The airport is busy, but Cooper navigates us through swiftly. As we walk through the baggage claim area, I spot a uniformed man holding a sign that reads Montgomery.
“I guess that’s us?” I say, but Cooper doesn’t hear me. He’s preoccupied looking off in another direction.
“Cooper?” He still doesn’t respond, so I trace his line of sight. I don’t see anything unusual. Mostly it’s just a group of tourists in Hawaiian shirts and straw hats anxious to get their luggage. Then I notice a man in the group who stands out. He’s grabbing a bag from the conveyor belt, but that’s not what makes him different. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and pants—head to toe in black, his bald head is the only thing that shines from his otherwise dark façade.
“Cooper?” I call again. “Do you see someone you know?”
“Hmm?” He turns to me, having heard my voice, but still not hearing my words.
“I asked if you saw someone you knew. You seemed distracted.”
“Actually … give me a minute, I’ll be right back.” He deposits me next to the man holding the Montgomery sign and takes off in the direction of the baggage claim he was staring at. The man I thought he was looking at is already gone, but I watch as Cooper surveys the surrounding area.
“Everything okay?” I ask wearily when he returns.
“Fine,” he responds and we walk to the waiting limousine. “I thought I saw someone I knew, but my mind must be playing tricks on me since you robbed me from the nap I was planning on taking.” He kisses me chastely, then waves off the driver so he can open the door for me himself.
A woman is waiting at the top of the driveway when we pull up to the house—if you would call where we arrive at a house. Mansion, estate, perhaps just paradise might most deftly describe the vision that looms in front of me.
Up until now, everything about Cooper Montgomery seemed to match the man—a sleek penthouse suite, expensive-yet-old classic car. His assets are clearly luxurious, yet they have an understated quality about them. Like he doesn’t need to show off the grandness to appreciate its value. But this—there is no mistaking the brazen grandeur of this home.
Flooded in white except for the massive dark-wood double front doors, the home stretches out far and wide amid lush tropical plantings.
“Welcome home, Mr. Montgomery, Ms. Monroe. Sugar Rose is ready for your arrival.” The woman greets us with a thick island accent and broad smile.
“Thank you, Marguerite. It’s good to see you.” I hear Cooper have a short conversation with the woman, but I’m too busy looking around in awe to pay much attention.
“You like it?”
“It’s stunning. I can’t believe how big it is.”
“That’s not the first time I’ve heard you say that,” he leans downs and whispers to me as we walk to the entrance with Marguerite in tow.
I shake my head. Before me is the man I first met—smiling, playful and full of himself. It’s nice to have him back.
As Cooper talks to Marguerite, I walk slowly through the spacious home. The massive two-story living room is framed with a wall of glass that leads out to an equally impressive manicured yard. An oversized infinity pool makes it difficult to tell where the yard ends and the ocean beyond it begins.
A warm ocean breeze blows on my skin as I walk outside, bringing the smell and taste of the ocean to my lips.
“What do you think?” Cooper comes up behind me and wraps his arms around my waist.
“It’s paradise.”
He kisses my shoulder. “I’m glad you like it.”
“It’s amazing. Although it’s not what I expected.”
“Is that good or bad?” His lips at the nape of my neck vibrate against the skin.
“Actually, I don’t think it’s either. It’s beautiful. It just doesn’t seem like your style.”
“It’s not. My father built it for my mother.” He kisses his way up to my ear. “Sugar Rose. My mother was Rose, but my father called her Sugar.”
“That’s so sweet.”
“Inside or outside?” he asks.
“What I like better?”
“No, where you want me to fuck you first.”
“No beating around the bush with you, is there?”
“Not when it comes to you, love.” His hand tugs at my skirt to lift it. I’m lightheaded from the feel of him hardening against me from behind, but it’s the way he just called me love that makes my knees weak.
“What about Marguerite?”
“Gone. No one for miles except for me and you.”
I turn and face him. He wastes no time in taking my mouth. There’s a hunger in his kiss that would never reveal he’d just been inside me only a few hours ago on the plane.
“Pool,” I whisper against his lips when we break for air. At first his brows dip, but then he realizes what I’m saying. “The edge, where it looks out to the ocean.”
I take his hand and begin to lead him in that direction. But he scoops me up off my feet and carries me instead. I love that he gives me choices, but then takes control back almost immediately. It’s like he wants to please me, but he needs to do it in his own way.
He stops to undress us both before walking into the pool with me in his arms. Reaching the edge, he sets me on my feet and spreads my arms wide along the tile hidden just below the surface. His erection pushes against my back as he moves closer. “You should probably hold on,” he says in a raspy voice. “I want to fuck you deep.”
A shiver runs through me even though the water is warm and the sun beating down on my exposed body is even warmer. I barely have time to set my grip when Cooper drives deep inside of me. He was right, I need to hold on, the weightlessness of my body in the water makes it easy for him to maneuver me, but the tile is still hard along the walls of the pool.
“Kate,” he groans, pulling out and then slamming back into me. A whimper escapes me and he lifts me up slightly, giving him an angle that allows him to pull me down on him even deeper. He lifts me and pulls me back down onto him to meet each thrust. The way he uses my body to feed his makes me feel empowered, even though he’s clearly the one in physical control. I love that I bring such raw, unrestrained desire from a man who seems to keep everything else in his life so meticulously organized.
His fingers move to my swollen clit as the speed of his thrusts intensifies. I can tell he’s close, racing to bring me to climax with him, as he relentlessly drives into me over and over. He groans my name again and his teeth sink into my shoulder. A wail of a moan shakes the air, leading my climax as it rushes from my body. I cry out as it takes me under, my moans echoing even though there are no walls to catch them.
Hours later, even after a much-needed nap, I’m still withered and unable to move. Cooper, on the other hand, walks around like he just started the day fresh, rather than having traveled six hours on the plane, and twice led our bodies to energy-draining climaxes after heavy cardio-induced sexual escapes.
I pull the sheet over my head when he walks to where I’m sleeping on the big comfy couch.
“You know I saw you were awake already, right?” I know he’s smiling even though I can’t see his face.
“I’m still sleeping,” I groan.
“You haven’t eaten anything today.” He pulls down the sheet. “You’re probably tired from lack of vitamin B and zero calorie consumption.”
My stomach growls on cue.
“See, I told you. You need to eat to get your energy up. I have lots of plans, so you need to put some fuel in the tank.” He pulls the sheet the rest of the way off of me and smacks my bare ass.
“What plans? I thought we didn’t have plans to go anywhere.”
“We don’t. But I told you I plan to have you in a few dozen places around the property.”