One Bossy Disaster: Chapter 9

I’m a certified fucking rock brain.

I kissed her.

Or she kissed me.

Or something.

It doesn’t matter either way, because it was a terrible mistake and it can never happen again.

For now, I’ll do my damnedest to pretend it never did. Even though I can still feel every curve of her legs under my fingers.

Another mistake.

They just keep tallying the fuck up, don’t they?

Yes, I know she was capable of massaging her own legs.

Everyone knows that massages are intimate and often lead to sex.

So, what business did I have touching her?

What the hell was I thinking?

I stride away like she’s radioactive, taking deep breaths of cool ocean air until I’m calm again, pacing around to soothe my own burning muscles.

I haven’t done a long haul kayak route like that in months, and I’m stiffer than I should be.

My hamstrings twitch as I bend over and catch a glimpse of Destiny doing the same stretch, bowing her legs out like a dancer.

Zip up your damned wet suit, woman. That’s too much sideboob for any man to handle.

Frankly, I’m astonished my heart hasn’t exploded yet, let alone my head.

Because when she unzipped right in front of me, I thought I was about to have a cardiac event.

Wouldn’t that be a nice surprise for Hannah to deal with? My dumb, dead ass coming home in a body bag and a scandal-ridden company in chaos.

When all the blood in my body rushed south, it’s easy to mistake it for a heart attack.

My semi became a full raging hard-on, and I was boiling with so much sexual frustration I could hardly string two sentences together.

She bends over further, revealing a full view of her ass, still clad in her too tight wet suit.

Goddamn, it’s finer than a Georgia peach.

Forbidden fruit incarnate, made to lure me to sin.

I force my eyes to the front. Away from Destiny and her perfect ass and any rabbiting thoughts about seeing her naked.

Nope. Nah. Never.

I just need to get my body on board with my brain.

I stalk away from her, taking a few more paces toward the shore so there’s no chance she sees what she’s done to me.

Specifically, the evidence that I liked what she’s doing more than I could ever deny.

There’s no damn room in this wet suit. My erection presses uncomfortably against the material.

Breathe.

Hold it.

Change positions.

Then she moans a little, the same way she did when I first started massaging her. I practically lose it there and then.

Mind over blue balls.

Head over hormones.

Discipline over arousal.

Exercise does that, regrettably, releasing torrents of raging endorphins.

Probably why I lost my wits and kissed her. Or she kissed me. Or what the fuck ever.

It’s definitely why I was so keyed up when I touched her, why she opened her legs for me, and—

Fuck.

Stop thinking about touching her, numbskull.

Yeah, easier said than done.

Shifting, I push my hands against the ground to straighten the tired muscles of my lower back.

I rivet my eyes to the beach as long as I can until I hear Destiny moving.

A quick glance in her direction tells me she’s still following the same stretching regimen. And the fact that she’s shed her wet suit, exposing the red bikini underneath.

The little outfit does an excellent job of covering very little yet still leaving plenty to the imagination.

Shit, shit.

The woman is a walking fantasy.

A wet dream come to life.

And now she’s inhabiting this beach with me overnight. I won’t escape her until tomorrow evening at the earliest.

Fine.

I’m used to self-discipline, even if this is a bigger test than I’m used to.

I keep my eyes straight ahead for the rest of our post-kayak stretch out, and when I’m done, I nod in her direction without looking at her.

“You should get changed before nightfall. It gets chilly faster than you’d think.”

Without a word, she nods and disappears into the woods.

I take the opportunity to change into military-style cargo pants and a t-shirt and then get started on setting up camp.

We’ll need a fire pit first.

Summer air alone won’t do enough to dampen the nighttime chill this close to the water.

Before I can finish digging, Destiny returns, wearing nothing but a formfitting long-sleeved shirt, jean shorts molded to her legs, and sneakers with no socks.

Of course, she still looks like a dream.

One look leaves me fucking delirious.

Her hair hangs down around her face in soft ribbons. I immediately notice she’s either forgotten a bra or not bothered with one at all.

Why the hell not?

Just past sundown, there’s already a bite to the air, and it perks her nipples under her shirt.

