Читать книгу One Wild Night - Heidi Rice - Страница 10

ALLY SHOULD COME with a warning label attached. Her words came out of nowhere—okay, not exactly nowhere but close enough—to slam into him with a desire that was almost painful. Underneath that artless, wholesome sensuality and cheeky grin was a woman very dangerous to his sanity.

He hadn’t meant for the kiss to get out of hand. He just hadn’t been able to go another moment without tasting her. The sweetness had been expected, but it was the fire that had caused him to lose control of the situation.

Hell, he’d lost what was left of his mind. Ally deserved better than a mauling against a mango tree in full view of a dozen witnesses. She tensed and he dragged his attention back to her face, only to immediately wish he hadn’t. Her eyes were dark and hungry, her lips swollen and moist from his kiss. Public or not, up against a mango tree or not, he didn’t care.

He just needed her hands on him again.

“Food can wait.”

Her breath caught and she reached for his hand as she turned.

Thank God they hadn’t made it very far. Retracing their steps took only a minute, but it seemed like an eternity. Ally’s hands shook as she tried to unlock the door, fumbling the keys.

He took a deep breath to calm himself and took over the task, silently agreeing with Ally’s muttered “Thank goodness” as they were able to close the door behind them.

One lamp glowed beside the very inviting bed, its sheets already turned down by the hotel staff. The window stood open, allowing the quiet evening sounds of the island to drift in.

Ally seemed slightly uncomfortable once they were alone, her movements stiff as she dropped her bag in a chair and reached up to feel the lopsided braid and try to tuck the haphazard strands back in.

Her hands fell to her sides as he reached for the band securing what was left and freed the curls to riot around her tense shoulders.

“You should wear your hair down more often, Ally.” He threaded his hands back through the silkiness, and her shoulders relaxed as his fingers found her scalp.

Eyes closed, Ally’s head lolled back, exposing the lovely line of her throat, and his lips took the invitation. She hummed in pleasure, and the vibration moved through his body as he pulled her close once again.

The contact brought her to life once again, the tension leaving her body as she moved against him. He took a moment to just enjoy the sensation, patient this time to savor it as he knew he’d be able to feel all of her in just a few more minutes.

But Ally’s hands locked around his shoulders as she moved into him, pressing her lips to his in needy hunger, and all of his good intentions to go slow went up in the flames she fanned in his blood.

Ally felt like she was on fire. She needed to touch him. Needed to prove to herself he was real. Needed to feel him against her, in her. And she wanted all of it now.

The buttons on Chris’s shirt gave way easily, and the chest she’d admired earlier in the day was hers to explore. Her fingers traced the ridges of muscle, and when she retraced her path with her tongue, Chris sucked in his breath in pleasure as his hands tightened in her hair.

A boldness she didn’t know she possessed surfaced and she reached for the waistband of his pants. Chris’s stomach contracted at her touch, giving her room to release the button and slide the zipper over the bulge, causing her thighs to clench in anticipation.

“My turn.” Chris stopped her hands and lifted them over her head before he grabbed the cotton sundress and tugged it off in one smooth movement.

For one brief moment, she felt exposed and uncomfortable, but that feeling was soon chased away as Chris tumbled her to the bed. An acre of bronze skin loomed before the hot weight of him covered her and blocked out any thoughts beyond the screaming need his hands were creating as they moved over her skin.

One toe-curling kiss melded into the next as Chris’s tongue flicked against hers like a promise. But when his mouth moved lower, trailing moist heat along the swell of her breasts, she nearly arched off the bed in response. The loss of her bra vaguely registered, followed by the whispery slide of her panties down her thighs.

The featherlight kisses across her stomach were driving her mad. She reached for him, but his fingers locked around her wrist and pulled it over her head. Her other wrist soon followed, and Chris wrapped her fingers around the iron rails of the headboard.

His chest pressed against hers, the crisp hairs tickling sensitive skin, as she savored the feel of him against her from breasts to toes. Blue eyes locked into hers as he held her wrists in place.

