Mad Love (25 page)

“Well, thanks so much for everything,” I tell him. Crap. That sounded so fucked up, I know. But what else is there for me to say?

“What is that supposed to mean?” His voice has a certain bite to it.

Uh, I don’t know Clayton, you tell me
, I think to myself. You’re the one who hopped out of the cart and just assumed that I know what the plan is! I mean, what is a woman supposed to think or feel about this?

Of course, the only thing I’m brave enough to say to him is, “It means that I’ll talk to you later.”

Right? Isn’t that what he wants? I start to collect my small items and get ready to step off the cart.

I watch as he turns to look at Bikram, who is suspiciously backing further and further away from us. I’m sure he feels the awkwardness of the moment and would prefer to be as far away as possible. Clayton takes a second before he speaks. I’m guessing that he wants to make sure Bikram is a good distance away. He turns then to me and takes his sunglasses off.

Oh shit. He’s fucking mad! And why is he mad? I’m the one who should be angry! I’m the one who’s being rejected on such a massive level!

“You need to walk to the villa, Sophie.”

“What?”

A muscle in his cheek twitches. Once. Twice. I’ve never seen him like this before. What the hell is his problem?

“Get off the goddamn cart,” he hisses at me in a low voice as he extends his hand, “or I will carry you off it kicking and screaming and you will only have yourself to blame.”

Screw him! Clenching the beach bag I borrowed from the island villa as a memory, okay,
took so I can keep
, with every intention of asking how much it is at the resort, I scoot out of the cart, intentionally on the opposite side of Clayton. If anything, he looks even more furious. I pity poor Bikram and the scene that he is no doubt about to witness.

Since now I’m so pissed that I can’t even see straight, I don’t hold back. With hands on my hips, I face Clayton across the cart, just as angry as him, and I pull my sunglasses off just so he can see for himself.

“You know what?” My voice shakes with fury. I watch as he seethes from my words, probably barely holding on to a shred of self-control, but who gives a shit? He needs to hear this! “You are not a gentleman. You warned me that you weren’t … and you were right. I cannot believe I’ve been gallivanting around with you—against my better judgment, I might add!—living in some kind of … I don’t know … perfect, sparkling fairy tale, completely oblivious to the fact—or maybe just not wanting to admit to myself—that you were going to do exactly, precisely what you are doing right now. Just dumping me. Love ‘em and leave ‘em, right? I should have fucking known! Well, fuck you Mr. Richie Rich and your fifteen thousand dollar a night villa! I might have thought I was falling in … well, you know … but I was wrong! Good. Bye!” I’m shouting now. Every single word is belted out so loud that I’m sure people in nearby villas can hear.

Oh wait, what am I thinking? He doesn’t
let
people stay close to him because he has to be all by himself so he can have his goddamn privacy!
Who does that?
Clayton looks like he’s been struck by lightning he’s so shocked, his mouth agape, probably incapable of believing I have the audacity to speak to him this way.

And then I watch the shock disappear and in its place comes an icy fury. Instead of continuing on with my stinging insults, I opt to turn and walk briskly,
very briskly
, I might add, back to my villa as Clayton suggested. Bikram’s back is to me and I’m thankful that at least I had the good sense to put my room key card into my bag. I can deal with my stuff later.

I reach my villa safely. Clayton obviously could not catch up to me, or didn’t want to humiliate himself in front of Bikram, who knows? But suddenly I feel like I want to throw something and cry. Seconds later, I hear the cart whizz by and know Bikram probably ran like hell. I can’t blame him for wanting to get out of here. I did too.

Clayton is such an ass! I grab my key and plunge it into the lock.

“Motherfucker!” I shout when it turns red. Access denied! I plunge it in again and the same red light flashes again. This is
so
not happening! I try again slowly, gently, hoping that being calm will somehow make the key magically work and the door open, so I can slam it shut and throw myself on my bed and cry the tears that are threatening to spill. I close my eyes before sticking it in the lock again and hold my breath.

Fuck!

“Your key no longer works.”