God help me, I’m a prisoner to my own gaze, and I can’t look away.

She sends me a long glance, and maybe it’s just my imagination, but I think her gaze lingers on my shoulders before she turns away.

“What? Is there a bug on my face or something?” she asks innocently.

No, woman. Your tits are just draining my entire life force faster than a blanket made of mosquitos.

“A dragonfly, I think. It’s gone now,” I lie. “You want to lend me a hand getting this fire going? The sooner it’s up, the faster we won’t freeze our asses off.”

We work together in silence.

I continue digging while she roams our campsite, collecting small pieces of driftwood and flat stones to help feed the fire and keep it contained.

“Since you did lunch, dinner’s on me.” I fish around in my bag until I pull out a big blue can of rations. “You good with Chicken a la King or beef chili?”

Her mouth drops. “Freeze dried rations? You?”

I shrug. “It’s not fancy, but it does the job. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little freeze dried chicken with a fifty-year shelf life.”

I almost laugh as she swallows thickly.

“It’s… it’s fine, Shepherd. You were pretty adventurous with the flapjack.”

“Yeah, now it’s your turn. It’ll reward your bravery, I promise. This stuff sticks to the ribs all night. And if it’s too rough on your belly, I’ve got a box of Pepto.” I pull out the pink box and chuck it at her.

She instantly throws it back like it’s on fire.

“Dude, no. I can handle my reconstituted noodles just fine, thank you.”

That wins her a bitter smile.

Nice knowing she isn’t picky about her diet in the field.

You never know when she’s young and fresh-faced and a billionaire’s daughter—no Mediterranean avocado salads when you’re on the go with no town in sight—though I’m guessing she wondered the same about me.

After I get some water boiling to reheat the food, she unwraps her sleeping bag. I notice she sets it about as far away from me as she can.

Good.

I’m glad I’m not the only one who sees the need for space after—well, fucking everything.

So why doesn’t it make me happier?

I follow her lead, setting my sleeping bag at the opposite end of the fire, though still close enough to get heat. It’s already clouding up and it’ll be cold tonight for sure.

Fuck, I hate this tension.

Even the wind feels like it’s whistling just to highlight the awkward silence between us.

We haven’t even discussed our plans for tomorrow, I realize.

Surveillance, yeah.

I know how to operate the prototype drone stowed in my bag, but I’m clueless about the finer points of stalking sea otters.

The last light fades behind the trees by the time the food turns into something resembling an edible meal.

Destiny stops, hands on her hips, and stares at the last shred of vermillion and red coming through the trees. The thin cloud layer above highlights the colors.

It’s one of the more spectacular sunset finishes I’ve seen in a long time.

She fumbles for her phone, taking a picture of the sunset, searching for the perfect selfie angle.

I watch her without meaning to as I stir the food and dish up some pears and blueberries I brought along for more texture and fiber.

Why can’t I quit staring?

She takes maybe five pictures, flicks through them, changes the angle, her hair, the light on her face, and then takes another set.

She’s clearly focused on what she’s doing.

There’s something weirdly compelling about it when I realize she’s not just showing off for Instagram Likes. The image is all about building her brand.

I check the food to distract myself, though.

So what if she’s standing there, the dying light gilding her in rose gold?

Who cares if it’s the most picture-perfect pose I’ve ever seen?

Not my concern.

Once she’s done a few minutes of quick editing, or maybe posted the pics already, she heads back to where I’m cooking.

“Right on time. Dig in.”

I ladle out our dinner and pass her a bowl to go with the fruit.

She inhales it cautiously, but I can hear her stomach rumbling.

I think we’re both starved enough to eat a half-cooked porcupine right now. Chicken a la King might as well be food fit for an emperor.

I throw together my own bowl and then sit on the other side of the large log we’re using for a makeshift bench.

The more room between us, the better.

Even if this feels like a chasm.

In the fire’s light, her loose hair is art. Golden and slightly tangled from the salt water, looking so goddamn beautiful and tempting I want to rake my fingers through it.

“Brief me on tomorrow,” I say, partly to distract myself and partly because this silence can’t go on forever.

