The Trouble with Mojitos (7 page)

She sighed in satisfaction.

She might be lost, she might not have a plan for her life or know where her next pay check was coming from, but right at this moment there wasn’t any place she’d rather be than here beside this waterfall, soaking up the scents and sounds and colours.

That feeling was back, the feeling she’d pursued her whole life, the sense of
more
she’d always yearned for. Except it was no longer a yearning. It was right now, right here.

Not a person, or a job, but a place. A place so achingly beautiful that the rest of the world with its petty woes didn’t exist. A place where being lost didn’t even matter.

Sometimes getting lost was the only way to find oneself. If they hadn’t have got lost, they’d never have discovered this waterfall.

Rik squatted beside her, his proximity sending an increasingly familiar frisson of desire and confusion through her.

He bent to fill his water bottle, casting her a sideways glance. “You’re all wet.” His gaze lingered on her chest and the lace bra that had become visible through the sodden white fabric of her tee shirt.

She splashed him. “Now you are too.” She sat back on her haunches. “So what’s the plan?”

He grinned. “I thought you weren’t big on plans? Aren’t you enjoying this adventure?”

“I’ve had about as much adventure as I can take for one day. My blisters are killing me. If I wasn’t deathly terrified of snakes, I’d have taken off my boots and socks long ago.”

His grin turned to a smirk. “Then you probably shouldn’t turn around right now.”

She froze. He was kidding, right?

“You’re kidding, right?” she croaked.

He leaned close, his voice low. “Don’t move.”

She didn’t. She couldn’t.

He leaned even closer, so close his breath tickled her ear. “Just kidding,” he whispered.

“Jerk!” she pushed his chest, all her adrenalin and anger and sexual frustration bubbling together. She pushed harder than she intended. Rik sprawled backwards into the pool.

She didn’t bother to hide her laughter, but she was so busy laughing that when he lunged for her, she wasn’t quick enough. He pulled her down into the water, on top of him.

His lungs forgot to breathe. Rik looped an arm around her waist and held her close. Her body moulded to his, sparking sensation wherever they touched. He was amazed the water didn’t start to boil around them.

He’d thought of nothing but kissing her for two excruciating, maddening days. This was his moment. They were truly alone. No chance of a paparazzi camera or mobile phone in miles, as there’d been at the resort last night.

Kenzie looked up at him through her long fringe of ginger hair, turned to red-gold in the sunlight. His fingers itched to stroke the hair back from her face. He felt something he’d never felt before, something primal and violent and unstoppable. Desire. Passion. He didn’t feel like a prince or a ruler or a hopeless drifter. He felt like a man. And he wanted to do what every man wanted to do with a beautiful woman.

Her pupils were so large, so dark, that they swallowed her irises. He traced a finger down the curve of her cheek, coming to rest on her lips.

But in the second he hesitated, she blinked as if waking from a trance, and pulled away. “Oh no! I’m not falling for that again!”

What the hell did that mean? He frowned.

She splashed to the pool’s edge, and climbed out onto a rock, so massive it was more ledge than rock. She unlaced her hiking boots and removed her socks to let them dry in the sun.

He moved to perch beside her and did the same. They sat side by side, clothes dripping and bare feet trailing in the blessedly cool water. Birdsong and the waterfall’s roar filled the pregnant silence.

He leaned back on his elbows and studied her. She was flushed again. Not from the heat, but that delicate shade of pink she turned whenever she blushed.

He wanted to kiss her more than he wanted to breathe, and it was obvious she felt the attraction too. So why did she resist?

What was it about him she didn’t like?

This was new terrain for him. As a prince, he’d had to be extremely careful whom he slept with, yet he’d never had a problem finding willing women. And he’d certainly never struggled to understand them before as he struggled to understand Kenzie.

It was a horribly lowering thought that perhaps he’d never been particularly likeable. Perhaps he’d only been loved for his title and not for himself.

“I wonder if Thomas and Clara ever came here? This is the perfect place to fall in love, isn’t it?” Kenzie’s babble pulled him back from that dark place he was growing far too familiar with.

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never been in love.”

Kenzie faced him, eyes widening in surprise. “You’ve got to be at least thirty four or thirty five. How can you never have been in love?”

“And you have?”

“Of course. Several times. I was madly in love with all my boyfriends in the beginning.”

“How many boyfriends have you had?”

She counted on both hands. “Three. How many have you had?”

