Page 30 of Insta Bride
Now, he turned back, “I’m never gonna say that to you. You are beautiful. Ethereal. You have a poise and grace that sends me off balance just being in the same room as you. You’ve got this cute, wicked sense of humor and half the time I don’t know whether you are about to cut out my heart and eat it, or cut out my heart only to kiss it better.”
“Is that supposed to be a compliment?”
“You’re not like the other women.”
“Gee, thanks.” He hadn’t said enough to convince me. My fight or flight kicked in the moment he talked about the other sexy, gorgeous women. I could never compete with them. Why bother trying?
“Lena, listen to me,” he stood, cupping my face, still brushing strands of hair away. “Heaven help me if I saw any of them without seventeen layers of makeup, or their hair naturally styled. I wouldn’t recognize them.”
“I’m not hearing a compliment in there.”
He dropped both arms around my neck. Played with my hair; twisting and dropping it, twisting and dropping it, as he seemed to struggle for words. “You keep me on my toes. You give me more sass than any woman ever has, and you intrigue me. You’ve got me spinning my wheels.”
He tried to kiss me, but I pulled away. Close, but he hadn’t convinced me.
“Elena, I want to make this work. The experts matched us for a reason. Let’s see if we can prove them right.”
“But why today? You said seriously, but you didn’t give me a reason.”
“Seriously. When you took on Campbell, I thought my cock was going to escape from my shorts and salute you. I felt my balls were about to burst. I don’t think I’ve ever been more turned on.”
There. He’d managed to thaw the last of my resolve, and I pawed at his firm ass. “Calm down, stud. I wasn’t about to throw her in the pool or go give you all a wet t-shirt competition.”
“I know. You just put her in her place. You stood up for yourself, but did it gracefully.”
“You approved?”
“It was fucking hot. Just like you.”
By the time we’d gotten back to the villa, my nerves had turned from excited tingles to heart-stopping panic.
I knew what was driving my change of heart—denial.
I wanted to deny having any feelings for Kye.
I wanted to deny he could ever be anything other than the man he appeared to be, the resident bad boy that all women other than me should be swooning after.
No lies yet, and no technical cheating. Yes, he’d flirted with any carbon-bodied lifeform with tits. But flirting wasn’t cheating, I tried to convince myself. He’d been making women feel good about themselves.
It came down to door number three, was Kye Branson an asshole? Well, he’d never been an asshole to me.
He’d tried to be a friend. He’d also been the best kisser ever.
Did best kisser ever consign him to the good or bad column? My body and head were divided. I didn’t want a man who could flit from woman to woman like a hungry bee or butterfly.
No. I had to retrain my brain. Kye wasn’t a beautiful butterfly, willing to brighten my world. No. He was a wasp. Still beautiful to look at, still with a purpose in life, but Kye came with a paralysing sting.
The villa looked like the ultimate in romance, illuminated by the moonlight and soft internal lighting. Three wooden steps led us from the sandy path to the porch and front door. It looked larger at night. Isolated. We could hear laughter and giggles in the distance, and trails of Bryson and Leesa’s latest fight coming from the villa next to ours.
“Their make-up sex must be out of this world,” I murmured, not expecting Kye to hear me.
“How about we don’t think about other men, or women while we are home. Okay?”
“Sounds like a plan,” I agreed. That would mean no talking about his past lovers, or my ex. Rules I could live with.
“Then, welcome home, babe.” Kye swung open the villa, and I gasped. Hundreds of lit jasmine-scented candles surrounded the large bed with white cover and strewn with hibiscus flowers and other petals. We’d mucked around in here before dinner, but now the bed seemed larger, more imposing.
Kye didn’t let go of my hand as he walked over to the ice bucket. Champagne had been cooling, and a bottle recently opened. He filled two glasses, offering a toast.