Plus, I need to know what we’re doing. The otter tracking is all her, and I expect she’ll have a few areas picked to comb from the air.

She snorts at me. “You’re definitely ex-military, aren’t you? Giving orders like a drill sergeant.”

“I asked a simple question.” I glance up. “Tell me how we plan to find these otters without a lesson in manners.”

Her sneakers dig into the sand as she stands, still chewing her food. The dancing light from the flames licks up her body. Another reminder that her bra is missing.

Fuck.

“What?” I clip, staring up at her.

“Why are you such an asshole?” she demands.

“For asking a question?”

“For how you phrased it.”

I fold my arms.

I’m only two bites in and my food is getting cold, but I don’t care. If she wants a fight, I’m game.

“Why are you such a mouthy damned contradiction?” I ask.

“I asked you first,” she throws back.

“Hardly an appropriate question for your boss and mentor.”

Her face tightens. “Yeah? Is that what you are? I didn’t know the prize money meant putting up with this attitude.”

I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so grating in my life.

“Actually,” I tell her, my voice calmer than I feel, “you’re being paid an awful lot for an opportunity to waltz in and change my whole company’s charitable direction. You’re welcome.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow, seeing as the money isn’t designed for her at all and she won it fair and square. I’m also the one who agreed to this field test.

Still, I can’t fucking help it.

Destiny glowers.

Her lips thin and her nostrils flare, adding a redness to her cheeks. But it’s her eyes that hold my attention.

They’re so lit they’re almost green, like the cool, forbidding depths of the forest.

Beautiful.

I don’t care that they’re spitting fire at me.

It makes me want to rise to her challenge.

If this woman has to drive me insane, I won’t go down without a fight.

“You offered the prize, Foster,” she tells me, her chest heaving. Her hands land on her hips. “Why do you resent me for claiming it?”

I give her a tiny, twisted smile. “That’s a whole other question.”

“You never answered my first.”

“No, and you can add it to the list of reasons why you hate my damned guts.”

She huffs loudly. “Here’s another question…”

“Sure. I guess you’re seeing a pattern,” I say.

There’s no way I’m going to answer her now—out of pure stubbornness if nothing else.

Childish? Maybe.

No, I don’t give a fuck.

“You say I’m a contradiction like it’s personal,” she says. “Why does that bother you?”

Only a thousand reasons.

Annoyed, I stride away from the fire and rake my fingers through my hair, pulling my thoughts together.

“When someone is made of contradictions,” I say, enunciating clearly so she can understand, “at least one of those contradictions must be a lie.”

“I—what?”

I turn to face her. She’s still standing by the fire, painted in shadow.

“So which part of you is the lie, Destiny Lancaster? What’s true?”

Her face looks pale. “Why does anything about me have to be a lie?”

“I know who your family are. The Lancasters? You think I don’t know you come from money just like me?”

Her father is a billionaire. That’s not insignificant.

It also has me wondering why the hell she needs this two-million-dollar prize at all.

“What’s your game? I just want to know,” I say. “Why play at being a typical do-gooder with big ideas and no cash to fund them? Why doesn’t Cole Lancaster help you fund an entire sea otter preserve?”

Color floods back into her cheeks and her fists clench at her sides.

“What, you’ve been cyberstalking me now?”

“Fair game. Let’s not pretend you haven’t done some digging on me. And do you really think I’d pay out anything for a publicity role without conducting a thorough background check?”

“Jesus, this isn’t panhandling, Shepherd. It’s conservation work. Charity,” she spits. “Also, I give away practically every penny I don’t need. My trust is mostly a fundraising tool. I lived on my scholarship funds while I did my post-grad work, thank you very much. My father would help in a heartbeat if I asked, sure, but that’s not how he raised me. I was brought up to make it or break it on my own.”

I fold my arms, hating that I admire her fuck-you grit.

If she’s expecting a round of applause, though, she’s sorely mistaken.

“Not that it’s any of your business what I do with my family,” she adds.

She’s right.

It isn’t my business at all.

Yet, I still need to know.

There’s got to be more to this story than high-strung morals and an allergic reaction to daddy’s money.

With a final shrug, I settle back down by the fire.

