Читать книгу Mistresses: The Consequences Of Desire: Beach Bar Baby / Walk on the Wild Side / Claiming His Own - Heidi Rice - Страница 10

FOUR

‘You sure you’re okay here, ma’am? The Rum Runner isn’t much for the tourists, just a local hang-out. I could take you to some nice places in Hamilton, where the cruise ships dock, no extra charge?’

‘No, thank you, this is perfect, Earl.’ Exhilaration fluttered in Ella’s chest as she stepped out of the cab and surveyed the ramshackle bar at the end of the rutted beach road.

The twinkle of fairy lights on weathered wood added enchantment to the haphazard structure, which stood drunkenly, mounted on stilts over the water, as if it had downed one too many rum punches. The scent of the sea freshened the cloud of smoke and sweat as the customers spilled out of the saloon-style doors. The densely packed crowd smoked and chatted on the porch, while she could see couples dancing inside past the tables, swinging and swaying to the infectious soca beat, making the boardwalk pound beneath her sandals.

‘You’re sure this is the only place on the south side of Half-Moon Cove?’ She handed Earl, her taxi driver, his fare and a generous tip through the cab window.

‘Uh-huh.’ Unlike Cooper, he sent her a wide smile as he tucked the money into the top pocket of his Hawaiian shirt. ‘Cove’s yonder.’ He nodded towards a wide beach that began past the rocks at the end of the country road.

Edged by palm trees and vines and curving round the headland into the darkness, the cove lived up to its name, looking impossibly romantic as moonlight shimmered off the gently lapping surf.

‘Ain’t no other bars down here that I know of.’ Pulling a card out of his pocket, he handed it to her. ‘You give Earl a call when you need to get back. Not much traffic this way.’

After waving him off and watching the cab lights bounce out of sight down the unpaved road, she slipped the card into her bag, and slung the strap over her shoulder. Then she sucked in a fortifying breath and let it out in a rush.

Whether or not Cooper was here, she intended to enjoy herself. Ruby had given her the pep talk to end all pep talks, back at the hotel.

It was way past time she started living again, took the power back and charted her own course when it came to choosing the men she dated. And stopped boring herself to death with safe and secure and invited a little danger in. Bermuda with its colourful, chaotic nightlife and studly boat captains had to be the perfect place to start. Not least because if tonight went tits up, this particular dating disaster wouldn’t be able to follow her home.

Ruby’s words of dating wisdom had bolstered her courage as she’d showered, and waxed, and moisturised, and primped and perfumed. After far too much debate, she’d picked out an understated ensemble of skinny pedal-pusher jeans, heeled sandals and a lace-edged camisole. She’d pinned up her unruly hair, and plastered on a lot more make-up than she usually wore—as per Ruby’s specific instructions—then dug out her favourite waterfall earrings and the cascade of cheap but cheerful bracelets she’d bought at Camden Market two weeks ago to complete the outfit.

The simple ritual of getting ready had helped temper her terror with a heady cocktail of excitement and anticipation.

Edging past the people milling around on the porch, she made her way to the bar. She’d have a couple of drinks and then, if Cooper didn’t show, she could always ring Earl back and call it a night. At least she would have got to see something of the island before leaving.

The Rum Runner had a funky, relaxed vibe that reminded her of Sol’s Salsa Joint on Camden Lock where Ruby and she and their wide circle of friends had once congregated on a Friday night to kick back after the working week. Ruby didn’t go out much any more because of the kids, and most of their other friends had settled down and/or moved away in the last few years, so she’d slowly stopped going to Sol’s too, but she’d always loved to dance and it occurred to her she’d missed the weekly ritual.

Her hips swung in time to the blast of horns and the fast infectious drum beat as the band on the stage in the far corner went into another number. She grinned as she wound her way through the packed tables—the soca rhythm an irresistible blend of joy and seduction—and felt the optimism that had always been so much a part of her personality seep back into her soul.

Slipping past a group of loudly dressed guys at the bar, she smiled back when one of them touched his beer bottle to his forehead in a silent salute.

‘What’ll it be, miz?’ a barman addressed her once she had managed to inch past the crush of people and found a spot to rest her elbows on the bar. The thin layer of sweat on his dark skin made the red ink of the snake tattoo on his bicep glisten.

She tapped her toe to the bass guitar riff while checking out the names of the drinks scrawled on the chalkboard behind him—only a few of which she recognised. ‘What would you recommend?’

‘For you?’ The lilting Caribbean accent matched the friendly twinkle in the barman’s café-au-lait-coloured eyes. ‘Only a Rum Swizzle will do.’

‘That sounds wonderful.’ She had absolutely no clue what that was. But tonight Ella Radley was on a mission, to get her flirt on and set it free. And for that, a Rum Swizzle sounded like just the ticket.

