Читать книгу Mistresses: The Consequences Of Desire: Beach Bar Baby / Walk on the Wild Side / Claiming His Own - Heidi Rice - Страница 8

TWO

Do not purr, under any circumstances.

Ella bit back a moan as Cooper Delaney’s work-roughened hands massaged her shoulder blades. Callused fingers nudged under the knot of her bikini to spread the thick sun lotion up towards her hairline. Tingles ricocheted down her spine as his thumbs dug into the tight muscles of her neck, then edged downwards. She trapped her bottom lip under her teeth, determined to keep the husky groan lodged in her throat where it belonged.

‘Okay, I’m heading into the red zone.’ The husky voice brushed her nape as his magic touch disappeared and she heard the squirt of more lotion being dispensed. ‘I’ll be gentle as I can, but let me know if it’s too much.’

I could never have too much of this.

She nodded, knowing any further attempt at speech would probably give away how close she was to entering a fugue state.

‘Right, here goes.’

Light pressure hit the middle of her back as his palms flattened against the burnt patch. She shuddered, the sting nothing compared to the riot of tingles now rippling across her skin and tightening her nipples.

‘You okay?’ The pressure ceased, his palms barely touching her.

‘Yes. Absolutely. Don’t stop.’ She shifted, pressing back into his palms. ‘It feels...’

Glorious? Blissful? Awe-inspiring?

‘Fine...’ she managed, but then a low hum escaped as he began to massage more firmly. His thumbs angled into the hollows of her spine, blazing a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

She’d been far too long without the touch of a man’s hands. That fabulous sensation of flesh on flesh, skin to skin. She stretched under the caress, like a cat desperate to be stroked, the tingles rippling down to her bottom as his thumbs nudged the edge of her bikini panties. She closed her eyes, willing the firm touch to delve beneath the elastic, while the hot heavy weight in her abdomen plunged.

Arousal zapped across her skin, and she had to swallow the sob as the exquisite, excruciating sensations pounded into her sex after what felt like decades on sabbatical.

Then disappeared.

‘All done.’

Her eyes snapped open too fast, making her sway. His hand touched her hip, anchoring her in place—and snapping her back to reality.

‘Steady there.’ The amused tone had the blush firing up her neck.

Oh, no, had he heard that strangled sob? Could he tell she’d been hurtling towards a phantom orgasm?

Humiliation engulfed the need.

She was so going to unpack the vibrator Ruby had bought her for the trip, and test-drive it in her room tonight. Deciding she wasn’t highly sexed enough to need artificial stimulation had obviously been way off the mark. And Ruby had once sworn by hers—before she’d found her husband, Callum.

‘That should keep you from getting barbecued again, at any rate.’ The rough comment intruded on her frantic debate about the merits of vibrators. And the blush went haywire.

She stretched her lips into what she hoped looked like a grateful smile—instead of the first stages of nymphomania. ‘I really appreciate it.’

She watched as he snapped the cap onto the lotion bottle. Only to become momentarily transfixed by the sight of those long, blunt, capable fingers glistening in the sunlight from the oily residue.

‘There you go.’ He held out the lotion bottle as another inappropriate jolt of arousal pulsed into her sex.

Locating her backpack, she spent several additional seconds shoving the bottle back into it, pathetically grateful when her hands finally stopped trembling. Maybe if she drew this out long enough the blush might have retreated out of the forbidden zone too.

‘Thank you, that was...’ She groped for the right word—awesome being definitely the wrong word, even if it was the one sitting on the tip of her tongue.

‘You’re welcome.’

Her lungs seized at the glow of amusement in the deep green depths of his eyes. The blip of panic returned as she got lost in the rugged male beauty of his face—the chiselled cheekbones, the shadow of stubble on the strong line of his jaw, the tantalising dimple in his chin.

How could any man be this gorgeous? This potently male? It just wasn’t fair on the female of the species.

The sensual lips twitched, as if he were valiantly suppressing a grin.

Get a flipping grip. The man offered to be your snorkel buddy, not your bonk buddy.

