12. Twelve
Scaling a mountain after giving herself stitches was a horrible mistake. Kat’s arm was on fire and begging her to stop. Throughout the climb, she feared that she might have popped her stitches, but by the time they reached the top, she was relieved to see the bandages had held. The cliff wasn’t straight up, thankfully; it had a gradient that made climbing easier than it could have been. Granted, the last time she’d rock climbed she’d been in her twenties and securely tethered to the rocks with a harness, so of course she was nervous.
“Please tell me there is an easier way down.”
West pursed his lips, and Kat groaned, knowing the answer was not the one she was hoping for.
“At the risk of being an ass, I told you your arm wouldn’t be able to handle that climb.”
“It’s fine.” She held up her arm to prove it and almost cried out in pain.
He lifted one infuriating eyebrow, and she hated he could read her so easily.
Although the sun was still high in the sky, their shadows had lengthened slightly, and Kat judged it to be around three or four o’clock in the afternoon. She was getting good at telling time by the sun, her ancestors would be proud of her.
Tucked away behind rocks at the highest point on the hilltop, they peered out onto the expanse of coca plants below. Men were scattered among the fields, their hands busy plucking off leaves, which they tossed into baskets.
“Is the coca plant legal in Indonesia?” she asked.
“I highly doubt it. Even weed is illegal. They’re pretty big sticklers about all mind-altering drugs.”
“Then why would these people choose Indonesia for their operation?”
West scanned the fields. “You’re the one who said there are six thousand uninhabited islands. They found one and started an operation under everyone’s noses.”
“Smart.”
West gawked at her. “Did you just compliment a drug ring?”
“I didn’t say they should do it. It’s just smart.”
“Where do you think all these workers came from?” West asked.
“Wouldn’t be the first time White men exploited people of color to make a buck.”
West stared at her like she had five heads, and she shrugged. The scene was eerily similar to pictures of slaves working in the fields. The Indonesian men were pulling the leaves, while two White men surveyed their work. She hoped the workers were at least getting paid well, but she doubted it.
“Maybe we can blow the whole operation up.”
“Jesus, Kat, you are crazy.”
“Isn’t cocaine combustible?”
“That’s meth.” He watched the workers, searching for something.
“What are you looking at?”
He pointed to the second largest wooden structure in the distance and said, “There is an office in there. There must be a phone or some way to communicate with someone. We just have to figure out a way to get in there without getting caught.”
Kat looked down at the long stretch of ground that separated them from the office building, scanning the area for any sign of guards or surveillance. Her brows furrowed in frustration as she realized how slim their chance of making it without being noticed was.
“Maybe you could create some kind of distraction, set their field on fire or something, and then I’ll run in and search for a satellite phone. They have to have something.” He was talking animatedly with his hands, and Kat couldn’t help but get wrapped up in his plan. But it was a fool’s mission. She knew it.
Grabbing his hands, she brought them into her chest, as they crouched behind a rock.
“That sounds like a first-rate plan CIA man, but remember, you’re just thinking about playing one in the movies. We at least need the cover of darkness, and I think we can add to your idea.”
He glanced down at their intertwined hands then back at her. “And what is that?”
“First, if you could stop leaving me behind, that would be terrific. I like the setting their field on fire idea, but we both need to do it. Then we need to see if there is a satellite radio somewhere.”
He released her hands and tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear, an intimate gesture that made her want to melt into a puddle on the ground. His hand was now cradling her jaw, and Kat felt her heart leaving her body and heading straight to him. A fact she didn’t want to think about at the moment. “Kat, I’m not trying to leave you behind. I just want you to be safe. But you’re right, we can come back under the cover of darkness and see what we can find.”
He dropped his hand, and they crawled through the tall grass back to the cliff’s edge.
“Shit,” West whispered under his breath.
“What’s wrong?”
“Look.” West pointed down the cliffside where two guards now stood. “Get back,” he whispered, pulling her back into the long grass before the guards had a chance to glance up and see her.