He returned a few minutes later and presented her with a tall icy glass of tangerine-coloured liquid, garnished with a chunk of pineapple, a swirl of orange peel and a maraschino cherry. She took a sip and the potent flavour of rum, fruit juice and liquor zinged off her tastebuds. So that was why they called it a Swizzle.

‘Delicious,’ she shouted over the music. ‘How much do I owe you?’

‘Not a thing.’ A gold tooth winked in the pearly white of his smile. ‘Your first Rum Swizzle in my place is always on the house.’

‘You own this bar?’

He nodded. ‘Sure do.’

A shot of adrenaline rushed through her to add to the hit from the rum. And Ruby’s voice seemed to whisper in her ear.

Above all be bold—and seize the initiative—flirting is much more fun if you own it.

‘Do you know a guy called Cooper Delaney?’

‘Coop? Sure I know Coop. What do you want him for?’ He sounded a bit put out. ‘That boy’s nothing but trouble.’

That was what she was counting on, she thought, the adrenaline more intoxicating than the Swizzle. She took another fortifying sip of the delicious concoction. ‘Is he likely to be in tonight, do you think?’

She heard the eagerness in her tone but didn’t care if it made her sound tarty. Discovering her inner flirt would be so much easier with a guy she already knew could make her hormones wake up and jiggle. And considering they’d been in hibernation, like, for ever, she needed all the help she could get.

The bartender’s gaze was drawn to something past her shoulder. ‘Yeah, he’ll be in tonight.’

‘Really, you’re sure?’ she said, then bit her lip.

Dial down on the tarty—that sounded a bit too eager.

‘Uh-huh.’ His dark gaze returned to her face.

‘Back off, Henry. You’re poaching.’

Ella spun round at the deep, wonderfully familiar accent—and the shot of adrenaline went into overdrive. Cooper Delaney had looked super-fit that morning in ragged denim, but he took fit to a whole new level in a dark blue polo shirt and black jeans. But then her head carried on spinning and she started to tilt.

A tanned hand shot out to grasp her upper arm and hold her upright. ‘Damn it, Henry, how many of those things have you given her?’

‘Only the one.’ The barman, who Ella’s slightly fuzzy brain had registered must be called Henry, sounded affronted.

‘Oh, yeah?’

Ella blinked, hearing the edge in Cooper’s usually relaxed tone. Was he mad about something? And what did it have to do with Henry, the benevolent barman?

Cooper slapped a couple of bills onto the bar with enough force to make her jump. ‘That’s for the rum punch, man. The lady’s with me.’

Really? Fabulous.

So she hadn’t imagined his offer of a date. The spurt of joy at the thought was quickly quashed, though, when his fingers tightened on her arm and he slanted her a look that didn’t seem particularly pleased to see her. ‘We’re out of here.’

‘But I haven’t finished my drink.’ She pivoted on her heel, making a grab for her glass. But missed as he hauled her away from the bar.

‘You’ve had enough.’

Henry shrugged and shouted after them, ‘Sorry, miz. I told you he was no good.’

‘You didn’t have to pay for that,’ she said, racing to keep up with his long strides as he marched past the tables and headed out into the night, dragging her along in his wake. ‘Henry said it was on the house.’

‘Yeah, I’ll just bet he did.’ Was that a snarl?

A succession of people called out a greeting to him or shouted across the crowd, but other than throwing back a quick wave of acknowledgement he barely broke stride. By the time they stepped off the deck and he swung her round to face him, she was breathless, the happy glow from her Swizzle fading fast.

‘Okay, let’s have it.’ His shadowed face looked harsh in the half-light from the bar as he grasped both her arms, and made full use of his superior height. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I...’ And just like that her tongue swelled up, rendering her speechless. And all Ruby’s advice about how to put her flirt on got washed away on a tidal wave of mortification.

He didn’t look remote, the way he had when they’d parted that morning. He looked upset.

She’d made a terrible mistake—coming here when he hadn’t really meant to...

‘Because if you’ve come all the way out here to give me another smackdown, don’t bother. I got the message the first time, sweetheart. Loud and clear.’

Smackdown? What smackdown?

‘I should leave,’ she blurted out, suddenly wishing that the worn floorboards of the bar’s deck would crack open and swallow her whole. Or better yet whisk her back to her nice, quiet, ocean-view room at the resort.

Sticking to safe might be dull, but at least it didn’t get you into these sorts of pickles. She’d never managed to piss off any of the guys she’d actually dated to this extent.

She sent a wistful glance back at The Rum Runner—the joyous dance music pumping out into the night. The lively bar had contained so many exciting possibilities less than five minutes ago. But as she stepped past him he didn’t let go.

‘Hey, hang on a minute.’ The edge had left his voice. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’

‘Was there a question in there?’ she asked.

He didn’t look mad any more, which she supposed was good.

But as his emerald gaze raked over her the focused attention made her breasts tighten. Humiliating her even more. Obviously her nipples were completely immune to his disapproval.

