Low Tide Bikini (A Pleasure Island Romance) (25 page)

“Let go of me. I don’t have to come with you anywhere.” She tugged against his grip.

He hoisted her over his shoulder. “Yes. You do.”

She kicked at the air and punched his back. He tightened his grasp.
 

“Put me down. Even if there is a note up there, how can I know for sure you didn’t plant it today? I said put me down.” She screamed, a heart-thumping “I’m going to die” kind of scream that left his ears ringing.

He lowered her to the floor inside the bedroom. They came face to face. Her cobalt-marble eyes dialed to annihilation and zeroed in on him. Her jaw locked into position like she had a magazine round of lethal insults to fire at the ready.
 

He grabbed her face and kissed her. Hard. Her lips resisted his at first, remaining tight for a few seconds, then she relaxed, wrapped her arms around him, and returned his kiss. She parted her lips as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth.
 

She moaned, then withdrew from his embrace, her eyes wild. She shook her head as if trying to regain consciousness. With enough force to shove a piano ten meters, she drove her palm into his chest. A fat artery appeared on the verge of bursting across her forehead. “That doesn’t prove anything.”

He staggered backward from the impact of her shove. His arms flapped like the wings of a beheaded chicken until he caught his balance. “Let’s do it again then.”

She quirked her mouth into a half-grin. Was she amused by his clumsy antics or softened by his invitation? He’d take either. They stood in the eye of her emotional hurricane. He didn’t have much time.

A playful stomp and huff pre-empted one of her infamous eye rolls. “Shut up, and find that damn note.”

In unison, they crouched beside the bed and looked beneath the box springs. There, in plain view, sat a crisp white sheet of paper. The letter.
 

Triumph lifted the corners of his mouth like the gloved hands of a prize-fighter as he soaked in her slack-jawed expression.
 

She retrieved the letter and sat on the floor with her back to the bed, the paper on her knees.
 

Her eyes scanned the page as she read silently. She traced a fingertip over his poem and sighed, then her eyes went back to the top of the page. As she read the whole thing again, a tear rolled down her cheek and landed on the paper. When she’d finished, she sniffled, crushed the letter to her chest, and said, “I’m such a fool.”
 

Her reedy whisper soothed him like a welcomed breeze rustling seagrass during on a scorching day at the beach. They’d survived the storm.

“No, Sam. You’re such a lady. A lady who has left an indelible imprint on my heart. I’m a grouch without you. When I'm in Wales, all my friends want to talk about is my past successes as a rugby player, or the tragedy that I can no longer play.”

"I thought you retired. I didn't know you went through a tragedy."

"I retired because I tore up my shoulder and could no longer play on pro-level. Even without the injury, my days were numbered. Believe me. I had already lasted much longer in the sport than most."

"You never told me much about your shoulder. What happened? Does it still hurt?"

“A rookie crashed his head into my shoulder and landed us both in the hospital. He suffered a concussion, and I underwent reconstructive surgery. I still have occasional pain at the point of incision. The thing is, when I'm in Wales, my life is filled with who I used to be. The paparazzi hound me to death. I get no privacy whatsoever. It infuriates me. I become a curmudgeon, and I can't even stand to be around myself."

"You're the most polite man I've ever met." She laughed. "When we aren't bickering."

"I'm glad you view me as you do, but it's true. I'm a complete wanker when I have to spend too much time in that pressure cooker of an existence." He lightly bumped his forehead against hers. "I've missed the island with its relaxed way of life, the ocean, the fun we have—even when we bicker. I missed you, Sam. You have no idea what a joy it is to be near you. I even find your crazy mood swings exciting. I especially find the sexy way you look at me when I'm deep inside you exciting. But even without the sex, you thrill me. You must know that." He stopped himself from saying more. He needed more time with her. He wanted to court her properly, like she deserved. A lady should be wooed. Sam was definitely a lady. A fiery, passionate lady.

She blushed beneath his attention. He adored knowing he had that effect on her.

Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she said, “I can’t tell you how hard it was to resist the urge to get your number from Ted or one of the workers. I wanted to call you every day, but I assumed you didn’t want to talk to me. I mean, you left after all.”

