Getting Lei'd Page 8

  I had been hoping to avoid the awkwardness of seeing him for the duration of my stay. He seems to be completely unaware of the tension emanating from me. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?” I ask in an attempt to let him know that he doesn’t need to humor me by flirting with me when he doesn’t have any desire to bed me.

  “I put the Be Right Back sign up at the bar and left. It’s one of the perks of owning the resort.” He says the words as if they are no big deal, but his revelation stuns me. This man who works as the chauffeur/bartender/fire dancer owns the resort?

  Kai can evidently see the questions in my expression, so he expands. “The hotel has been in my family since my grandfather had it built over fifty years ago. When he passed away, Nana Lana assumed ownership and immediately started grooming me to take it over. Now, she and I share 51 percent ownership of the property and the other 49 percent is in a trust for the employees. Each employee earns a fraction of a percentage of the trust for each year they work here. Our arrangement makes for loyal and happy employees.”

  He says it simply, as if everyone is this generous. This explanation clarifies why everyone takes on multiple posts and seems so genuinely thrilled to be here. They have an employer who isn’t afraid to get down in the trenches and also profit shares with them. Despite myself, I am incredibly impressed with Kai and his grandmother. They are clearly hard-working, giving people. I admire the work ethic of a man who is willing to fill in wherever needed when he could easily hire others to do the more mundane jobs.

  I’m not sure why he has shared all of this information with me, and I grudgingly realize that it makes me like him even more. I don’t want to like him more. I want to find his flaws—other than not wanting me, of course.

  I decide to be direct. “Why are you telling me all of this?” Before he can answer, I continue, “You don’t have to explain anything to me. It’s okay that you don’t want me the way that I want you.”

  He seems completely taken aback by my words. “You think I don’t want you?”

  I widen my eyes at him, but don’t answer. What else could I possibly think after yesterday? I wonder.

  Kai pulls me into his arms, but I keep my upper body stiff. “I want you more than I have ever desired anyone,” he tells me.

  I turn away from him then. His words are exactly what I want to hear, but after he left me willing, topless, and completely aroused in the water, I know they can’t possibly be true. I can’t take any more of this hot-and-cold treatment.

  He moves close behind me, and I can feel the heat of him at my back as we stand near my villa. “Does this feel like a man who doesn’t want you?” He presses into me and I can feel his hot, hard erection against my lower spine. He nips at my ear, and I gasp at the pleasure of it.

  I glance around to make sure no one is watching us. He puts his hand over mine and pulls it to him, guiding my hand up and down his length over his jeans. “I want you with every inch of my body and soul.” He breathes the words out along my neck, and then hisses as my fingers squeeze over him.

  Since my hand is rubbing him without his help, he brings his arms around me to pull me tighter back against his front. His hands slide up my belly and under the waistband of my bra. He gently pulls and lifts the undergarment until my breasts spring free underneath it. When he places a hand on each breast and nibbles at my ear, I let out a quiet whimper of delight.

  I want this man so much. Right here and right now. Well, inside the room, but as quickly as possible. I turn to face him and press my front into him as I kiss my way along his neck. He has to bend down for me to kiss his lips—a first for me—but he obliges.

  Soon our tongues are tangled and our hands are roving over each other’s fully clothed bodies as we meld into each other. I boldly decide to throw caution to the wind and reach for the snap of his pants. His hand closes over mine, halting its progress.

  “We need to go inside.” I quickly realize that things have gotten out of control. Saying a silent prayer that Baggy and Ruthie have vacated the room, I use my free hand to dig in my bag for my room key.

  “No, we have to stop,” he tells me, backing away slightly. I feel like I have been slapped in the face with icy-cold water. How can we be desperate for each other one moment, and he shuns me the next? I just don’t understand it.

  “Do you need to get back to the bar?” I ask, almost hopeful but knowing deep down that I am grasping at straws, reaching for a plausible explanation.