But then his wide lips quirked. ‘It was never meant as a smackdown, was it?’

She tugged herself loose, and stepped back—starting to get annoyed. Okay, so she’d misinterpreted his offer of a date. Although how she had, she still wasn’t sure. And her big coming-out party was officially a washout—but did he really have to gloat? And what was all this nonsense about a smackdown? ‘I really have to go.’

She went to walk round him again. But his large hand wrapped around her wrist and drew her up short. ‘Hey, don’t... Don’t go.’

He stood so close, the delicious scent of seawater and soap surrounded her. Making it a little hard for her to process the words. Was he apologising now? After all but biting her head off? ‘Captain Delaney, I don’t think—’ she began.

‘Call me Coop,’ he murmured, the husky tone sending those tempting shivers of reaction back up her spine.

She drew in a breath, not able to recall a single one of Ruby’s careful instructions as he stared down at her with the glint of appreciation in his eyes—and fairly sure she didn’t want to any more. This evening had turned into a disaster.

She might as well face it, she would never be as good a flirt as Ruby, even if she took a degree course. She huffed out a breath. ‘Listen, I genuinely thought you asked me here, and I had such a nice time this morning, I don’t want to sour it now.’ She hooked a thumb over her shoulder, feeling stupidly bereft at the thought of her party night ending so soon, and so ignominiously. ‘But I really think I should go now.’

Because I’m a little concerned you might have a borderline personality disorder.

* * *

She came here to see you. You dumbass.

Warmth spread across Cooper’s chest like a shot of hard liquor but was tempered by a harsh jolt of regret as he registered the wary caution in Ella’s eyes—which looked even bigger accented with the glittery powder. Her lips pursed, glossy with lipstick in the half-light, as if she were determined to stop them trembling, crucifying him.

What the hell were you thinking? Behaving like such a jerk?

Even he wasn’t sure what had gripped him when he’d walked into the bar and spotted her chatting with Henry, with that flushed excitement on her face. But the word that had echoed through his head had been unmistakable.

Mine.

And then everything had gone straight to hell.

Of course, his crazy reaction might have had something to do with the severe case of sexual frustration he’d been riding ever since she’d stepped aboard the boat that morning, but that hardly excused it. And the truth was he’d been handling it just fine, until the moment she’d handed him that wad of bills on the dock.

That was the precise moment he’d lost his grip on reality.

He’d been snarky and rude, acting as if she’d offered to kick him in the nuts, instead of giving him a forty-dollar tip.

He accepted tips all the time, to hand over to the kids who crewed the boat. Just the way Sonny had done for him when he was a kid.

He’d founded his business on the generosity of tourists like May Preston and her husband, who came back every year and always showed their appreciation way above the going rate. But when Ella had done the same, somehow he’d lost it. Instead of seeing her generosity and thoughtfulness for what it was, he’d been thrown back in time to the humiliation of his high-school days and the never-ending stream of dead-end jobs he’d taken on to keep him and his mom afloat. Back then, his teenage pride had taken a hit every time he had to accept a gratuity from people he knew talked trash about his mom behind his back. But he’d brushed that huge chip off his shoulder years ago, or at least he’d thought he had.

Why the weight of the damn thing had reappeared at that precise moment and soured his final few moments with Ella, he didn’t have a clue, and he didn’t plan to examine it too closely. All that mattered now was that he didn’t blow his second chance with her.

That she’d come down to The Rum Runner at his suggestion was one hell of a balm to his over-touchy ego. The least he could do now was show her a good time. And given how cute and sexy she looked in those hip-hugger jeans and that skimpy tank it wasn’t exactly going to be a hardship.

He raked his hand through his hair, trying to grab hold of some of his usual charm with women, and think of how best to engineer his way back into her good graces after acting like such a douche.

Then he recalled how she’d been moving that lush butt while chatting to Henry, rocking her hips in time to the music. His pal Oggie’s band played the opening sax solo, backed by the manic drum beat, of their best dance track. And he hoped he had his answer.

‘You can’t go back to the hotel. Not before you’ve danced to some real Bermuda soca with me.’

‘I don’t know...’

She glanced back at the bar, but he could hear her hesitation.

‘Sure you do. It’ll be fun.’ He took her hand, lifted it to his lips and buzzed a quick kiss across her knuckles. ‘You’ve come all this way. And I’ve acted like a jerk. So I owe you.’

‘That’s really not necessary.’ She chewed on her bottom lip, the indecision in her voice crucifying him a little more.

‘Sure it is. One dance. By way of an apology? That’s all I’m asking.’

The shy smile was enough to tell him she’d forgiven him. But the sparkle of anticipation was tempered by caution. ‘Okay, I don’t see how one dance could hurt.’