He laughed. “I’ve never had any boyfriends.”

“Okay then – how many serious
girlfriends
have you had?”

What constituted serious? Someone he’d given more than a passing thought to when she wasn’t in his bed? He pretended to count on both hands before he looked up at Kenzie. “One. And I planned to marry her.” Even though she was the one woman he’d dated who he hadn’t slept with.

Kenzie screwed up her face. “I thought you said you’d never been in love.”

“What does love have to do with marriage? Since you’ve no doubt fallen
out
of love with all of those boyfriends you were ‘madly in love with,’ surely you must know passionate love doesn’t last?”

He’d had enough time to reflect on this these last few months. That last night in the castle at Waldburg, when he’d faced his mother and demanded the truth, had only confirmed his beliefs. She had confessed to being wildly in love with his father. Not Christian, Archduke of Westerwald, but some fashion photographer she’d met in New York.

But the photographer hadn’t wanted her. She’d been just another random conquest to him. When her manager suggested marriage to a prince, the heir to a European principality, she’d jumped at the chance to get away, to start afresh. She hadn’t known she was pregnant until after she’d arrived in Westerwald, and by then it had been too late to back out. So she’d passed off her bastard child as another man’s.

They’d had a happy marriage, Rik knew that. But it had been a marriage of convenience not of passion. Passion didn’t last. Love didn’t last. Only mutual convenience did.

“You might be right.” Kenzie worried her lower lip. “So let me get this straight: you’ve only ever had one girlfriend, who you weren’t in love with, and you don’t do one-night stands? Are you sure you’re even into women?”

Moments ago she’d had his erection pressed against her stomach as he’d been about to kiss her, and she still doubted him? He raised an eyebrow. “Do I seem gay to you?”

“My gaydar’s usually pretty good, but I’m always open to being proved wrong.” Her next words were spoken so softly, he nearly missed them: “It would be easier if you were.”

“I’m not gay. I like women.” The tightness of his jeans right now was proof enough of that.

True, there’d been remarkably few women over the years who’d made the grade. He’d left the womanising to Max. As the older brother, the heir, he’d always had to be more circumspect. It didn’t look good for a future Archduke to change partners too often. And he certainly couldn’t risk sleeping with anyone who might sell her story to the media. The kind of women who were attracted to the limelight usually weren’t the kind of women who made suitable Archduchess material. He’d only met one who’d been truly suitable.

Teresa had been raised to be a princess. She was intelligent, she knew how to behave, came from an impeccable lineage, and nothing fazed her. Best of all, she was a woman who did not allow her passions to rule her.

She deserved to be a princess, and he hoped for her sake she still would be…though Europe was rapidly running out of eligible princes.

One thing was certain – that door had closed for him. It was just another piece of his well-ordered life that had crumbled to dust. No-one was going to wave a magic wand, erase the past and make him a prince again. There was no going back, and there was no point dwelling on what he’d lost. That much he’d learned these past few months. He shrugged off the dark thoughts, and grinned as Kenzie’s stomach made an audible rumble.

“Until we get back to the boat, how about some mangoes to stave off the hunger pains?” Without waiting for her assent, he got to his feet and climbed across the rocks to the far side of the clearing. Beneath the mango tree, over-ripe fruit lay scattered in the grass, bruised and broken, but on the branches above he managed to find a few pieces the birds and monkeys hadn’t got to yet. He returned to Kenzie’s side with his hands full.

She reached eagerly for one of the bright yellow mangoes and bit into it. Juice dribbled down her chin. She attempted to lick it, her small pink tongue darting over her lips. His chest pulled tight. God, he wanted to kiss that mouth, to take possession of it, so badly it almost hurt.

She bit into the mango again, and his mouth watered.

“Don’t do that,” he warned.

“Don’t do what?” She widened her eyes in mock innocence, but the wicked twinkle gave her away. “This?” She licked her lips again, slowly, deliberately. Damn her, she knew what it was doing to him. “What will you do to me?”

Their gazes held for a breathless moment.

“I’m going to do what I should have done in that pool earlier. And this time I’m not going to let you slip away.”

She lifted the mango to her mouth and took a slow, playful nip, her gaze never wavering from his.

His stomach tightened as his blood rushed south. He leaned towards her, his mouth closing over hers. Her lips were soft but firm, and she tasted sweet and exotic. He traced his tongue over her lips, licking the mango juice from her skin.

She moaned.

And the spark between them ignited.

