Rainforest Honeymoon

by RaeAnne Thayne

  He suddenly hoped to hell she told Bradley Swidell exactly that when she broke off their engagement. It would serve the son of a bitch right.

  “I thought it was me, that I was somehow incapable of…of any grand heat, any all-consuming passion. Bradley seemed convinced I must be frigid, though he was certain I would grow out of it once we were married. