Free Find Her, Keep Her by Z. L. Arkadie

first move. So far, I like everything about Belmont’s personality, but I don’t want the mind-blowing orgasms to make me miss something, especially in this early stage of whatever kind of relationship we’re building.  
    “It’s taking the cab forever to get here,” I whisper, trying to suppress my lust.  
    “Where do you want the cab to take us anyway?” he asks.
    “I don’t know yet. I’ll have to ask the driver.”
    “Ask the driver? What will you ask?”
    “Maybe where’s the most beautiful beach on the island?”
    “Why couldn’t you just ask me?”
    “Because you’re not a cab driver.”
    “He’s just going to tell you what I can already tell you.”
    “Oh, Belmont,” I groan, “you didn’t call a cab, did you?”
    He shows me his impish smirk.  
    “Belmont,” I whine and slump my shoulders, pouting. “This is my article. Come on…”
    “Daisy, the beach you’re looking for is about a half mile up the road. And I read your articles. Maybe you should write a different kind of story. I don’t see the cab-driver angle working on the Vineyard.”  
    “You read my articles?” I’m stunned by that revelation. “When?”
    “Yesterday after I dropped you off. I had a librarian friend send me some of your stuff. I read the ones on Antigua, Jamaica, Fiji, Aruba, Barbados, Provence and the French Countryside—”
    “That’s a lot!” I exclaim.
    “What can I say? I’m a fan.”
    I roll my eyes. There he goes again, only this time I’m cheesing like a Cheshire cat. Adrian never read one of my articles. He always said that he didn’t like to read about a destination before he got there, but once I caught him skimming a travelogue before his trip to Bermuda. A travelogue that wasn’t written by me.  
      “All right, I’ll do it. I’ll forgo the cab and follow you,” I say, swayed by the fact that he took the time to read my work before screwing me. That’s certainly impressive.  
    “Really?” He seems surprised that I’ve given in so easily.  
    I bop my head, grinning. “Yes, and if I kiss you or something, then what does that mean? Do you get to make all the moves you want on me from then on?”
    “That’s exactly what it means.” He smirks.
    “Okay.” I dig my heels into the gravelly drive and keep my arms at my side, determined not to submit to my own desires. “Then lead on.”
    He steps forward to stand nose to nose with me. He moves his face from one side of mine to the other. I forget to breathe, and when I remember, I release a long breath.
    “I rarely like games, Daisy,” he whispers, “but I like this one. I see that it’s coming from an honest place.” His lips are close to mine. “I want you to know”—his breaths beat upon my parted lips—“I’m not going to hurt you. You’ll hurt me before I hurt you.”
    I gulp. “How do you know I’m afraid that you’ll hurt me?”
    “Because I pay attention.” He steps back and takes a deep, calming breath. “Let’s go before I declare myself the loser.”  
    I can’t speak; I can only nod.
    On that note, he does an about-face. I sigh in relief one more time before following.

Chapter 6
    The First Day of Ten Years

    A quarter mile up the main road, we turn onto a trail. Dwarfed by the spiky forest of barely alive conifers and oak trees, Belmont curls an arm around my waist. The thistles crunch beneath my sandals and thick grains of dirt settle between my toes.  
    “The best part of the Vineyard are the beaches,” he says like a good tour guide. “The hard part is getting to them. The public beaches are nice, but the best ones are hogged by property owners.”
    “You mean private ones?” I ask.
    “Exactly.”
    “But I can’t tell my readers to trespass. Are we trespassing?”
    “Not if you’re with me.”
    I glance up at him, amused, and his dancing eyes are already watching me. “So what do I write? Meet a local boy and he’ll teach you how to trespass?”
    “It’s not hard to do.