Page 23 of Flirting with Trouble

We follow his gaze across the rooftop and see a tall blonde feeding Cage a cupcake.

Wells leans closer to me and whispers, “I’d like to lick frosting off your cupcake. Let’s snag one of those on the way out.”

My body ignites. I know if I go home with him, I’ll be swimming in a sea of guilt afterward, but as we say goodbye to the others, I’m not ready for my night with Wells to end.

With his hot hand on my back and those piercing eyes urging me on, I decide to allow myself one last night of pleasure. Then he’ll go home to the island and I’ll go to LA and resume my normal, comfortably scripted life.

“Next time I’ll have cupcakes waiting,” Wells promises as we climb into the cab. In our haste to be alone, we forgot to grab one on our way out.

The car barely pulls away from the curb before I tug him into a kiss. He makes that growling sound that lights me up like a firework and deepens the kiss. Time blurs in a gust of want and need. By the time we reach his hotel, I have no idea how my legs carry me inside, because I’m so turned on, I’m ready to combust.

“It was hell keeping my hands off you tonight,” he grits out as we step into the elevator.

Knowing he’s as desperate for me as I am for him is the best kind of aphrodisiac. I reach for him as the elevator doors close, and he pins me against the wall, devouring my mouth as he pushes his hand into my thong. Those talented fingers and thumb work their magic, stealing my breath and sending the world spinning away in record time.

My body screams for more as we stumble into his hotel room in a flurry of urgent kisses and greedy gropes. He kicks the door closed and savagely reclaims my mouth. Our tongues tangle, our bodies grind, and my back hits the wall. He tugs my dress up to my waist, gritting out, “Jesus. You make me crazy.”

He yanks down my thong, and as I step out of it, he pulls his wallet from his pocket and withdraws a condom, holding it in his teeth as he shoves his pants to his knees, freeing that glorious cock.

“Hurry,” I plead as he sheathes his length.

His eyes are volcanic as he lifts me into his arms. My legs circle his waist as I sink down and he thrusts, burying himself to the hilt, sending pleasure radiating through me. We both cry out. “Kiss me,” he demands, and I do, with everything I have, as he pounds into me.

Every thrust sends an explosion searing through me like thunder and lightning. I fist my hands in his hair, kissing him harder, wanting to feel his roughness, his power. His thick cock fills me deliciously with every forceful stroke of his hips, I can barely breathe for the pleasure consuming me. His muscles constrict, and I know he’s as close as I am.

My head falls back as I chase that high, clinging to his shoulders, feverishly riding him. He thrusts faster, harder, gritting out curses to my every moan. “Wells” falls desperately from my lips. His next thrust sends me reeling into ecstasy, and he’s right there with me as he finds his release. “Vic…Fuck…Vic—”

We ride that high until we collapse against each other, panting for air. “Give me that mouth,” he growls, and then he kisses the ever-loving hell out of me.

I feel him toeing off his shoes and stepping out of his pants, and I smile against his lips. “You can put me down, you know.”

“And take a chance of you walking out that door? No fucking way.” He carries me toward the bedroom. “I’m not nearly done with you.”

“Funny, I was thinking the same thing.”

Chapter Six

Wells

Not reaching out to a woman has never been an issue for me, but as I grab my phone from my kitchen counter, trying not to think about being blown off by Victory again, reaching out to her is all I want to do.

It’s Sunday morning, and I’m back on Silver Island. A breeze comes through the window, and I look out at the ocean, wondering how I could have been so wrong about us. We had a great time at the party Friday night and an even better time at our private after-party in my hotel room. We laughed a lot, and the way we clicked was as phenomenal as the sex. But she got up to leave right afterward again, and when I asked her to stay the night, she said she was flying to LA in the morning. That wouldn’t have bothered me if she hadn’t followed it up with, Wells, you’re a nice guy, and this was fun, but I think I’m over my need for a boy toy.

A fucking boy toy.

I clench my teeth against the term I’ve come to hate and pocket my phone. I must be a glutton for punishment, because I texted her yesterday afternoon to see if she got to LA safely. I don’t know why I thought she’d be thinking about me as much as I’m thinking about her, but I was wrong. She blew me off again. I’m here safe and sound, but I’m going to be really busy. Thanks for asking.

I’m usually the one who walks away without wanting more.

This fucking sucks.

I head out to my Land Rover. I’m meeting my family at my mother’s house for breakfast. On the way, I stop to pick up flowers, and when I get to my old stomping grounds, it brings mixed feelings. My father moved out when I was young, but my parents never divorced. Not long after, they were best friends and ridiculously in love again, but to this day, they still live in separate houses. Needless to say, my childhood was confusing, but we did a good job of acting like nothing had changed and everything was fine. As Silvers, that was expected of us. Things are great now, but there’s no pretending it didn’t fuck up my view of relationships.

It’s no wonder I misread things with Victory. It’s not like I have a lot of practice with relationships. Hell, I’ve run from them for so long, I can barely spell the word.

So why can’t I run from whatever this is with her?

I’m still mulling that over when I pull up to my mother’s seven-bedroom waterfront captain’s home overlooking Silver Harbor. I park in the driveway behind Fitz’s and my sister Keira’s cars. As I throw my door open, I hear honking and see my youngest sister, Bellamy, a lifestyle influencer, coming down the road. I grab the bouquet I bought for my mother as Bellamy parks by the curb.