“Can we take a different way down?”
West shook his head. “With your arm, this is the easiest path I know of. I think we should wait here. Maybe they’ll move on.”
After what felt like hours of waiting, Kat plopped down next to him, her frustration evident. “So now what? I don’t know how long it’s been, but they haven’t gone anywhere.”
West reached out, his hand running down one of her braids, a smile on his face. “I can think of a way to pass the time.”
“Nice try,” she laughed, her face betraying her with a blush. West felt the tension between them, and wasn’t sure he could fight it anymore.
“Then what are we supposed to do? Talk?”
Kat glanced over her shoulder, the sun setting behind her. “Yes, West, that’s what people do. They talk. Why don’t you tell me something real about you, something the rest of the world doesn’t know or wasn’t made up by the tabloids?
“Fine, but only if you do too.”
“I’ve been an open book.”
“So? I want to know everything about you.”
He heard her breath hitch, and he wanted to lay her bare then and there, but he’d promised to tell her something, and he truly did want to know everything about her.
He pulled away, giving himself some space or he wouldn’t be able to tell his story.
He took a deep breath and looked out at the ocean in front of him. The view from the top of the island was unparalleled, and he would have appreciated it more if their situation hadn’t been so dire.
“I didn’t retire from music, the label, well . . . they dropped me.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath, but she said nothing, allowing him to continue.
“My numbers aren’t what they used to be, my style isn’t hip anymore, Zoomers don’t buy records anymore, and whatever other excuses they wanted to make. They said they wouldn’t record any more of my music if I didn’t change my sound to what they wanted.”
He gave a slight laugh devoid of humor. “Record sales have been down for a while. I suggested going back to my old stripped-down sound. They didn’t like that idea, said I’m old, washed-up—whatever term you want to use. The label was done. So, they said to do it their way or walk. I walked.”
Her hand found his, and she squeezed. The comforting gesture almost undid him.
“I’m sorry, West, I had no idea. I mean, this tour was a lot smaller, and I guess that should have clued me in, but I didn’t think they would ever drop you.”
“No one else knows, not even my dad. The label let me have the out.”
“Did they think they were being generous?”
He gave a cynical laugh. “No, there was a catch. I can’t sign with any other label for at least two years.”
She shook her head, her thumb stroking his finger of its own volition, and West realized how much he enjoyed having someone just sitting there holding his hand, stroking him, comforting him. “Why can’t you go to a new label if they say your music isn’t worth it anymore?”
“Control. I keep control of my public image, and yet they keep control of my career. That’s why Declan worked to find me the acting gig. It was something I could try and still make money. So now you see why I’m considering acting. What else am I going to do?”
“What worries you more? The world finding out you’re not so perfect after all, or your father finding out?”
West tried not to flinch at the mention of his father; it was a question he had pondered more than he should have. Why did he care so much? His father’s band only had four studio albums; West had seven. He’d been on far more world tours than his father ever had, and yet it still drove him mad he had failed.
“You know this business: one day you’re in, the next you’re out,” he said, trying to brush off her question.
She placed her hand on his arm, her fingers long and firm, burning through his skin. “West.” His name on her lips gave him pause as he saw the depth of emotion within her eyes. It almost did him in. That emotion was for him. “Tell me the truth. It annoys you that you didn’t stay on top forever, doesn’t it? That you couldn’t beat your father.”
He sighed, annoyed she understood him better than he understood himself. “Growing up, he always pushed me to be the best,” West started, surprised he was willing to open himself to Kat like this, but he wanted to tell her.
He swallowed audibly. “He said I could be the best out there, that I had a legacy to continue, but then I made my type of music. I didn’t want to make the harder rock like him, and he hated it. It was his fault for taking me to a Prince concert at such a young age. He said I would go nowhere, that no one would buy it, that I would be a failure.
