She tosses a folded slip of paper at my face.
“Oh, and this itinerary for tomorrow was in the gift bag. Along with some pineapple-flavored popcorn. I hope you’re hungry,” she continues, smug as hell, “because I ate it all.”
I unfold the itinerary. It’s a Hallmark movie checklist for couples, only cursed. I shudder. “A romantic hot tub dinner? So like dinner, but wet? That sounds disgusting.”
“I figured you’d react that way. Because it could be fun,butyou’re a joy vampire. You feed off the good feelings of others until you’ve sucked them dry.”
“Only you would be excited about stewing in your own broth while eating spaghetti.”
“Got it. Don’t expect any fake romance from my fake boyfriend. If you don’t mind, I have work to get done, boss. Someone has to blur Kai’s giant dick out, frame by frame, on the sex swing. Don’t want to get demonetized.”
The headphones slam over her ears, and she’s back to editing… but something’s off. The usual sparkle in her eyes is dimmed, and her shoulders are tense beneath that damned pink satin.
Fuck me… Why do I notice?
I’m her boss.
Not the guy who should be reading into her expressions.
Not the guy wondering if I should’ve said something different.
Not the guy who currently feels like garbage, for reasons I do not have the emotional bandwidth to unpack.
Deciding I need a fifth layer of protection, I grab a fluffy blanket from the cabinet and mummify my body.
I am now Burrito Reece. I flop onto the bed, facing away from her. I need to protect myself.
Not from her.
But from me.
Because if I spend one more second seeing Camila Morales in that tiny pink excuse for an outfit, I am one hundred percent going to plunge headfirst into a whirlwind of trouble.
***
Thepassive-aggressiveHawaiiansunis bathing me in its warm embrace, and I find it to be a full-body assault. I should be in heaven, sprawled out on a poolside lounger, gazing at the infinity pool, which is pure, liquid sapphire minus the few smiling couples getting handsy in the water. Palm trees sway like lazy metronomes, their fronds whispering in a breeze laced with plumeria, salt air, and what I’m pretty sure is the resort’s signatureEssence of Sexual Healingfragrance.
Paradise, right? Except my brain won’t shut off last night’s eight-hour torture session.
I’ve survived parkour fails, wrestled an inflatable T-Rex in a hurricane, eaten the world’s hottest wings while dressed as a diapered cupid in Times Square. But sharing a bed with Cam? Pure, unadulterated hell. That woman sleeps like she’s choreographing an elaborate Broadway production.
Her legs kept finding mine and sticking to me like some sort of needy octopus. Her arms would wrap around my neck, choking me out while she muttered something in Spanish that sounded suspiciously like death threats. And her hand—fuck my life—her hand kept landing on my dick. Repeatedly. As if my cock was a magnet.
Shoutout to my five layers of protection!
Every time I closed my eyes, there she was. Camila, in that steamy shower scene—hair slicked back, lips parted, water cascading over soft curves, steam clinging to bare skin—alluring and unforgettable. I tried everything. Counting backwards from a thousand, thinking about my car’s maintenance schedule, even pictured Gordon eating soup. Didn’t matter.
By five a.m., delirious from lack of sleep and an erection that wouldn’t quit, I grabbed the camera and fled like a coward, leaving her a note that I hoped made me sound douchey:“Thanks for zero sleep with your non-stop thrashing. Meet me at the pool for couples’ activities. Filming the resort until then.”
My phone buzzes a text alert.
Gordon:Dropped hints to the press about a big surprise in tomorrow’s video. Followers are still dropping but slower. I’m handling it.
Me:Do I have to do these stupid couples’ challenges?
Gordon:Yes. Part of your contract. We need this new girlfriend content to be a hit. Show sponsors you’ve still got it. Have fun, superstar.
I groan so loudly that a nearby couple stops making out.Fun?The only fun I want involves becoming a permanent blanket burrito and sleeping this trip off.
