Читать книгу Payback Affairs: Shattered by the CEO - Emilie Rose - Страница 14

Rand slid his key card into the lock. He’d deliberately stayed out well past midnight to avoid sharing the domesticated get-ready-for-bed routine.

As soon as he crossed the threshold a sense of confinement doubled his pulse rate, constricted his lungs and pushed sweat from his pores. He’d spent months at sea working all over KCL ships and in almost every capacity and slept in cabins barely large enough to turn around in. Three nights of sharing a balcony cabin wouldn’t be a problem.

If his roommate were anyone else.

His claustrophobic reaction had nothing to do with the dimensions of the room, and everything to do with the woman he’d left in the bar hours earlier. But even though the comedian onstage had been entertaining, Rand had needed to get away from Tara’s laugh. It brought back too many memories—memories of a time when he’d let his guard down.

He eased the door closed and entered the unlit room as silently as possible. Would she be waiting up for him? Or had she gone to bed?

Bed. The heavy throb of his heart echoed a yard lower.

He searched the mattress in the darkness. The white terry-cloth elephant sitting in the center of the spread was the bed’s only occupant. Rand had spent nine months between his junior and senior years of college working as a cabin steward. Back then he’d known how to form a dozen different animals from rolled and folded bath towels.

As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light he noted the empty lavatory and his suitcase sitting on the love seat. He stopped in his tracks. Empty bed. Empty chair. No Tara. Another possibility snagged him like a briar ripping along his skin.

The Rendezvous brand primarily targeted couples, but there were always singles on board. Had Tara given up on landing him and lingered in the bar to hook a more willing victim?

An uncomfortable burn settled in his stomach. He scanned the deserted cabin once more. The fluttering bottom corner of the curtain caught his eye and pulled him forward. He pushed back the panel and found Tara sitting on the balcony. She hadn’t bothered to turn on the light.

That wasn’t relief filling his lungs. The sea air simply made it easier to breathe. He shoved the sliding glass door open the rest of the way. “Seasick?”

She lifted her face. Moonlight washed her cheeks. She’d removed her makeup, but not her dress. From his vantage point above her, the strapless bodice revealed a tempting shadow of cleavage, and then the ocean breeze caught her zigzag hem, drawing his gaze from her sexy sandals to an arousing length of sleek thighs. “No.”

“Then why aren’t you in bed?”

“I forgot my nightgown.”

Her reply hit him like a kick in the crotch, propelling the air from his lungs. Did she think he was stupid enough to fall for that? “How convenient.”

She winced at his sarcasm. “Our luggage wasn’t delivered until almost nine. By the time I unpacked and realized I’d left my nightie in the dryer, the gift shop had closed. Can I borrow a T-shirt tonight? Unless you don’t mind if I sleep naked.”

The lower half of his anatomy responded with resounding approval. Luckily, his brain kicked in. Tara had always been good at making her lies sound believable. Too bad he hadn’t known that then. But he made a mental note that the luggage had been delivered late. “I’ll get a shirt.”

She rose. “Thank you.”

He backed inside and headed for his luggage. Two flicks later it opened. He withdrew a white T-shirt and handed it over.

“Thanks. I’ll only be a minute.” Tara crossed the shadowy cabin quickly and disappeared into the bathroom. The door closed.

Something about watching her pad across a bedroom hit him like a double shot of espresso. Sleep would be a long time coming.

Rand eyed the bed and debated stripping to his boxers and getting under the covers before she returned. Stripping … the way Tara was currently on the other side of that wall. He gritted his teeth against another below-the-belt pulse of arousal.

Moments later the door opened. Tara returned, leaving the lavatory light on. Despite the extra-tall size, his shirt only covered her to the tops of her thighs, leaving a mouthwatering amount of leg bare. Even in the moonlight he could make out the shape and jiggle of her breasts beneath the loose white fabric as she hung her dress in the closet. When she turned toward the bed he saw the raised texture of her erect nipples and silently swore.

Was she wearing anything at all under there? Or would he be able to slide his hand beneath the cotton and cup her bare bottom?

You’re not cupping anything.

