Page 1 of Pure Temptation

CHAPTER ONE

TAP,TAP.

The knock on the front door of the cabin came in the open window, cutting through the sounds of the shower just as Daxon Miles was turning it off. He scrubbed his face and searched the ultramodern bathroom for a clock, but all he saw was tile, glass, and the wooden box filled with hibiscus-scented soaps and shampoos he had passed over earlier. How long had he stood under the shower, letting the water run over his body? After a long plane ride, it was surprising just how satisfying something as simple as hot water felt.

Tap, tap.

“Just a minute,” he called.

Daxon grabbed a towel and scrubbed the water from his hair, then wrapped it around his waist. The towel was just long enough to secure, though not by a wide margin. He would have thought that a super-exclusive resort like this would lean toward overindulgent for everything, including towel length, but like the rest of the bathroom, minimalism seemed to be the guiding principle. He stepped out through the glass door, his body drinking in the humid Hawaiian heat.

“It’s yourpersonal healing coach.”

The sentence wafted through the window, hitting him hard in the middle of his chest. Daxon froze mid-stride. What the hell? It wasn’t the sarcasm dripping from those last three words that had his heart jumping in his chest. It was the voice.

Hervoice. The sound of it flooded him with the same liquid heat he had fought off six months ago.

Impossible. It couldn’t be her...could it? No, it couldn’t. The hot shower, the beautiful beachside location, the Kalani Resort itself with its wish-fulfillment promise must have lulled him into a fantasy world whereshewas here, too. But that couldn’t be right.

The doctor’s strict orders to put his well-known focus on chilling out must be messing with his head. Why else would his mind have wandered to Kendall Clark? Back to those days in his suite in a different resort, the lush breeze blowing the curtains, when she was his physical therapist and he was trying not to be yet another douchey client with a hard-on. But her hands had felt soft and good in a way no physical therapist’s should—or had. And he had spent too much time wondering if the rest of her body was just as soft. Oh, how he had wanted to take her to bed on his final night there when they’d kissed, spend the whole night exploring her...except it didn’t happen. Which must be why he was hearing her voice, six months later, on the other side of the world.

“Be right there,” he called, pushing those memories away.

His focus here at the Kalani was getting himself back in top shape for the Moonlight Buttress free solo that’d be filmed live in two weeks. No ropes, no safety measures to fall back on. And absolutely no distractions. Which meant no thinking about Kendall Clark.

Daxon headed out of the bathroom, into the main room of his private cabin. Halfway across the floor, it occurred to him to grab a hold of his towel to keep it in place—because he didn’t need his junk hanging out. He made his way to the door, took a deep breath and turned the handle.

“Listen, I lost track of—” Daxon stopped mid-sentence, mouth gaping as he swung the door open and he caught sight of the woman standing in front of him.

Kendall Clark.

Was it really her? She seemed very real in the little entryway, cheeks flushed, her big brown eyes round, framed by the longest lashes—just like he remembered. He stared at those eyes, blinking, a little dazed. Her gaze swooped down, over his bare chest, then up again to his mouth, and his whole body prickled with awareness. His ultimate distraction was standing right in front of him...wasn’t she? He lifted a hand to reach for her, to make sure she was real. Halfway there, he thought better of it, so he rested that hand on the doorframe, trying to jump-start his stalled thoughts.

What the hell was going on right now? Was all this Hawaiian heat having some sort of rock-to-the-head effect? Because what he was seeing was Kendall, dressed in a red Kalani Wellness polo shirt and shorts that exposed miles of her lean, tanned legs. The same legs he had ached to touch for one, tantalizing week. Her long hair was back in a ponytail, the way she’d worn it in Costa Rica when she had knelt down... Shit. Not what he should be thinking about.

Daxon blinked a couple times, but Kendall was still there, staring at him. She was holding a tablet and looking all business. Or at least, she had been a few moments ago. Now she was gaping at him, too.

Her eyes narrowed. “Is this your way of saying hello?”

What? He gave himself a little shake and furrowed his brow. As her gaze traveled down his body, instinctively he looked down, too, and—fuck.

His hand was resting on the doorframe, which meant it was no longer holding his towel up. His brain hadn’t even registered that he dropped it, but clearly, his dick had been a lot quicker to believe that she was real.

“Shit,” he muttered. Daxon grabbed his towel off the floor and wrapped it around his waist again, but that did nothing to hide his growing hard-on.

Slick, Dax. Really subtle.

He straightened up and met her eyes again. “You might not believe this, but that was an accident.”

She gestured to his cock. “And that is, too?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes.” Daxon rubbed the back of his neck—with his free hand this time.

Then he found himself just staring at her again, his brain still malfunctioning, trying to process the fact that Kendall was really here. She stared back for a bit, and then a burst of laughter came from her sexy mouth. He blew out a breath and smiled. This was ridiculous. Thank God she didn’t look too pissed. Maybe he wasn’t the first asshole to drop his towel for her, though he really hoped this wasn’t one of her occupational hazards.

Finally, she caught her breath and gave him a look that suggested something between amusement and exasperation. “Classy.”

“That’s me. Come on in,” he said before his mind could fall into another gutter.