Shit. He’s right behind me. Mother fucking shit. I keep my back to him, standing as tall and proud as I can, refusing to turn and look up at him, knowing if I do, I might lose my temper again and it won’t be pretty.

“I’ll just go and get another.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he threatens. “The room is now booked.”

“Oh really?!” I say as I swing around, ready to go to crazy town, not that I’m not already there, but still.

I wish I never turned around.

Before I can even think of what to say, he grabs me around the waist, throws me over his shoulder, and smacks my ass so hard I cry out in pain.

“Not a goddamn word from you, Sophie! Do you hear me? Not another goddamn word!” he practically roars as he walks back to his villa. A twinge of fear courses through my body, but I quickly brush it aside.

The door is open and he strides inside, slams it shut, and continues walking with me over his shoulder through the large bungalow and into the bedroom. Really? He’s gotta be kidding me. Does he actually think I’m going to have sex with him now after he was such an asshole? No way. No way in hell. His hand comes up to cup my ass, rubbing the place where he gave it a stinging slap moments before, and I feel my traitorous body instantly respond to his touch. Why? Why does he have to turn me on like this?

“Put me down!” I practically shriek as I pound my fist into his back.

“Gladly.” He grabs my waist and tosses me on the bed. I bounce. Twice. Shit.

He looms above me, his face revealing the extent of his rage. I sit up, because I have every intention of walking the hell out of the villa, but he stops me cold.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

I stay still when I hear the warning in his voice. But I snap at him, “And why’s that?”

Clayton’s smile is slow, sure, but completely void of any of the tenderness that I’ve become so accustomed to seeing.

“Because I’m so fucking bloody pissed at you, Sophie, I won’t be held accountable for my actions,” he practically shouts.

My eyes widen as I digest his words and the tone he just used. But in a second, I get my gumption back and I sit taller on the bed, but wisely choose not to move.

“You’re pissed at
me
, Clayton? What about
me
being pissed at you?” I huff at him as I cross my arms. There. Take that buddy.

Clayton closes his eyes, probably to get a grip on his emotions.

“And what the fuck do you have to be pissed at me for?” he explodes as his blue eyes blaze out of his stunning face. “How could you behave like that in front of the hotel staff?”

Mount St. Clayton has erupted.

Oh no, he didn’t.

“
Hotel staff?
His name is Bikram, Clayton. He’s a human being just like you, even if he hasn’t been blessed with your extraordinary wealth.” I give back as good as him, then instantly wish that I could take it back. Crap. Crap. Crap. I didn’t mean it like that. I inch away from him on the bed as I watch his face turn a different shade of red. His anger seems to radiate off his body.

“This is your fucking fault, Sophie.”

What is? Before I can even scream back at him, he quickly leans onto the middle of the bed and grabs me by the ankle and yanks my body down toward him. Like a master who knows his craft, he slowly moves his body over mine, pushing his hips into me, causing heat to surge through my
being from pure, unadulterated lust. His hand slowly moves up my leg, leaving a track of goose bumps and longing in its wake.

Shit! I know what he’s doing. I know what’s about to come for me. He showed me this side of him before. He wants me begging. His method of punishment. Simple.

Erotic torture.

Wanting. Needing. Dying from need.
That’s
his poison. Torture them until they beg for more and have to give you exactly what you want to hear.
Fuck that shit!

I twist and turn, fighting him, not wanting him to touch too much of my body, or we both know that I’ll be lost.

“No!” I try to twist away from his hold, but he’s too damn strong for me, and I know that there is no escaping his touch. Even if I wanted to: My faithless body is already starting to react to him, it’s already starting to need him. He knows where to touch, how to get me wanting within seconds.

“Please, Clayton,” I plead with him when his fingers move against me to softly caress. A shiver of excitement runs through my body.

“Please don’t do this to me. Not again.”

His hand stills and he leans over me, his face inches from mine. I look up at him and see the raw anger unmasked. It’s intimidating as hell, especially the way he just looks down at me with those wolf eyes.

“You thought I was going to let you go?!”

What?

“Weren’t you?” I close my eyes and try to articulate my thoughts coherently. “I didn’t know your intention. I thought you were leaving me. We hadn’t talked about what would happen after we left the island. Where I would stay—”

“Christ!” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, hopefully controlling that anger of his before he looks at me again.