‘Awesome.’ He placed his hand on her waist to direct her back into the bar, the spike of lust making his throat go dry when her hip bumped his thigh.

‘It may be thirsty work, though,’ she shouted above the bump and grind of drums and bass. ‘Perhaps I should go back and get my Rum Swizzle?’

‘Let’s work up a sweat first,’ he said, placing firm hands on her hips as he slotted them both into the packed dancefloor, the sweat already slick on his forehead. ‘I’ll buy you one later.’

Dancing with her was bound to be really thirsty work, but he didn’t plan to let her have any more Rum Swizzles. Those damn things were lethal, especially on an empty stomach—and with her tiny frame and that little stumble at the bar after only half a glass, he would hazard a guess Ella Radley was a really cheap drunk. He wanted her fully conscious for the rest of the night, so he could enjoy her company—and anything else she wanted to offer him.

Her perfume—a refreshing mix of citrus and spices—drifted over him as she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and rolled her hips to the riotous bass beat in a natural, unaffected rhythm that was more seductive than original sin.

She grinned up at him, the cute smile a tempting mix of innocence and provocation, then jerked up on her toes to shout in his ear. ‘Aye-aye, Captain. But be warned. I’m on a mission tonight to get whatever I want.’

His hands tightened on her hips as her belly bumped against him and his groin throbbed in time to the music. ‘Not a problem, sweetheart.’

Because so am I.

* * *

‘That’s enough of that.’ Coop lifted the sunshine drink out of her hand and held it easily out of reach. ‘I want you able to walk out of here.’

Ella sent him a mock pout, but couldn’t disguise her happiness as his gaze settled on her face. The way it had been doing all evening, with a gratifying combination of possessiveness and desire.

They’d danced until they were breathless to the band’s medley of soca anthems, then eased into the seductive moves of the soul tunes when they slowed the pace later in the evening.

It was well after midnight now, and the bar had begun to empty out. His large group of friends, most of whom had come over to their table to banter with Coop or introduce themselves to her, had mostly drifted away, leaving only a small group of die-hard couples on the dance floor still bumping and grinding with gusto and a scatter of people by the bar.

She’d danced with a few of the other guys, enjoying that relaxed, casual camaraderie that reminded her of her own friendship group back in Camden. But most of all she’d enjoyed the feel of Cooper’s gaze on her throughout the evening—that said to everyone they were a couple. That—how had he put it?—she was with him, for the night. It had made her feel as if she belonged here, even though she was thousands of miles from home.

But more than that, his constant attention and that quick easy smile had both relaxed her and yet held a delicious tension, a promise of what was to come. Because she had no doubts whatsoever about where this was all headed. The smouldering looks, the proprietary touches, the irresistible scent of him, tangy and salty and spicy, wrapping around her in a potent blend of pheromones and sweat. And the delicious press of his erection outlined by the slow, seductive, sinuous moves of his muscular body as they danced.

The coil of desire had been pulsing in the pit of her stomach for hours now. Ready for him to make the next move—and if he didn’t, she was ready to take the unprecedented step of making the move for him.

It was official. Ella Radley’s flirt was now fully operational, the intoxicating buzz of the Rum Swizzles nothing compared to the glorious buzz of anticipation.

‘And where exactly would I be walking to?’ She arched an eyebrow, her tone rich with a confidence she’d thought had died inside her a lifetime ago.

His thumb brushed her cheek, his irises a mesmerising moss green in the bar’s half-light. Resting his forehead on hers, he closed his fingers over her nape, that wandering thumb caressing the frantic pulse in her neck. ‘My hut’s down at the other end of the cove. You ready to take a stroll with me in the moonlight?’

It was the invitation she’d been waiting for, but the surge of excitement still made her giddy. She could already feel those rough, capable fingers on the slick flesh between her thighs. She wanted to taste him, touch him, inhale that delicious scent, and take the impressive ridge in his pants inside her. Her sex clasped and released, hollow and aching with the need to be filled.

Touching her lips to his, she licked across the seam of the wide, sensual mouth that had been driving her wild all day. The shot of adrenaline was as stimulating as the pulse of reaction when she heard him drag in a ragged breath. His fingers plunged into her hair, then clasped her head so his tongue could plunder.

She let him in, her tongue duelling with his as they sank into the ravenous kiss.

He broke away first, the pants of his breathing as thready as her own. ‘I’m going to take that as a yes.’

She nodded, not sure she could speak around the joy closing off her throat.

Standing, he gripped her hand and hauled her out of her chair. He tossed a few dollars on the table, and sent Henry a parting salute. She waved her own goodbye at the barman, who was stacking glasses, a rueful smile on his face.

‘See you around, pretty lady.’ Henry waved back, shouting over the murmur of goodbyes being thrown their way by the bar’s other remaining patrons. ‘And don’t you be doing anything I wouldn’t, Coop.’