“Which side?” she asked.

It took a few seconds for his brain to engage and figure out she meant which side of the bed. “I don’t care.”

She picked up the elephant and smiled. “Isn’t he adorable?”

“The more creative the animals, the better you’ll tip your steward at the end of the voyage.”

She stuck her tongue out. “Spoilsport.”

The childish gesture reminded him how much fun he’d had with her before she’d betrayed him. Few Florida residents hadn’t visited the proliferation of theme parks and tourist traps dotting the state like mushrooms. But oddly enough neither she nor he had. They’d spent a lot of their time visiting amusement parks and acting like kids during the day and igniting the sheets like very naughty adults at night. Screaming on roller-coaster rides or in passion made it easy to avoid personal topics, and playing tourist with Tara had been like having the childhood he and his siblings hadn’t had.

She’d been one of the few people he’d been able to relax with.

More fool him.

She carefully set the towel creature on the shelf before lifting the covers on the far side of the bed and climbing between the sheets. “Bathroom’s all yours.”

Her comment jarred him into action. He retrieved his shaving kit and the essentials and retreated to the head. After brushing his teeth he donned clean boxers and sat on the closed toilet lid. How long would it take her to fall asleep? He gave her ten additional minutes before snapping off the light and easing open the door.

She must have gotten up and closed the curtains. He wanted them open, but didn’t want to wake her with the noise. He couldn’t see anything in the pitch-black room, but he could hear Tara’s breathing coming slow, even and deep as he approached the bed. He slid between the sheets and lay stiffly, flat on his back. He folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling he could barely make out, dreading the sleepless night ahead. Dreaded lying beside Tara. Wanting her. His sex thickened and ached—a problem any sane man would have handled in the shower.

No, a sane man would take the sex she offered without second thoughts.

But Rand knew how skillfully she’d cast her net last time, how easily she’d suckered him into wanting more than a casual fling despite his vow to never marry, have children or let a woman depend on him.

Tara’s breathing altered. She rolled over and snuggled up to him. One silky smooth leg bent and rested on his thigh. Her hand splayed over his sternum. He ground his teeth until his jaw hurt. And then her hand shifted. Downward. Her burning touch skimmed over his bare skin and came to rest just above his navel. His heart slammed against his ribs. Another half inch and she’d encounter the evidence of his horniness, which even now stretched toward her hand.

Was she asleep or playing him? He’d bet his Porsche 911 Carrera S Cabriolet it was the latter.

Why are you denying yourself? She used you last time. It’s time for reimbursement. With interest.

Good point.

He wanted her and he’d take what she offered. Forewarned was forearmed, or so the cliché claimed. As for her falling in love with him … Impossible. For that to happen she’d have to be a different kind of woman. One who didn’t profess her love for one man and then screw his father days later.

Rand covered her hand with his and guided it lower until her palm rested over his engorged flesh. The thin knit of his boxers offered no protection from the scalding heat of her touch and his erection jerked in response. A reflex. Nothing more.

Tara’s breath hitched. Her fingers twitched, and then tension invaded her lax muscles. Either she’d been asleep and he’d woken her or she was damned good at faking it.

And with Tara Anthony he couldn’t trust his judgment to know the difference.

Waking with a handful of Rand was nothing short of a dream or a fantasy.

Tara tried to focus her rousing brain and figure out what was going on. Her fingers curled around thick, cotton-covered steel. Oh, yes. Definitely Rand. She inhaled a shaky breath and his familiar scent confirmed the identification. His palm covered the back of her hand, anchoring it in place.

She tipped back her head, but she couldn’t see his features in the inky room. “What—?”

“It’s just sex,” he rasped in a low, husky voice that made her insides sizzle with sexual excitement.

“Okay.” For now. She tested his length and his breath hissed.

He rolled her onto her back. One hair-roughened leg separated hers and pinned her in place. His big, hot hand released hers to stroke from her thigh to beneath her borrowed T-shirt. His palm coasted over her panties, her waist and covered her breast. Sure. Fast. Impatient. He found her nipple like a heat-seeking missile and tweaked it until she squirmed with need.

