouldn’t? Hot, older guy, clearly safe and trustworthy, since he owns the damn resort. He would be the perfect escape for the evening.

The thought of being alone with him in some fancy rich-person bedroom and getting to slip off my dress and blow his mind with my hot as fuck Pilates instructor body has me shifting a bit in my seat.

I mean, it wouldn’t even have to be a revenge thing. I’m certainly not the kind of person to snap a pic of myself in bed with someone’s hot dad and post it on the internet. What if I just pretended this guy was someone else?

I glance down at his left hand where it cradles his drink, trying to detect even a hint of a tan line on that ring finger. I can’t remember if Ains ever mentioned his mother, and nothing would throw cold water on this faster than learning this guy is married.

Maybe I can sneak to the restroom and google him just to be sure.

Ben follows my gaze and rubs his thumb thoughtfully across the base of the finger, the way you would spin a ring if it was there.

My breath catches as I wait for him to confirm my suspicion and release me from the act of complete madness I’m considering.

Instead, when he meets my eye, he gives the smallest little shake of his head. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough. Not married. I believe him. I mean, he has to know he can’t lie about that kind of thing. Or anything, really. Between the nosy staff and the internet, I bet I could find out just about anything I want to know.

He’s silent for a long moment, still watching his thumb graze over his ring finger.

There’s something to the movement, and the look he’s giving it, that hints at a deeper meaning and I can’t help but be curious.

He must be divorced. Maybe recently divorced and still sad about it.

Well, even better.

A sexy night with a hot stranger is just what he needs to start getting over her. I’d be doing him a favor. A public service of sorts.

When he looks up again and meets my eye, I no longer see sadness or even hesitation. The desire is back.

Well, that makes two of us, buddy.

“I’m not sure what the next step is here,” he says finally, head cocked to the side so he can look at me.

“The next step is that you take me home with you.”

His eyes hit the ceiling for a moment as he tips his head back and sighs. “Well, I can’t do that. But I can probably get a room here at the resort for us to spend some time in.”

“Okay.”

Oh my god. I am freaking out right now.

“Do you work here?”

It takes me a second to process his question with my brain currently on overload.

“What? Oh, no. I don’t work here.”

“Say the words—I am not a White Sands Resort employee.”

“I am not a White Sands Resort employee.”

He considers my face for a long moment. “Would you say that under oath?”

“If you advised me to, I would.”

He shakes his head. “Fuck,” he mutters, so low I barely catch the word.

I am going out of my mind with excitement and nerves. All I can do is watch and wait for him to decide.

“I’m going to go to the front desk. If you’re here when I get back…” he trails off, seeming unsure of what to say.

“I’ll be here,” I tell him. Sure. Confident.

For a second, I think he’s going to change his mind, but he just shakes his head and walks out of the bar.

The second he disappears through the doorway, Sally runs to my side.

“What the fuck?” she hisses excitedly, grabbing both of my hands in hers.

“I don’t know! I mean, I guess I kinda picked him up. He’s going to get us a room. How did this happen? What the fuck?”

Sally squeezes her eyes closed and squeals silently in glee. “Girl, just go with it. That is like the most eligible bachelor on the island. Hell, in the world! Just go up to his room and do whatever he tells you to do.”

“Will you Google him really quick and make sure he’s divorced?”

Sally’s face breaks into a grin. “I don’t need to Google him. I know and it’s even better. He’s widowed.”

I grimace. “How is that better?”

She rolls her eyes. “No other woman drama. Besides, it was ages ago.”

“Should I tell him about Ainsley?”

Sally looks like I just struck her across the face. “What the fuck is wrong with you? No, you don”t tell him about Ainsley. Screw Ainsley. He’s a spoiled little boy. You are about to bed yourself a real man.” She closes her eyes and proactively vibrates with excitement for me. “You’ve got this, Vic.”

But do I?

It’s too late for any more pep talk. Sally spots him coming back into the bar over my shoulder and quickly walks away.

Ben returns to his seat, watching her go. “Friend of yours?”

I nod.

“What does she think of all this?”

“She thinks I should go up to your room and do whatever you tell me to do.”

I surprised him with that, and I relish the brief, unguarded look my statement sends onto his face. It’s quickly replaced with his business stern face. “And what do you think?” he muses.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

He nods, holding my gaze tightly in his own piercing stare. “Yeah, I sure would.”

I shrug and say nothing.

After a full beat, where I’ve all but convinced myself that he’s going to bail, Ben reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a red keycard. He sets it on the bar between us.

“This is the key to the penthouse suite upstairs. If you hit R in the elevator, it will take you there.”

We both look at it, and when I finally glance up, I find him staring at me once more.

“I’m not going to go up with you. That would be…too much. You can head up when you’re ready, and I’ll meet you there.”

“And if you don”t show up?”

A little smile flashes across his chiseled features. “If I don”t show up, you can enjoy the best room in the resort all to yourself. Order room service, swim in the rooftop pool.”

“Okay.”

He sets his fingers back on the keycard where it rests on the dark bar, tapping them three times. I watch, mesmerized.

“Okay,” he says finally.

I swallow hard as he rises from his seat and stands beside me. The touch I’ve been waiting for finally comes—one hand lightly resting on the bare skin of my shoulder. I look up into his eyes as his warm skin burns into mine.

And then he’s gone.