Mr. Rook Read online

  I guess it’s better than feeling sad. Or completely out of my mind with lust for Rook. Seriously. What had I been thinking? I mean, yes, the way he’d kissed me—so hungry and passionate—and the way his body had moved against mine—like nothing in this world had ever pleased or aroused him more—had been sinful and erotic. And no man had ever worked me up like that, to a point where I’d lost myself completely, only able to think about getting him inside me to release the tension.

  “Dammit,” I whispered and rolled onto my side. Thinking about it made my body restless for him.

  Ugh. I slipped from bed, hearing the call of scotch or tequila. I headed down the hallway toward the kitchen. Rook had to have something in one of the cupboards.

  A light over the pristine gas stove—likely never been used—had been left on. Without making noise, I opened a few cupboards, only finding neatly stacked white dishes and shiny glasses and some meager cooking supplies.

  I went to his living room, hoping he’d have scotch somewhere, but the moment I stepped inside, a light through the window caught my eye. Part of me wondered if it was an employee or a guard, but the rest of me panicked, knowing it wasn’t.

  Jesus. I’m sleepwalking again. I went to the window and looked out. The figure, carrying a lantern and wearing a dark hooded robe, headed straight for the jungle. Once at the edge of a stand of trees, the tall, shadowy form turned for a brief moment, the lantern in his hands illuminating the silhouette of his face.

  “Rook?” I whispered.

  Fury dotted my vision. What the motherfucking hell?

  Pissed beyond words, I scrambled back to my room, slid on my flip-flops, and bolted outside into the storm, going after Rook. The sky lit up and thunder exploded in the air. It was enough to see the trail ahead, but I definitely could’ve used a damned flashlight.

  No time for fucking flashlights. I wanted to know what the hell he was doing, and I wasn’t going to let him feed me some bullshit about this being a dream. Not this time, buddy. I’d caught him red-handed, wearing the damned robe.

  Carefully, I walked along the little path in the dark. Each time the lightning struck, I saw a bit more of the trail.

  Sonofabitch. How dare Rook fuck around with me like that. He’d made it seem like I’d been losing my mind. Was life one big joke, one big fantasy to him? Well, it wasn’t to me.

  After fifteen or so minutes, I finally spotted a faint light through the rain dripping from the trees and pattering rhythmically on the leafy jungle floor.

  I came up behind a palm tree, and there he was. Rook.

  With his lantern resting on a rock to his side, Rook bowed his head toward the lagoon—the same one I’d wandered off to last night.

  Whatthe…

  Rook cast off his robe and he kneeled.

  Praying. He’s pray—

  A loud crack whipped through the air, and I jumped, first thinking it was thunder. But there’d been no lightning. Crack! Crack!

  With the faint light from the lantern, I watched Rook flinching.

  What is he doing?

  Another crack. Another flinch.

  Rook’s arm whipped up and the light caught a rope or something.

  Fucking hell. Rook was hitting himself.

  Dear God. He must’ve done it twenty more times, though I felt too horrified to count. He then got to his feet, spread his arms as if offering himself to the heavens, and stepped forward into the water.

  Dark lines marred his broad back. It had to be blood.

  He walked forward until the water reached his neck and then went under.

  I watched, having no clue what to do or say or how to explain his actions other than the man was mad. Completely mad.

  Wait. Where’d he go? Several moments had passed, but he hadn’t come up for air.

  Oh no. My mind offered the worst possible explanation because clearly Rook didn’t just have a dark side, he was disturbed.

  I stepped around the tree and rushed toward the lagoon as his head came up and he grabbed a big breath.

  He immediately spotted me standing right next to his lantern. “No!” He held out his hands. “Do not get in the water!”

  I pulled myself back and watched him rush toward me, his arms splashing wildly. “Step back, Stephanie. For fuck’s sake!”