Coop dragged her outside, sending her a wicked grin over his shoulder as the night closed over them. ‘Given what you would do, man,’ he whispered for her ears alone, ‘that gives me a hell of a lot of options.’

For some strange reason she found the comment riotously funny, her chuckle blending with the fading beat of music and the sound of the rolling and retreating tide as they stepped off the deck onto the beach. He laid his arm across her shoulders, tugged her into his side to lead her along the sand and into the darkness.

Crickets and night crawlers added an acoustic accompaniment to the flickering light of the fireflies in the undergrowth and the hushed lap of the water. She kicked off her sandals, picked them up, and let her toes seep into the damp sand.

The walk in the moonlight he’d promised went past in a blur, neither of them speaking, the only sound the sea, the insects and the rhythmic bump of her own heartbeat. A one-storey shack raised over the beach on a wraparound deck appeared as if by magic out of the undergrowth on the edge of the sand. A lamp suspended from the porch rail shone like a homing beacon, illuminating the rudimentary clapboard structure.

He dropped his arm from around her shoulders, to lace his fingers through hers and lead her up the steps onto the porch.

‘You live here?’ she asked, enchanted by the spartan dwelling.

‘Yeah, mostly.’ He held open the screen door to reveal a large, sparsely furnished, but tidy room. A sofa with well-worn cushions made up the living area, while a large mattress, the sheets neatly folded across the bottom, stood in front of the open deck. A tiny kitchenette cordoned off by a waist-high counter took up the hut’s back wall, next to a door that she deduced must lead to a bathroom.

But it was the open deck, blending the hut’s interior with the beach outside, that took her breath away. The silvery glow of the moon dipped over the horizon, shimmering over the water and making the dark sand look as if it disappeared into oblivion. The fresh scent of sea and salt and exotic blooms only added to the feeling of wild, untamed freedom that was so like Cooper himself.

‘It suits you,’ she said.

He huffed, the half-laugh both wry and amused. ‘Why? Because it’s cheap?’ he said and she heard the cynical edge.

‘No, because it’s charming and unpretentious and unconventional.’

He turned up the lamp, giving the modest hut a golden glow.

Walking to the open deck, he closed two large shutters and then slid the screen door across, cocooning them in together against the Caribbean night. Only the sparkle of moonlight and the sound of surf and chirping insects seeped through the slats.

‘Don’t want to risk getting our butts bitten off by mosquitos,’ he said, crossing the short distance back to her.

She laughed, the rough stubble on his jaw ticklish against her neck as he gripped her hips and nuzzled the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

‘Especially such a cute butt,’ he added, giving the butt in question an appreciative squeeze.

She wrapped her arms around his lean waist and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans, to caress the tight muscles of the backside she had admired that morning in wet denim. ‘I can totally get behind that sentiment.’

He chuckled, warm, callused palms sneaking under her camisole to glide up to her ribcage and send a series of tremors through her body.

‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ he said. Before placing his mouth on hers at last.

Releasing his bum, she lifted arms lethargic with lust and draped them over his broad shoulders; driving her fingers into the soft curls at his nape, she let him devour her. He angled his hips and the thick ridge in his pants rubbed against her belly.

Oh, yes, I want this so much.

To be taken, to take. She wanted to let her body do the asking and have his answer, in the primordial mating ritual of two animals in need of an endorphin fix. The fact that she liked him, that he seemed a genuinely nice guy, didn’t hurt. But right here, right now, as the building firestorm made the pulsing ache in her sex unbearable, and her nipples tighten into hard, swollen nubs, all she really cared about was satisfying the driving hunger.

His large hands rose from her waist to frame her face and she revelled in the primitive need making his eyes darken and the muscle in his jaw flex and release.

‘Before we take this any further...’ he trapped her against the hut’s wall, the heavy ridge thickening even more ‘...I need to know if you’re on the pill.’

Crushing disappointment cut through the fog of rum and arousal. ‘You don’t have any condoms? I don’t either, I didn’t think—’

‘Hey, don’t panic,’ he interrupted. ‘I’ve got condoms.’

‘Oh, thank God.’ Relief gushed like molten lava between her thighs.

‘But I’m a belt and braces kind of guy. Condoms break.’ He scooped her hair off her neck, pressed those clever lips to her collarbone, shattering her concentration. ‘That’s how I happened. I’m not looking to father another me.’

She heard the note of regret, and had the sudden urge to soothe. ‘But you’re so beautiful.’ She cradled his lean cheeks between her palms, drew her thumb over one tawny brow and grinned into those piercing emerald eyes—which had crinkled at the corners with amusement. ‘Your mother must have been so pleased to have you,’ she said, loving the rasp of the manly stubble on his cheeks as all her inhibitions happily dissolved in the sweet buzz of Rum Swizzles and pheromones. ‘Even if you were an accident.’

She heard his chuckle. Had she said something funny? She hadn’t meant to.

