Running From Love Page 2

  “Do you?” Trevor waved at the bartender, indicating that he’d like another round. Actually, on second thought, he’d take three. He placed three fingers on the bar.

  “Yes, I do.” Poppy shot a look at the bartender, who continued to pour anyway. Good man. He knew who was paying for this round and also knew Trevor, being a bartender himself, was a hell of a good tipper.

  “So my assessment is unfair then.” Trevor was pushing too hard. He’d gotten the look and he’d been told how he might have his reprieve. End the booze now. But no, he was going for broke. Charla’s comment about storage units around the world had made Trevor aware of just how little he knew about the woman he loved. He’d given his heart to a stranger. A virtual stranger. Of course he knew every crevice, crook, mole, dimple, curve of Poppy’s body. He’d kissed and caressed every millimeter of her skin, but he didn’t know if he even knew her real name. Where she’d grown up. Hell, until two shots ago, he hadn’t even known her mother lived in California.

  Poppy’s six-month contract at Mesquale had ended today at noon. All Trevor knew, without a doubt, was that Poppy had a plane ticket to Hong Kong tomorrow morning at nine a.m. Was she going to wait for him? Did she want to? He couldn’t hold her hostage in his staff apartment.

  Poppy’s face softened. Her eyes widened. “Trev, babe, it’s my good-bye party. Let’s not spend tonight arguing.” The bartender set the three shots down in a neat line across the bar.

  Trevor’s heart careened in his chest. He had no willpower, no control where Poppy was concerned. Perhaps that was the attraction. Her effervescence, the ephemeral nature of her being, the unreal merged with the real, spoke to his poet’s soul. He nodded toward Charla and then to the three shot glasses. He lifted the first, Charla the second, and Poppy the third.

  “To Poppy,” Trevor said. “The most ephemeral woman in the world.” He tossed back the liquor and swallowed. Bitter. Harsh. His gaze landed on Poppy. Sadness filled her eyes. She knocked back her shot and put the shot glass onto the bar.

  His heart was heavy, but he snaked his arm around her waist. He pulled her closer to him. The scent of cinnamon and sun and sand with undertones of the ocean swirled around her. He pressed his face into her hair. He couldn’t bear to lose her. He’d tried for six months to prove to her that he was different, he was better, he was the man that she need not fear. He’d done his very best. What if his best wasn’t good enough?

  “Should we head to the staff beach?” Poppy said. Her smile lightened the mood. Her enthusiasm captured the crowd. She stood and wove through the crowd, the Pied Piper at the lead drawing everyone in behind her.

  “Well, one thing we do know for certain,” Charla said. “Poppy knows how to have a good time.”

  *

  Ryan had organized the party at the staff beach. The flames of a bonfire climbed high into the sky. This beach wasn’t groomed for the guests that inhabited the five-star Mesquale Resort. This beach was where staff came to surf, sunbathe, and blow off steam. Though it had been forbidden when a Chinese conglomerate owned the Tahitian resort of Mesquale, since Ryan had taken over the staff beach had become the unofficial spot for staff parties and relaxation.

  Poppy wandered by a table filled with delectable treats from Mesquale’s kitchen. Her boss had gone all out. Ryan had even stocked ice chests full of beer and set up a rough-hewn bar with liquor and mixes. Poppy looked at her former roommate Charla. Ryan hadn’t done all this just for Poppy. No. He was still attempting to impress the woman he loved, the woman who had run away when she discovered that Ryan had lied to her about his true identity.

  “This is quite a spread,” Charla said.

  Poppy nodded. She put a strawberry in her mouth. Just as Mesquale was finally turning into the place she’d always known it could be, it was time for her to leave. Of course, she could extend her contract for another six months and get all the added benefits of a full twelve, but then she would get too close, she’d be in too deep. If she stayed, so would Trevor, and as much as she loved his kiss, his touch, his lips, and his lovemaking, she couldn’t risk being with Trevor for six more months. Six months and she’d throw all her strict rules away. Trevor had already nearly broken down all her defenses.

  “He wants me to stay three days until his contract is up,” Poppy said.

  “Trevor?” Charla turned toward the bonfire, where Trevor now held a bottle of Jack in the crook of his arm and talked to Liam.