  “No, I can’t do this with you at all.” He dashes my slight hope as he backs away from me, running a hand through his shiny black hair.

  “I see.” I say the words flatly, and I do see. Some part of him wants me. Even though it is a substantial part (as I discovered through his jeans), the logical and rational side of him knows that I am not good enough for him. All sorts of insecure thoughts erupt in my brain while we stand there for what seems to be a very long time, but probably actually isn’t long at all. I turn to go into my villa.

  “You don’t understand.” I halt, hoping beyond hope that he can come up with something that will help his sudden change of heart make sense and not hurt so much. “I want to rip your clothes off right here. I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything,” he informs me.

  His words make warmth spread back through me, but I still don’t understand what the problem can possibly be. He is silent for a long while, making me wonder if he is going to explain or make me guess.

  Finally, he speaks again, but his voice is so soft that I second-guess if I have heard him correctly. I think he said “I can’t make love to you.”

  I stand there waiting, uncertain what to say. His next words, while still quiet, confirm that I heard him right. “I can’t have sex with anyone.”

  My eyes involuntarily travel down to his still enormous penis. It is obviously not a lack of ability to get it up that is causing his hesitation. My next thought is that maybe he has a sexually transmitted disease. If that’s the case, I appreciate his concern and caution, but I have a solution for that. “Why don’t you wear a condom?” At his perplexed look, I expand, “I know guys don’t like wearing them, but sex with a condom is better than no sex at all, right?”

  He doesn’t seem to be getting what I am saying, so I go on. “Besides, a condom will protect me from an unwanted pregnancy and any issues you have going on down there.” I point to his genital region, thinking that he has probably bedded a significant number of women.

  “I don’t have any STDs.” He wrinkles his nose. “It’s nothing like that,” he tells me. Again, he stops talking for so long that I wonder if he is going to explain more, but he takes a couple of steps away from me. Just when I begin to think that he really might leave me hanging like this, he stops and speaks without turning to face me. His words are so quiet that I instantly become convinced that I have misunderstood him. “Wait, what?” I ask him.

  He speaks only slightly louder this time, but confirms what I thought I had heard him say—some of the most unbelievable words that could possibly come out of his mouth. “I’m a virgin.”

  “A virgin?” I blurt out, almost sounding angry in my disbelief. His words are incomprehensible. How could this sexy, virile hunk of manhood have not had sex before? The idea is completely preposterous. It would have been easier to believe he had a third testicle or even a polka-dotted penis than to buy this “never been touched” bologna he is trying to feed me. “No way,” I finally splutter.

  Eventually, he turns to face me, which allows me to better gauge his sincerity. “It’s true,” he says simply.

  My instincts believe that he is telling the truth, but my mind just can’t accept his revelation as fact. I don’t know if I can trust my inner voice or if I just want to believe him. “How? . . . Why? . . . What?” I can’t seem to formulate a question that asks him what I want to know without sounding rude. I feel like yelling “How in the hell have you existed in that perfect body for this long without someone jumping your bones?” An appropriat
e version of that question eludes me, though.

  Seeing my inner struggle, Kai finally decides to provide a better explanation. He takes my hand, and we both sit down in the rattan chairs outside the villa. “My father was from the mainland. He came to the island to scout some property for his job, and he swept my mother off her feet. She thought they were in love. He apparently was just looking for a good time during his stint in Hawaii. On his final night here, she thought he was planning to propose. She was working out in her mind how she would make arrangements to move to California to be with him. Instead of a marriage proposal, he informed her that he had enjoyed their visit, but he needed to get back to his real life.”

  I can hear the sadness for his mother’s heartache in his voice as he continues. “She was devastated and never fully recovered from her broken heart. When she found out she was pregnant with me, she did some research to find him so she could let him know about the pregnancy. She even went so far as to fly to California to tell him in person, only to learn of his engagement to someone else. She left without talking to him and spent the rest of her life turning down offers from every man who approached her. She was a beauty on the outside, but her heart was too damaged to ever fall in love again.”