“I told you I’d do all the work. That all you had to do was lie back and enjoy.”

“I thought we were talking about sailing.” Lord, was that whispery voice hers?

Even in the shadows of the room, she saw his grin. “No, you didn’t.” Then his head dropped to capture her nipple between his lips.

Yesss, she thought, and then she wasn’t able to think anymore.

“This is amazing. Really wonderful.” After an hour of worrying she’d fall off the boat—yacht, catamaran, whatever it was called—she was finally growing used to the feeling and began to understand the attraction sailing held.

“Then could you quit white-knuckling the edge of the tramp? You’re doing serious damage to my ego.”

“Your ego is in no danger at all.” Sure enough, though, she was still gripping the edge of the trampoline suspended between the two hulls as though her life depended on it. With a great show, she let go of the edge and stretched her arms out to catch the wind.

“That’s better.” He leaned over to give her a quick kiss.

Ah, yes, sailing was becoming more attractive by the minute. Or at least sailing with Chris was. Completely in his element, he controlled the boat with ease as the wind ruffled his hair.

She had vague memories of Chris kissing her goodbye in the small hours of the morning, saying he had some things to do before they set sail. She’d half expected never to see him again and had gone back to sleep with a touch of regret. Not about sleeping with him—oh, no, that topped her list of best decisions ever made—but that she didn’t have the guts to ask him to stay.

So when he’d shown up around ten that morning with a heart-stopping smile and a picnic basket, Ally had had to fight the urge to pull him straight back into bed and spend the rest of her trip there.

But this was good, too. She had a great view of his gift-from-the-gods body as he pulled on ropes and adjusted sails. Blue shorts rode low on his hips, and now that she no longer needed a death grip on the trampoline, she itched to touch him again.

She still couldn’t believe she’d actually…well, not to put too fine a point on it, that she’d had the most amazing sex of her life with this man. He was too good to be true. But, oh, Lord, the things he’d done to her. She hadn’t known, never even dreamed of the possibilities. Even now, her nipples tightened with need, and a fire burned low in her belly.

The little Beach-Cat, as Chris had called it, had one major flaw: zero privacy. The open design of the boat meant anyone could see what they were doing. Not that there were many folks in sight…

She resigned herself to just putting her hand on his leg instead and looked forward to getting back to shore as soon as possible.

“Are we headed someplace specific?”

Chris adjusted the sails again and the little boat leaped forward as it caught the wind. “There’s a little cove just around the point of the island I thought we could explore. I understand it’s pretty secluded.”

Her stomach flipped over at the thought. Maybe Chris’s thoughts were headed in the same direction as hers.

“But we have a little while before we get there. Why don’t you tell me that long story of how you came to be on Tortola alone.”

Ugh. Her blissful fantasy was torpedoed by the thought of home. “In a nutshell, I was supposed to come with someone, but that was canceled months ago. The trip was prepaid, and I didn’t want it to go to waste, even if none of my friends could come with me.”

“Let me guess. That ‘someone’ is an ex.”

Gerry’s blond good looks and petulant pout flashed into her mind. Why had she been willing to settle for someone so shallow? “Very much an ex. Thank goodness.”

“Agreed. His loss is my gain.”

Looking for a way to change the subject before Gerry could spoil her good mood, she went back to sailing. “Does the Circe go this fast?”

“We’re not going all that fast. Three or four knots, maybe. You could probably get out and run faster than this. And the Circe will go a lot faster than four knots.”

Pride filled his voice every time he mentioned the Circe. “That ship—”

“Yacht.”

“Sorry, that ‘yacht’ means a lot to you, doesn’t she?”

“I’ve been wanting to buy her for a long time, so yeah, I’m pretty pleased she’s now mine. But, as you saw, she needs a lot of work. A couple of my friends came by today to work on her, in fact.”