  Poppy nodded.

  “You love him, Poppy. Why don’t you?”

  “Love?” Poppy contained her laugh, but a smile split her face. “Why don’t I stay here for love? Seriously? Didn’t you run from Ryan? I know you’re still in love with him.”

  Charla closed her eyes. “It’s been a long time. I’m sure he’s moved on. Besides, I’m not the right girl for a billionaire. I think we all know that.”

  “His money has nothing to do with his love for you or your love for him. You fell in love with him when you thought he was a penniless bartender from Los Angeles. Besides, he lied for all the right reasons.”

  Charla bit her bottom lip and nodded. “He did. He most definitely did. I suppose that’s why this spread? Because you’re such a beloved employee.”

  Poppy looked up at the black sky filled with stars. “You know I’m not the only reason for this spread. He knows you had to come to Parpetai. He even talked to Trevor about it. This? I might be the catalyst, but I won’t fool myself into believing I’m the reason.” Poppy felt her phone buzz and slipped it from her pocket. She smiled at the message glowing on the screen. “Looks like I’m getting love poems at a bonfire.” Even though Trevor was well on his way to drunk, he still sent her words. Glorious words that made her heart swoon. He didn’t know. He couldn’t possibly understand. She wasn’t the girl to provide him with the life he deserved. She was only the right girl for a limited time.

  “Ladies,” Liam joined them. He tipped his Foster’s to his lips. “Miss Poppy, I do believe that Trevor bids you sit with him by the fire, and while I do enjoy your company, I must agree with him. You should go to your love.”

  “Wow, this new gig as food and beverage director has made you jovial.”

  Liam smiled. “I have two of my most favorite ladies to thank for my new title. First, thank you, Charla, for telling Mr. Antigua and Ryan what I needed to be able to take the gig, and second thank you, Poppy, for making my transition so smooth.”

  “Don’t go around telling people that stuff,” Poppy said. “You’ll ruin my bad-girl rule-breakin’ image.”

  “Ha!” Liam chortled. “You’ve ruined that image all by yourself. We all know just how big that heart is, whether you want us to or not.”

  Fear sliced through Poppy, but she maintained her smile. “Think I will go see Trev, make sure he doesn’t fall into the fire.” Poppy stepped slowly over the sand and closed the distance between her and Trevor. The man was beyond beautiful to behold. Sun-kissed blond hair just subtly streaked by the bright rays of Apollo. A well-muscled body and a smart mind, quick and sharp, with a wit that seared her to her soul. Yes, Trevor Brice was the entire package. A package Poppy could unwrap for the rest of her life if she were ever inclined to do such a thing.

  Trevor sat on a log beside the bonfire, booze in hand. He took a slug from the bottle. His eyes locked to the dancing flames. What was he thinking? There was no smile on his face, just a pensive stare into the flames. She stopped beside him, watching the play of firelight over his sharp cheekbones. Her sex clenched just thinking of how his hands, those gorgeous strong hands, made her feel.

  “I love you, Poppy.” He didn’t turn. He didn’t pull his gaze from the fire dancing before him. “I’ve loved you since before I knew you.”

  Her heart melted. In this moment she was his for forever. Poppy stepped forward and sat on his knee. He put his arms around her and pressed his lips to her neck. “I know you love me too. I know that we can be good together. How can I help you to believe that?”

&
nbsp; His words were so honest, so pure. He’d sorted out how damaged she was, even if he didn’t know why. Apparent in his question was the knowledge of her imperfections.

  “I don’t know,” Poppy said. Gone were the smart retorts that tripped so easily off her tongue, replaced with an earnest and sincere realization that her damage was preventing her from accepting Trevor’s offer of a forever love. A love that she wanted to trust, and yet recoiled from accepting.

  “Oh, Pop,” Trevor said. “I’d like to spend a lifetime helping you find the answer to that question.”

  Finally his gaze landed on her. His eyes thick with emotion. There was no fear about who she was or even her leaving, just a gentle reassurance that his love was pure. “You’ll never be more well loved.”

  She rested her head on his shoulder. True. Trevor would make certain that she was well loved. Unfortunately, she could not guarantee the same.

