Low Tide Bikini (A Pleasure Island Romance) (19 page)

“No, thank you.” She turned away, ran upstairs, and flung herself across her bed. She hoped she had some extra batteries for her purple boyfriend, because the Energizer Bunny had met his match.

Brock had ordered a load of sand to build up his side of the embankment connecting his property to his neighbor’s. Apparently, with the installation of—what appeared to be—a new in-ground pool, his neighbors had shoveled the sand about, raising the height of their property, which gave the rain no recourse but to run downhill into Brock’s carport.
 

The delivery arrived. He led the three workers, who pushed wheelbarrows loaded with fresh sand, to the area he wanted to build up.

Sam ran out of the house with blue stuff smeared on her face and her hair in curlers. She wore nothing but a bright pink and orange beach towel wrapped around her body.

“Stop. You can’t do that. There’s a turtle nest in that area.” Her arms flailed in the direction of the embankment as she screeched.

Brock signaled the men to stop. Hesitant, he approached Sam. She seemed quite crazed, and he didn’t know what to expect. “Slow down. Catch your breath, and tell me what you’re talking about.”

She bent over, put her hands on her knees, and huffed and puffed for a few seconds then stood. “You can’t bring in sand from wherever and add it to the beach like that. I found a sea turtle nest in that area a few weeks ago. If you cover it up, the baby turtles may not be able to dig through the extra layer heaped on top. Plus, that sand isn’t suited for this ecosystem. It might’ve been treated with chemicals that could kill the baby turtles.” The blue gunk on her face cracked around the edges of her lips.

He chose his words with caution. “What do you suggest? If we get another storm, the carport and guest quarters are going to flood again. I don’t want to fix the guest quarters and have all that work done for nothing. I need to do something now.” Being more concerned about his property than the turtles wasn’t something he was proud of, but as the homeowner, he had to be practical.

“They'll hatch in a week or two. You don't know for sure a storm will roll in before that happens. We can keep a close eye on the weather. Come on, we can figure something else out. Please, don’t do this right now. Please.”

He couldn't say no. Not with her pleading like that. He was such a sucker.
 

She squirmed awaiting his response and the towel inched farther down her thighs.
 

The workers gawked. One man in particular leered as if he were stripping Sam with his eyes.
 

Brock glared at the guy and made a fist. “You heard the lady, get these wheelbarrows out of here. Put the sand back on the truck.” He motioned the men back toward the road.
 

When the workers disappeared around the corner, he shuffled closer to Sam. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

The color of her eyes matched the dried blue paste on her face. Redness surrounding her irises made his chest tighten. He didn’t want her to cry. Tears left him with nothing to do but hold her. Holding her while she wore a towel and nothing else spelled danger. He opted to lighten the mood. “Nice face.”

She touched her cheek, and her mouth flew open. “I forgot.” More cracks formed in the clay-like substance.

“What’s that blue stuff?”
 

“It’s a clay facial mask. It’ll exfoliate my skin and...” The towel slipped across her bosom. She snugged it tighter around her breasts before he could catch a glimpse of a nipple.
Damn.
 

Her hands trembled.

“And?” He was completely distracted by the flap of towel blown by the wind, giving him a peek at her upper thigh.

“And it’s dried. So I need to go wash it off.” She whirled around and ran up stairs. Her rump jiggled in the most delightful fashion. If she wasn’t going to let him make her come, he might as well enjoy watching her go.
 

He fixed himself a ham and cheese sandwich with a side of Doritos and sat on the couch in front of the TV.
 

Sam came downstairs. Loose blonde curls bounced about her ribs. A yellow, floral sundress showed off her tan legs. The dress featured thin shoulder straps and a deep neckline. She sat beside him and helped herself to one of his Doritos.

The relaxed, friendliness she exuded caught him by surprise. He hadn’t seen this side of her nearly enough. What had made her become so calm?
 