“I won’t marry you.”

She bit her lip. She hadn’t expected winning him back to be easy. But this was a gamble she had to take. A gamble with risks. “I didn’t ask you to.”

His mouth took hers, his tongue plunged, dueled, stroked. He devoured her as if his control had snapped, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. And that was exactly what she wanted.

She didn’t know what had brought on this change of heart, but she wasn’t about to argue. She wanted this, wanted Rand. She needed to be consumed by his passion.

She smoothed her hands down the warm supple skin of his back and over his buttocks. The muscles contracted beneath her caress. She dragged her nails back up his spine in a feather-light scrape the way she knew he liked and savored his shudder. He wouldn’t react to her touch so easily if he didn’t desire her.

He fisted the hem of the T-shirt and ripped it over her head. She wished she could see his face when he looked at her, but she could only sense his eyes on her when he braced himself on one straight arm above her.

His fingers curled over her panties and snatched them past her ankles. That same hand skimmed back up her legs and found her wetness with unwavering accuracy. She started at the electrifying jolt of arousal. He bent and took her nipple into his hot mouth.

His fingers and tongue swirled simultaneously and everything inside her turned liquid, molten. He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t want him to be. Pleasure blossomed within her, bowing her back and pouring out of her mouth in a low moan. Tara tangled her fingers in his hair and held him to her breast as relentless waves of pleasure pounded her.

She’d missed this. Missed him. His touch, the hungry tugs of his mouth and the steam of his breath on her skin felt so good. Better than anything or anyone she’d tried and failed to find since he’d left her.

The snarling knot of need twisted tighter and tighter, but she wasn’t ready to unravel yet, wasn’t ready to have this heady hunger satiated. She wanted to savor the rush of sensations, so she fought off her climax. Fought and failed. Against her will, release snapped through her muscles and whirled through her core, leaving the tickling, tingling sensation in her toes that only Rand could deliver.

Before she could catch her breath he lifted his head. “Where are the condoms?”

With her body still quivering, she rolled to her side and opened the drawer, saying a silent prayer of thanks that she’d been optimistic and prepared. Her fingers closed around a plastic packet. She lay back. He’d removed his briefs and his thick erection strained against her thigh for attention.

Rand took the condom from her, leaving her hands free to map his taut frame as he dealt with the protection. Her senses seemed heightened to his textures, his scent, his heat. She shaped the mounds of his pectorals, thumbed his tiny hard nipples, traced the ridged muscles of his abdomen, his appendix scar, and finally combed her fingers through the tangle of curls at the root of his arousal.

When she reached lower he swore, grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the pillow beside her head. He shifted until his rock-hard thighs spread hers. His thick shaft nudged her entrance. Eager to receive him, Tara lifted her hips and Rand slid deep in one long, slow thrust. He felt so right buried deep inside her, as if a missing part had finally been found and returned.

The darkness intensified the sounds of his harsh breathing, the feel of his hard, hot body plunging into hers again and again, and the unique aroma of his skin and their sex. Wanting to touch him, she struggled against the hands holding her captive, but Rand held fast.

His back arched. He found her mouth for one brief, voracious, breath-stealing kiss and then his mouth grazed her jaw. He nipped her earlobe, her neck. Each gentle love bite shot bolts of desire straight to her core, arousing her more than she’d ever thought possible. She nuzzled his temple, his brow.

“Rand, please,” she begged and struggled to free her hands. She needed to hold him, to pleasure him the way he did her, to show him how good this was. How good they were. Together. This wasn’t just sex. It was tenderness and sharing.

He answered by shifting both of her hands to one of his. His weight held her in place as his other hand shifted to her breast. He buffed her distended flesh with his thumb, sparking a response deep inside her, and then he bisected her breasts, her belly and found her center. He plied her with precision until her breaths came in pants and her muscles knotted. Orgasm whipped through her once more, causing her body to spasm and his name to explode from her lips.

He muffled his answering growl against her neck, sending the vibration straight down her spine. And then he stilled above her except for the bellows of his chest pressing and withdrawing from hers. The cabin fell silent except for their gasping breaths and the thunder of her pulse in her ears.