A tiny twinge of guilt nagged at her that he’d ditched his repairs of the Circe for her. At the same time, she was very glad he had. She stretched out on the trampoline, belatedly realizing she must be getting used to sailing to want to get comfortable. Or maybe it was just the matter-of-fact way Chris handled the cat that put her at ease. The man was born to be on the water, which led her to wonder what he did when he wasn’t.

“Where’s home for you?”

Chris ran a hand down her side and over the curve of her hip, where his thumb slid under the string of her bikini bottom. “I guess you could now say it’s wherever the Circe is.”

“Really?” She hadn’t thought about that possibility. She’d just assumed…well, she wasn’t sure what she’d assumed. “But you are American. In fact, with that accent I’d say you grew up somewhere on the southern East Coast.”

“South Carolina.”

“I’m a Georgia girl myself.”

“Let me guess. Savannah.”

“You’re good.”

“At many things.” He wagged his eyebrows suggestively at her, and the hand at her hip moved promisingly.

“Oh, I fully agree with that.” And she smoothed her hand across his thigh and felt the muscle jump. Chris wanted her. She reveled in the feeling; just a couple of days ago, she had believed she was a boring, plain-Jane loser magnet, but here she was. It couldn’t be real: Ally Smith, Femme Fatale. Oh, her ego definitely needed this.

Another circle of his thumb reminded her that her ego wasn’t the only needy part of her. She couldn’t see his eyes behind his sunglasses, but she could feel them roam over her body. Even with the heat of the sun on her, she shivered.

A sail flapped and Chris cursed, reaching for the rope and quickly running it through a cleat. Ally was almost glad for the distraction; Chris’s undivided attention was a heady thing. She leaned back and closed her eyes, letting the movement of the water lull her as Chris made easy conversation.

But she could still feel his eyes on her.

A bump pulled her out of her languor, and she opened her eyes just in time to see Chris jump off the boat. She sat up quickly. “What the—ouch!”

“I told you to watch out for the boom.”

Turning to find his voice, she realized the bump she’d felt had been the cat’s hulls reaching the shore. Chris gave a mighty pull, and the boat slid partially out of the water onto the sand.

“Are you okay?” Chris splashed in the shallow water to her side of the boat, his brow wrinkled in concern.

“I’m fine.”

“Then come on.” He held out a hand and pulled her into the surf with him.

The water was cool, a nice contrast to her sun-toasted skin, and clear enough to see her feet on the bottom. Chris moved into deeper water, pulling her gently along with him. She lifted her feet and held on to his arm, allowing herself to float slightly. The shoreline was empty, and no other boats had moored in the little cove. They were very much alone, an advantage Chris seemed keen to act upon as he pulled her legs around his waist. Strong hands dug into her hips as Chris’s mouth found that magic spot on her neck.

“You’ve been driving me crazy,” he growled. “That bikini wouldn’t adequately cover a Barbie doll. I nearly ran us aground on the sandbar.” His teeth found the string holding her top up, and untied the bow with a simple tug. The grip on her hips loosened, forcing her to grab his shoulders for support as he made quick work of the second string around her back. A second later, her pink top was floating toward shore.

“Um, Chris…”

“There’s no one here but us. No one to see you except me. And I want to see all of you.”

His lips captured hers for another mind-blowing kiss, but she felt him unhook her legs and quickly slide the bikini bottom off. Chris’s trunks bobbed to the surface as he hooked her legs around him again, but this time, no fabric separated them. She moaned at the sensation and he echoed the sound as she moved against him, wanting to feel more.

Although the bathing suit hadn’t covered much, being naked in the water was still a shock. She hadn’t been skinny-dipping since…well, ever. It was decadent and natural and intensely erotic.

Her breasts felt overly sensitized as the water lapped over them, and the position she was in offered him easy access. One arm held her firmly around her waist as his hand captured her breast, caressing it as his thumb grazed across her nipple.

“Ever made love in the ocean, Ally?”

“N-no,” she managed to wheeze.

One eyebrow arched up, and the gentle caress became more insistent. “Then I’m glad you’re open to new adventures this week.”