Rik pulled her into his arms, hard against him, crushing her mouth with his. She opened up for him and he dived in, exploring, demanding, consuming.

Her arms wrapped around his waist, clinging to him as he kissed her mouth.

She had to know the effect she was having on him, had to feel his erection growing hard and insistent between them. But this time she didn’t pull away, didn’t fight him.

He didn’t know what had changed for her, and he didn’t care. He rolled onto her, supporting himself on either side of her with his elbows, edging her thighs apart with his knee. She moaned again, arching against him, pressing firm beasts into his chest, and the warm, molten heat of her core against his throbbing erection.

His hands slid beneath her tee shirt, skating over cool, smooth skin. His own body was on fire. It consumed him.

He’d never known such a savage kiss, a kiss that crossed the line from seduction into madness.

So this was how passion felt.

He only broke the kiss when they were both breathless. He sank his head into her shoulder and breathed in her subtle perfume, a sweet scent that reminded him of orange blossoms.

In that kiss he’d felt as if the last shred of the person he’d been, those last pieces of himself he’d clung to had shattered and blew away on the wind. And in its place only one thing was left: hope.

She could have carried on kissing him all day and all night. But for a change, Kenzie’s brain overruled her impulses. She pulled away from Rik, breathing heavily.

His grip on her waist tightened. “I said I wasn’t going to let you slip away again.”

“We need to get out of here before dark and I need to send my pictures before the London office closes for the night.”

He let her go, slowly, reluctantly, though his eyes were still hooded with desire. It was a tad disconcerting to see a man with Rik’s control, his lack of emotion, abandon himself so entirely. It was also rather heady to know she was the one who’d brought him over to the dark side.

Resisting the urge to pick up where they’d left off, she cleared her throat. “Water flows downhill to the sea, right?” she asked, pulling on her socks and boots. They were uncomfortably damp still. “So if we follow this river, we should reach the beach.”

He nodded and began to pull on his own socks and shoes.

With their water bottles re-filled, they followed the river as it tumbled downhill. In places the undergrowth was so tangled they had to walk in the water. The river was swift-flowing but low enough in this dry season not to be dangerous, yet the rocks were still slippery and they made slow progress.

Though the sun was now over the yardarm, the air seemed even hotter, without a hint of breeze. Almost as though the world was holding its breath.

“It’s still several weeks until the rainy season,” Rik said, taking her hand to help her scramble up the riverbank. “But this weather feels like there’s a storm brewing.”

In more ways than one. Inside, she felt as though there was a hurricane that threatened to break through her skin at any moment. She’d been in lust before, even more often than she’d been in love, but this was something else, something even more powerful that she couldn’t name.

It scared her. It thrilled her.

Once they found the boat and returned to Los Pajaros she should say
goodbye
and
thank you
and walk away. But she wouldn’t. That kiss had changed everything.

The jungle grew less dense, and they were able to leave the riverbed and walk along the banks. Rik still held her hand.

The sun baked down between the trees, no cooler than it had been at midday. Her shirt was plastered to her body, and her hair clung limply to her face. This humidity wasn’t conducive to fighting one’s way through a forest.

For about thirty seconds during Rik’s kiss she’d felt as sexy as a Hollywood goddess. That feeling was history. It was impossible to feel sexy with a red face, aching calves in damp shoes, and sweat trickling down between her breasts.

The moment when the forest trees gave way to palm trees, and the earth turned sandy beneath her feet, Kenzie could have knelt down and kissed the ground. This wasn’t the bay where they’d moored the yacht, but she didn’t care. She wasn’t lost any more.

“Thank you God,” she prayed. She shucked off her boots and socks, and dug her bare toes into the warm, silky sand. Bliss.

This bay was a perfect crescent of incandescent white sand edging a wide lagoon of the clearest, most inviting translucent turquoise. Coconut palms, their broad leaves glossy yellow-green in the afternoon light, lined the beach. This was the bay they’d recommended for filming the pirate ship. Salvatore Lagoon, she’d named it, after the film’s hero. And a salvation it had indeed turned out to be.

“You need suntan lotion,” Rik observed, rummaging in his rucksack.

She shook her head. “No, what I need is a swim.”

“You brought a swimsuit?”

Who needed a swimsuit? At this point she’d be willing to go in fully clothed if it meant she could wash off the sweat and grime of the long hike.