  He came out of the lagoon, naked, dripping wet, the lightning creating a strobe effect. He looked so surreal with his hard muscles straining under his smooth olive skin, his long cock hanging low between his powerful thighs, his ripped biceps with bulging muscles.

  He charged right for me. “Step the fuck back.”

  “Okay. Okay.” I held up my hands, turning my head, thinking he might attack me or something.

  Instead, he swiped his rain-soaked robe from the ground and slid it on. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I poked his chest. “Is this some sick game? You’re whipping yourself and wearing this fucking robe and running around in the middle of the night scratching my window.”

  “Those were dreams, Stephanie,” he growled. “I would never play games and torment you like that.”

  “Then what is this!” I pointed at his robe.

  He swiped his hands over his sopping hair to push it back. “Fucking hell, woman. What is it with you and fucking with my life? This is my home. This is my island. I do not owe you any fucking answers.”

  “You said anything!” I yelled over the noise of the rain and thunder. “You said you would do anything to help me. So why not start with the goddamned truth!”

  “It’s fucking complicated.” He snarled right as the wind picked up, gusting with a chill.

  “Yeah. I realized that when I saw you beating yourself!”

  He tilted his face to the sky and burst out with laughter. Not the “haha, it’s so funny” laughter, but the “please kill me now” laughter.

  He looked at me, the planes of his face hard and cold. “That water is sacred. And I was beating myself to pay penance because monks are not allowed to kiss and fuck, even if they want to more than anything in the fucking world.”

  I felt the air sucked from my lungs. “Did you say…” I swallowed, “monk?”

  “I am the last of Friar’s Island, the sacred ground upon which you are standing, and it is my job to care for it. And before you say anything, I will warn you not to pass judgment on that which you do not understand.”

  I snapped my mouth shut because, boy-oh-fucking-boy, did I have questions. Like, why did he keep it secret, and where the ever-loving hell did he get off kissing me like that if he was a monk and not allowed to touch women?

  Jesus. And the way he’d been in bed, the way he’d moved, his sexual hunger. Now I understood. His desire hadn’t been your plain old vanilla-flavored lust. He’d been breaking some very major rules with me.

  Goddammit. He’s a fucking monk? And he helps bring people’s fantasies to life? My mind scrambled, juggling the facts. Rook was a businessman, a handsome, intimidating businessman who had decided to turn his sacred island into a sex-vacation destination. And he used the profit to keep the world off his sacred grounds. All right. I have no words.

  I cleared my throat. “Okay.”

  “Okay, what!” he snapped.

  “Okay. I won’t pass judgment.”

  “That’s all?” he said.

  “No. That’s not all. But I can’t begin to wrap my head around this or you or how you make me feel.” Yes, okay. So much made sense now, the deep cold vibe, his devotion to protecting this island, and his deeply compassionate side. But what confused the hell out of me was the fact that in this very moment, having removed one more petal, I felt like our connection had grown into something I’d never expected. Call it ego, call it human nature to want what we can’t have, but knowing that Rook felt so strongly about me, enough for him to break his “rule,” only made me want him more.

  Rook stared for a long moment, and the air between us sparked with intense emotion.
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  He stretched out his hand and ran his thumb over my bottom lip. “I’m sorry.”

  I could only imagine what he was apologizing for: I’m sorry that I’m off the market indefinitely. I’m sorry about your father lying to you and that I kept the truth from you about it. I’m sorry for behaving like a heartless asshole and not telling you I’ve taken a vow of chastity. I’m sorry that you ever came here.

  “But I’m not sorry,” I said. “If I hadn’t come to this island, I’d still be wondering what happened to Cici.” I drew a breath. “And I never would’ve met you.”

  The sky flashed, and he stepped closer, fisting his hands to his sides. “You have no idea what you do to me, Stephanie. It’s taking everything I have not to kiss you again, but if I do, I won’t stop.”

  “Would you really have to?” Because the only thing I wanted was to slide my hands over his bare skin and feel his mouth on mine.

