Page 57 of Hate To Be Mine

I slipped out of his bungalow, checking to make sure no one was around to see me leaving. The path back to my bungalow was clear, lit only by solar lights and the moon.

I walked quickly, my body still humming, my mind racing.

Instead of feeling regret or guilt, I felt good. Happy, even.

I was going to give myself the night to be happy.

Because this wasn’t going to end well. I knew that and I didn’t care.

21

SEBASTIAN

There was a perma-grin stuck to my face. I woke up with it. Showered with it. Brushing my teeth had never been easier.

I felt an actual pep in my step as I sipped my coffee and went over the shoots that were on the schedule for the day. Sunlight streamed through the window of my bungalow confirming it was indeed a perfect day.

The weather was perfect for my mood.

Hell, I would still be smiling even if it was raining.

Ain’t nothing going to get me down.

Last night had happened. That gorgeous pain in my ass had been in my bed. Had been under me, around me, saying my name in ways that would be permanently burned into my brain. I had given her an orgasm I knew she was going to be thinking about long into the day.

I knew I sure was.

I was already thinking about the next time. I felt like I had barely scratched the surface with her. There was so much more I wanted to do with that perfect little body. She hid all the goods under those ugly suits. I knew she was hot, but damn, naked and writhing Bernadette was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen.

I needed a nickname for her. Bernadette was a mouthful. Baby was too basic. Sexy? Nah, she’d never accept that. Bernie was, well, no. I was not going to be fucking Bernie.

I left my bungalow and went to the resort’s dining area, still grinning like an idiot. Elizabeth was already there, sitting at a table with a plate of fruit and what looked like yogurt. She looked up when I approached. Her eyes immediately went wide as saucers with her jaw dropping.

“Oh my God,” she said.

“What?” I sat down across from her, reaching for the coffee carafe.

“You’re glowing.”

“I am not glowing. Men don’t glow.”

“You are literally glowing. You look like you swallowed the sun.” She leaned forward, studying my face. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m glowing, so that means something is wrong?”

“No, but did you do something maniacal?”

“Like?”

She shrugged. “You did something. I’ve seen that same stupid grin on Adrian’s face. You Blackwell brothers are not as smooth as you think. What—” She slapped a hand over her mouth. “You didn’t!”

“What?”

“I know that look,” she hissed and leaned forward.

“Eat your fruit.”

“You slept with her.” It wasn’t a question. “I know that look because I have most definitely seen it on Adrian’s face. I put it there.” She sounded just a little proud of herself.