“Come finish your dinner,” I say gruffly. “The food’s getting cold.”

She lingers another second and then grudgingly sits, eating the fruit with her fingers.

“It’s not half-bad,” she says after clearing most of her plate.

I nod, accepting the compliment.

That creeping silence returns.

Tense, but less suffocating after we’ve said a lot of what we wanted. It doesn’t matter if I don’t have any easy answers.

Hell, I know I shouldn’t want them.

Destiny’s right. Her private business means nothing to me, and it certainly isn’t relevant to this wacko otter excursion.

“Do you really not know about the family drama?” she asks later.

I look up, slowly chewing a few last blueberries.

“I wouldn’t have asked you if I did. I’m the last man alive who keeps up with tabloid dreck.”

Especially when it’s about yours truly.

“God.” She huffs a breath and stares into the fire, twirling a lock of hair nervously. “I thought everyone knew, but it’s been a few years, I guess…”

“Tell me,” I demand.

She draws in a slow breath.

“It’s a long story…” She takes a slow sip of water, and I watch as she swallows. It’s excruciating how I can’t look away from this woman at her most mundane. “You know about my mother, right?”

I nod.

I had Hannah dig up her history and forward me a profile, yes. Although I scanned it, I didn’t take much in beyond the major points about her influencer brand and environmental work. I barely skimmed her family.

“Vaguely. She passed away, didn’t she?”

“Yeah. It happened when I was really little, during a trip to our family place in Hawaii. She was murdered.” She cuts off, and I think maybe her jaw quivers.

Fuck.

That was the part I didn’t know.

I remember a lot of social media about Cole Lancaster unearthing some big mystery and rescuing another woman years ago. I had no idea that story came with such a dark underbelly.

“So, long story short, there was a ton of drama before we found out. We didn’t know the truth for years,” she says with a dry smile. “Dad never felt right when he was told it was a freak accident, my mother washing up like she drowned. He was so busy raising me and managing his company, he let it lie for years. Then he met Eliza, my stepmom. I think she made his brain work again. She got herself into trouble, too, and when Dad came charging in to help, that’s how he stumbled on the truth.”

“Closure. Everybody needs it.” I wonder if she can hear how I’ve been robbed of my own.

What else can I say?

I’m the asshole who wanted answers, so here they are.

I almost regret asking, prying at her, when I see the haunted look she beams into the fire.

My food is going cold, but all I can do is stare at her, wondering why I had to pull it out of her in the first place.

“You can find all the details if you really want to, so I won’t bore you with the rest,” she continues. “But after it was over and Dad decided to get remarried, I was heading off to college. I figured taking a step back was the right thing to do. For me and for him. He’s with Eliza now and they’ve got a couple kids. A second chance at the nice, normal family he always wanted. They’re happy. They don’t need me around reminding them of… of…”

Her voice catches.

Fuck.

“Destiny,” I cut in, “I don’t think your old man would ever mind you—”

“No,” she says quickly. “No, this was my decision. Not his. We’re not on bad terms or anything. We get along great. I just… I wanted my space, too. I had to figure out my own shit. And I wanted to give him a chance at having his new family without any reminders of what happened before. Dad deserves it, especially when things weren’t ever great with my mom…”

A life without her in it, she means.

Shit, that’s heavy.

My jaw is glued shut.

She doesn’t seem to mind the silence now, staring into the flames as the tension eases.

Until she looks up at me again.

“I’m guessing you didn’t abuse Vanessa Dumas,” she says slowly.

Damn.

A secret for a secret.

That’s the unspoken trade here, isn’t it?

My shoulders square and I look into the fire, gazing until the bright-orange glow burns its imprint into my eyes.

“I never did, but why bring it up now?” Or ever.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to poke you with bad memories or stress or whatever. I just wanted you to know that I get it. What this whole thing is really all about…”

“What thing?”

“The internship. Young Influencers. You know”—she gestures broadly—“the whole reason I’m here, making you pull your hair out.”

“Right.”