“As my popularity grew, he eventually caved, but he still says I’ll never have the lasting impact of his band, that they won’t make documentaries and movies about me like they do him. But the funny thing is I never wanted any of that. Through all his pushing I found that I just wanted to play my music, and maybe a piece of me still does, but the joy of it is gone.”
“Your dad was wrong,” she said softly. “They’ll make documentaries about you plenty, and who cares if they don’t? You blended genres and experimented with sounds. There are people out there now who try to emulate you. So what if the new generation isn’t on board?”
“Well, the label seems to care. They asked me to add a synth to my new album. A fucking synthesizer, Kat.”
“So, what did you do?”
West gave a humorless laugh. “I’m done changing who I am for those guys. I told them to go fuck themselves.”
She sat up and looked straight at him, a smile on her face. “They said you couldn’t go to a different label, but they didn’t say anything about starting your own.”
“What?” He furrowed his brow, confused.
“Your own label!” She was getting excited as she moved to sit on her feet, her breasts bouncing in front of his face, and West decided he should be anointed as a saint for not grabbing her that second.
“My own label. Why would I do that? I don’t know anything about production. I write the music, play the instruments.”
She stared at him as if he was truly a dimwit. “Okay . . . you learn, hire people who do know what they’re doing, learn from them. You’d get to make the music you want because it’s your label. You’re a millionaire. If I had your kind of money, I would do whatever the hell I wanted.”
He scratched at his chin, his week-long beard growth beginning to annoy him as he thought about her idea. It wasn’t a bad one. He could go back to making music the way he liked, without all the over-the-top production. Just guitars and drums and his voice—not that he hadn’t enjoyed having her and the other girls on his tracks, he just enjoyed his stripped-down sound more.
He could sign acts that were overlooked; musicians like Kat, who probably wouldn’t make a ton of money but had talent. “I’ll think about it . . . What would you do?” he asked her.
“What would I do?”
“If you had my money,” he clarified. “You said you’d do whatever the hell you wanted, so what would you do?”
She pursed her lips, and it immediately drew West’s eyes to them. Her eyes sparkled as she thought about her answer. “You know how you always think about what you’d do if you won the lottery?”
“No.”
She cocked her head, taking in his confused expression. “Oh right, you wouldn’t. You’ve always been rich. Well, I do, and one of the things I would do is open a series of music schools across the US that are free to students who don’t have access to music lessons but want them. They always cut the music programs when money is tight. That’s how you got Cher. She lost her first teaching job because they cut the entire music program.”
How did he not know that?
He really sucked, not bothering to know much of anything about the women who’d sung for him throughout the years.
“I would focus on a lot of folk and Indigenous music,” she continued. “Especially in a lot of Native, Hispanic, and Latin communities. I would want teachers who teach cultural music so that the kids are exposed to their ancestral music. I always wished for more exposure to my culture in school, or for a place to learn more about our music. I chose to play the flute because of a book I had called The Love Flute. It was full of beautiful Native imagery and was the first time I saw myself reflected in a children’s book. Turns out a White English dude wrote that book and it is full of stereotypes.”
West watched the play of emotions across her face: the excitement she felt wanting to help those like her, and the disappointment she felt at not getting to experience her culture as a child.
Leave it to Kat to have millions of dollars and her first thought is to start a music program for others. She was so selfless and caring, and West did not deserve her. And yet he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to give her up when they got off this island.
“But you give money to that charity that donates instruments to kids,” she added, as if reading his thoughts and trying to make him feel better.
His head snapped up, his gaze searing into her. “How do you even know that?”
“I told you, Cher worked in a school; her students got some of those instruments.”
It wasn”t because he was embarrassed, but rather because he didn”t want or need praise for it, that he tended to keep a lot of his charities quiet.
“That’s a lofty goal,” he said, changing the subject away from him.
“I know, it would probably be a lot, but I imagine I could do quite a bit with millions of dollars.”