He kissed her forehead. “I was too embarrassed to call Ted or one of the workers for your number. I thought of getting your number from the Marshalls, but they were in New York, and I would have had to explain myself to my brother. I didn’t want him to know I was chasing after a woman who wanted nothing to do with me. I thought you'd written me off. That was bad enough, but to expose my wounded heart to others required a bravery I didn't possess. Plus, I didn't want to draw attention to myself when the family focus was on my mother's recovery.”

"You were wrong about me not wanting anything to do with you. I wanted everything to do with you."

"I'm glad to know that. So who was the bloke you were talking to?" He breathed in the fragrance of her freshly washed hair and the faint scent of cherry blossom lotion on her skin.

“Just a friend. He's the lead singer for a band I gig with occasionally, and he wanted me to sub for their bassist."

"So that's what you wanted him to beg for?"

She giggled. "Yeah."

"Do you like when men beg? I could beg."
 

She smiled. "You don't need to. You seem to get what you want without much trouble."

"Is that right? And here I thought I'd jumped through a few hoops to get to you."

She squirmed and seemed a little nervous, then sat up and tilted her head. "How’s your mother doing?”

“She’s doing remarkably well. Much better than expected. To be quite honest, my mother and I have never had a strong bond, but we seem to be on a different path now. She confessed some things about herself that have helped me to understand her. I look forward to getting to know her again and moving into a healthier place in our relationship. I'd like for you to meet her someday.” Her hair glided between his fingers as he stroked her amber locks.
 

She tensed. Had he scared her off? “Does that scare you? Meeting Mum?” Maybe suggesting she meet his mother was too much.
 

She shook her head no.
 

He decided to change the topic and swiped a hand down his thigh. “Before I forget, let’s exchange phone numbers right now.”

SAM NESTLED AGAINST Brock’s chest and thumbed his phone number into her contacts list. As he called out the digits, his warm breath on her neck and ear sent a stream of excited nerves to her abdomen, where they tickled lower and lower with each baritone syllable. Remembering his exquisite touch and the magic he could perform with his full-body-kisses made the simple task of punching in his phone number difficult.
Focus
. As soon as she hit save, she called him.
 

He chuckled and answered his phone, his arm around her waist, fingers caressing her belly. “Hello. You’ve reached Brock Knight. I’m unavailable to take your call at the moment, as I have a woman with silk skin within my grasp. Please leave your number. I’ll return your call when I run out of condoms, which I estimate to be in approximately eight hours.” He closed his phone and sat it on the floor then brought his hand up to cradle her face. “I’ve got your number now.”

“That’s nice to know, but I’m really wondering how many condoms you have.”

His eyes shined as if struck by a match.

“Seriously. Maybe we should go to the store now, so we don’t—“

“I stopped off at the pharmacy and bought a box of two dozen on my way home. Now, I need you naked and in my bed.” He pushed himself up from the floor and pulled her to her feet.

“Oh, I like it when you take charge.”
 

With a wry grin, he said, “I’m glad to hear you say that, cause I brought toys.”

Her female organs actually leapt like cheerleaders doing herkies upon hearing the word “toys”. Give me a T. Give me an O....
 

“The things I want to do to you,” he said, squeezing her bottom gently.

“You’re being nasty. What happened to romance?” He'd been so romantic in his letter she’d melted.

He tilted his head, “Who says they’re mutually exclusive? I can spank you in a very romantic way. I can even shag you by candlelight, sprinkle roses petals all over your body, and have you saying dirty things and loving it. What would you like first?” He moved his mouth to her neck and planted tender kisses along her collarbone as he lifted her top.
 

She raised her arms and allowed him to remove her camisole that had a built in bra. He tossed the shirt onto the floor.

His gaze traveled over her breasts. “Mmm. Tell me what you want me to do to you.” His fingers hovered above her nipple.

She was too aroused to form an intelligible answer.
 

He teased her nipple with his thumb. She moaned.