  He looked at me for a long moment, his nearly translucent eyes reflecting the lantern on the rock beside us. “I’m sorry, Stephanie. But I am the one thing on this island you cannot have.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Rook and I hiked through the pouring rain in complete silence and returned to his house. He disappeared upstairs, and I went into my room, unable to look at him in his brown robe.

  A monk? A monk? Come. On. Of all the possibilities in the world, a monk was the last thing I’d ever suspect Rook of being. Yet, somehow, it all made sense. So much so that I felt stupid for not having realized the truth on my own. Bullshit. You never could’ve seen that coming. No one would ever associate such a sexually tempting man with celibacy. Or poverty. Or obedience. His lifestyle was a blatant contradiction to everything I knew about monks, which wasn’t much.

  And seriously, what sort of monk drank alcohol and watched people fornicate? A dirty, dirty monk. That’s who.

  I had so many questions, but my better judgment told me not to ask. The more I learned about Rook, the more he intrigued me and the more I wanted him. His façade—the icy disposition, the expensive clothes, the distance he kept from the guests—created a wall of intimidation likely meant to keep people out. But once you got inside and caught a few precious glimpses of the real man, it was impossible not to need more.

  So how had he become a monk? Why? And why had he chosen of all things to build a resort if he was so religious? Did his employees know?

  I dried off my hair, rinsed off my muddy feet, and changed into some dry clothes. I lay there in my bed, staring at the light show on my ceiling, coming from the slivers of lightning flashing through the blinds.

  I sighed. More than ever, I needed to get home. I couldn’t stay here and see him and feel like this: lost, grieving, and aching for a man I could never have and who, at the end of the day, didn’t really want me.

  A light knock on the door jolted me from my thoughts. “Yes?”

  Rook stepped inside the room and closed the door. He now wore dark drawstring pants and a gray T-shirt. It amazed me how he could wear almost anything and look so masculine and powerful. His best look by far, however, was buck naked.

  He leaned against the door and crossed his bulky arms. “I wanted to tell you that you will receive a full refund for your trip, and should you need more money—for a ceremony for Cici or headstone or anything else—please allow me to help.”

  “That’s very kind. Thank you.”

  “Also, I wanted you to know that you will not see me for the remainder of your stay. I do not want you to think that I am doing it to be cruel or callous. I’m doing this for me, and because it is the right thing to do.”

  “Oh.” I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t disappointed, but I absolutely understood. Seeing him standing here lit up my erogenous zones. The planes of his handsome face—the cheekbones and strong jawline—his intense eyes and sensual lips, all left me dumbfounded. But more than my physical attraction for him, I felt a connection I’d never had with any—

  Wait. He looks younger. His hair is darker. He must’ve touched it up, but…when had he had time? I couldn’t begin to reconcile the two sides of him—the public man and the hidden man.

  He continued, “I know what you must think—I am a man without self-control or morals—but despite everything that happened between us, I take my vows very seriously.”

  I knew that he did. The way he’d punished himself would forever haunt me. Still, I couldn’t help wanting what I wanted.

  I cleared my throat, preparing to say a million things to this beautiful, tormented man, but pulled myself back. He was trying to tell me that this thing between us couldn’t take a step nor an inch further.

  “I understand.” I offered him a superficial smile.

  He nodded in return. “You may stay here until Sunday, and I will have Julie look after you.”

  “No Rick, huh? Because I think he still owes me a foot rub,” I joked to lighten the mood. What else could I do? Beg Rook not to be a monk anymore, or question why he’d taken this path in life? His answers would only pull me ten layers deeper.

  “Do not push me, Stephanie.” Rook gave me a nasty look. “I may be a monk, but I am no saint.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Let’s not play games, Stephanie. You know I want you. And would rather not see you with another man.”

  My stomach lurched. Hearing him say those words only stirred my insides.

  “Can you tell me something?” I asked.

  “What would you like to know?”