‘Not really.’ He sent her the secret hey-there-gorgeous grin that he’d sent her when they were underwater and exploring the reef. Then it had flattered her, as if they were the only two people in the whole ocean allowed to explore its treasures; now it made her heart muscle squeeze and release, exciting her.

‘Has anyone ever told you you’re great for a guy’s ego when you’re hammered?’

‘I’m not hammered,’ she said, sure she wasn’t. He’d only let her have two more Rum Swizzles, which he’d insisted on mixing himself behind the bar. And they hadn’t tasted nearly as alcoholic as that first one. Plus she’d pigged out on the popcorn shrimp, some delicious jalapeño cheese things and the chips and dips and other nibbles that had appeared at their table as if by magic between dance sets. Right now she was pleasantly buzzed, but her senses felt heightened, more acute, not dull or fuzzy.

He touched his nose to hers. ‘If you say so, miz,’ he said in a perfect echo of Henry the friendly barman’s Bermudan accent.

The spontaneous laugh turned to a staggered moan as his hands snuck under her camisole and cupped her breasts.

‘Oh, yes.’ She arched into the bold caress as his thumbs brushed her nipples, making the rigid peaks ache. ‘That feels fabulous.’

He laughed. ‘Stop distracting me and answer the damn question.’

She opened her mouth to ask what question, but then he plucked at one pulsating nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and all that came out was a groaned, ‘Yes.’

‘Hallelujah.’

His teasing fingers left her breast to drag her top over her head. And unclip the hook of her bra. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it over his shoulder, revealing the naked chest that she’d imagined touching all day.

Hallelujah indeed.

He boosted her into his arms, her back bumping the wall, as he wedged the hard ridge between her thighs, pressing it against the damp gusset of her jeans. She gripped his shoulders, her head spinning from the sensory overload. Then he ducked his head to capture one thrusting nipple between his lips and suckled hard.

Fire roared down to her core and she writhed, swivelling her hips to increase the pressure of his magnificent erection on that hot, sweet, swollen spot.

He blew across her wet breast, the cool air making it tingle and tighten more. ‘Damn, but you’re gorgeous.’

‘So are you,’ she said, admiring the bulge of his biceps as he held her up, the bunched pecs and sculpted abs, and the happy trail that bloomed into a forest of dark blond curls where his low-slung jeans had slipped down under the pressure of her clutching thighs.

‘Can I see you naked? Please?’ she asked.

His answering laugh sounded strained. ‘I guess so, seeing as you asked so nice.’ He dropped her suddenly, clutched her arm as she stumbled. ‘Race you.’

She giggled as he hopped around on one foot, wrestling to get his boot off.

‘Don’t just stand there.’ He tossed the boot across the room. ‘Lose the damn pants or you’ll have to pay a forfeit.’

Unbuttoning her jeans, she slipped them over her hips, going for the full stripper effect as she wiggled out of them, and loving the way his nostrils flared as he lost the other boot.

His wicked grin spread, and her heart rate accelerated, as he unhooked his trousers, shoved them down and kicked them off, not once taking his eyes off her.

Her gaze caught on the magnificent erection, standing proud in the nest of tawny curls. ‘Wow...that’s...really rather exceptional.’

He laughed. ‘Have I told you, I love your accent?’ He inclined his head towards the last piece of clothing she had on. ‘Now lose the panties, before I rip them off.’

She whipped them off, twirled them on her finger and flung them away with a flourish.

‘Good job.’ He grabbed her wrist and dragged her to the bed, lying down beside her on the surprisingly comfy mattress.

She shivered, the light breeze coming through the shutters scented with the ocean.

His thumb trailed down her sternum. Then circled one heavy breast. She lifted up on her elbows to kiss him. The taste of the cola he’d been drinking all evening was as sweet as the weight of that exceptional erection cradled against her belly. Anticipation roared through her system. It had been so long since she’d felt this sexy, this aroused, this playful.

Ruby was right: why had she always been so serious about sex after college? She planned to correct that right now—she licked into his mouth, loving his staggered groan—with this gorgeous, hot, wonderfully reckless guy who was a gift she couldn’t wait to unwrap.

His hands framed her face, his fingers plunging into her hair. She wrapped greedy fingers around the thick erection, slid her hand from root to tip, assessing its girth, its length, imagining it embedded into that aching, empty place between her legs.

But he swore softly as her thumb glided over the plump head, gathering the slick drop of moisture—and grabbed hold of her wrist, to tug her hand away.

‘I’m way too close for that, sweetheart, but how about...?’ His voice trailed off as he traced his thumb between her breasts, circled her belly button, then delved into the hot, aching flesh of her sex.

Moisture flooded between her thighs.

She drew her knees up, let her head drop back, her sobs of pleasure loud over the sound of surf and the rustle of the breeze against their sweat-slicked bodies.