  A murmur started in the crowd. Poppy followed the gaze of many of the staff toward the far end of the beach. There stood Ryan. Liam retreated from where he’d been speaking with Charla.

  “Hope he nails it,” Trevor said. “He’s madly in love with her.”

  “And she with him,” Poppy said.

  “So they’re meant to be together.”

  “Maybe.” Poppy wouldn’t fall into that trap. Have Trevor tossing her words back at her if she admitted that Charla and Ryan should be together, even if in her heart she knew it to be true. Wasn’t that the problem of any intelligent person with a bit of self actualization? She could point her friends in the correct direction, but she’d be damned before she followed any of her own advice.

  “Good boy,” Trevor said. Poppy heard the smile in his voice. Ryan’s shadow leaned forward and Charla met his kiss. The couple turned their backs to the bonfire and, hands entwined, walked to the path that they’d taken back to the resort on the first night they’d been together. “Now that is a poetic ending.”

  “Maybe. I mean, it could all go down in flames.”

  “Oh, Poppy, not that kind of love. Not a true and real love with the right person. Ryan is the right person for Charla and Charla is the right person for Ryan. You can’t tell me that you don’t see it.”

  She could tell Trevor that she believed Ryan and Charla’s love would survive, but her words would be a lie. Poppy might not always share the details of her life, but she most definitely didn’t lie. She could concede part of the point, though. “No.” Poppy twirled a strand of hair between her fingertips. “You’re right. I’ve thought they were meant to be together for a long while. It was just before, when he wasn’t telling us who he really was, I had a feeling in my gut. Ojada, my grandmother used to call it. Anxiety. I couldn’t figure out why, because he seemed like such a good guy and the right match for her, but it was because we didn’t really know who he was.”

  “Can you forgive him for that?” Trevor asked.

  “Yeah,” Poppy said. “I can. He did it for all the right reasons. He’s fixed Mesquale based on what he learned while he was pretending to be someone he wasn’t. Plus, it would seem, after tonight, he’s managed to unbreak Charla’s heart.”

  “Poppy Martin, you are a romantic. I always knew that a soft-hearted woman lived in that hard-hearted shell.”

  Poppy smiled. She would let his words pass because they were oh too true, and Trevor did know her. Inside and out. Even if he didn’t know the hard details of her life, he knew her. He was a poet. Her lover. And the man who she would be quietly leaving in the morning.

  Chapter 3

  Trevor’s heart hammered. This night, this moment, felt as monumental as the first night Poppy had returned to his room with him. He slid his keycard into the lock and pushed open the door. Poppy’s green backpack and red carry-on were all that remained of the multitude of her belongings that they’d crammed into the storage locker in Parpetai. Poppy walked into his room. Her sundress high on her thigh. The curve of her perfect ass accentuated as she walked.

  Heat coiled and tightened his belly. He walked up behind her and the door slammed shut behind him. Poppy was his, if only for one more night. He banished the thoughts of loss from his mind. His fingertips touched the hem of her short skirt. She leaned her head back into his chest. Yes, yes. Her body so warm and willing. He ran his fingertips over the tight soft flesh of her thighs and brought her dress up over her head. His lips brushed against her neck. A magic spot for Poppy. A spot that left her breathless and pressing into him. No words. There would be no words right now, only this clenching need in his back and the heat that trembled through his legs.

  His palm slid along the soft curve of her belly and his other hand whispered up over her skin and cupped her breast. His thumb pressed across the silk of her bra, her nipple already taut and tight beneath the fabric. He unclipped her bra and the lace dropped to the floor. His hand trailed down her arms and over around her stomach to her back. He cupped his palms over her ass as her hips thrust back, seeking the hardness between his legs.

  God, yes. She was his now. She might not have surrendered yet to the idea of forever, but she would. He’d make damn sure of her surrender. He tugged at the lace that covered her ass and pulled it down over the curve until it whispered down over her long legs to the floor. His fingertip trailed along her spine. He left a kiss on her vertebra and walked her to the bed. He turned her and looked into her eyes.