He released her hands, but before she could wrap her arms around him he slid to her side and rolled onto his back, throwing a forearm across his face.

Satisfaction engulfed her. This was what they used to share. This is what she’d missed when he said goodbye. This is why she couldn’t sleep with Everett.

Because she still loved Rand.

She twisted to her side and laid a palm on his sweat-slick chest over the whorls of hair covering his racing heart, then she leaned in to press a kiss to his skin.

He stiffened and bolted upright, dodging her lips and dislodging her hand. He rose and headed for the bathroom. The door closed and the lock clicked, dimming her rosy glow. The shower turned on and her euphoria sank like an anchor.

That was not how she’d wanted their evening to end.

She may have taken a giant step forward in having him want to make love to her, but she’d taken two steps back. He’d literally locked her out.

Fun for one just didn’t have the same kick as sharing new experiences.

Tara turned in her snorkeling gear, gathered her towel and beach bag and trudged barefoot through the sand between the cabanas selling drinks, souvenirs and beach supplies toward the barbecue area of Crescent Key, Kincaid Cruise Line’s tiny private island and the cruise’s first stop.

She would have enjoyed exploring the brightly colored reef and fish so much more with Rand by her side. But he’d been gone when she’d awoken this morning. After years of listening for her mother, Tara had considered herself a light sleeper, but apparently she wasn’t easily roused after two off-the-Richter-scale orgasms. She’d never heard Rand get up or leave.

“Hey, are you solo?” a blond guy about Tara’s age called out as he jogged up beside her. He was good-looking in a toothy, preppy kind of way.

“Yes.” Not by choice.

“Me, too. I’m Joe. I was in your snorkeling group.”

She hadn’t noticed. “I’m Tara.”

“Where are you headed next?”

“Lunch and then the Jet Ski Zone. I have a couple of hours before my lesson.”

“Same here. Mind if I tag along?”

She wished Rand would look at her with the kind of interest Joe showed. But Rand might not even see the new bikini she’d bought with him in mind. And she didn’t want to give Joe the wrong idea. “I don’t think—”

He held up his hands and backed a step. “Not putting the moves on you or anything. Unless you’re interested, that is. It’s just that this place is really geared for couples, and my travel buddies have split. We were supposed to meet for lunch, but I haven’t spotted them yet.”

“I’m with someone. He stayed onboard.” And then an idea hit her. “Travel buddies?”

“There are six of us in three cabins. We were fraternity brothers at UVA, and we’ve met every summer since graduation for a cruise vacation. This is our fifth.” He nodded to someone behind her. Tara turned and saw another guy about the same age headed in their direction. He wore the same kind of overlong swim trunks—board shorts, she’d heard them called.

“Is that one of your friends?”

“Yeah.”

“This is my first cruise, and I have a lot to learn. Would you and your friends be willing to answer a few questions over lunch? I’ll buy the first round of drinks.”

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Tara.”

Tara had lied. But the question was, when?

Rand strode through the sand, searching left and right for Tara. Had she lied when she said she loved him? Or lied when she said she didn’t?

Because last night she’d made love like she meant it.

He hadn’t seen it in her eyes. But he’d felt it in her touch. Tasted it in her kiss. Heard it in the way she sighed his name.

Like she had before she’d betrayed him.

Was it a betrayal?

She’d said she loved him.

But you dumped her and told her to find another man—one who could give her what she needed.

But not his father. Anybody but him. She’d known how much Everett Kincaid liked to stick it to his oldest son.

Or had she? Rand’s gait faltered. He couldn’t remember discussing his strained relationship with his father with her.

You’re making excuses for her.

Damn. Damn. Damn. She’d gotten to him. Again.

But if she was starting to care about him, then he had to nip those feelings in the bud. Before it was too late. He couldn’t afford to let Tara get close or convince herself she loved him, because he couldn’t live with another woman’s death or near-death on his conscience.

