Chapter 17
BILLIE
In love. The words hit me out of nowhere, sending me reeling. Of course, he meant the island. What else would he be talking about? There is no reason on earth why he would like me.
Sure, he’s grateful for me being his tour guide, but I’ve made it perfectly clear how I feel about him. Even if that changed, why would he waste his time on someone who has so openly hated him? And anyway, how can I have feelings for someone who wants to take my world away from me?
But that’s not it. I can see that now as we sit together and eat s’mores by the fire and giggle.
I can see it as clearly as if the sun were still out.
He’s not a billionaire jerk. He’s lonely.
Like me. He has everything he wants, but he doesn’t have anyone to see him for who he really is or really wants to be.
You’d think that billionaires like him would be surrounded by people, but I guess that’s part of his problem. He is surrounded by people, and he doesn’t want to be. He wears all these masks to succeed, but he just wants his peace. And I think here on this island, he’s finding it.
I think about the way he played with the kids again, how he looked so happy. Maybe this is what he needs. A little humanity. Something to love.
“Let’s go for a walk,” I say, shattering the tension brewing between us as I stand up.
“A walk? But … my s’more.”
“Can’t you eat and walk at the same time?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“I can. I can do anything.”
“Then pick up your plate, and let’s go. If you litter, I’m going to have to kill you.”
“I thought you wanted to do that anyway,” he says, and though he’s teasing, there’s more than an element of truth to his words.
“I did,” I say, then hesitate.
“And now?” he asks, not backing down, his eyes wide in the firelight.
“And now I think you’re just a man, and I’m not scared of you.”
“I wouldn’t want you to be,” he says softly, and my heart leaps into my mouth.
What is wrong with me that I’m starting to enjoy spending time with him?
He gets up, and we wander away to the west. “Where are we going?” he asks. “Please tell me we’re not doing more climbing.”
“Hey, you’re wearing the right clothes for it today, at least.”
“I still don’t want to.”
“Well, lucky for you, we’re just going to the caves.”
“The caves? In the dark?”
“It’s not dark yet,” I scoff. “Besides, hardly anyone knows these caves exist. It’s a great place to watch the sunset from.”
I lead him toward the rocks, and he squints in confusion at them. “There aren’t any caves here,” he says, eyes narrowing like I’m walking him into a trap.
“They kind of dip underground a little. They’re really hidden. You have to know they’re here to find them. Come on.”
Against my promise, I start crawling over the rocks. I hear him groan behind me, but he follows anyway. For a beautiful moment, the only sounds in the world are the waves rushing over the sand and Jacob, completely out of breath as he scrambles over the rocks, struggling to keep up.
When he finally catches up to me and sits next to me, the deep breath of delight as he sees the sun reflecting over the ocean brings me immense satisfaction. “Beautiful, right?”
“Yes,” he says. “You are.”
“What?” I almost yell.
He blinks, panicking. “What?”
“That was a slip of the tongue, right?” I giggle, trying to diffuse some of the awkwardness with a joke.
He stares at me with wide eyes, then glances at the sunset before looking back at me, his mouth ever so slightly open, his lips pink and inviting.
“Jacob,” I ask quietly. “You were joking, right? That was a mistake?”
“A mistake in the sense that I didn’t mean to say it out loud, yes. But not a mistake in the sense that I said something that wasn’t true.” His voice is low, and I barely hear it over the thumping in my head.
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. “Have you hit your head?” I ask with a faint chuckle. “Aren’t we supposed to be mortal enemies?”
“Do mortal enemies watch the sunset together?” he asks, gesturing out at the vast sky before us.
“I don’t suppose they do,” I say.
“I’ve never met anyone like you before,” he says almost to himself, staring out at the sky as if he’s trying to pretend I’m not there so he can make his confession. “I’ve never met anyone who’s so honest with me.”
“What, nobody else has ever called you an asshole before?”
He smiles at that, and I smile back at him.
We’re supposed to be looking at the sunset, but I can’t take my eyes off him or the way the last of the sun’s golden rays make his eyes sparkle, lengthen the shadow under his chin and bring out his cheekbones.
He is an exceedingly handsome man. I’ve never met anyone like him before, either.
I’ve faced challenges before, dealt with difficult men, difficult problems. But usually, those problems go away. Usually, my service to the world is all anyone notices about me, and here’s Jacob calling me beautiful.
It’s beyond belief.
“If this is a joke,” I say softly, “tell me now. It’s not funny to lead me on like this.”
“Who said anything about leading you on?” He turns to look at me now, his eyes stern with a realization that’s dawning on him. “Has no one ever called you beautiful before?”
“Do you count my mother and teenage boyfriends?”
“No.”
“Well, then.” I bite my lip, my mind racing with the reality that’s unravelling before me. If this is reality. This is the kind of situation you wake up from, the kind of weird but pleasant dream you have in the throes of the flu.
“They should have,” he says, the intensity of his words growing. “You should have someone to tell you how special you are. You should have someone who means it.”
My lips tremble, and my breath shakes. How can this be happening? How can a billionaire have looked at me and thought I was beautiful?
“Billie,” he says, looking deep into my eyes, into my heart. “Let me kiss you?”
“Kiss you? Kiss me?” I stammer.
He smiles, but I see it again, that awkward desperation he has.
He’s acting smooth, but the way he’s clenching and unclenching his fists shows he’s as nervous about this as I am.
My eyes flicker down to his lips, and they look soft, pink, kissable.
I can’t pretend the thought hasn’t crossed my mind.