  Her lips found his and his mouth opened to her. Their tongues tangled in a deep hot kiss. His need was heavy. He wanted his own release, but he wanted her pleasure more. Poppy’s hands fisted in his shirt and her breath grew shorter. She pulled and he stripped the shirt over his head. Next her fingers unclasped his shorts and they fell to the floor. His hard sex ached for the wet spot between her legs. She stepped forward, her breasts against his chest, and her hips pressing into him with a throbbing need. He could feel the wet of her against his hard cock.

  He settled her onto the bed. The moon shone through the curtain and her body seemed to glow. This perfect creature naked on his bed. A woman who he would never grow cold toward, never hurt, never stop loving no matter what her fears might whisper in her mind. He held his body above her on his forearms. Those lips, Poppy’s lips, tortured him and tantalized him with their fullness.

  His kiss roamed down over her neck and found her breast, this time with no silken cloth between them. He licked the tight bud and her hips bucked upward, seeking him, wanting him. His hand slid down the front of her and pressed to her wet flesh. Across her clit. He opened her folds and let his fingertips slip around the wet engorged bit of flesh that would send her over the edge. His tongue circled the hard nipple in his mouth. He sucked. A tiny nip to her sensitive flesh and her fingers pulled at his hair.

  Yes. Yes. He could please her. Please her beyond measure. His kisses trailed across her chest to her other nipple and he circled slowly with the heat of his tongue while his finger pulsed against her clit.

  “Trevor, oh please, Trevor,” she moaned. The want in her voice made the throbbing ache between his legs almost impossible to ignore. Heat built in his belly. He wouldn’t succumb to his own want, his own need. This night was for Poppy. If she left him, she’d remember this night, these tantalizing moments that would be seared into her brain for the rest of her life.

  His lips kissed along her belly. His mouth sought the sweet wetness between her legs. He parted her and his tongue trailed down the hot slit between her legs. He laved up and back, his mouth closing around her clit.

  She arched and her head pressed back into the pillow. Two fingers slid into the slippery warmth of her pussy. He’d found paradise for the last six months between Poppy’s legs. He pulsed in and out while his tongue circled her clit. Her breath shortened and her body tensed. He pulled his mouth from her sex and kissed along the flesh of her inner thigh. Close to the edge and then back. He’d dance this dance with Poppy for a while. Let her crave the release he’d provide. Slowly he trailed his lips down her thigh and then over her mound, her
hair scraping his chin. He split her with his tongue and sucked, pulling her clit into his mouth and stroking it with his tongue.

  “Trevor, I’m going to come.” Her voice a moan filled with pleasure and carried on panted breath. Yes, she was going to come. He’d make certain of her sexual pleasure. Poppy was going to come again and again and again tonight.

  Her legs clasped him and her hands grasped his hair as her hips arched forward. He sucked her clit harder and deeper. She trembled and writhed and trembled again. Tremor after tremor rocked her body as her orgasm cascaded through her. Yes. Yes. She was well past her first orgasm. He pulled his mouth from her sex. She grasped his cock.

  “Please, please Trevor, fuck me.” He reached into the drawer of his nightstand, grasped a foil wrapper, and opened it. Poppy took the condom from him. She placed it onto his hard erect maleness. Her nipples and pert breasts jiggled with her movements. Her skin glistened with a light sheen from his mouth between her legs. God, yes.

  She lay back and looked at him. Her legs opened to him. He moved over her and the head of his cock pressed gently into her tight spot. She arched up to meet him, but he grasped her hips and held them still. Poppy was in control of many things—when she left, if she stayed, whether he ever heard from her again—but she wouldn’t be in control of this moment. He grasped both her wrists and lifted them over her heed.

  Fire flashed in her eyes, fear following behind. She twisted her hands, trying to loosen his grasp on her wrists. He loved her. His hips thrust forward and his cock pressed deeper into her.

  “Poppy,” he whispered. “Trust me.”

  With his words, fear slid from her eyes and she relaxed. A tiny smile curved over her lips. This was trust. Poppy’s version of surrendering herself to him. With an explosion of warmth he stroked deeper into her. So deep and so tight. Molten heat ignited in his balls as he pushed into her. He held her hands still over her head. He looked down at his cock sliding in and out of Poppy. The rhythm of their separate bodies melding and fusing. Fire pulsed through him.