He circled and toyed with the slick nub, teasing the perfect spot. ‘That’s it, baby, I want to see you come for me.’

One large, blunt finger entered her, then another pushed in beside it, stretching her, stroking the walls of her sex as his thumb continued to play, to provoke. Sensation fired across her skin, trapped her breath under her breastbone. The coil of need tightened like a vice, the pleasure turning to devastating, delicious pain as it built to impossible proportions but wouldn’t let her go.

Clinging to his shoulders, urging him on, she pumped her hips into his hand, riding that wonderfully devious touch as she gave herself up to the riot of sensations.

Then he moved down on the bed, and disappeared between her knees. She shouted out in shock and delight as his tongue lapped at her swollen clitoris. Then he captured the slick nub between his lips and sucked. The coil yanked tight and then exploded in a dazzling shower of sensation. She sobbed—the long, thin cry of completion trapped in her throat as his mouth drove her through the last magnificent swell of orgasm.

She pressed her legs together as he lifted his head, collapsing back to earth. Shuddering and shaking, she opened her eyes as he grinned down at her, his lips slick with her juices.

The rumbled hum of his approval folded around her heart like a caress.

‘Sweeter than a Rum Swizzle,’ he whispered, the sensual, playful grin even more beautiful than the rest of him.

The sight was so unbearably erotic, gratitude swelled in her chest, turning her voice into a throaty purr. ‘Thank you.’

His lips tipped up at the edges. ‘No need to thank me, baby, the pleasure was all mine.’ He placed a kiss on the tip of her nose. ‘But we’re not finished yet,’ he added, reaching across her to grab a foil packet from a glass jar on the upturned crate that doubled as a bedside table. He held it up. ‘You want to do the honours, or should I?’

She lifted it out of his hand, her mouth watering at the thought of exploring that magnificent erection. And silently thanking him again for keeping things light and fun. ‘Let me.’

She pushed his shoulder, until he lay on his back, that proud erection jutting up towards his belly button. Holding the packet in her hand, she licked the new bead of moisture off the tip. Savouring the taste of him. And eager to torment him the way he’d tormented her.

But the guttural groan was followed by a harsh expletive and before she could take him into her mouth he clasped her cheeks to hold her back.

‘I’m sorry, sweetheart, but we’re going to have to save that for later. I’m not Superman—and I don’t want to disappoint you.’

He couldn’t possibly disappoint her, she thought. But only laughed at his look of panic. ‘Are you sure you’re not Superman?’

‘I used to be...’ The confident smile returned as he rolled on top of her and snagged the condom packet out of her hand. ‘But you’re zapping all my super-powers.’

Ripping the foil with his teeth, he sheathed himself quickly, before nudging her thighs apart and settling between them. She felt the bulbous head nudge at her entrance as he held her hips, angling her pelvis.

She groaned as the thick shaft speared through the tight sheath, overwhelming her senses as her slick, swollen flesh stretched to receive him.

At last he was buried deep, pushing at her cervix. She gasped, astonished at the fullness, and how right, how exquisite it felt. She stroked his nape with unsteady fingers, enjoying the weight of him, the feeling of intimacy, and unity.

‘I think you’ve boldly gone where no man has gone before.’ She laughed, surprising herself with the ridiculous comment. But her heart felt so full, her body so magnificent, impaled on his. Could she come again? So soon after an orgasm? She certainly never had before, but with Cooper anything felt possible.

He swore, panting, the sinews of his neck straining beneath her fingers as he began to move. ‘Damn it, woman, don’t quote Star Trek at me now,’ he grunted, between thrusts. ‘Can’t you see I’m trying to Klingon here.’

She snorted a laugh that choked into a sob as he stroked a place deep inside that triggered another unstoppable rush towards orgasm.

Goodness. I have a G-spot. Who knew?

‘Touch yourself,’ he demanded. ‘I want you to come with me.’

She spread her own folds, blindly rubbing the stiff nub as he directed, feeling wild and untamed, greedily pursuing her own pleasure as the wave became sharper, sweeter, more glorious.

She rode the crest, his ragged grunts matching her loud moans, and soared towards oblivion with tears of joy and laughter—and staggered astonishment—hovering on her lids.

* * *

She drifted back to consciousness, the euphoria of afterglow slowly replaced by discomfort from the thick penis still lodged inside her.

He lifted off her, making her groan as her tight flesh struggled to release him.

‘That was seriously awesome.’ Flopping over onto his back, he lay with his arm over his face. ‘You’re incredibly tight.’

She felt herself blush, an odd combination of pleasure and acute embarrassment at the intimate comment. ‘Only because you’re so big,’ she said, trying to find the playful tone again.

‘While my ego and I thank you for that...’ he dropped his arm to find her hand and thread his fingers through hers ‘...I’m not that much bigger than the average guy.’

