That wasn’t really what she’d meant, and she had to push aside the disappointment. She hadn’t expected a proposal, but after he’d shared everything with her about his brother she’d thought maybe there was something more between them.
It didn’t mean he wasn’t great to be with, though. “I haven’t told anyone about my background, either,” she said. “I mean, some people know about where I worked before, but not about my plans. My dreams.”
“I’m glad you trust me with them. Tell me where you’re going to be in ten years.”
They sat for another hour, simply talking, and at the end of it all Michaela realized she’d told him all about her dreams, her five-year promise, her desire to somehow mix an international career and family. But she didn’t feel embarrassed anymore. Quite the opposite, the ease she had felt with him during their time under moonlight had returned.
He reminded her of her earlier confession. “There’s nothing to be scared of here, but I can’t protect you from yourself. You have to decide what it is that you want in life. And if I can be a small part of that for a short time, well, don’t you think that would be fun? I appreciate your overlooking how I got this job. It was a total spur-of-the-moment thing, auditioning, but now you know why I needed something to get me out of my head. Something completely outside of my normal life. Like I said, I don’t do holidays. If I’d had to sit around and read a book for this long, I already would have gone crazy.”
He smiled at her, a coronary-inducing, thigh-quivering smile. She wanted to throw herself at him, but he stood up. “So, ready for some fun?”
He’d said it again. Fun. Of course. For a moment, she thought he was going to say something different. That there might be something more between them than a bit of fun. But no, fun was just what she needed. At least for now.
“Can we start again?” she asked.
Dylan’s smile was delicious—the green of both ocean and forest in his eyes, and the heat in their depths sparkled. “To fun?” he asked and held out his hand.
“Fun,” she said, taking it, her heart racing.
“Now, about that snorkeling,” he said. “Race you to change?”
Michaela wondered at what his definition of fun might be. As she changed into her pale blue bikini in the luxurious bathroom, her skin tingled, and when she emerged she felt Dylan’s gaze as if his eyes had physically stroked her.
In the water, however, she forgot about her desire, reveling in the expanse of brilliant coral and the hundreds of species of tropical fish. “Did you see that tiny one?” she called as she came up after a long bout of snorkeling. “It was so cute and so bright blue. I wonder if it has competitions with its friends to see who can be the brightest. And those yellow-and-black striped fish, one of them came right up to my mask. And another one nibbled on my finger! Oh, I’d forgotten how much fun this is.”
Dylan swam over beside her and lay floating on his back. She couldn’t help herself—she ran a hand down his smooth chest. The warm ocean water made his skin silky. She glanced at his face and caught him looking at her, a hot smile on his lips. His hand reached for hers as his feet found the ocean floor, and he pulled her fingers to his mouth.
“Sorry,” she said.
He frowned. “Sorry for the debacle on the ship, or sorry that you’re going to deny me again?”
“No. Yes. Sorry for before, but—” She lowered her eyes. “—could we pretend we really are starting again? And, you know, take everything a little slow?” At least that way she might be able to retain a modicum of control.
“I don’t recall taking anything slowly to start with,” he teased. “But I can try and be slower this time. Although don’t blame me if you’re the one begging me to up the tempo.” Slowly, very slowly, he stroked her chin, turning her face up toward his. The kiss was gentle, a mere breath, and she raised her arms to wrap around his shoulders as he pulled his lips away. Dylan’s arms encircled her waist in return, and they stood, gently buffeted by the movement of the water for just a moment.
Oh, man, having fun tasted really good. As one, their heads moved together again. This kiss was luxurious, a deep, easy hello with a hint of the spice that was to follow. When she surfaced, Michaela looked into Dylan’s eyes and smiled. Hello, indeed. As she unwrapped herself from him and went to dive back under the water, he stopped her, his hands firm on her bare stomach. Kiss me, kiss me again.
“Hello again,” he said, stooping to kiss her neck as if, once again, he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.
Rather than it being unnerving, this time Michaela found his uncanny clairvoyance reassuring. They were in tune. She smiled as he straightened, and he squeezed her before he released her waist. “Slow, hey? Well, you certainly know how to toy with a man.” Before she could protest, he took her hand and dived under the water again.
They splashed around in the water a while longer, diving down to peer into the haven of tropical fish, and to Michaela’s delight a large sea turtle even paid them a visit, its mottled shell a rippling kaleidoscope of ochre and brown as it glided effortlessly past. But with every stroke her arm made through the water, she remained constantly aware of Dylan’s presence, of his form through the water, his muscles eating up distance when he put on a burst of speed.
Occasionally, his arm would brush against her bare skin, sending tingles throughout her whole being. We’re taking it slowly. There was no doubt her body wanted to betray this resolve, and despite the wonders of the marine universe, she found her thoughts straying to what might be in store for them if they let themselves collide in this warm water paradise.
“Should we stop for lunch?” she asked, attempting to distract herself from wanting to touch him.