“You need a little spit and shine on your reputation. That’s cool,” she says too freely. “It’s shitty that she did that to you. Running around, making all kinds of ugly accusations. Don’t get me wrong, I’m on the ‘believe women’ train. But you don’t out it by bouncing around talk shows and interviews like it’s a book tour. Her story just feels calculated.”

I shift so the fire isn’t beaming in my face.

“You don’t believe her?” I ask slowly.

Destiny lifts a shoulder in a shrug.

“Eh, she doesn’t strike me as the type who goes around belting out the truth for its own sake.”

“She’s not,” I snarl. “I made a mistake with her—and not the type she implies.”

“Yeah, I figured. And I sure wouldn’t be here if I believed her at all, camping with you on a remote beach.” Her lips twist in a humorless smile. “The stuff she’s saying about you… Jeez, if I thought it was true, I wouldn’t come near you without an armed chaperone.”

“If the bullshit she’s claiming was true, I’d deserve hell. I’d be the first to admit it and face whatever damages a court deems necessary.”

“You’d deserve something, all right.” Her face relaxes, slipping into the first genuine smile I’ve seen since the not-kiss. “You shouldn’t have trusted her.”

“Now you tell me.” I roll my eyes.

“Well, just for next time. In case you decide to get mixed up with somebody like her again…”

“Is that a warning?”

“Warning?” She tosses her blonde hair over her shoulder and grins at me. “Oh, no. I said I’m game for helping restore your reputation. Hey, if all we do is find these otters tomorrow, I’ll sing your praises for the next three months every day on socials. Everyone will think Shepherd Foster is the patron saint of cute marine animals.”

Dammit.

A rough chuckle slips out of me.

“You’ll have your work cut out for you, convincing anyone,” I mutter.

Logically, I know I should be relieved she understands this PR scheme and isn’t bothered by it.

Also, if she can read me this easily, it means she’ll be able to keep this as professional and impersonal as I need.

Even so, irritation grips my chest, knowing she’s figured this whole thing out so easily.

Vanessa always tried to look deeper, too, hoping to unearth some dark secret or weakness she could exploit to win me over.

Look what happened there.

I fold my arms. “You really don’t believe Dumas?”

“Like I said, it doesn’t add up.” Destiny shrugs, taking her seat again on the sand, closer to the fire.

“How can you be so sure I’m not the heart-wrecking scoundrel she’s made me out to be?”

Destiny shrugs again and gives me a long look, starting at my chest and winding up to my face.

The firelight flickers in her eyes, teasing the green flecks from the blue pools. They’re practically luminous in the dark like this, vibrant fireflies that seem to see my soul.

She sees too deep inside me, and I don’t know what to do with that.

“Call it a hunch. A sixth sense. Whatever,” she says.

“You see dead people who aren’t assholes?” I say, referencing that silly movie. “Sorry to disappoint you, Miss Destiny, but I’m very much alive.”

“Oh, okay. You’re not as intimidating as you want to be, mister, for the record. You billionaires are all the same. Tons of loud bark and no bite. Totally harmless.”

The way she rolls her eyes tells me she’s joking, but something about hearing that strikes deep.

Anger, frustration, all the shit I shouldn’t feel erupts in my blood.

One second, I’m on the log, keeping a nice safe distance, doing all I can to keep her safe from me.

The next, I’m thunking my coffee cup down on the sand and crossing the gap to her.

Before I have another coherent thought, I drop down on my knees and push her back, pinning her to the sand.

My body hovers over hers like a man possessed and every breath feels like napalm.

Fuck, I don’t know what I’m doing.

Some kind of primal impulse takes over. This manic urge to remind her I’m not harmless, to tell her not to get too close or think she can slide into my life like it’s a pair of slippers.

She can’t fucking know me.

Nothing good has ever happened with the people I invited in.

She should consider me dangerous.

Tainted.

Unhinged.

All logic deserts me as my brain catches up to my body, which is far too close to hers.

I can feel her under me.

I’m not letting my lips brush hers.

I’m not gripping her shoulders hard.

I’m not losing my shit.

And Destiny, she’s barely breathing now, her chest pushing against mine with shallow breaths that make me feel her tits behind that thin layer of fabric.

Is she afraid yet?

For both our sakes, she should be.