She hissed as his tongue swirled around her nipple before he pulled it into the heat of his mouth. Oh, yes. New adventures. Sign her up for more, as long as Chris would be her trail guide.

While the nips of his teeth drove her insane, one hand snaked between her legs to find her core. She shuddered as he teased her, his fingers urging her to the edge. How could his skin feel so hot in the cool water? A finger slid inside her, and she rocked her hips into his hand, seeking more. Chris returned the pressure, the heel of his hand hard against her as he urged her on with hot words whispered into her ear.

All she could do was hold on, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she climaxed.

Still thrumming with aftershocks, she opened her eyes to meet Chris’s deep blue stare. The intensity there rocked her, causing a rush she couldn’t identify, but she couldn’t look away.

She kissed him instead, holding his head and pressing her lips to his in an urgent need to share the feeling. Chris’s hand moved, withdrawing from her and she ached at the loss.

But it was blessedly short-lived, as Chris cupped his hands under her thighs, lifted her, and slipped easily inside. Gasping, she tightened her legs, squeezing herself against him until their bodies met. Shudders gave way to full-out tremors as he filled her.

Her senses seemed to sharpen, bringing everything into focus—the gentle lapping of the water against their skin, the waves landing on the beach behind her, the warm rays of the sun on her back and shoulders, the throb of Chris inside her, the rapid pounding of her heart, the sounds of their ragged breathing.

Then Chris started to move, holding and guiding her, and her focus narrowed. Nothing existed except this man and the pleasure rapidly peaking inside her. She trusted him to take her all the way, to hold her, please her and not let her drown, so she let herself go, chanting his name in rhythm to his thrusts. As she shattered, she felt Chris pull her close. A moment later, he held her hips tightly against him as powerful shudders moved under her fingers.

“Still feeling adventurous, Ally?”

With a huge effort, she was able to lift her head from his shoulder and open her eyes. One corner of his amazingly kissable mouth curved up in a challenge.

“Definitely.”

“Then let’s head to shore. I have a surprise for you…”

She felt drunk, more so than the bottle of wine she’d shared with Chris in the cove hours ago could be responsible for. No, she was definitely drunk on sex and sun and the sea—and, of course the man responsible for the best day of her entire life.

Chris helped her off the boat, his hands holding her waist longer than necessary, but she was having trouble keeping her hands off him, as well. The sun had been setting by the time they left their little cove, and a full moon now rode high in the sky, giving her just enough light to see the adorable crinkles around his eyes as he smiled at her.

He brushed his lips gently across hers before pushing the hair back from her face. “I really hate to leave you here, but I need to get the cat back, and there’re some things on the Circe I really need to check on…”

“It’s okay. Go. I’m completely exhausted. I desperately need a shower and some sleep. Lots and lots of sleep. You’ve worn me out.” She rose up on tiptoe for one last kiss. She meant it to be quick, but Chris held her head in his hands and deepened it into a libido-rocking kiss that was both gentle and powerful at the same time. Little flames of desire began to lick at her, and she wondered if she’d ever get enough of him.

“Tomorrow,” Chris whispered as he broke the kiss. “Be ready by ten.”

“Be ready for what?” Not that it mattered as long as he would kiss her like that.

“It’s a surprise. Bring a hat so your nose doesn’t get any pinker.”

She crinkled her nose experimentally and, sure enough, felt the tightness indicating she’d burned it.

“You’re adorable when you do that.” Chris pointed her in the direction of her hotel and patted her butt lightly. “Go. Sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Trekking up the beach to the hotel was difficult on such wobbly legs, but somehow she made it. A deep sigh at the perfection of the day escaped, followed quickly by a yawn. She glanced back at the beach, and saw the sails of the boat in the moonlight as Chris took it back to the marina. The best day ever. And if Chris’s promises could be believed, she’d have another—possibly even better, though she couldn’t imagine how—tomorrow.

She couldn’t wait. She wrapped her arms around her waist and curled into the T-shirt she wore—Chris’s shirt. Alone now, she lifted the shirt to her nose and inhaled the scent of him.

