He had seemed so perfect for her. They had seemed to fit so well together. How could she have been so wrong about him? What he’d said to Bo just didn’t fit what she knew about him. Was she that bad a judge of character that she hadn’t been able to see who he really was? Had he played her that well? She was a reasonably intelligent woman who knew how to spot a player. Or at least she thought she was.
Too much thinking. Thinking that was getting her nowhere. She and Rick were over. Why couldn’t she just let it go?
“You could tempt a man to sin looking like that.”
Ava shot up and grabbed her cover-up, shielding her face from the sun. A silhouette stood in the bright sunlight, a dark shadow she couldn’t make out. She grabbed her bag, then scrambled to her feet, hoping to hell someone else was on this stretch of beach besides her and some stranger. What the hell was she thinking coming out here alone?
“Ava.”
Her whole body went rigid. “Rick?” She fished into her bag for her sunglasses, slid them on. He stood there, barefoot in jeans and a sleeveless muscle shirt, holding his boots in his hand. His dark sunglasses made him look reckless, sexy, like the bad boy she figured him to be. Her legs went weak. “What are you doing here?”
“I came here to find you, to talk to you.” He pushed his sunglasses up on his head.
She should be angry with him—furious, in fact—not falling to his feet in a gush of female libido. “Why?”
“Because what I said back in Vegas . . . I didn’t want you to hear that.”
Her anger rushed to the surface. She preferred that to being so damn glad to see him. “Obviously.”
“No, you don’t understand.” He grabbed her hands and pulled her down to sit in the sand with him. “It wasn’t what I meant, what I felt.”
“Why did you say it?”
“Because that’s what I wanted Bo to think.”
She cocked her head to the side. “I don’t understand.”
“In order to get back into the Hellraisers I have to prove my worthiness.”
“And treating a woman like shit is the way to do it?”
He rubbed a spot above his brow with his fingertip. “No, but telling him that I cared about you puts me in a bad position.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that. Was he saying he cared about her? “Why?”
“I’m not sure I can explain this well.”
“Try.”
“I’ve been gone for ten years. I just came back. They want me to be free to work for them, to ride with them. You’re not one of the Hellraisers.”
“Oh. So if you hooked up with me, I’d be a hindrance to you doing that.”
He nodded. “It’s a shitty excuse, I know. I didn’t expect him to ask me about you. So I shot off that you meant nothing to me, that you were just a f**k. They were just words said to placate him. I didn’t expect you to be there to hear them.”
“You didn’t mean them.”
“No. I didn’t.”
“But you still said them.”
“Yes.”
“They hurt me.”
He looked down at the sand, then swept his gaze back to her. “I know. And I’m sorry. It was thoughtless. I was an ass**le.”
If she were smart, she wouldn’t believe him. She’d tell him to turn around and head back to Las Vegas. That she wasn’t interested in his explanations or excuses. That they were over. That they never had anything to start with.
But she did believe him. He’d come all the way to Mexico to explain to her, to apologize. What kind of man did that?
“If it would make you feel better you could throw sand at me.”
She laughed. Damn him. “I can’t believe you’re here. You came all the way here just to see me? You could have called me.”
“I could have. But this kind of needed to be handled face-to-face.”
“You could have waited until I got back.”
He shifted, rubbed his hands together to wipe the sand off. “I didn’t want to wait. Besides, I missed you.”
She looked away, stared out at the water. “Don’t say that.”
He tipped her chin, forced her gaze back to his. “Why not?”
Her eyes filled with tears and she hated herself—and him—because of it. She pulled her sunglasses off and looked at him. “I don’t want to care about you, Rick.”
He paused, then lifted a strand of her hair and sifted it through his fingers. “But you do.”
She wouldn’t admit it—refused to give him more ammunition to hurt her. Until he leaned in, and before she could object, fit his mouth over hers. The kiss was slow and easy—he wasn’t demanding, it was more like he was testing the waters.
God, she’d missed his mouth on hers. She sighed and pressed into him, felt weak and ridiculous for giving in so easily. She should have walked away. This man was trouble, was only going to hurt her.
But he’d come all the way to Mexico to apologize. What man did that?
Rick.
So as his lips brushed over hers, seeking, searching, all her resolve melted and she kissed him back, her answer—a resounding yes—to everything.
She was so easy. She was going to hate herself later for this. But right now he was pulling her onto his lap, onto his strong thighs, and wrapping his arms around her, deepening the kiss until she was heated all over. And it felt so good—so right. She couldn’t muster up any reasonable objections to why she shouldn’t be with him.
As long as she guarded her heart.
He dragged his lips across her chin, spreading hot kisses along her throat. She felt the mad beat of her pulse against his lips and tilted her head back, not caring that they were on the beach where anyone could see them. No one knew her here—she was a stranger. Even if someone did see them, it wasn’t like she was ever coming back to this place again. And she didn’t want this moment to end.
She shifted, rocked against him, riding his c**k through the denim of his jeans.
Rick grinned. “Out here?”
“Yes.”
“I have a better idea.”
He put his hands under her bu**ocks and stood, carrying her over to a secluded cove where the water met the rocks.
“Your jeans are getting wet,” she said as he rested her back against the cool rock and set her on her feet.