about that. She had always been intrigued by the lifestyle.
It’s how she’d started to write BDSM themed books. She had spent years
researching, talking to subs and Doms. Sir Samson, the first Dom she'd
interviewed, had told her that she was a submissive, but she wouldn't submit to
just anyone. He claimed her trust issues would make it damned near impossible
for anyone to get her submission. She should email him and tell him just what
she was going through. Lord knew Sir Samson had a sick sense of humor, and he
would surely appreciate her situation.
But she couldn't. This was private. And that told her that
it was more than just a fling. Which scared the hell out of her. She wasn’t
emotionally equipped to handle a true relationship. She had proven that more
than once. This time was different. Never before had she held back from Sir
Samson, but now she was.
Why?
There was only one thing that would have her keep things
from Sir Samson. Her heart was involved—and that scared the living shit out of
her.
She had a healthy sex drive. She didn't sleep around, and
she didn't believe in one-night stands. Still, she did keep her relationships
light and easy. With Conner, there would be no light about it. They were
tangled up in so many ways that she wasn't sure she could deal with it when it
ended. And it would end. She would never move back to the mainland and he would
never move here.
There was a knock at her door. Jillian was thankful and
irritated with the interruption. She needed to stop mooning over Conner, but
she wasn’t quite ready to stop. With a sigh, she walked to the door wondering
what Mick and Adam needed tonight. The two men never seemed to be able to make
it to a grocery store.
She opened the door and found Conner Dillon standing on the
other side of it, one shoulder propped up against the doorjamb. The sun was
setting, slipping behind the mountains that were at his back. Every drop of
moisture in her mouth dried up.
"Did you get your writing done?" he asked.
She sighed. He looked too good to ignore. How could a man
wear a pair of shorts and T-shirt and seem to intrigue her in a way no other
had before? She saw men half naked every day in Hawaii, but she was sure this
one would catch her attention if he were dressed from head to toe. Part of it,
she knew, was that she was accustomed to seeing him in more clothes. Now,
though, he looked like a local…down to the bare feet.
"No."
"Oh, sorry, I guess I should let you get back to
it."
But he didn't move. The sweet air thickened around them, the
tension growing as it had the night before. Jillian knew she should tell him to
go away. Playing the temperamental author was never that hard for her. She was
a temperamental author and had used it to her advantage in the past. Now,
though, she couldn’t. She needed to spend time with him, wanted it with a scary
type of lust that had her worried. Still, she pushed those thoughts aside.
"No, come in. I’m having a bad time writing, so I need
a break."
She turned and walked toward the kitchen. She needed
something cold to drink, and looking at him just made her want to jump his
bones. Instead of gaining relief, she felt his gaze on her back. Shit. The door
shut quietly, and his footsteps followed her.
"Do you normally have issues with writing?" he
asked.
She shook her head as she pulled out a pitcher of strawberry
lemonade she had made earlier. "Want some?"
For a moment, he just looked at her with those solemn eyes
of his, and she felt her heart turn over. God, the man was wicked. Without a
word, he had her. He didn’t have to touch her, and she was ready to be naked.
Now.
After another moment or two, he nodded.
Drawing in a deep breath, she set the pitcher down on the
counter then grabbed a couple of glasses.
"What do you think is causing the issue?" he
asked. His voice had deepened, vibrating over the words.
What the hell was he talking about? He expected her to carry
on a conversation when he was
It’s how she’d started to write BDSM themed books. She had spent years
researching, talking to subs and Doms. Sir Samson, the first Dom she'd
interviewed, had told her that she was a submissive, but she wouldn't submit to
just anyone. He claimed her trust issues would make it damned near impossible
for anyone to get her submission. She should email him and tell him just what
she was going through. Lord knew Sir Samson had a sick sense of humor, and he
would surely appreciate her situation.
But she couldn't. This was private. And that told her that
it was more than just a fling. Which scared the hell out of her. She wasn’t
emotionally equipped to handle a true relationship. She had proven that more
than once. This time was different. Never before had she held back from Sir
Samson, but now she was.
Why?
There was only one thing that would have her keep things
from Sir Samson. Her heart was involved—and that scared the living shit out of
her.
She had a healthy sex drive. She didn't sleep around, and
she didn't believe in one-night stands. Still, she did keep her relationships
light and easy. With Conner, there would be no light about it. They were
tangled up in so many ways that she wasn't sure she could deal with it when it
ended. And it would end. She would never move back to the mainland and he would
never move here.
There was a knock at her door. Jillian was thankful and
irritated with the interruption. She needed to stop mooning over Conner, but
she wasn’t quite ready to stop. With a sigh, she walked to the door wondering
what Mick and Adam needed tonight. The two men never seemed to be able to make
it to a grocery store.
She opened the door and found Conner Dillon standing on the
other side of it, one shoulder propped up against the doorjamb. The sun was
setting, slipping behind the mountains that were at his back. Every drop of
moisture in her mouth dried up.
"Did you get your writing done?" he asked.
She sighed. He looked too good to ignore. How could a man
wear a pair of shorts and T-shirt and seem to intrigue her in a way no other
had before? She saw men half naked every day in Hawaii, but she was sure this
one would catch her attention if he were dressed from head to toe. Part of it,
she knew, was that she was accustomed to seeing him in more clothes. Now,
though, he looked like a local…down to the bare feet.
"No."
"Oh, sorry, I guess I should let you get back to
it."
But he didn't move. The sweet air thickened around them, the
tension growing as it had the night before. Jillian knew she should tell him to
go away. Playing the temperamental author was never that hard for her. She was
a temperamental author and had used it to her advantage in the past. Now,
though, she couldn’t. She needed to spend time with him, wanted it with a scary
type of lust that had her worried. Still, she pushed those thoughts aside.
"No, come in. I’m having a bad time writing, so I need
a break."
She turned and walked toward the kitchen. She needed
something cold to drink, and looking at him just made her want to jump his
bones. Instead of gaining relief, she felt his gaze on her back. Shit. The door
shut quietly, and his footsteps followed her.
"Do you normally have issues with writing?" he
asked.
She shook her head as she pulled out a pitcher of strawberry
lemonade she had made earlier. "Want some?"
For a moment, he just looked at her with those solemn eyes
of his, and she felt her heart turn over. God, the man was wicked. Without a
word, he had her. He didn’t have to touch her, and she was ready to be naked.
Now.
After another moment or two, he nodded.
Drawing in a deep breath, she set the pitcher down on the
counter then grabbed a couple of glasses.
"What do you think is causing the issue?" he
asked. His voice had deepened, vibrating over the words.
What the hell was he talking about? He expected her to carry
on a conversation when he was
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