“You would think, but it’s not that easy. I’m responsible for the livelihoods of a decent amount of people—it’s partly why I’m even considering acting. Starting my own label and getting out there with my music sounds fantastic, but I have so many people who depend on me, and money has to come in somehow. I thought I’d made good investments, but my accountant says I need to keep bringing money in or I won’t be able to continue living my lifestyle, so they clearly weren’t as solid as I thought.”
Kat blinked up at him. “You’re going broke?”
He made an affronted sound. “Why does everybody immediately jump to broke? I just don’t have as much money as I thought. Something’s wrong with my accounts, or rather who’s been running my accounts. I want to make sure I can still employ the people who depend on me. That’s why I’m more inclined to take the sure thing, rather than open a label that may not generate much income, or even worse, be a complete money suck.”
“I’m sorry, West, I had no idea.” She pulled his hand into her lap, both of her hands resting in his. “I don’t mean to minimize what you’re going through. Do you think someone might be stealing your money?”
He looked down at her hands cradling his, and suddenly that was all he could think of. He didn’t care about the money or what he was going to do next. “I don’t know if someone is skimming off the top, or if it’s just being mismanaged, but I know I’m not that big of a spender. I just need to inspect my books better—if we ever get off this island. As much as I find your idea appealing, I need the sure thing right now.”
She scrunched up her nose, not particularly liking his answer.
If anything good came out of this experience, his record sales had most likely picked up because of his disappearance, hopefully bringing in more money. Declan was most likely having a field day.
“Now your turn.” He needed to change the subject.
She blinked. “For what?”
“Something real. Your turn to tell me something.”
“I did. You asked what I’d do with millions, and I told you.”
He shook his head. “No, that was just an extension of mine. I want to know something else, something different. A true secret. I bet plenty of people know you’d do that if you had the money.”
She huffed and moved her legs out from under her, releasing his hand. “Fine. I shouldn’t even tell you this, since you already have a super-inflated sense of self, but I might as well.”
He flashed her a smile. “Now I’m even more intrigued.”
Kat couldn’t believe she was about to tell him this, but somehow their stories had intertwined long ago. Something like fate had led her here, lost on an island, with a bullet wound in her arm, her body aching to be touched by this man like some nineteen-year-old, rather than a woman just over thirty.
She took a deep breath and looked at him. His eyes were dancing with laughter as the last rays of the sun filtered through his hair.
“When I was a sophomore at UCLA, I went to a show at The Troubadour, there was this new up-and-coming jazzy, folky, sexy, smooth-voiced artist playing that night whose fingers played the guitar as if his life depended on it. He sang of love and sex, and women, and boy was my little nineteen-year-old self sexually awakened by the middle of that show. Stupid college boys didn’t hold a candle to the sensuality of the man on that stage.”
West’s head whipped up, staring at her, his tongue wetting his lips, and Kat couldn’t help but notice his perfect mouth, hating that she wanted it on her.
“And . . . who was it?” He knew he had to know what she was about to say.
“Hmmm.” She held her finger up to her mouth as if thinking hard, and West leaned closer. She could see she was driving him crazy, and she loved it. For once she held the power over him, and she couldn’t believe it.
He did that; he empowered her, and he helped her see the power in herself. And all it took was being stranded on an island and hiding from murdering drug lords.
“I think it was Fleet Foxes. You know Robin Pecknold was really sexy back then. Still is.”
“Kat!” He pulled her into his lap, and she went willingly, giggling like a teenager.
“Of course it was you! Weston Monroe, on his first headlining tour.” Her hands threaded and wrapped around his neck, and it wasn’t lost on her how intimate the position was.
“Mmmm, and how did this Weston Monroe sexually awaken you? Were you wet for him?” he asked, his voice suddenly deeper, more gravelly. That delicious sound rumbled through her body, sexually awakening her right at that very moment.
“West!”
His hand moved up her body, and she shivered at the sensation. “You started this, tell me. What happened when you saw my show? I remember that tour. It was my first major album before adding all the production value.”
