Free Stranded With a Billionaire by Jessica Clare

even sat down. He lay down on the mattress and was pleased when she immediately rolled over and nestled against him, making a content sound in her throat as she rested her hand on his chest.

Chapter Four
    Logan awoke with a raging hard-on and with Brontë’s tangled hair across his chest. Her legs were twined with his, and she made soft little noises in her throat as she slept. It would have been so easy to roll her over and show her just how sexy and desirable he found her. To kiss her and persuade her into doing what he wanted.
    But he remembered her nervous laugh when he’d told her she was beautiful, and he paused. Was she just humoring him? Maybe Brontë didn’t appreciate the attentions of a manager after all. Damn it. His cock was just going to have to wait.
    He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing, willing his body to relax. It took a few minutes before he was back under control. It was time for them to get up and face the day. They’d slept long enough, and lying in bed next to her made him want to do things that didn’t involve sleeping. He gently shook Brontë. “Wake up.”
    She jerked away, her hair falling in her face as she bolted upright. “Huh? What?”
    “Calm down,” he told her. “Nothing’s wrong.”
    Brontë rubbed a hand over her eyes and yawned. “What time is it?”
    “My phone’s dead. Water must have gotten into it.”
    She folded her legs under her and pulled out her phone. It lit up for a minute, highlighting her face in the darkness, and then winked out. “Damn it. There goes my battery. It said it’s eleven a.m., though.”
    “We should head down to the kitchens and grab lunch, then.”
    They headed down to a quick meal of fresh fruit left on the countertop and some wrapped crackers. It wasn’t glamorous, but the fridge was starting to smell and even the interior of the freezer was getting too close to room temperature for comfort. Neither of them wanted to risk getting sick from bad food.
    Brontë suggested they check the store for any other food items, and then they headed back in that direction since there was nothing else to do with the day. As they walked,though, Brontë stopped in her tracks and stared out through the broken glass of the lobby windows.
    Logan followed her gaze. The sun was shining; the sky was blue. A breeze rippled into the building.
    “This is the first day it hasn’t rained since I got here,” Brontë exclaimed, moving forward. Her aqua shoes crunched on the broken glass at their feet, and he noticed that the standing water in the lobby had receded, too. She peered outside and then looked back at him. “Should we check out the beach?”
    He shrugged. He’d just as soon go back to the stairwell and wait for rescue, but she seemed to want to explore. “If you like.”
    Her face brightened. “I would. Do you think the beach is trashed, too?”
    “We’ll soon find out, won’t we?” And he stepped forward through the broken glass, gesturing for her to follow him.
    She did, and they made their way out into the front of the resort, squinting at the bright sun after days of low light. He studied Brontë as she picked her way across the sand-covered sidewalk toward him. In daylight, she was even more beautiful—not in a traditional way. Her hair was wild with tangles and blew around her head like a messy halo, and her face was round, without the well-defined cheekbones of the models he normally dated. But her eyes were sparkling and her skin was lovely and she smiled up at the sunlight as if it were the best thing ever, and he thought she was stunning.
    “It really did a number on this place, didn’t it?” She raised a hand to her eyes to shield them from the sun and glanced back at the resort. More than half of the windows were blown out, and it looked like one wing of the building had collapsed. He didn’t want to think about how much that would cost in repairs. Palm trees that had lined the driveway had been uprooted and fallen over.