‘So we’re all set?’ The rough question echoed in her sex.

‘Unless you need me to return the favour?’ She coughed, when the offer came out on an unladylike squeak. ‘With the sun lotion, I mean. So you don’t burn.’

The suggestion trailed off as his eyebrows lifted a fraction and the edge of his mouth kicked up in one of those sensual, secret smiles that had been making her breathing quicken all morning. It stopped altogether now.

Shut up. You did not just say that? You sad, sad, sex-deprived nymphomaniac.

‘Forget it, that was a silly thing to say.’ She raced to cover the gaff. ‘I don’t know why I suggested it.’ Cooper Delaney’s sun-kissed skin had the healthy glow of a year-round tan weathered by sea air. He’d probably never had to use lotion in his entire life. ‘I’m sure you don’t need to worry about sunburn. Perhaps we should just—’

‘That sounds like a great idea.’ The easy comment cut through her manic babble.

‘It does?’

His lips kicked up another notch. ‘Sure, you can never have enough protection, right?’

Was he mocking her? And could she summon the will to care while she was barely able to breathe?

‘Um, right. I’ll get the lotion, then.’ She dived back into her bag, rummaging around for what felt like several decades as she tried to locate the lotion before he changed his mind. She found it just in time to see him lift the hem of his T-shirt over his head and throw it over the console.

All the blood rushed out of her brain as she stood, poised like the Statue of Liberty, clutching the lotion like Liberty’s torch.

Oh. My. God. His chest is a work of art.

Sun-bleached hair curled around flat copper nipples as if to accentuate the mounds of his exceptionally well-defined pecs. She followed the trail down between the ridged muscles of his six-pack, then swallowed convulsively as the thin strip of hair tapered beneath the waistband of his cut-offs, drawing her attention to the roped sinews that stood out in bold relief against the line of his hip bones.

No wonder it’s called a happy trail. I feel euphoric.

‘Thanks, honey. I appreciate it.’ His gruff words interrupted her reverie as he presented her with an equally breathtaking view of his back.

His spine bisected the slabs of packed muscle, sloping down to the tattoo of a Celtic Cross, inked across the base of his back, which peeked out above his shorts. Her gaze dipped lower, to absorb the sight of a perfectly toned male ass framed in battered denim.

She cleared her throat loudly, before she choked to death on her own drool. ‘Is, um, is factor fifty okay?’

He lifted one muscular shoulder, let it drop. ‘Whatever you’ve got is good.’

The low words seemed to rumble through her torso, making her pulse points vibrate.

She squeezed a lake of the viscous white liquid into unsteady palms. Taking a deep breath, she flattened her palms onto the hot, smooth skin of his back, while her lungs clogged with the tempting scent of cocoa butter and man.

The muscles tensed as she spread the thick lotion, and absorbed the heat of his skin, the steely strength beneath.

Moisture gathered in the secret spot between her thighs, which now felt as if it was swollen to twice its normal size.

As she spread the white liquid over the wide expanse of his back, and massaged it into his skin, she timed her breathing to the beat of the timpani drum in her ear, in a desperate attempt to stop herself from hyperventilating.

And passing out before the job was done.

* * *

Cooper touched Ella’s arm, signalling with his index finger to draw her attention to the blue angel fish darting beneath the shelf of fiery orange coral. Her eyes popped wide behind the mask and her expressive mouth spread into a delighted grin around her mouthpiece.

As they hovered above the reef he watched her admire the brilliant aquamarine of the fish’s scales, the white-tipped fins, and the pretty golden edging on the tail, while he admired the open excitement on her face and the buoyant breasts barely contained by purple spandex.

His groin twitched, the blood pumping south despite the chill of the seawater. The sudden flashback, of her stretching under his hands, her breathing coming out on a strangled groan as he caressed the firm skin, didn’t do much to deter the growing erection.

He adjusted his junk, grateful for the wet denim of his shorts. Which had been holding him in check ever since he’d dived into the ocean, leaving Dwayne to fit Ella’s flippers and snorkelling gear, before she spotted the telltale ridge in his pants.