The blush glowed. Maybe it wasn’t just his size that had made him feel so large. Maybe it was because she hadn’t done it with anyone in at least a year. And certainly never with that much energy or enthusiasm.

He turned onto his side, and cupped her cheek, his palm cool against her heated flesh. ‘Has it been a while?’

She blinked, disconcerted by the perceptive comment. ‘Are you a mind-reader?’

He touched her cheek, the tender, curious smile more seductive than the tangy scent of sex that surrounded them. ‘How long?’

She huffed out a laugh, the embarrassment burned away by a new surge of arousal. ‘Far too long, it seems.’

He hooked his thigh over her legs, shocking her when something stiff prodded her hip.

‘Is that...?’ She looked down, stunned to see him hard and ready again still sheathed by the condom.

He lifted her chin, grinning. ‘Yeah, it is.’ The cheeky grin—not to mention his astonishing powers of recuperation—made him seem very boyish. Too boyish.

‘How old are you?’ she asked, before she could think better of it.

His lips tilted. ‘Nearly thirty.’

She propped herself up on her elbows. Good grief, he was still in his twenties. ‘How nearly?’

‘I’ll be twenty-nine next month. Why? You planning to give me a present?’ He cupped her breast, licked at the nipple. ‘I can think of something I’d love to see gift-wrapped.’

‘You’re twenty-eight.’ She scooted back. ‘But that’s...practically a toy boy.’

He chuckled, then grabbed her shoulders and shoved her onto her back, anchoring her in place with one hard thigh. ‘Oh, yeah? So how old are you, then?’

‘I’m thirty-four,’ she said, indignantly.

His gaze drifted over her face. ‘You don’t look it.’

There didn’t seem to be any judgment in the tone, but still she felt...embarrassed. ‘Well, I am.’ Maybe it was only six years but it felt like the wrong six years. ‘Let me up.’

‘Not going to happen, old lady,’ he teased.

She struggled, trying to buck him off, but he didn’t budge. ‘Please, this feels awkward now.’

‘Why? You’re at your sexual peak. And so am I.’

Given the now-prominent feel of his erection, she had to agree. ‘I know, but it feels weird.’

‘It’s not weird, it’s cool.’ He rubbed his shaft against her hip—making it fairly obvious he wasn’t put off in the slightest by her vintage. She looked down at the thrusting erection. ‘Although FYI, I’m not a toy boy,’ he added. ‘You’re a damn cougar.’

A laugh popped out before she could stop it, but cut off when he cupped her sex. His fingers delved, stroking her oversensitive clitoris, the touch light and fleeting but enough to send shock waves of need echoing through her.

She thrust her fingers into his hair as he opened her thighs to position the impressive erection against her entrance. ‘Well, I suppose, if you put it like—’

Grasping her hips, he thrust deep in one long, smooth, all-consuming stroke, stealing her breath and cutting off any more pointless protests.

Oh, sod it.

Six years was nothing, she decided, especially once he’d established a slow, lazy, teasing rhythm that quickly became more intoxicating than the rum.

* * *

Hours later, Ella struggled to focus on the radiant glow of dawn peeping through the shutters. Contemplating the tenderness between her thighs and the soreness in other, previously unknown and now thoroughly exercised muscle groups, she conceded that, while the years might not be a problem, the mileage definitely was.

‘I should go,’ she mumbled, her fuzzy brain latching onto the fact that lingering past daybreak had the potential to be a lot more awkward than their age difference.

But when she lifted one tired limb, a muscular forearm banded round her midriff from behind and hauled her back into his embrace.

‘Nothing doing,’ Cooper’s sleep-roughened voice murmured against her hair. His big body cocooned her, his chest solid against her back, the soft hairs on his thighs brushing the backs of her legs and the softening erection still prominent against her bottom.

She debated arguing with him, but couldn’t fight the thundering beat of her pulse, the fatigue dragging her into oblivion or the novelty of being held so securely. Maybe she could stay and snuggle, for a little bit? Grab one more hot memory to sustain her through the difficult truth she would have to face when she got home?

This was her holiday of a lifetime, after all, and Cooper Delaney—toy boy extraordinaire—her passport to no-holds-barred pleasure.

She relaxed, warmed by the comfort of his embrace. ‘All right, but I’ll go soon.’

Her lips tilted into a smile as he grunted. ‘Shut up and go to sleep.’ His forearm tightened under her breasts. ‘You’re going to need to get your strength up, my little cougar. This toy boy isn’t finished with you yet.’

She choked out a laugh—that became a wistful hum as his arm became slack and her own body drifted towards sleep.

Colourful images collected behind her eyes—the glitter of pink sand beaches, the darting sparkle of blue-finned fish, the tangerine glow of fruit juice and rum, and the piercing jade of Cooper Delaney’s eyes.

She swallowed to relieve the clutching sensation in her chest, and tumbled headlong into the rainbow dream.