“Like me.” She turned away, realizing how much he must have hated having her around.
He turned her head, making her look at him. “Kat, listen, I wrote those songs. I knew I wouldn’t be able to do them all on my own. I know things went sideways with us, but I don’t regret it for a minute. Besides, I can’t play the piano for shit. You always did so much better on tour than me. Remember that. Now, what happened at that show?”
She could cry at his tenderness. He had never once expressed an opinion one way or the other on her talent, or on vocals on his tracks. After their kiss in the hallway their dynamic changed, and Kat was convinced he hated having her there. He was lying about the piano. He was amazing, but the fact that he would say that to her meant more to her than he realized.
“After moving to L.A. I had seen plenty of concerts, but there was something about that venue, and about you on that stage, that made it this ethereal experience for me. It was almost as if I was no longer existing in reality—it was just you and me. Every note seemed directed at me, and I felt a connection so strong it took my breath away. I was just a couple of people back from the front, and I could swear our eyes met; your face lit up as if to say, ‘You are the only one here.’ You winked at me before turning away and I thought, ‘He’s singing this song for me.’ Now I know you can’t really see the crowd that well, but at that moment, I truly believed something special had happened. I was a stupid girl, like all the other stupid girls in the crowd who think you’re singing directly to them. Who think they’re somehow special out of the thousands of faces you see.”
West laughed, as he ran his hand down her side. “I bet I did wink at you, how could I miss such a beautiful face in the crowd?”
“West, I’ve literally been by your side for ten years, and you’ve barely noticed me.” She felt her face heat up as a blush grew across her face. “Besides that one night,” she whispered.
His eyes darkened. “A night I’d like to revisit.”
He what?
“Were you hanging out backstage after the show? I always came out back then to greet fans,” he continued.
Now it was her turn to laugh. “No, don’t flatter yourself. But when the label said who I would be singing for I was so excited. I jumped at the chance to work with you. I wanted to learn so much from you.”
West made a sound of derision. “I wasn’t a very good mentor, was I?”
Kat looked away, unsure if she was ready to go down this path. “You were until . . .”
“Until that night.”
She nodded. “The House of Blues. You never came back. I wasn’t good enough for you, and it really hurt that the man I had looked up to for so long didn’t want me. I was mad at you, but really, I was mad at myself. I should have known better. You weren’t for me.”
His hands grabbed her, his face inches from hers. “Listen to me, Kat. I wanted you so badly that night. Dec got on my case about sleeping with band members. He said it was a bad idea, especially later if you said I took advantage of you. He made sense to me that night. I went back to the trailer.”
“Alone?”
West nodded.
A hiccup mixed with a gasp escaped Kat’s mouth as she contemplated West’s words. All this time, she thought he had just decided she wasn’t worth his time. She had been wrong.
“Why didn’t you just come back and tell me that?”
“Young, dumb, and drunk, I guess. I wasn’t ready to have that conversation with you. You were different. We talked about my music. You were the only one who would push me when you thought it sounded bad, or notes didn’t fit together, or lyrics were off. You weren’t scared to tell me how you felt. But I fucked it up. I let my dick do the thinking, and I pressured you that night.”
Kat shook her head. “No, you didn’t. I knew what—”
“That’s just it,” he said, cutting her off. “You didn’t know. You were what? Twenty-two? I saw the stars in your eyes, they’re what drew me in. I hadn’t disillusioned you yet. You just loved the music, and it was so attractive to me, but I should have known better. I knew it would change our working relationship, and it did.”
“Because you left!” Kat pointed out. Why was he being so dense? It had nothing to do with him making out with her in a dark hallway. She had enjoyed that part. “You left me in that hallway on my own, and for the longest time, I thought there was something wrong with me.” She felt moisture build up behind her eyes as she recalled the humiliation of that night as she stood there waiting for a man who never returned. Her heart had broken, and it had never really healed.