“I thought you’d never ask.” He caught hold of her arm, pulling her close. “I’m famished.” He brought his mouth down over hers in a kiss that was anything but slow or gentle. The tingling of her skin became an electrified demand. “You seem to be starving, too,” he said, gesturing to her nipples, peaked against the clinging fabric of her bikini top. “I think I’ll have cruise director de jour first, followed closely by a helping of cruise director à la mode.” With that, he picked her up out of the water and strode the short distance back to their room with her and their snorkeling gear in his arms.
“Stop it! We were going to take it slow, remember?” But she was smiling as she spoke, and she could see him trying not to laugh at her feeble protest.
“It will be slow,” he promised. “So slow that you’ll beg me to speed it up. But don’t worry,” he said, as she started to protest again. “I’ll make sure that this time neither of us arrives too quickly.”
Setting her down in their suite, Dylan let her squeeze the water from her hair, then wrapped a towel around her to take off most of the ocean’s wetness before whipping it away, leaving her standing only in her bikini.
Looking down, she saw the sheen of dampness made her skin glisten. Not bad, considering how much time I spend at my desk. Dylan wrapped the towel about himself, then stroked her face gently as he had in the ocean. Delicious.
“I don’t think you want to be completely dry, do you?”
Michaela shuddered as he ran his fingertips over her arms and down to her fingers, finally lifting her hands up to rest on his bare chest. Trailing his fingers back down her arms to trace the undersides of her breasts, Dylan smiled, and she watched his pupils dilate with desire.
“Take it slow. We agreed, didn’t we?” True to his word, he slowly, ever so slowly undid the knot behind her neck. Then the one at her back. Her bikini top fell uselessly to the floor.
She automatically went to put her hands over her chest, then repressed the urge, letting her arms drop to her sides and his hot gaze burn her flesh. He rewarded her with a smile. One at a time, he undid the bows at the sides of her bikini bottom until she was standing, still damp, entirely naked in front of him.
“Lovely,” he said, and stooped to kiss first one side of her neck, then the other.
The towel was still slung low around his waist. Michaela longed to tear it off, but she controlled herself, biting her lip and trying not to look below his chest. He must have noticed.
“You were the one who asked to take it slow,” he drawled. “There’s no going back on your request now.”
As he reached for a bottle of water, his muscles rippled, and she longed to touch them. “Show-off.” George’s dance routines were certainly doing great things for his body.
“That’s not showing off. Now this—” Dylan put down the water and struck a 1980s Mr. T glamour pose, which made Michaela laugh.
“Or maybe this?” He extended an arm in a long dance pose so his pectorals rippled and Michaela had to work to hold back her sharp intake of breath.
“Enough of that.”
He dropped the pose and ran his hands from her fingertips to her shoulders, over her sternum and down, hovering over each breast. His light touch sent shivers over her skin. When he feathered his fingers around her aroused nipples, she strained toward him, hungry for his touch, but he was unrelenting, lightly cupping both her breasts, then releasing them before continuing down over her stomach and hips. “Is this fun yet?” he asked, grinning.
“No, not fun at all.”
“I better try harder.” Hands at her hips, he lifted her up and walked the few steps to the bed before laying her down under the dreamy white fabric of the four-poster. She longed to pull him down onto her.
No, you wanted to take it slow. You can do this. If you let him win, you’ll never hear the end of it.
Leaning over, he kissed her neck, her cheeks, her ears, then finally, finally took a nipple in his mouth. Despite herself, she whimpered. She trailed her fingers down his back, the pressure gentle at first, but as he pushed her further into arousal, she dug her nails in. Still, he managed to keep her hands away from his towel.
Fun? Teasing her might have been fun for him, but it was torturous from where she was lying. She squirmed on the bed, trying to guide his body to where she wanted it as the two of them touched, tantalized, and tasted each other. Dear lord, was he going to make her beg for it?
He kissed her long and deep. “Better?” he asked, pulling back on his heels and looking down at her.
“No. Slow doesn’t mean you need to stop.”
“Oh, are you sure about that?” He stood.
“Get back here,” Michaela said. Her own boldness made her blush.
“Well, well,” he whispered as he crawled back up her body. “Don’t think this hurts me any less than it hurts you. But I’m only following my cruise director’s orders. You wouldn’t want me disobeying my superior, now would you?” He ran his tongue up the side of her neck and smirked when she moaned.
“Please.”
“Please?”
“Not so slow.”
“Is that an order?”
His touch had burned through her control. No longer thinking about her position or her reputation, she grabbed at his towel. “Take that off,” she demanded. She pulled the towel away, leaving only his wet trunks, clinging to every part of him.
“And get those off,” she said.
He pulled his trunks off in one swift tug, and the full extent of his erection sprung free.
Again, Michaela was a little astonished at his girth, but the sight of what she needed so close only made her wetter. She couldn’t stop the whimper at the back of her throat from escaping.
As if on cue, his attention became more urgent, his kisses hungry, biting and pulling at her skin as if he really might have her for lunch. Michaela writhed under him. As he tasted the smooth valley between her breasts, the skin of her belly, the hot tang of her inner thighs, she moaned. “No,” she said, “I want all of you this time.”
His face rose to hers, and he kissed her hard on the mouth as her fingers dug into his back and her legs clamped around his waist. “You know what I said about taking it slow?” she asked, giving him a devilish grin.
