Off the Grid Read online

  Until now.

  Brittany froze, watching in stunned horror as Barbie—or was it Candy?—leaned forward and kissed him. John’s hand spread over her back, pressed her more firmly against him. Until her sister playfully pushed her out of the way and said something along the lines of “my turn” before exchanging places, his hand still plastered on her sister.

  Brittany could live to be a hundred and never forget that hand. The fingers spread wide. Pressing. Marking. Branding.

  How desperately she’d longed to feel that hand on her. To have him kiss her like that.

  The blood rushed out of her body in one draining wave. Her stomach rose to take its place. She was going to be sick.

  She must have gasped, because her hand was already covering her mouth as bile rose in the back of her throat.

  Had he heard her? She didn’t know, but at that moment he looked over and saw her. Their eyes met and held.

  She knew her heart—her breaking heart—was in her gaze, but his was blank. Stark. Maybe a little too stark. It seemed wrong.

  Just like the bottle of tequila in his hand, which he lifted to his mouth and took a long drink from. John drank beer. Coors Light, just like the rest of them.

  But then he lifted his hand—his other hand—gave her a small wave, and smiled before turning back to the woman—women—on his lap.

  That careless wave and smile shattered her heart completely. Brittany turned and ran, making it back to the house before the worst of the tears started.

  She’d lain in misery for a few hours, asking herself what had happened and how she could have been wrong, when the answer came to her: Brandon.

  That’s why she was here in John’s room, waiting for him. She had to know. Had her brother put him up to this, or had she been completely wrong about him?

  Maybe the right word was “deluded.” She knew John had a reputation for having a good time with women—lots of women—but that was before he’d met her. Since almost the day she showed up at her brother’s beach house three weeks ago, he’d hung out with her. Only her.

  But he’d never tried to kiss her.

  Suddenly all the things her brother had said to her yesterday—had warned her about—came rushing back. “He’s a great guy—the best—but he never sticks with one woman for long. I don’t want to see you get your heart broken.”

  Too late. Her broken heart started to pound as she heard the back door open and close downstairs.

  She thought it might be Brandon, who had one of the rooms downstairs, until she heard the tread of footsteps coming up the stairs.

  It was John, and he’d obviously walked back.

  She glanced at the clock. Midnight. Early for him. Did that mean something?

  He opened the door, stopping in his tracks when he saw her. For one fraction of an instant, she thought she saw sadness in his expression before it hardened to anger.

  “You shouldn’t be here.”

  She took a step toward him, but seeing the way he stiffened, she stopped. “I thought I’d give you a chance to explain.”

  “Explain what?”

  “What you were doing tonight with the O’Reilly twins.”

  His eyes met hers without a flicker. He smiled again, that lazy, cocky smile that seemed to slice her confidence to shreds. “I would think that was obvious. Having a good time.”

  Dynomite.

  Her chest squeezed. If she was wrong about this, she was really wrong. Cringe-worthy wrong. She took another step toward him, and his gaze darkened with just a hint of wariness.

  It gave her the hope she needed to continue. Maybe he wasn’t as indifferent as he appeared.

  “I thought . . .” Her voice fell off as she lost her nerve. She had to force herself to take a big, deep breath and continue. “I thought you cared about me.”

  There was a long harsh pause before he suddenly smiled. “I do. You’re a great kid. A great friend.”

  Hammer. Nail. Heart. Straight through. She was twenty-two years old. He was twenty-four. Never had she felt those two years so painfully. She felt like a child—a little girl—in the face of someone much more experienced. Someone who knew what he was doing. Someone who had broken hearts before.

  But she wouldn’t back down that easily. They weren’t just friends. It had been more than that. She knew it in her heart.

  To hell with pride. She had to know. “Bullshit.” He flinched, her cursing obviously surprising him. “That’s BS and you know it. We aren’t just friends. What has been happening between us is more than that. My brother put you up to this, didn’t he? He told you to stay away from me.”

  John’s mouth was clenched so tight his lips had turned white. “It’s late. You need to leave. I’ve had too many shots to deal with this right now. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  This couldn’t wait until morning. She took another step toward him, and she swore he would have moved back if he hadn’t been against the door. “It’s true, isn’t it? That’s why you were with those women tonight on the beach. My brother is trying to protect me, so you decided to get rid of me by breaking my heart.”

  He looked a little pained at that. But whether it was good pain (as in “you are right” pain) or bad pain (as in “I feel sorry for you” pain), she couldn’t tell.

  “I’m sorry if you misunderstood—”

  “I didn’t misunderstand anything.”

  She knew she was right. So right that she threw caution to the wind—and herself against him.

  Instinctively, his arms went around her waist, and just as instinctively, hers looped around his neck. Did she pull him toward her? She didn’t know, but the next minute his mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her.

  Really kissing her. With lots of groans, lots of tongue, and lots of passion.

  Just like she’d imagined it. Better than she’d imagined it.

  It was as if the dam had broken, and everything he’d been holding back came pouring out all at once.

  It was incredible. A rush of sensation. Heat. God, the heat. It was drenching. And his mouth was . . . intoxicating.

  And not just from the faint taste of lime, salt, and tequila. It was everything. The way he tasted, the way he smelled, the way he felt against her. All those hard muscles that she’d admired too many times finally wrapped around and pressing against her.

  She moaned as pleasure seemed to infuse every nerve ending. She wanted more. She wanted to feel his hands all over her body, his mouth on her neck, her breast, between her legs.

  She wanted to take the hard column wedged between her legs in her hand, wrap her fingers tight around him, and see if he was as big and hard as he felt.

  And then maybe she’d take him in her mouth.

  She’d never done that before, but she had a feeling he’d be happy to show her what to do. It wasn’t like there was a ton to it.

  But kissing was good for now. Really good. His tongue was circling deeper and deeper into her mouth, as if he wanted to devour—

  She was pushed away so suddenly that it felt as if she’d been slapped by a snap of cold air.

  She stumbled back. Wobbled, trying to find the bones in her legs. And looked up at him in shock.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” he shouted.

  She’d never heard him yell before. She hadn’t thought Mr. Laid-back, “No Worries” capable. But he was drawn up tight and seething.

  It was disconcerting. How well did she really know him? This was the deadly Navy SEAL, not the endless-summer surfer boy.

  “I’m sorry. I . . .” She forced her spine to straighten, but her knees were still wobbly. “I thought you wanted me.”

  “I’m a man, Brittany. A man who’s had way too much to drink. Throw yourself at anyone in my condition and you’ll likely find a taker. It doesn’t mean anything more than what you saw on the