With chip poised by her lips, she said, “Thank you for stopping those guys. I should have told you about the nest earlier. It just slipped my mind with everything that’s been going on.”

“No worries, love. No harm done. We’ll figure something out.” She ate the chip and helped herself to another. He playfully swatted her hand. “Hey, munchie girl. Cool it. I’d be happy to fix you your own plate if you’re hungry.”

She grinned and crammed the entire chip in her mouth and chomped.

He was mesmerized by her shimmering coral mouth.

 
After she swallowed she said, “That’s thoughtful of you, but I’m meeting the girls at the restaurant for a late afternoon rehearsal, and Jack has a feast prepared for us.”

“I’m jealous.” He picked up a chip and held it in front of her. “Open wide.”
 

She opened her mouth, and he fed her. Her lips brushed his fingers. He reached for another chip and brought it to her lips.

She shook her head no. “I’m good. You go on and eat.”

He sat his plate on the coffee table and positioned his body to face hers. “It can wait.” He didn’t want to miss the opportunity to chat with her in such a cordial manner. She was being charming. “So tell me about this turtle business.”

She pulled a throw pillow to her lap and sat with her legs criss crossed, her dress pulled over her knees to hide all her girlie bits.
Damn
.
 

Toying with a lock of her hair, she said, “The leatherback sea turtles have been nesting here for decades. The female sea turtles always return to the same general area of the beach. Over time, erosion and new construction has destroyed the sea turtle’s home. There are fewer and fewer safe places for them to come ashore to nest.” Her eyes panned over to the view of the ocean caressing the shore.

He studied her faraway expression. “Go on.”

Without looking at him, she continued, “Home. That’s such an important thing to sea turtles. It’s sad to think of them looking to the shore, not knowing what happened to their home, feeling lost, panicked, having no place to lay their eggs. No safe place for them at all, nowhere they belong.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I want to make sure their home is protected, that they always have a safe place here.” The tears fell, and her breathing became labored as she attempted to speak, but nothing coherent came out.

He remembered her story about being orphaned and moving from foster home to foster home. On the first day they’d met, she’d mentioned he was the reason she’d be homeless. It all made sense now. Sam related to those turtles on a very deep level.

He pulled her into his arms and stroked her hair. “We’ll protect their home. I promise.”

She cried much longer than he’d anticipated, especially since moments earlier she’d been so cheerful. But Sam was like the ocean with interment waves of varying velocity, and each wave eroded the callus around his heart a little more.
 

If she needed to cry, he’d hold her as long as she let him. He supposed she had a lot of pent up emotion she needed to vent.
 

When her sobbing lulled, he handed her the napkin he’d tucked beneath his plate. She dried her tears and blew her nose then curled her arms around him, snuggling against his chest. He kissed the top of her head.

In a quiet voice, she said, “Thank you. I’m sorry I’m such an emotional roller coaster.”

He hooked a finger under her chin, lifted her face to his, and looked into her eyes. “I love that you’re an emotional roller coaster. Life is always exciting when you’re around.”

The corners of her lips curled into a shy smile. If he kissed her, would she run away again?

She bit her lip. “I have a confession. I’m not really gay. I don’t remember what happened that night with you and Mazy and me, but Mazy and I have never been sexually intimate with one another. Neither one of us are gay.”

That’s the confession he was looking for. “I knew that already. If it will make you feel any better, nothing happened that night other than the two of you zonking out in my bed. I did see you naked though. I brushed your hair as you talked to me in the dark, telling me about your parents and why you had a fear of being trapped.”

She withdrew from his embrace, and her eyes found his.

He whispered, “If I kiss you right now, will you promise not to run away?”

She nodded yes.

That was all it took. He lowered his head to hers and pressed his lips against her delicate coral mouth.

MOMENTS EARLIER SHE’D sat on the bed, weighing her options where he was concerned. She’d come to the conclusion—pushing away the most wonderful man she’d ever met, because she was worried he’d break her heart—was stupid. A heart couldn’t be broken unless there’d been love involved. True love, not lust. How foolish it would be to miss out on love for fear of something that may never happen?
 

