“You’re pretty much of a wanker,” I said, grabbing my sarong from the bedpost. How in the Seven freakin’ Seas did my sarong land there? And where in the salty hell was my bikini top? Crapcrapcrap. I wrapped the sarong around my naked body and tied it rather violently into a knot at my waist.
“Thank you,” he replied with a panty melting smirk and a wink as he pulled on his pants and then gave me an irreverent bow.
“Wasn’t a compliment, jackhole,” I muttered, biting back my grin with extreme effort and snapping my fingers to conjure up a new bikini top as the one I’d arrived in was torn in half and hanging from the chandelier.
The jackhole simply chuckled. My stomach filled with butterflies, my girly parts danced with desire and my hands balled into fists. Decking his ass would feel wonderful. However, he wasn’t the problem. I was.
I should deck my own ass.
“My bad,” he said with a grin. “Thought you were praising my man tool.”
“Oh my Seven Seas in a shit storm, you did not just call your Johnson a man tool,” I choked out, unable to hold back my hoot of laughter.
“I most certainly did,” he shot back with a laugh. “You think Johnson is better than man tool?” he demanded, still grinning.
“Well, no. But man tool loses big time,” I told him. “Very loser-y.”
“Fine,” he said with a shrug and a gleam in his icy blue eyes. “Name him.”
“Nope. Not gonna name your Johnson-man-tool.”
I stared at the floor for a moment and bit down on my lip hard. This was just supposed to be casual sex—no strings attached. Liking him would complicate things. But he was making it seriously difficult.
“Well, sounds to me that you just did,” he said with a wide grin. “While Johnson-man-tool wouldn’t be my first choice, I’ll go with it. We can call him JMT for short—even though he’s not short—at all. Personally, I would have gone with Hercules.”
“You are a…” I stopped myself before I called him a dork. Any more genitalia references would degenerate into Poseidon only knew what.
We continued to dress in silence. I glanced around the luxurious hotel suite and rolled my eyes. Agreeing to meet up with him in the Cayman Islands was yet another mistake on my part. My Really Bad Decisions list was growing to epic proportions where this man was concerned. My need to punch something was strong. I was unsure who I wanted to punch more—him or me. The smartest thing to do would be to leave before I did something I would regret.
“Yeah right,” I mumbled to myself as I found one of my jeweled sandals under the bed of sin and the other in the sink of the ornate bathroom.
The irony of my thoughts almost made me laugh. I’d already done something I’d regret. Ten times. I’d done it ten times in six hours with the grinning idiot whose beauty was so stupid, just looking at him made me want to jump his hot bod again.
“So what alias are you going by this week?” I asked, completely unable to fathom why I’d been sleeping with this insane immortal on and off for fifty years and yet had no clue what his real name was.
But then again, I’d never given him mine either…
Names meant relationships. I didn’t do relationships. Ever. Love was for fairytales and fools… and my sisters… who were not fools, but definitely foolish when it came to love.
“Archer,” he replied, raising his eyebrow at me. “And yours, my beautiful Mermaid Siren? What name have you assumed this week?”
“First of all, I’m not yours. I belong to no one but myself. Secondly, I’m a Mermaid, not a Siren—Sirens are very old school. I don’t kill my prey after sex as you can very well attest to since you’re still breathing. However, I will admit the thought of offing you is tempting.”
“Are you trying to seduce me again?” he asked with a lopsided grin that made my entire body tighten with need. “Because if you are, it’s working. And you avoided the question.”
“Sheena,” I lied, tearing my eyes away from his. Maybe if I wasn’t looking at him, the overwhelming impulse to tackle him and ride him like a seahorse would subside. “My name is Sheena.”
No such luck. Still wanted to ride him. Crap.
“And this is your real name?” he inquired as he purposely moved right back into my line of sight to finish dressing.
“Nope,” I said, accepting the challenge and watching as his clothes covered his gorgeous body—all six foot three of perfectly muscled, ripped abs, sandy blonde hair, eyelashes that belonged on a girl and an ass you could bounce a gold coin off of. “Is Archer your real name?”
He paused and stared at me for a long moment. His icy blue eyes focused completely on me and I forgot how to breathe. He was all kinds of awful and every kind of sexy.
“It’s one of them,” Archer admitted casually and then shrugged.
Nonononononono. He was cheating. Not fair. Half of me was thrilled and the other half was furious. The furious side won.
“Wait a waterlogged minute,” I shouted and threw a sandal at his head. “That’s breaking the rules. You can’t tell me your real name. That makes this real and this is not real, buster.”
“Rules are made to be broken, Sheena,” he replied silkily as caught my sandal midair and ran his hands over it seductively. Archer flopped back down on the bed and patted the space next to him. “How about we break a few more rules and you kiss me?”