  Hearing about his mother’s heart-wrenching sadness makes my throat burn in empathy for her. She loved with her entire heart, only to have her feelings stomped on, and it created a lifetime of loneliness for her. I fear that I may be headed down the very same path with Kai. How could I help but fall for this handsome, kindhearted man even more as he shares his mother’s story with me? I still lack clarity on what her sad past has to do with Kai’s alleged virginity, though.

  We sit in silence for a while before he continues. “She raised me to be nothing like my father. She taught me to respect women and to treat them like goddesses.” He grins sheepishly at me before going silent, apparently lost in thought.

  When he starts speaking again, his voice has taken on a melancholy tone. “When she got sick, I spent every moment with her I could. She was more than my mother. She was my best friend, my rock. Toward the end, she became almost delirious from the pain.” I wince at his words. Although he hasn’t explicitly said, I assume that she had some form of cancer.

  “She became delusional, often mistaking me for my father. She would scream about how I had ripped her heart out, sobbing that she had never gotten over it. In my attempts to soothe her, I told her that I wasn’t at all like him and that I would never treat a woman that way. During a lucid moment toward the end, she grabbed both of my hands in hers, looked deep into my eyes, and made me promise never to take advantage of an innocent girl. She asked me to wait to have sex until I loved someone enough to make her my wife, so I swore to her that I would.”

  I can see the pain in Kai’s eyes as he shares this with me, and I realize that as far-fetched as his claim had seemed at first I now believe him.

  Kai continues with his story. “After that, a calmness came over her. It wasn’t long after that she passed. It was as if my promise allowed her to rest at peace.” He sighs deeply before going on. “It hasn’t been easy, but I have kept the vow I made to my mother on her deathbed. I take it very seriously.”

  I feel immensely sad for the heartbroken, dying mother who forced her son to take a vow of chastity and equally sad for the young man who was willing to say anything to ease his mom’s suffering—even something that would bring him years of denying himself of one of life’s greatest pleasures. I respect his willpower because I am certain that he has faced a great deal of temptation since making that promise. The fact that he never gave in speaks volumes about his character.

  “Okay, then.” I crane up to press my lips against his cheek. “Sex is off the table,” I say matter-of-factly.

  “Until we’re married,” he adds to my statement.

  I find his word choice odd, but know that it is just his way of flirting with me. I want to shut it down so no errant daydreams about marrying Kai start wafting through my brain, so I say, “Like I said, off the table.”

  He grins at me mischievously. “For now,” he finally acquiesces before turning to head back toward the bar.

  I shake my head as I unlock the door to my room. “Forever.” I whisper the word sadly and let the wind carry it out to the sea.

  Chapter 22

  Baggy and Ruthie both stare at me, mouths agape. “A virgin?” Ruthie finally asks, as if I have somehow offended her just by uttering the word.

  “No way,” they say in unison.

  “I hate to say this,” Ruthie starts, making me sure she doesn’t hate it at all, “but he is playing you for a fool. I say pretend like you believe his silly story and take that stud muffin’s ‘virginity.’ ” She actually does air quotes with her fingers when she says the word virginity, as if the mere idea of it is completely inconceivable.

  “He doesn’t want to have sex until he’s married,” I tell them, reiterating the fault in her theory. “How is that playing me? What benefit does he get for us not to have sex?”

  “That is horse pucky,” Baggy decides, finally accepting that Kai might be telling the truth. “His mother had no right to ask that of a virile young man. I say you jump him and ride him like a wild stallion. He must have so much sexual energy built up by now that he won’t be able to resist you.”

  “I can’t do that, Baggy. He would feel guilty for breaking his promise to his mom.” I quickly jump into my role as reasonable adult.

  “He’d get over it fast enough, once he realizes how much fun he’s been missing out on. I bet he can get it up three or four times in one night, and work it like a boss while he’s plugged in. I’ll have a go at him, if you don’t want to.”