Oh, get ahold of yourself. With a shake of her head, she went inside.

Few people were still in the lobby, and she realized that it was later than she had thought. She dug through her bag as she walked, searching for her key.

“Miss Smith! Miss Smith!”

Glad she was no longer Mrs. Hogsten to these people, she turned to see the desk clerk closing in on her fast. Pink message slips fluttered in his hand. “We’ve been looking for you all day,” he said as he thrust the stack at her.

She started to roll her eyes, but caught the anxious look on the clerk’s face. All the languor vanished as adrenaline rushed through her veins. “What? What’s happened?”

“There’s been an accident, Miss Smith. It’s very important you call home immediately.”

He was early, he knew that, but Ally didn’t seem like the kind of woman who would mind. She was just lucky Victor and Mickey had greeted him with a litany of problems with the Circe’s repairs and a Must Call message from his grandfather when he’d returned to the marina last night, because he’d been sorely tempted to turn right back around and join her for that shower. And, of course, sleep would have been out of the question after that.

Instead he’d spent the evening sorting out the Circe’s issues and placating his grandfather. But things were back on track and Ally was now foremost in his thoughts.

Sweet, delicious, tempting Ally.

A few phone calls and he’d borrowed the Siren, a sixty-foot cruiser with every amenity—most importantly, a plush captain’s cabin. The mental picture of Ally stretched across those sheets was enough to quicken his step. Siren was stocked with food and wine and ready to sail. They’d moor off Virgin Gorda tonight, maybe go snorkeling in Devil’s Bay tomorrow. He knew of a great secluded trail up from the beach…

His attraction to Ally was a bit of a mystery, but that combination of sweetness and sensuality was both intoxicating and refreshing, and had lifted a weight off his shoulders he hadn’t realized he’d been carrying. Victor and Mickey had teased him about his uncharacteristically good mood, something they said they hadn’t seen since the America’s Cup win three years ago.

In response, he’d left them to replace decking and caulk seams today.

The lobby of the Cordova Inn was deserted, and in the light of day, he noticed how shabby the hotel really was. Ally needed to fire her travel agent for booking her into a place like this. Ally’s room wasn’t far off the lobby—another thing her travel agent should have handled better—and he could see the door standing open.

Good. She’s ready to go.

“Pack a toothbrush and a change of clothes, because we won’t be back…” Ally’s room was empty, the bed stripped of its sheets. A maid came out of the bathroom carrying an armload of towels and started in shock at seeing him there.

“Where’s the woman who was in this room?”

“I don’t know, sir. I just know to clean the room for the next—”

Chris didn’t wait to hear the rest. In a few quick strides, he was back at the front desk, asking the clerk the same question.

“Miss Smith checked out.”

“Yes, I can see that,” he gritted out. “Where did she go?”

“Home, sir.”

“Why?” He really didn’t want to play Twenty Questions with the clerk, but the young man wasn’t being very forthcoming with answers.

“There was an accident. Her brother, I think the message said. We helped her arrange emergency flights, and I put her in a taxi to the airport myself this morning at six.” He seemed pleased with himself. Apparently Ally could bring out the Lancelot in every man.

“Has her flight left yet?”

“Yes, sir. The first flight to San Juan left at seven-thirty.”

He cursed, and the clerk’s eyes widened.

“However, if you are Mr. Wells, Miss Smith left a message for you.” At Chris’s nod, he passed over a folded piece of hotel letterhead.

Chris—

I’m so sorry to leave in such a rush, but there’s been an emergency and my family needs me. I wish I could say goodbye in person, but the taxi is waiting and my flight leaves in an hour. Thank you for a wonderful day yes-terday—it was possibly the best day of my life. Meeting you was the high point of this trip, and I really wish I could stay longer. Take care. I hope you and the Circe have wonderful adventures together. Love, Ally.

That was it? No phone number? No e-mail address? Not even a “look me up if you ever come to Savannah”? All that was missing was “Have a nice life.”

His good mood evaporated. Ally had left without even saying goodbye.