With a firm grip in her hair, he pulled her head back, and forced her to look into his eyes. His gaze was fierce and demanding. “That’s what I want. All of it. Don’t hold back. Not one ounce. Not one moan. Do you understand?”

She nodded. Her legs trembled.

“Good." He cupped her breast and suckled her nipple. As he lifted his head and pinched her other nipple into a tight bead, he said, "Since we’ve been apart, thoughts of being with you in every conceivable way have flashed through my mind nonstop. Everywhere I went. Everything I did. Visions of your face contorted in pleasure filled my mind. I want you desperately. Let me show you everything. Everything, love. I want you to destroy me with your kisses. I need to hear my name fall from your lips as I devour you. Let me take you there. Let me—“

She couldn’t control herself. She climbed up his body and wrapped her legs around him. “Stop talking.” Since he’d left, she’d been fantasizing, reliving the things he did to her. Never had a man found her hidden desires. It was as if he used her moans to map her erogenous zones, and oh how he’d found each hot spot. Every last one.

He palmed her bottom and growled into her mouth as they kissed. Lowering her backside to the bed, he pinned her arms to the mattress. His intensity set fire to her core. He drove her insecurities away and drew out the wanton woman within her.

All she could do was sigh.
 

He moved his mouth to her ear and whispered, “Close your eyes and whisper what you want me to do to you. Be specific.”

With his steel body pressing her into the mattress and her legs around his waist, he ground his hips.
 

“Ahh.” Words were beyond her ability.

“Mmm.” Apparently, the condition was contagious. Another manly groan of satisfaction rumbled from his chest. He flicked his tongue over her earlobe, fast and light, just like she wanted, lower.

She closed her eyes and whispered, “Lick me.” The heaviness between her legs intensified. There was something powerfully erotic about saying those words, asking for what she wanted. He made her feel she could ask for anything.

“Yes, lovely one. You need me to taste your honey and make you come hard. Yes, my sweet, sweet love.” He slid down her body and knelt by the bed, unbuttoned and unzipped her cutoffs, and tugged her shorts and panties down together. Spreading her wide, he gazed at her and smiled. “She’s so pretty.” He kissed her there, on her swollen flesh, lightly cleaving her open with his warm, wide tongue.

The tender warmth of his intimate kiss made her dizzy. She clutched the sheets. The room seemed to spin.
 

Up and down with long strokes, then circling the oval of her entrance, he lathed.

He whispered, “Let me take care of this swollen little berry for you.” He sucked her into his mouth and teased her clitoris, flicking quickly.

She thrust her hips toward his mouth and cried, “I’ve missed you. I’ve missed you so much.” She grabbed his hair and looked down at him. She had missed him in every way possible, from his quiet kind nature, to his strong mule-headed side, to the way he caused her to relax and receive pleasure. He showed her with his moans and the passionate look in his eyes that he loved what he was doing as much as she did.
 

His continued feasting drove her into a semi-conscious state.
 

On her elbows, looking down through lowered lashes, she coaxed him and guided him to the spot and speed that sent her over the edge. “There….”
 

She’d never told a man exactly what she wanted before, but he pulled it out of her, and she loved it. “Two fingers. Slow.”

He inserted two thick fingers, pumped slowly, and kept lapping her juices.

“Yes.” She watched him intensely as his fingers curled upward and rubbed the root of her clitoris inside her canal. Her legs trembled. She bucked and squirmed. He held her tight and continued. Her abdomen contracted, and her hair flipped forward, covering her face. His movements didn’t falter, didn’t change.
 

She cried out, “Yes, yes, yes, right there.” Her body twitched and jerked, as a powerful orgasm ripped through her, leaving her panting, and boneless. He held his warm mouth on her, gently lapping, as the last of the waves rippled through her, and she sighed.

Without a word, he kissed her inner thighs and rose to his feet. He tore off his shirt, undid his pants, and kicked them away. His abs rippled beneath his skin, arms bulged, muscles flexed. She admired his narrow waist and the soft down of black curls across his chest. An arrow of curly hairs directed her gaze to his long, thick, erection that arched toward the ceiling and had a way of hitting just the right spot inside her every time. He stood at the side of the bed and let her look at him.