His warm hand brushed across her face, pushing away one of the tears. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I thought I was doing the right thing. That if I came back, I wouldn’t be able to say no.”
“You could have told me the next day.” Kat sniffed, wiping away another errant tear.
“I tried, remember?”
Kat racked her brain for any conversation between her and West the next day, but nothing came to mind.
West smiled at her blank look. “You probably don’t. I walked up to you and asked to talk. You looked at me with those big golden eyes like I’d just shot your dog or something. Then you walked away, and I knew then you were mad at me for kissing you.”
Kat had to keep her mouth from hitting the ground. “I was mad at you for abandoning me. Not even mad, just hurt.”
“If you had talked to me, you would have found out it had nothing to do with you.”
Kat tried not to roll her eyes. “I was upset, West; you don’t just give up after one try.”
He shrugged. “I know, but I think in the end it was better we kept our distance.”
“Why?”
He shook his head, staring off at the ocean for a minute before finally answering her. “I kind of agree with Dec. Band relationships or hookups don’t end well. We may have had a strained relationship, but at least we still functioned. I’ve seen too many horror stories of bands falling apart because of sex.”
It rendered Kat speechless. She was still stunned by his admission. It was hard to change what she had thought was her reality for so long. She crept her hand up his arm, feeling the coiled strength of his bicep under her fingertips.
“What about now?” she whispered as she repositioned herself on his lap, straddling his hips, both her hands moving up and down his sinewy arms. She felt emboldened, knowing he hadn’t left her all those years ago. Not that she was his type today.
“Now?” He looked at her, his eyes glazing over. “I’d really like to pick up where we left off.”
Kat sucked in a breath at his words. Was he attracted to her, or did being trapped on an island together still have something to do with it? She didn’t care anymore. Kat was done fighting it.
“I’d like that too,” she whispered into his ear, nipping his earlobe.
“Jesus, Kat.” He grabbed her hips, his fingers digging in hard, and she could feel his self-control on the edge of detonating.
She licked a path up his neck, biting down hard, and loved the sound he made. Some part of her brain was telling her she could be reckless, let it all go, make him beg. She wasn’t even thinking about the drug lords mere feet away. She was bringing the Weston Monroe to his knees, and she felt the intensity surging through her veins.
“No interruptions this time,” she said as she ground her hips down on his arousal.
She felt West’s self-control shatter as he tugged her face to his, their tongues tangling as their teeth clashed. It was an urgent, passionate kiss meant to possess her, and it did. She was his. Her hair fell out of its braids around her face, and West brushed it out of her eyes, drinking in the sight of her with a hungry gaze.
“Dear god, Kat,” he whispered against her lips. “We’re stranded on this island, surrounded by a drug cartel that wants to kill us, and somehow I’ve never felt luckier.”
And then his lips were back on hers, and she felt her entire body ignite. He engulfed her in his warmth, his powerful hands roaming all over her body, and yet it still wasn’t enough. She wanted him closer. They had too many clothes on, never mind that they were feet away from getting caught; she wanted to feel all of him. He broke the kiss and moved down her body, and Kat felt like he was worshipping every inch of her.
Typically, she was self-conscious. Her physique was curvy, with generous hips and a full chest, not petite by any of today’s standards. She should have been embarrassed to be anywhere near West’s fit, athletic frame, and yet he made her feel beautiful and admired.
Who was this man and where had he come from? This wasn’t the Weston Monroe the world knew. Dragging his teeth down her collarbone, she sighed with contentment as his hands slid under her clothing with one hand coming around to cup her breast.
Leaving a trail of fire, he planted burning kisses all over her body, as he layed her down. His touch tantalized and teased her, building up the pleasure until she became an excited, trembling mess beneath him. His fingers moved over her with agonizing slowness, stopping just short of her panty line as he breathed across her skin. When he lifted his head away from her breast, she almost screamed in frustration at the loss of his seductive touch.
“Can I touch you, Kat?”
She nodded.