They’d been out on the reef for over half an hour now, and he’d mostly got himself under control. But the sight of that shy, excited smile, every time he showed her some new species of fish, or the barnacled wreck of the Montana, had been almost as mesmerising as the feel of her fingers fluttering over his bicep whenever she wanted to point something out to him, or the sight of all those lush curves bobbing in the waves.

The woman was killing him. So much so that his golden rule about hooking up with single lady tourists was in danger of being blown right out of the water.

As she pointed delightedly to a shoal of parrot fish flicking past he recalled why he’d made his golden rule in the first place.

Single ladies on holiday generally fell into one of two categories: those on the hunt for no-strings thrills, or those on the look-out for an exotic island romance. As both scenarios invariably involved lots of sex, he’d been more than happy to indulge in hook-ups with the clients when he’d first arrived on the island a decade ago. But back then he’d been eighteen going on thirty with a chip on his shoulder the size of a forest, not a lot of money and even fewer prospects.

In the intervening years, he’d worked his butt off to leave that messed-up kid in the dust. As the owner of a lucrative and growing dive-shop franchise, he sure as hell didn’t need to look for acceptance in casual sex any more—or the hassle of pretending to be interested in more.

Which meant single lady tourists had been off limits for a while, unless he knew for certain they weren’t after more than the one night of fun. Usually, it was easy enough to figure that out. In fact he’d become an expert at deciding whether a woman had lust or stardust in their eyes when they hit on him. But Ella Radley didn’t fit the profile for either.

For starters, she hadn’t exactly hit on him despite the obvious chemistry between them. And he still hadn’t figured out whether that enchanting mix of artless enthusiasm, sweet-natured kookiness and transparent hunger was all part of an act to get into his pants—or was actually real.

Unfortunately, he was fast running out of time to make up his mind on that score. Sonny had two more fully booked tours scheduled right after this one. And with the old guy’s arthritis acting up again, Cooper had agreed to step in and captain them. It was a responsibility he couldn’t and wouldn’t duck out of. Because Sonny and he had a history.

The old guy had offered him a shift crewing on The Jez, when he’d been eighteen and had just spent his last dime on boat fare to the island. He’d been sleeping rough on the quayside and would have sold his soul for a burger and a side order of fries.

He’d done a half-assed job that afternoon, because he’d been weak from hunger and didn’t know the first thing about boats. But for the first time since his mother’s death, he’d felt safe and worth something. Sonny had given him hope, so whatever debt the old guy called in, he’d pay it.

All of which meant he had to make a decision about Ella Radley before they got back to the dockyards. Should he risk asking her out tonight without being sure about her?

She swam back towards him, her eyes glowing behind the mask, then made the sign for okay.

He gave her a thumbs up and then jerked it towards the boat. They’d run out of time ten minutes ago. Everyone else would be back on the launch by now ready to head back to the mainland. Which meant it was past time for him to make his mind up.

But as she swum ahead of him, her generous butt drawing his gaze with each kick of the flippers, heat flooded his groin again, and he knew his mind had already been made up... Because his brain had stopped making the decisions a good forty minutes ago, when those soft, trembling hands had stroked down his spine and hovered next to the curve of his ass. And he’d heard her sigh, above the rush of blood pounding in his ears.

* * *

Ella gripped the rail as the launch bumped against the dock and her snorkel buddy sent her one of his trademark smiles.

He laid his palm on her knee and gave it a squeeze, sending sensation shooting up her thigh. ‘Hold up here, while I get everyone off the boat.’ The husky, confidential tone had her heart beating into her throat, the way it had been doing most of the day.

She forced herself to breathe evenly, and take stock, while he and his crew docked the boat and he bid farewell to the rest of the passengers.

Do not get carried away. It’s been an amazing morning, but now it’s over.