Then he opens his mouth, and I can tell that some awkward rambling is about to come out, and it’s going to shatter the moment. If this is the only moment I’m going to get to share with him, I’m going to take advantage of it.
What the hell? Why shouldn’t I? This is the kind of thing that happens to other people, not to me. I shouldn’t throw my opportunity to feel loved by a billionaire away out of some sense of pride. Even if this isn’t real, can’t I pretend for one night?
And I lean in and press my lips against his.
He freezes for a second, then wraps his arms around me.
As we both melt into each other, I get the sense that neither of us has been kissed in a while.
Because despite his smooth talk, his fingers fumble against me like he’s not sure where to put his hands.
Like he’s not sure how much he’s allowed to touch.
My lips are clumsy too, but even though this feels strange — like it’s not really happening to me — something’s changing inside me, unfurling like a flower, like something breathing out and saying, finally.
Maybe this was exactly what I needed.
We break away to catch our breath, and though we don’t say anything, we both burst into giggles like teenagers. “That was good,” he says, not quite a question, but definitely a plea for validation.
“It was good,” I agree. “I’m sorry if I’m out of practice.”
“You were perfect,” he says. “You are perfect.”
My face must be bright red by now, but hopefully the gloom of the cave cloaks my embarrassment. Feeling brave, I shuffle slightly, sitting next to him to rest my head on his shoulder. He tenses beneath me for a second, but then shuffles too, both of us adjusting to make ourselves comfortable.
We don’t say anything as we watch the sun dip across the horizon, getting lower and lower with every heartbeat.
“I wish I could stay here forever,” he murmurs.
“If you’re going to buy the island, you can stay here forever.”
He shakes his head. “No. I mean, like this.” He takes hold of my hand, squeezing it tightly, tightly enough that he must feel how clammy my palms are. “With you. With everyone. I want to stay like this. Like we are now. I want to feel like I belong.”
“Then start by not kicking us out of our homes,” I say.
He squeezes my hand again, his other arm looping around my shoulders so he can play with my hair. “I feel like a fool for ever suggesting it.”
“You just wanted to feel normal,” I whisper. “But pushing everyone away is not the answer.”
“It’s not the answer for you either,” he says.
“What do you mean? I’m friends with everyone on this island.”
“But do you need more?”
Do I need more? It’s a question I only ever ask myself on bad nights, alone in the dark when I wonder if I’m doing the right thing. Sometimes, the answer is no. But sometimes the answer is yes; a painful, aching yes, because I want more. I crave something I’ve never had or admitted that I wanted.
Something like this.
Before I can let my mind take over and let logic win again, I twist to face him, letting our lips collide. This time, it’s not the innocent first kiss of people realizing they’re attracted to each other. This time there’s a passion, a fire, a need.
I can’t believe I’m doing this. As the kiss deepens, we both move toward each other, our arms wrapping around shoulders, then our hands on each other’s waists, pulling each other in closer, tighter, our chests colliding, our fingers intertwining.
He kisses my cheek, then whispers in my ear, “Billie, I want to touch you. I want to taste you.”
“Do it,” I whisper back before placing both hands on his cheeks and pulling him back toward me.
He doesn’t hesitate before acting on his words.
As we kiss, his hands dance down to my thighs, sneaking up my skirt so that his fingertips can brush over my bare flesh.
I gasp at the touch. He pauses, pulling away to look at me and check that I’m okay, but I dig my fingers into his shoulders, groaning at his timidness. “Keep going, please.”
He does, and when his fingers finally make their way to my underwear, I’m breathless and aching with want.
He pushes my underwear aside and discovers how much I want him; how wet I am for him.
I cry out at the sensation of his fingers on me, but it’s when he moves his lips to my collarbone, and kisses his way down between my legs, that I start seeing stars.
My thighs grip at his shoulders as his tongue caresses me, my hand raking through his hair, my body exploding with pleasure.
There are a million thoughts I should be having, but I can’t make a single one of them coherent because the only thing that matters in this second is Jacob’s tongue on me, and my own gasps and moans, my own pleading for more.
When I come, I’m glad this place is isolated because I squeal, my whole body shaking with my climax.
He sits up, his lips glistening, and I pull him in for another kiss, salty like the sea. “I want you,” he breathes. “I need you.” I let my hand drift down to feel his hardness bulging in his pants, and my heart skips a beat at the thought that I’ve done this to him.
“Yes,” I gasp. “Please.”
“I don’t have protection, though,” he says haltingly, like he’s turning into an awkward teenager again.
I shake my head. “I’m on birth control,” I say. “It’s good for my hormones. We’re safe.”
“You’re sure you want this?” he asks.
“I’ve never been this sure of anything.”
We kiss again, and this time, I help him shed his clothes, unbuttoning his shirt and unzipping his fly. The sight of him should be intimidating, but it’s not. It just sends a flash, another wet flash of desire to my core. I’m giddy with the excitement of all of this.
I shuffle around again and decide that getting on my hands and knees is the best way to avoid sand getting in places I don’t want sand to be.
Before, I could use my skirt as a blanket, but with how hungrily Jacob’s looking at me, I don’t think that’s going to last much longer.
His fingers run over the bare skin of my backside, making my flesh prickle, and I gasp when I look back over my shoulder and see the look of desire and awe on his face.
Slowly, he lines himself up behind me, his hands gripping my hips, my legs trembling with excitement. “You are so gorgeous,” he breathes and slides in, filling me to the hilt.
I cry out, thankful again that there’s no one around to hear us. Even if there were, the rush of the waves against the shore masks both of our moans and shouts, water crashing down on the sand as we collide, two becoming one.