His head falls to my chest. “For someone so smart, it is incredibly appalling to see how superbly obtuse you are. I had your belongings moved to my villa. Do you actually think I would let you go back to your room
without me? Do you actually think I would spend one night without you?” He says those last words to my face.
Yelling
in my face, to be exact.

I’m in shock. I don’t know what to say. He wasn’t going to abandon me. He wasn’t trying to dump me on Bikram, or make me walk back to my villa alone. Why couldn’t I tell? Why didn’t I just look around and notice that my bags were probably taken off the cart with his? Mother fucker! I’m a moron!

I close my eyes over my stupidity. Ugh. The things I said! Yikes. The theme of my life should be “How to lose a guy in thirty minutes of completely idiotic behavior!” He’s silent, probably waiting for me to apologize, which he so deserves, but I’m so ashamed by my behavior, I don’t know where to begin. Even though I should be happy now, I suddenly feel like crying again because I showed him such a shitty side of my personality.

I open my eyes and they are glistening a bit. I’m trying to hold the tears back, but it’s hard. My hands clasp his angry face and I beg silently, touching his skin, his cheeks, beg him to forgive me and not hold this crazy moment against me. I ruined the last part of our romantic trip. And I hate myself for it.

“I’m so sorry.” The words are said softly. “Please forgive me. I thought—“ My voice trembles.

I know he can hear it, I know he knows I’m on the precipice of losing control, that I just showed him how massively insecure I can really be. His look is still guarded, but not as angry, and then I can’t help it, I just cry. My hands cover my face, loathe to have him see me this way, wanting to just dive into the ocean—with sharks, so that they can take me out of my misery.

“Sophie.” I hear the tenderness in his voice as he pulls me into his arms and lets me cry. He holds me tight and kisses me on top of my head as I try to get a grip on the dam that’s just broken. “Why don’t you see how amazing you are?”

I shrug against his chest. “I don’t know.” I sound pathetic, I know, but I can’t help it.

I know he probably wants to laugh, which is better then wanting to be furious at me.

“Christ, baby. Haven’t you heard anything I’ve said to you? Don’t you believe me when I tell you how much I want you? How much I want to be with you?” He is angry again, as he lifts my tear-stained face to look him in the eyes. He looks so damn offended that I would actually doubt him, that it takes my breath away. He wipes away my tears, then pulls me up so he can kiss me.

“Please don’t cry, love,” he says as his mouth covers mine and between kisses, “you’re killing me. I don’t want to see you cry.”

Our kiss is open mouthed, carnal, my salty tears mixed up in the embrace.

“I’m sorry, Clayton,” I whisper to him between his kisses. “I shouldn’t have said any of that to you. I didn’t mean anything by it, especially the part about you thinking you’re better than everyone. My temper sometimes—”

I shouldn’t have reminded him.

“I’m fucking wealthy, okay? It is what it is, so get used to it. I don’t flaunt it in people’s face. I don’t judge anyone who has less than me, or more. But the fact remains that I have a lot of money, and I won’t apologize for that.”

I feel like the biggest ass on the planet. I nod at him, properly chastised by his words, and close my eyes. He wants me here with him proving all his actions and words. I need to believe him. I need to stop being afraid that he’s going to hurt me. I need to grow up and be a big girl.

“What you said earlier—” he says.

I cringe.

“About how you were—” he doesn’t finish the words.

Falling in love with you,
I say silently, but there is no way I’ll ever admit that.

“I don’t remember,” I say unconvincingly, and lightly brush my hand up his arm.

“Don’t you?” He asks, his eyes bright as they stare down at me.

“No.” I whisper hoping he will just let it go.

I can tell he’s calmed down, but the storm is still there and I know he just needs to get it out of his system. I want to help him get back to Zen.

My hand moves down his arm then over to his stomach, then down until I find the button on his shorts. He inhales sharply, knowing what I’m about, his body reacting to my touch, instantly so hard and big that it makes my mouth water. God, he turns me on.