My anger softens the longer I stare at her, though, replaced by a sharpening awareness.

The darkening night deepens around us.

The crackling fire grows louder.

The distant roll of the evening tide echoes in my ears, almost as loud as my heartbeat as I stare down at her like prey, willing myself to rip away the next second.

The softness of her body against mine kills me.

She’s slender, but lush.

All graceful curves and toned muscle and unbearably soft skin.

Her lips are parted in a devilish invitation, calling my hands to all the wrong places, begging my brain to switch off.

I feel my cock swelling as I try to get a grip.

As I try to find my familiar ice-cold kingdom again where I’m alone and safe with emotions I understand.

Anger.

Self-loathing.

Irritation.

Not desire.

Not empathy for this strange woman.

Not giving two shits about her struggles, her dreams, and how damnably good her hot breath feels on my lips.

Mind over dick matter.

Be angry, you fuck.

Better, be indifferent. Be nothing.

“What about now?” I growl. “Still think I look harmless?”

She looks up at me fearlessly, her eyes smoky and her breath coming faster, demanding a kiss.

Her lips part wider.

Damn her, I can’t do this.

If she’s aroused because of me, because of this insanity—

If she truly wants this as badly as I do, I’m boned.

No question.

My entire body goes rigid, my cock pushing at the zipper of my cargo pants.

I want her so madly I can’t even see straight.

“Are you?” she challenges. “If you’re trying to make a point, do it. Don’t back down now. Show me how dangerous you are.”

I almost do.

I almost devour her on the spot like the carnivorous, unhinged thing I am.

I come close—so fucking close—leaning down as she lifts her chin defiantly, bringing our lips closer, less than two inches apart.

I don’t know if she’s doing it consciously or if it’s only a dare made on raw instinct.

I just know that if I kiss her now, I won’t be showing her how dangerous I can be.

I’ll be a slave to the desire scorching the air between us.

One more mistake in a lifelong litany, and this one infinitely harder to take back than Vanessa Dumas.

I can’t keep fucking up.

I can’t keep multiplying problems.

Then Destiny shifts under me.

Her breath catches as her hips move against my cock, grinding through the fabric.

I groan at the unexpected rush, the heat, the pulsing roar in my ears as she lets out a soft, almost pleading moan.

Fuck me.

Yeah, there’s no stopping this now.

I kiss Destiny Lancaster again like my mouth is a ring of pure fire, and she’s the only thing in the universe that can quench it.

I kiss like I take and I take brutally, like I want to chew her up and spit her the fuck out.

Hell, maybe I do.

Perhaps I want to crush this madness she’s injected, this poison, this corruption of my discipline.

Or maybe I want to claim her right down to the bone so I’ll never be her emotional hostage again.

Either way, she’s there for it in a way that surprises me, kissing me back just as roughly.

A moan explodes up her throat, all wild need.

She grabs my face with her hands, nails digging in, and refuses to let go.

Her mouth is soft. Pliant. Giving.

She tastes so fucking sweet I’m drunk already, spilling a groan into her mouth.

Her lips part and her tongue teases mine, and soon, this isn’t just a kiss.

Now, she digs her hands into my hair.

I grind my hips against hers as she shifts again, opening up to me.

My cock rakes her pussy swiftly through the fabric, a monster ready to descend.

I feel fucking drugged, knowing how potent she is, hating and loving how easily this woman leaves me intoxicated.

All the adrenaline that’s stormed my blood during this trip surges, becoming raw need.

If we don’t stop, this could become something molten, something heady, something fatal—

Until something else cracks in the woods beyond the beach.

I pop up, bracing my hands in the sand on either side of her head, staring into the forest.

There’s nothing.

An animal snapping a twig or a falling branch, maybe.

Only, when I look at her again, her mouth is still ruby red from my kiss.

Red and swollen and perfect.

She’s so visibly aroused, those goddamned nipples hard against her shirt, aching to be sucked into compliance.

Damn her, I’m never going to walk away from those unclaimed tits and live.

The girl is a human sugar lick, so tempting I almost give in and destroy us both again.