  Ruthie and I both stare at her in wide-eyed shock. Her last statements were outrageous, even for Baggy. She looks back at me, apparently oblivious to the fact that what she said was completely inappropriate and cringe-worthy. “Um, no,” I finally answer, stating the obvious—in case she wasn’t kidding.

  Baggy raises her shoulders in a shrug, as if she has offered to help and can’t understand my refusal. Ruthie shakes her head, probably to relieve her mind of the horrifying mental image. Then, in an uncharacteristically selfless move, Ruthie tells Baggy that they should leave me alone to get some painting done.

  “Don’t wait up,” she tells me over her shoulder. “If Curtis plays his cards right, I’ll be spending the night in his room.” I can only assume that Curtis is the watersports guru who she’s been chasing around the resort.

  I nod at her before Baggy adds, “Don’t wait up for me, either. Howie doesn’t even have to play his cards right. I’m planning to rock his world tonight anyway—assuming he can raise his ding-dong again.”

  Ruthie quickly shuffles her out the door so I don’t have to respond. As they are leaving, I can hear her asking Ruthie if she knows where she can find some little blue pills that will bring “Little Howie” to life. Once they shut the door behind them, I heave a sigh of relief. Having a sister to run interference definitely comes in handy sometimes.

  Chapter 23

  Since I have the room to myself, I decide to take Ruthie’s suggestion and paint. As is usually the case when I start a new piece, I lose myself in the brushstrokes. When I step back to take a look at my creation, I realize that, once again, I have no idea how long I have been at it—nor do I care.

  I admire my work. The painting is one of my best ever. It’s another view of the waterfall where I spied on Kai and he later shunned my advances. This one uses more muted tones than the one I painted of Kai swimming, but the two pieces complement each other perfectly.

  The angle of the viewpoint allows two entwined bodies to be seen on the ledge just beyond the crashing water. I am certain that Kai and I would have been those naked forms, had his mother not forced him to promise away his premarital sexuality.

  The knock at the door comes just as I am cleaning my brushes. I am not overly surprised to find Kai standing on the other side o
f the threshold. “Are you avoiding me?” he asks me in a teasing tone, although I sense some underlying hurt feelings.

  Before I have a chance to respond to his question, he spies the just-finished painting over my shoulder. He gasps—yes, actually gasps—as he veers around me to walk over to it. “I love it!” he practically gushes, making my cheeks turn pink.

  He takes his time perusing the painting. He inspects it closely initially, before standing back to look at it from various distances and angles. He gazes at it for so long that I start to become slightly self-conscious. I wonder if, despite his previous raving, he might not like it as much after further inspection.

  After what seems like an inordinate amount of time, he turns his attention from the painting back to me. “I need this painting,” he says matter-of-factly. “How much do you want for it?”

  “It’s not for sale,” I tell him firmly. This painting will serve as the perfect reminder of my time in Hawaii and my almost-affair with Kai. I will display it in a prominent location in my condo so that I am able to gaze it and daydream about being with Kai anytime I like. There isn’t enough money in the world to make me part with it.

  After lightly badgering me about it for a while, he finally gives up. “I’ll let it go for now, but I will have that painting,” he tells me.

  Before leaving, he asks if I’d like to go sailing with him tomorrow. I jump at the chance—eager for the opportunity to mark something off my bucket list. “Bring your family,” he adds kindly. I wonder if he has any idea what wildness he might be signing up for with that invitation, but I nod, indicating that I will ask them.

  He kisses me at the door, and I forget all of my concerns. His soft lips and smooth, warm tongue send me to a wondrous place where worries wouldn’t dare exist. I float to bed and dream of Kai’s tender, sweet kisses turning insistent with passion and searing over my skin—all of my skin.

  We spend a luxurious night ravaging each other’s naked bodies in my dreams. When I wake up, I stretch my limbs, longing to do in real life we had spent the night doing in my subconscious. As fabulous as it had been, I bet having real-life Kai in my bed would be better than anything I could create in my dreams.