disappointed she didn’t want to get high with him? Damn, the high she was riding now was better than any dope she’d ever smoked. But even if she wanted to, she couldn’t get fucked up before tonight’s meeting. It was too important.
Sprawled across the blood-dripped duvet cover, head resting on a pillow, he didn’t look at her. Just lit up a skinny cigar, inhaled, and exhaled stinky smoke through his nose.
There was no point in mentioning this hotel was a nonsmoking facility. The signs every ten feet in the lobby did a fine job of advertising. And what the hell did she care if he got charged extra?
She glanced in the mirror across from the bed as she stood to look for her clothes. Her skin was red and splotchy from where he hit her. The vague shape of a handprint marred her neck. Dried blood covered her cracked knuckles. It had been a long time since she’d gotten that violent with a guy.
Damn, that was some great sex. She wiped her mouth and turned to him. She had to memorize every detail of his sated face so she could privately gloat later.
He held up the cigar. “How ’bout unleaded?”
Her mother had died because of goddamn cigarettes. She opened her mouth to refuse, but then changed her mind. This wasn’t the same thing. And even if it were, maybe taking a drag would be a twisted way to honor Mahina. After a few seconds’ consideration, she lay down beside him and accepted.
They both gazed at the ceiling instead of each other, which was fine by her. After a couple of puffs of the foul-tasting cigar, she passed it back to him. He took one more drag, inhaled—you weren’t supposed to inhale cigars, were you?—and pitched the remains into the water bottle. The cherry snuffed out with a soft sizzle. He set the makeshift ashtray on the granite-topped nightstand.
They lay together for what seemed like an eternity. With nothing but the sounds of sated breaths and heartbeats shaking the bed in slowing rhythms, she could’ve easily nodded off. Keahilani checked her watch and sighed.
She’d already broken protocol by not telling her brothers about the meeting. Now she was late for predressing. To protect herself and her identity, she wore her Pele disguise at all times while at the condo. But she’d left the outfit at the surf shop. She’d have to retrieve it and change at the resort next door, then head over. Two strikes. There was no wiggle room for a third.
She sat up. “I gotta go.”
Blake’s eyes were closed. Maybe he didn’t hear her. Maybe he was asleep. Or maybe he didn’t give a shit.
Though her body already ached from surfing and the subsequent extreme bedroom sports, she dressed quickly. Once she gathered the boards, she slipped toward the door. A quick glance back knocked her heart out of whack. Blake’s bare chest rose and fell at a steady but slow pace. What a pity she wouldn’t have the pleasure of his company again. Pressing her lips together, she opened the door, walked out of Blake’s life, and braced herself for whatever hell awaited her at the condo in two hours.
Chapter Seven
As soon as the door shut, Blake sprang off the bed, fumbled into his clothes, and peered through the door’s peephole. No sign of Kea. He snuck down the long corridor, keeping close to the walls.
That witch had cast all sorts of spells on him, but when he offered her a toke and darkness clouded her face as she refused, he suspected he’d found something better than a fantastic lay. He might have found a lead.
He ducked his head around the corner near the elevators just as the doors closed. He hit the button and followed her down to the lobby. Lots of tourists shuffled around, so it was easy to blend into the crowd.
Blake had always been naturally drawn to people with secrets, and if his internal sniffer was correctly calibrated, Kea was full of them. The way her eyes narrowed when he brought out the joint and the tenseness in her shoulders when he offered it to her told him she’d imbibed at
Sprawled across the blood-dripped duvet cover, head resting on a pillow, he didn’t look at her. Just lit up a skinny cigar, inhaled, and exhaled stinky smoke through his nose.
There was no point in mentioning this hotel was a nonsmoking facility. The signs every ten feet in the lobby did a fine job of advertising. And what the hell did she care if he got charged extra?
She glanced in the mirror across from the bed as she stood to look for her clothes. Her skin was red and splotchy from where he hit her. The vague shape of a handprint marred her neck. Dried blood covered her cracked knuckles. It had been a long time since she’d gotten that violent with a guy.
Damn, that was some great sex. She wiped her mouth and turned to him. She had to memorize every detail of his sated face so she could privately gloat later.
He held up the cigar. “How ’bout unleaded?”
Her mother had died because of goddamn cigarettes. She opened her mouth to refuse, but then changed her mind. This wasn’t the same thing. And even if it were, maybe taking a drag would be a twisted way to honor Mahina. After a few seconds’ consideration, she lay down beside him and accepted.
They both gazed at the ceiling instead of each other, which was fine by her. After a couple of puffs of the foul-tasting cigar, she passed it back to him. He took one more drag, inhaled—you weren’t supposed to inhale cigars, were you?—and pitched the remains into the water bottle. The cherry snuffed out with a soft sizzle. He set the makeshift ashtray on the granite-topped nightstand.
They lay together for what seemed like an eternity. With nothing but the sounds of sated breaths and heartbeats shaking the bed in slowing rhythms, she could’ve easily nodded off. Keahilani checked her watch and sighed.
She’d already broken protocol by not telling her brothers about the meeting. Now she was late for predressing. To protect herself and her identity, she wore her Pele disguise at all times while at the condo. But she’d left the outfit at the surf shop. She’d have to retrieve it and change at the resort next door, then head over. Two strikes. There was no wiggle room for a third.
She sat up. “I gotta go.”
Blake’s eyes were closed. Maybe he didn’t hear her. Maybe he was asleep. Or maybe he didn’t give a shit.
Though her body already ached from surfing and the subsequent extreme bedroom sports, she dressed quickly. Once she gathered the boards, she slipped toward the door. A quick glance back knocked her heart out of whack. Blake’s bare chest rose and fell at a steady but slow pace. What a pity she wouldn’t have the pleasure of his company again. Pressing her lips together, she opened the door, walked out of Blake’s life, and braced herself for whatever hell awaited her at the condo in two hours.
Chapter Seven
As soon as the door shut, Blake sprang off the bed, fumbled into his clothes, and peered through the door’s peephole. No sign of Kea. He snuck down the long corridor, keeping close to the walls.
That witch had cast all sorts of spells on him, but when he offered her a toke and darkness clouded her face as she refused, he suspected he’d found something better than a fantastic lay. He might have found a lead.
He ducked his head around the corner near the elevators just as the doors closed. He hit the button and followed her down to the lobby. Lots of tourists shuffled around, so it was easy to blend into the crowd.
Blake had always been naturally drawn to people with secrets, and if his internal sniffer was correctly calibrated, Kea was full of them. The way her eyes narrowed when he brought out the joint and the tenseness in her shoulders when he offered it to her told him she’d imbibed at
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