Gods, I was so tempted. But I would never kiss him. I hadn’t kissed him in all the years we’d been meeting clandestinely and I wasn’t going to do it today. The jackhole would be under my spell. I might not kill my lovers like my ancestors did, but I could still entrap them with a kiss. There was no way in Poseidon’s soused ass I wanted to entrap this one. He was trouble and he called his weenie a man tool.
Plus, I was a lone Mermaid. Having a man was not in the plan.
“How about no? I’m not that into you.”
“How about you were very into me or vice versa—abstract pun intended—for approximately six hours,” he shot back with a grin.
“You’d better be careful. The fall from the size of your ego could be deadly.”
“I’ll take my chances,” Archer replied as his full kissable lips widened with delight. “And by the way, my ego matches my Johnson-man-tool. You’re welcome to test out this undisputable fact—again—if you feel so inclined.”
“You can take your chances and shove them up your ass,” I told him as I moved with haste toward the door so I wouldn’t join him on the bed and take him up on his obscene offer. I fought every instinct I had and walked away from the idiot. While his ego was definitely enormous, he was correct that his Johnson-man-tool matched. “I’m done with meaningless sex with jackholes who break the rules and reveal their actual name.”
“You sound like a man,” Archer said, rising from the bed and approaching me. “Dare I ask if you’ve been using me?”
“Like you haven’t done the same?” I demanded, feeling a bit shaky and way out of my depth. Real emotions were not something I was comfortable dealing with. Aside from my sisters, no one broke through my well cared for shell. I was not letting this one in.
“Touché,” Archer whispered, brushing against my body as he passed me and opened the door of the suite.
The tone of his voice was far too smug for my liking and every word that left his lips sounded like sex. My skin tingled where he’d made contact and I wanted to punch him in the nuts. I’d just had more orgasms than legally allowed by any species. How did I still want this conceited idiot? I needed my head examined. Pronto.
“I’ll see you soon,” Archer promised.
“I wouldn’t put any gold coins on that,” I informed him with syrupy sarcasm dripping from each word.
“Oh you exquisite, emerald-haired Mermaid, there’s much you don’t know about me,” he explained as he took my chin in his large hand and raised my green eyes to his blue. “I adore a challenge. You are a challenge. We’re not even close to done yet.”
“Actually we are, jackhole,” I whispered, caught in his ridiculously hypnotic gaze.
“Next time we meet, you will tell me your name.”
“Don’t bet on it.”
His laugh went all through me and my eyes narrowed to slits. He would not have the last word.
“Sheena, Sheena, Sheena… I’m an excellent gambler—and I never lose.”
And on that note, the dumbass disappeared in a blast of red and silver glittering mist.
Damn it. He’d gotten the last word in. Again. Plus, I was now covered in red and silver glitter. I looked like a freakin’ Christmas tree with my emerald green hair full of his red and silver sparkles. It would take weeks to get all of this crap out of my long, wild curls.
Now wasn’t the best time to resemble a glittering holiday shrub since my sister was getting married in a week. Whatever. I’d play it off like I was working a new, albeit ridiculous, look. I’m a Mermaid. We’re all colorful. No two were alike and our eyes matched our hair. I had emerald green. Tallulah had lavender. Ariel had blue and Madison had pink. A little extra red and silver thrown in wouldn’t be a big deal.
Sitting down on the bed of sin, I sighed. What was I doing with my immortal life? Was bumping uglies with an asshat who had an ego the size of a cruise ship all I had to look forward to?
Problem was I was beginning to like the smug imbecile more than I should. And that was exactly why I would never see him again.
I didn’t need complications like Archer and his Johnson-man-tool. I didn’t even know what kind of immortal he was. For all I knew, he was a Dragon or something even worse.
Whatever he was, he was dangerous. And while I was all for a great physical battle, a battle of the heart wasn’t my cup of tea or bottle of rum, to be more accurate with my drink of choice.
I was a kickass Mermaid warrior with a family who adored me. I was done with jackholes. I would just go back to the Mystical Isle and run our tourist trap for humans.
I would play poker with the Pirates so they wouldn’t scar the paying guests for life by teaching yoga and putting their nards in their mouths because they were absurdly limber.
I’d swim in my beloved ocean.
I would catch up on all my favorite TV shows and I would try to hang out with the stinky Sea Hags without wearing a nose plug.
And if bad guys showed up, I would defend everything and everyone I loved.
That sounded… safe. It also sounded pathetic.
It was my life and I owned it. Letting an egotistical idiot with an enormous Johnson-man-tool into my little world wasn’t going to happen.