The snorkel tour, the epic beauty of the reef and its sealife had totally lived up to the hype. But it had been Cooper Delaney’s constant attention, his gorgeous body and flirtatious smile, that had turned the trip into a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

He’d made her feel special—and for that she couldn’t thank him enough. Which meant not overreacting now and putting motivations into his actions that weren’t there.

She gulped down the lump of gratitude as she watched him charm May Preston, and give her husband a hearty handshake. Once they’d gone, it would be her turn to say goodbye.

May waved, then winked—making the colour leech into Ella’s cheeks—before handing a wad of bills to Cooper. He accepted the money with a quick lift of his cap.

A tip.

Shame tightened Ella’s throat as Cooper folded the bills into the back pocket of the jeans he’d changed into. Of course, she should tip him. That would be the best way to thank Cooper for all his attention. And let him know what a great time she’d had.

She grabbed her backpack, found her purse, then had a minor panic attack over the appropriate amount. Was twenty dollars enough? Or thirty? No, forty. Forty, would work. After all, he’d surely need to share it out with the boys in his crew. She counted out the money, her palms sweating, hoping she’d got the amount right. She wanted to be generous, even though she knew that any amount couldn’t really repay him for what he’d done.

For two amazing, exhilarating, enchanting hours she’d completely forgotten about all her troubles—and felt like a woman again, a whole, normal, fully functional woman—and for that no tip, however generous, could be big enough.

Slinging the pack over her shoulder, she approached him with the bills clutched in her fist. Now, how to hand it over without blushing like a beetroot?

He turned as she approached, that killer smile making her pulse hammer her neck. The appreciative light in his eyes as his gaze roamed over her had her bikini top shrinking again.

‘Hey, there.’ The killer smile became deadly. ‘I thought I told you to stay put.’

She pursed her lips to still the silly tremble, unable to return the smile. ‘I should get out of your way.’

‘You’re not in my way.’ He tucked the curl of hair that had escaped her ponytail back behind her ear—in a casually possessive gesture that only made the tremble intensify. ‘But I’ve got a couple more tours to run today. How about we meet up later? I’ll be at a bar on the south side of Half-Moon Cove from around seven onwards...’

Blood thundered in her ears, so she could barely make out what he was saying.

‘What d’you say?’ he continued. ‘You want to hang out some more?’

She nodded, but then his knuckle stroked down her cheek.

Panicked by the clutch of emotion, and the insistent throb of arousal, she shifted away from his touch. Time to make a quick getaway, before the lip quiver got any worse.

She thrust the bills towards him. ‘I’ve had an incredible time. The tour was amazing. Thank you so much.’

His gaze dropped. ‘What’s this?’

‘Umm, I hope it’s enough.’ Had she miscalculated? Was it too little? ‘I wanted to thank you properly, for all the trouble you went to this morning.’

A muscle in his jaw hardened. And she had the strangest feeling she’d insulted him. But then he blinked and the flash of temper disappeared.

‘Right.’ He took the bills, counted them. ‘Forty dollars. That’s real generous.’ She thought she detected the sour hint of sarcasm, but was sure she must be mistaken when he tipped his cap and shoved the bills into his back pocket. ‘Thanks.’ For the first time, the easy grin looked like an effort. ‘I’ll see you around, Miz Radley.’

The clutching feeling collapsed in her chest, at the formal address, the remote tone.

Had she just imagined the invitation for later in the evening? Or, worse, blown it out of all proportion? Obviously it had been completely casual and she’d made too much of it.

She stood like a dummy, not knowing what to do about the sudden yearning to see the focused heat one more time.

The moment stretched out unbearably as he studied her, his expression remote and unreadable.

‘I suppose I should make a move,’ she managed to get out at last.

Get off the boat. He probably has a ton of things he needs to be doing.

‘Well, thank you again.’ You’ve said that already. ‘It’s been so nice meeting you.’ Stop gushing, you nitwit. ‘Goodbye.’ She lifted her hand in a pointless wave that immediately felt like too much.

‘Yeah, sure.’ He didn’t wave back, the words curt, his face blanker than ever.

She rushed down the gangplank, refusing to look back and make an even bigger ninny of herself.