Rocking on the porch when she’d reached her golden years, and talking about the man she’d worshipped from afar, but never allowed herself to be with, seemed unacceptable now. He’d proven time and time again he was nothing like the men from her past. When Brock sent those workers away like she'd asked, he'd proven himself yet again.

 
But more importantly than admitting Brock was a better man than any of her exes, it dawned on her that she wasn't the same woman she'd once been. She didn't hinge her sense of self-worth on whether or not she had a man in her life like she had in her past.
 

She wanted Brock for however long she could have him. She'd lost people before. She'd lose people again, and she'd survive. But denying herself as a sexual woman who longed to love and be loved physically and emotionally wasn't healthy. Plain and simple.
 

It'd been a long road back to healthy these past five years, but opening herself up to a man may be the next step on that road.
 

She decided it was time to take that step.

Once she’d made that choice, a weight that she didn’t even realize she’d been carrying lifted. She gave herself permission to love, even if it wasn’t returned.
 

His compassion and the way he made her feel respected and desired won her over. She owed it to herself to take a chance, to enjoy whatever this fiery thing was between them—and boy was it fiery. He’d accepted her craziness and didn’t try to change her. It was time she accepted all he offered as well.

Simmering passion heated his gaze as he lowered his mouth to hers. Their lips met without urgency, without frantic groping. A calmness fell over her. When she lifted her arms and wrapped them around his neck, he deepened the kiss, gently stroking her tongue with his.
 

He whispered, “Sam.”
 

She sighed, “Yes.”

Tenderness and patience shown in his face as his green eyes darkened, arousal swirling in their depths.

 
With her head cradled in his large palm, her hair twined around his fingers, he reclined her against the pillowy seat of the leather couch. His two-hundred pounds of solid muscle pressed her farther into the cushion. He nipped her bottom lip and let go of her hair to glide his hand down, cupping her bottom, caressing a bare cheek as he nestled his hardness against her.

A sound of distinct male satisfaction rumbled in his chest.

With his smooth palm, he eased her legs apart, settling himself between her thighs as his fingertips tickled their way to the hem of her dress.
 

He paused and searched her eyes, “Do you want this, love?”

She wanted to experience everything with him. Did he have any idea the magnitude of her need? She ached to love him, love him through her fear, her confusion, her mind-scrambling arousal, love him until his name was engraved on her heart.

“I want this love...”
 

He swallowed her words, giving them shelter in the cavern of his mouth and inched the hem of her dress toward her hips, exposing the triangular fragment of lace cloaking her center. He rotated his pelvis in a slow circular motion against the thin, damp material shielding her mound.
 

His movements left them both gasping in pleasure.

He stilled. His furrowed brow and low groan revealed his struggle for control.

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop,” she whimpered.

With a slight smile on his lips, he lowered his lashes. “Mmm.” He shifted to her side, positioning his rugged frame snug against the back cushions of the couch. The length of her body spread before his hooded, dilated eyes that raked over her from head to toe.

His Adam’s apple moved up and down as if nodding in approval. “Beautiful.” His voice hitched with palpable emotion.

The soles of her feet heated and tingled.

He traced a finger over the sheer lace that hid her core.
 

She shuddered.

He peeled her panties to the side and dragged his thumb across her sensitive flesh, cleaving her open to stroke her throbbing, moistened pearl.

She closed her eyes, her body quivering with need, burning up with it. Her trembling hands clung to his biceps as he ratcheted her desire to the point of delirium.

He whispered, “Tell me, Sam. Tell me how to please you.”
 

Unable to speak, she bit her lower lip, trying to muffle the primal sounds erupting from the depths of the raging ocean low in her belly.

He kissed her neck then nibbled her earlobe. His breath—hot. The wet clicking sound of his tongue blended with the slip sliding of his thumb, massaging her in lazy circles.