Cursing his weakness for Tara and his stupidity for craving her body and her company, he scanned the cabanas, beaches and tables. How hard could it be to find one curly-haired blonde on a small island with no roads and no exit other than the tender that had brought her over? Crescent Key had been named for its shape. KCL had posted different excursion sites in and around the island. If he followed the curve long enough he’d find Tara.

The hot sand seeped into his sandals and the sun toasted his bare back. He’d dressed in swim trunks—like a tourist—as camouflage, but it had been a long time since he’d been comfortable in such casual clothing. Five years, to be exact. He’d spent every day since leaving Miami trying to get Wayfarer Cruise Lines ahead of KCL.

Trying to beat Everett Kincaid at his own game.

A laugh stopped Rand in his tracks. Tara’s laugh. He pivoted and followed the sound around a tiki-hut bar and found her at an umbrella-covered table surrounded by a group of six guys. Twenty-somethings. Closer to her age than Rand’s thirty-five. Empty plates, beer bottles, drink cups and a couple of half-filled bowls of chips and salsa littered the picnic table.

The burn in his gut caught him off guard. Indigestion? Probably. He’d speak to the ship’s chef.

Or was he jealous? Couldn’t be. To be jealous he’d have to have feelings for Tara beyond the anger that festered inside him at her manipulativeness. Feelings beyond the respect for her work. Beyond lust for her body.

Her black bikini left her back almost completely bare.

“Tara.”

She startled at the bark of her name and twisted around on the bench seat. “Rand. Hi.”

Was that a guilty flush on her cheeks? Could she be auditioning potential lovers when she’d left his bed only hours ago?

He planted a hand on her shoulder and nodded to her male harem. “Gentlemen. Rand Kincaid. Kincaid Cruise Lines. I hope you don’t mind if I steal my assistant.”

It wasn’t a question.

He noted Tara’s widened eyes, and then one of the guys laughed and grinned at Tara. “You work for the cruise line? That explains all the questions.”

Tara’s shoulder shrugged beneath Rand’s hand. He looked down to see her nose—now sporting a fresh dusting of freckles—wrinkle. “Sorry for the secrecy. But it really is my first cruise, and I know very little about what’s out there. I appreciate you giving me your thoughts on the comparisons between KCL vacations and our competitors’.”

She tucked a pen into the spirals of a little pink notebook. Rand recalled Tara had always carried a notebook in her purse. She was a big fan of note taking. Had been even back when she’d worked for his father. A breeze ruffled the pages—pages filled with her small neat handwriting. Handwriting not formatted like addresses or phone numbers.

Working? She’d been working? Didn’t she realize each of these guys eyed her as if she were a tender and juicy filet mignon and they couldn’t wait to take a bite? And given the mouthwatering cleavage he could see from his position above her, Rand couldn’t blame them.

She rose and gathered her belongings. He let his hand fall from her shoulder.

“I guess this means you’ll have to skip your first Jet Ski ride,” one of the guys said and scowled at Rand. “That sucks. She wanted to learn.”

Tara bit her lip, and disappointment flashed across her face. “I guess so. But I am supposed to be working. It was nice meeting you. Thanks again for your help.”

“Thanks for the drinks,” a blond guy replied. “Maybe we’ll see you at the luau tonight. Save a dance for me.”

“I’ll see what I can do, Joe.” Tara waved and looked questioningly at Rand.

He grasped her elbow and led her to the opposite side of the tiki hut from the devouring eyes of her fan club. “You were working?”

“Yes, and I have some really good info for you. But why did you blow your cover?”

Good question. He didn’t like the answer. He had been jealous. Dammit. More fool him. “You’ve never ridden a Jet Ski?”

“No.”

A smart man would head back to the ship and put some clothes on the woman. His gaze raked over her lightly tanned skin, savoring the swell of her breasts in the bikini top, the curve of her waist and the dip of her navel above a tiny skirted bottom. And then there were her legs.

The rush of blood to his groin annoyed the hell out of him. He grabbed her hand and towed her behind him. “Let’s go.”

“The boat’s the other way.”

“Ship,” he corrected automatically. “But the Jet Skis are this way.”

“But—”

“You want lessons. You’ll get lessons. From me.” And he’d be damned if she’d be dancing with the frat boy later.