“I need to hear a yes, Kat. I don’t want to do anything you don’t want.”
“Yes,” she sighed. “Touch me.”
His fingers teased their way down to the apex of her thighs, dancing over her panties before slipping underneath them. She felt one finger enter her, and her head fell back at the sensation.
West’s voice dropped an octave, dark and rough. “You’re so wet for me.” He inserted a second finger and crooked his finger up. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re so tight.”
Her breath hitched as he grazed her sensitive inner walls.
His thumb pushed ever so slightly against her clit, and sensations shot through her body like lightning. Her hips writhed beneath him.
“There?” His deep voice coursed through her veins like electricity, sending shocks of desire throughout her body.
He pushed again, harder and faster this time, and circled his thumb on her clit while moving his fingers in and out of her with masterful precision.
Kat felt like she was being sent into oblivion and might never come back. She had never experienced sensations like this before and wanted more.
West abruptly removed his hands from her. She let out an anguished cry of protest as the sensations disappeared.
In a flash, he ripped away her panties and hoisted her legs over his shoulders, his eyes wild with the promise of pleasure.
“West . . .” she stammered, her eyes wide in disbelief. “What are you . . .?”
He cocked his head, locking his gaze with hers. “Kat,” he purred, as if savoring her name on his lips. “I’m about to taste pure heaven—but I can stop if you want me to. Just say the word.”
Raising herself onto her elbows, she could see him now, his dark golden hair dipping between her trembling thighs and his face aglow with anticipation. Heaven indeed. “No,” she answered, arching her back in silent invitation. “Carry on.”
“You’re entirely too calm. I think I’m losing my touch if you can think straight.” He tickled her side, making her laugh. She reveled in the dark intensity between them, transitioning from sexual to playful and back again within seconds.
His finger probed deeper this time, making her moan with desire.
“You are also far too quiet. We’re on an isolated island. I should hear your voice echoing off its shores.”
“That’s not true,” she groaned with desire as his tongue explored her seam, licking its way from the bottom to the top, now dipping inside of her. “Did you forget about the murdering drug lords just a few feet away?”
Her words were barely audible as her body quivered in anticipation. It was hard to concentrate when an incredibly attractive man was busy manipulating her most sensitive parts.
He circled her throbbing clit and she drove her fingernails into his scalp, urging him on, never wanting him to stop. His groans reverberated through her body, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through her.
“I don’t care about them, lose yourself,” he said, as he added a finger, and she purred in appreciation.
“Like that,” he said, satisfied.
His fingers worked in unison with his mouth to tease out every moan, every feeling. She felt her fear dissipate, replaced by raw emotion as her nerves unraveled beneath him, and Kat could feel it building inside her, all the pain, and frustration, all the times she had held back, all the times she hadn’t gone for what she wanted and had played it safe, all the rejections, she let it all go.
“You taste so good,” he murmured from between her legs. “Now let go.”
The sensations built up in intensity with each movement of his hands and mouth until she felt the walls of her mind shatter, sending shards of ecstasy throughout her body. She screamed out his name into the twilight as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her, pushing her further and further until all she could feel was pure bliss.
The sky lit up, and a crack of thunder shook the ground. West had just given her an orgasm so strong she felt the ground shake.
West’s hands moved up and down Kat’s legs as he licked and kissed her in a place no man had been in years. He moved up her body, worshipping each breast with delicate kisses before his mouth crept up to her neck, leaving a trail of barely there kisses that had Kat entranced. His tongue tasted of the pleasure they had just shared, and she reveled in the sweet sensation.
He adjusted her clothes, putting her back together. Looking down at his shorts, she gestured toward him. “You don’t want me to take care of that?”
He kissed the top of her head. “Trust me, sweetheart, I want nothing more, but we need to get back to the cave. It’s getting dark, and it’s raining. I’m going to check for the guards.”
So, she hadn’t imagined the lightning. She felt the drops of rain on her scorched skin as it fell.