But she had a better idea. She lifted her tee shirt over her head, smiling a little as she heard Rik suck in a breath. Then she pulled her hair band from her hair, dropping it onto her shirt on the ground. Her hair fell loose about her shoulders.

She unbuckled her belt and stepped out of her cargo pants. She didn’t look at Rik. She didn’t need to look to know what effect her striptease was having. The electricity sparking in the air told her enough.

Dressed only in bra and knickers, she made a mad dash for the sea before she could chicken out.

She paused a moment at the water’s edge, the salty seawater stinging the blisters on her heels. The water pulled away, leaving her feet embedded in soft sand. She wriggled her toes free and waded in deeper, enticed by the near-forgotten thrill of waves licking at her bare limbs. The cool caress of the water outweighed any sting.

She’d been in the Caribbean for days and hadn’t once swum in the sea. How sad was that?

The gentle waves, white-crested and foaming, invited her in. She dived, and water closed over her head.

She stayed under for as long as she could hold her breath before she surfaced, spraying droplets in all directions as she broke the surface.

“Better?” Rik asked, wading through waist-deep water towards her. He’d removed his clothes too, and the sight of him, dripping wet and unnervingly predatory, took what was left of her breath away. The sunlight gleamed off his broad, tanned shoulders, making it appear as though the inked dragon was alive and breathing.

“Much.”

Her breathing jump-started, but now her heart was beating wildly against her sternum. He was so close she only had to reach out to lay her hand on the hard-packed muscle of his stomach.

The memory of his kiss prickled at her lips.

“We’re not lost any more.” His voice sounded rough.

“I know.”

The water rushed like silk between her legs as a wave swept around them, pushing them closer together. He stooped to pick her up and lifted her clear off her feet. Without thinking, she wrapped her legs around his waist, feeling weightless in the water.

“And we have nowhere else to be … ” His voice abraded her cheek.

Strictly speaking, she should be on the boat, uploading today’s photographs. If the director liked what she’d found today, Neil needed to book flights first thing in the morning. As with all film shoots, prep time was short, and the race wasn’t over until she’d sold the team on Tortuga.

She buried her head in Rik’s neck and breathed him in. Her lips grazed his neck, tasting the salt of the sea.

She shouldn’t get distracted now. She should get out of Rik’s arms right now. The clock was ticking.

Sod the clock! And sod what she should and shouldn’t do.

There was something important she
needed
to do first.

She tilted her head back, raised her face and closed her eyes. This time she wasn’t disappointed. His mouth crushed hers, possessive, demanding, and she was really glad he was holding her up as there was no way she would be able to stand on her own two feet.

Rik’s beard tickled her skin; surprisingly softer than the abrasive stubble she’d expected. His hands roved over her back as he deepened the kiss, sending skitters of sensation up and down her spine. The ripples radiated outwards, pooling in the juncture of her thighs. She rubbed herself against him, needing to ease the growing torment between her legs.

Through the thin fabric of her soaking wet knickers, his hardness pressed against her. Her stomach contracted. Oh lordy … he must have been commando beneath those jeans.

He was completely naked now.

There was nothing but the teensiest piece of cotton separating them.

Her nipples hardened beneath the wet, scratchy lace of her bra. As if sensing her need, his large hand rounded over her breast, his fingers sliding beneath the lace. He tugged and teased her taut nipple until she throbbed with unmet need.

She was way beyond the help of any cold shower. She wanted to come, and she wanted to come with Rik inside her.

She begged him not to stop, begged him to give her relief. His mouth skirted down her neck, over her collarbone, and closed over her nipple. He sucked through the translucent fabric of the wet bra. She arched her back, pushing up her breasts, and moaned as the sensation struck right to her core.

Her moan was all he needed. His hand slid over her hip, her thigh, between their bodies, sending a spasm of pleasure rocketing through her as his fingers touched her clit. He stroked her, nipping her peaked nipple with his teeth as she moaned again.

“Tell me you want me to stop,” he said.

Was he mad? She couldn’t stop now. And she’d kill him if he even tried to stop.

But she couldn’t speak, couldn’t answer, as he slid his finger inside her. She writhed against him, wanting more, and he pushed deeper. He had to know she wasn’t just wet from the sea water.

“Are you ready? I don’t want to hurt you.” He sounded breathless.

“Making me wait is hurting me.”

He yanked her knickers roughly aside, and her blood pounded between her ears in anticipation. With one arm still clamped around her waist, holding her to him, he lowered her onto his erection.