He raised an eyebrow.
“Forget it.”
“Oh, I’m not going to forget it. But don’t worry, I’ll speed things up just a little for you. If you’re good.”
“No more waiting,” she demanded. Moist and ready, she grabbed him and pulled him to her. Arching her back against the bed, she led him where she wanted him.
With a tight intake of breath, he slid all the way inside, and she moaned. Dear God, that felt good. He filled her up—filled her up completely. But despite his size, he was gentle, and as they rocked together, she had to admit he was fantastic. Perhaps she could do with a few lessons after all—as long as they were from him.
Then out of the fog of desire, a warning voice leapt into her brain. “Hang on.” She pushed him back. “Condom?”
“Damn. Of course. Don’t move.”
Reaching over to his bag beside the bed, Dylan pulled out a box of condoms and got one out. Watching him stroke the latex over his thick cock made Michaela even hotter, and she grabbed at his hips, practically dragging him back down to her.
“No. This is the bit where we slow down again,” he said.
“What?”
“You can’t be in control of everything, Michaela. Sometimes you have to bow to more expert advice.”
“Are you telling me you know more about sex than I do?”
“I couldn’t possibly comment.”
“But—”
He slipped a hand over her mouth and dipped the head of his cock just inside her. “Oh…” She lifted her hips, trying to bring him deeper.
“Now, now, don’t be greedy.” As he withdrew, the mirth mixed with hot desire flashing in his eyes.
He dipped back inside her, and she felt her muscles clench, wanting to drag him in. Arching her spine, she shuffled and squirmed, but he had all his weight on his knees and was firmly in control.
He paused.
“What are you doing?” she hissed through gritted teeth.
“Just checking in. Are you having fun yet?”
“If you don’t shut up soon…”
But he didn’t need any more convincing. Sinking deep and then retreating, Dylan coaxed her into a taunting, heated rhythm. They moved as one, his every thrust met by the eager writhing of her body.
“Now how are we doing?” The huskiness of his voice betrayed his attempt to tease her, but he managed to hold her down when she tried to roll him over and take control.
“Okay, okay, it’s fun,” she admitted. “More fun than I’ve had in a long time.”
“Excellent.” And he thrust hard into her, unstopping and unrepentant. The long, deep strokes of his new rhythm made her gasp, but she pushed her hips up to meet every one of them. The rhythm built out of her control and spun her into whole new plane of delight. Thighs trembling, she let her head fall back. “Please, yes, oh God please,” she said and shut her eyes as she felt her climax building.
With one, two, three long thrusts, he drove himself in, right to his base. “Ohhh.” The long groan came from him as he disintegrated, shuddering inside her, just as she felt her own climax ricochet through her senses. Her thighs still locked around him, she released her arms and allowed the sensations to wash over her like the warm Pacific Ocean.
“Michaela Western.” The words were gentle on Dylan’s tongue, but they felt strangely right there. “You are amazing.” He collapsed to the side of her, the blood pumping through his body, his skin sensitive to the touch.
Michaela looked over at him and smiled.
Man, she was beautiful. That was sure as hell a lot more fun than he’d had in a while.
Just fun?
Yes, just fun. His three-month deadline didn’t allow for anything else.
She turned on her side to gaze at him, her eyes smoky and dark, and he luxuriated in drinking every bit of her in. Her legs were lightly muscled, long and lean from walking all over the ship many times a day and participating in the cruise activities she organized. The waist that he had only recently had under his hands
was slender, her stomach flat but soft.
As she propped herself up on an elbow, a bead of sea water from her still-wet hair ran a tantalizing course down her chest to rest in the shallow recess of her belly button. She really was a beauty, burnished by the sun to a rich bronze, her skin glowing even without a scrap of makeup. When she smiled, Michaela made Dylan’s body sing.
His list of her good attributes was getting pretty long: smart, driven, independent, values family—and trusting, he added, thinking about how she had accepted his explanation of how he’d ended up on board. The idea of leaving her for the drama of Brian and the company seemed suddenly unappealing.
He stroked her face. “You are even more beautiful when you smile.”
“Nice. Compliments will get you everywhere, Mr. Johns.”
“I’m counting on it.”
“You okay?” Michaela stroked his face.
Damn, she was good. Thinking about him when here he was thinking about how he’d have to leave her. “I’m okay, sure.”
“Good. I know what I’m not okay with, though. I’m starving.” As if to echo her thoughts, her stomach gave a loud growl.
Dylan smiled and rose, heading toward the shower. “Last one to lunch has to do ten press-ups.”
“Well, then,” Michaela teased, “I think I might be last on purpose, as long as I get to do the press-ups over your naked body.”
He leapt back on the bed in a single bound, pinning her down and kissing her long and deep. “That better be a promise.”
She smiled up at him and said, “It definitely is.”
…
After a short break for sustenance, Dylan finally let Michaela prove he wasn’t the only expert in the bedroom.
“How do you do that?” Michaela asked, lying naked and replete on their small balcony.
“What?” His grin mischievous, he traced a finger along the line of her navel.
The Billionaire Bundle Page 13