  “How badly would you have punished yourself if that woman hadn’t stopped us?” Okay, shame on me for asking, because the reason for doing it was completely selfish.

  He made a little grumble and rubbed the back of his neck. “Let’s just say that I am grateful she showed up when she did. You have no idea what it means to carry my burdens and responsibility.”

  “But she does,” I said, still wondering who the hell she was.

  “She is aware; however, that is a vastly different animal compared to fully comprehending the amount of discipline, restraint, and devotion it has taken to hold on to this island.” He scratched his bristly jaw. “But my faith and beliefs are not up for debate. Not when it is impossible for you to understand what is at stake.”

  I might understand if he took the time to explain it, but that seemed like a moot point. I wanted him. He wanted me. He saw all of it as a threat to his way of life and his beliefs, and I couldn’t argue with that.

  “I will offer—one final time, Stephanie—to do the only thing I can without risking what’s left of my soul, which is very little. Let me help you move past your sister’s death. It does not have to be now. It can be anytime in the future when you’re ready. And in the meantime, if you need anything, anything at all, you merely need to ask.”

  “But I won’t ever see you again,” I concluded.

  He stared into my eyes, that icy demeanor stronger than ever. “I am sorry, but it’s simply not possible.”

  “Then I don’t think I’ll be needing any help.”

  “I understand your feelings for me are intense, but you would sacrifice knowing peace, something I can guarantee you’d have, simply because you cannot see me again?” He posed the question like he was questioning my sanity.

  “I think you should add smug and insensitive to your list of sins, Mr. Rook.”

  His handsome face fell into an emotionless black hole, and he pulled open the door. “Julie will handle the details of the remainder of your stay.”

  Cold. So cold. But deep inside, I understood. If he was truly off-limits and had taken a vow of chastity, what good would it do for us to be near one another?

  “At least let me move back into my bungalow,” I offered, feeling uncomfortable about this arrangement. As impersonal as it might be, this was his home. I was a tourist.

  He held out his hand. “No. I insist you stay here. At the very least, I will derive some pleasure from that.”

  “From me being in your house?”

  “I can
watch you from afar and know you are safe. I’m afraid that’s the only intimacy I am allowed.”

  My mouth turned dry. Did he have any idea what it would do to me, knowing he watched my every move? What a sexually sadistic prick.

  “You’re only making it harder,” I muttered.

  “You have no idea how hard.” He disappeared from the room, leaving me breathless and aroused. Images of his hardness pummeled my mind.

  “Son of a bitch.” I flopped onto my stomach and screamed into my pillow.

  The next day, the rain didn’t relent. I called Julie for breakfast and twenty minutes later was met by a team of waiters, who set up a feast of eggs benedict, fresh tropical fruit, home-style potatoes, coffee and juice in Rook’s dining room.

  Seriously? I scratched my head. It was enough food for ten people.

  As soon as they left, I made myself a small plate and then remembered what Rook had said. He’d be watching. I knew it was wrong to torment the man, but I was no longer under the rational control of compassion or common sense. Lust was the only thing keeping me from thinking about Cici or my damned father, neither of whom I knew how to deal with.

  Oh, but dealing with the Rook situation is so easy.

  I took a piece of toast and slowly buttered it, thinking of the ways I could give the man a show—licking, sucking, moaning.

  You’re ridiculous.

  I ate quickly, went back to bed, and slept through the afternoon, dreaming of Rook coming from the water, his naked skin catching the light from the flashing sky, his cock hanging between his thighs.

  When I got up in the evening, the ugly darkness began seeping in. Reality grew nearer like a fatal disease. Soon, I would reenter reality and that included facing my father and, of course, Warner Price.

  I’m fucked. Completely fucked. Rook said he would return the money, but what good would that do? Warner Price was Warner Price. He wanted something, we made a deal, he expected me to fulfill my end of the bargain, including working for him. There were no returns or oopses—something I had been fully aware of when I’d taken the “loan.”