He filled her, stretched her, and she cried out. Then she thrust her hips forward, pulling him in. The surge of the waves rocked them together, echoing their motion as Rik retreated then drove back into her. She rocked with him, forcing him deeper with every plunge, breathtaking pleasure spiralling through her, building, rising, until she couldn’t think, until nothing existed but the slide of him inside her and her own ecstasy.

Then she tumbled over that delicious precipice and fireworks exploded inside her head. Rik’s climax followed her own as he let himself go.

She sank her head against his shoulder, both body and mind spent. He slid out of her and the salt water rushed between them.

And that was when reality hit.

They hadn’t used protection.

They stood for a long moment, hearts thumping wildly together, the waves still breaking against them, her legs still wound around his waist. She breathed him in, all salty sea tang and wild masculinity.

Was it worth the risk ? The slide of skin on skin, feeling him inside her without any barrier …  yes, Kenzie decided, that was worth a moment’s danger. And he’d made it clear he didn’t do this often. He was a prince.

She unclamped her legs from his waist, readying herself to stand on her own, but Rik grasped her tighter. He laughed, a low, sensual rumble, his throat vibrating against her mouth. “There’s no danger of us getting caught in the forest after dark now, and this time I’m not letting you go.”

Still carrying her, he waded clear out of the water, up the beach to the shade of the palms where he’d laid out a thin plastic ground sheet from his rucksack. The slanting sun turned the beach golden, or maybe that was just her own afterglow.

He laid her down on her back on the groundsheet, and knelt over her. The sheet wasn’t soft and it wasn’t pretty, but Kenzie didn’t give a damn. If it kept sand out of delicate places, she was happy.

She laid a hand on his chest, holding him back, taking a moment to savour the view of him. She’d imagined him naked. The reality exceeded her wildest imagination. He was all solid strength and male beauty, his chest smooth and hairless, like a teen magazine centrefold. She tentatively reached up to touch the dragon tattoo that curved over his shoulder, tracing the dragon’s tail down his arm.

His erection shifted, and she smiled. She wouldn’t have to wait long for a repeat performance. He lowered himself onto her, pressing between her legs.

But. She bit her lip, fighting her rising need for him. “Rik … ”

“Mmm?” he bent his head closer to flick his tongue across her lips.

She ducked her head away. Once might not tempt fate, but a second time … 

“We can’t do this,” she managed.

His brow furrowed as he pulled away to look at her. “We just did.”

She swallowed. “We don’t have any protection.”

His face froze as he took in her words. “Oh my God.”

Her sentiments exactly.

Slowly, carefully, he lifted himself off her and dragged in a breath. “We’re not lost anymore. We’re about a mile’s walk from where we left the boat. And I have condoms on the boat. Do you think you can make it?”

Of course she could make it. She could climb mountains to get to those condoms. Hell, she would fly, if she needed to.

He stood and held out a hand to help her up. She took his outstretched hand, and when he pulled her up, he pulled her against him. Their bodies met, their mouths met.

“We’d better get dressed.” His cheek rasped against hers. She nodded.

They dressed quickly, and in silence. When she tried to tie her hair back into a ponytail, he stopped her hand.

“Leave it loose.” He stroked his fingers through the damp strands. “You have beautiful hair.”

When they were dressed, and the groundsheet had been folded back into the rucksack, they began the hike along the forest line, heading for the bay where they’d moored the yacht. Rik twined his fingers through hers and held her hand as they walked. Not even blisters or hunger could stop her now.

As the sun angled down across the sky, and a cool sea breeze caressed her skin dry, a little of her sanity returned. She still hadn’t uploaded her day’s pictures to the office in London. She glanced at her watch.

It was gone four o’clock. Which made it … she gave up on the mental calculation of London-time. It made it late London-time. And though film production people were notorious for working all hours, if she didn’t get her pictures there
now
 … 

What if the director chose to visit the Virgin Islands instead? Then this would all have been for nothing …  no, perhaps not nothing. The stroke of Rik’s hand across her palm sent a dazzling glow through her, reminding her that this trip had been good for at least one thing.

He held her hand all the way back, right up until they reached the beach where they’d left the dinghy.

The little boat had floated halfway out to sea. Rik swore. “The tide must have carried it out while we were lost.”

The yacht seemed a whole lot further away than she remembered. Impossible to reach without a boat – and certainly not while carrying an expensive camera.