But her eyes are wide, and the air is so cool. I’m excruciatingly aware that I’m breaking every social boundary known to man with this song and dance.

I’m breaking so many rules, and all I want to do is keep shredding them to tatters.

A horrible idea stabs my brain.

Was this why she brought me here? Was this recklessness planned?

I bitterly wonder if that’s why she got me into the sticks and why she seemed so relieved the instant she found out Miss Cho couldn’t join us.

The perfect ambush. A chance to seduce me.

So she could reduce me to the self-destructive beast I am.

And just like she hoped, I obliged.

Fucking idiot ass-clown.

Or maybe Hannah’s right.

Maybe I do have trust issues.

Snarling, I back up, pushing off of her, running a hand across my burning face.

Destiny jolts up, too, brushing sand out of her hair as she stares at me desperately with painful questions hanging on her lips.

Why not?

What did I do wrong?

She doesn’t ask, but I hear them anyway.

“Sorry,” I grind out. “That was damn inappropriate, Miss Lancaster.”

I stand and stride away from her, adjusting the bulge in my pants as I go.

I don’t want to look at her now.

Will she be gone in the morning, leaving a mess of tears and new hell posts online? Joining the chorus of people who already think I’m a predatory shithead?

And after what I just pulled, I wonder if I am.

I’m hardly innocent.

Still, she has to know.

She must know I brought her into the fold for a charity gig intended to brighten the company’s reputation, and nothing more.

It certainly wasn’t to fucking kiss her face off like a goat hopped up on blue pills.

Doesn’t matter that she wanted it, too—or maybe the fact that she does just makes it worse.

“Wait!” she calls after me shrilly. “Foster!”

I move faster, away from that blinding firelight and into the darkness where I can try to find my wits again and tether them down.

“Shepherd.” She chases after me. “Wait, just so you know… I’m not upset. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Didn’t I?

I whip around and glare at her.

Why can’t she understand?

I can’t do this, even if she’s made it crystal fucking clear it’s consensual.

Especially not if she wants this just as bad as I do.

I won’t repeat my past.

I’m not trusting another pretty face, leading her into temptation, waiting for her to die because I’m that goddamned toxic.

“Shepherd… at least say something,” she pleads.

“Get some sleep,” I growl over my shoulder. “We have a long day ahead—if we still have one at all.”

She halts just past the circle of stones around the fire.

“I mean, of course. Shepherd?”

“Go to bed, Destiny. We need to get started before sunrise.” Without waiting for an answer, I march back across to the sleeping bag I laid out before and stuff myself inside.

I zip the thick fabric up to my chin like the miserable human caterpillar I am, keeping my back to her.

Here we go again.

Silence.

Only, this time it’s like the grave.

Then I hear her cleaning the bowl that toppled over when I threw myself at her, rinsing it out with some water she’s collected.

I grit my teeth and close my eyes.

I, Shepherd Foster, am master idiot of the known universe.

A horny, impulsive, goat-brained dimwit—and apparently, I’m still led around by my cock after all these years.

What the fuck?

I’m too old for this shit.

Sighing, I wrestle my phone out and squint at the eye-killing screen.

Barely nine p.m., but the exhaustion is natural.

I’m sure Destiny feels it, too, that weight turning her bones to lead.

No more good will come from talking tonight.

My eyes drop from the time to my notifications.

That’s where I see a new text from Vanessa, asking to meet and talk this out like ‘civilized people.’

Like hell.

My lips curl into a snarl as I text back, I don’t negotiate with anyone who makes their disputes public. Never contact me again without your lawyer.

The end.

I just wish I’d grown a bigger pair and faced her games head-on, without being talked into playing my own.

I never should have agreed to Hannah’s reputation management scheme.

To Destiny, to her otter hunt, to fixing this shit with someone else intimately involved.

I’ve always been a man who handles his own problems, just like I did with Uncle Aidan and his crew when I decided I couldn’t live a life of violence and pure villainy.

One wrong move half a lifetime ago, and I could’ve wound up with a nice, clean, anonymous bullet in the back of my head.

That should be far scarier than struggling for self-control around a new pretty face.

Then why is Destiny Lancaster so damned good at leaving me petrified?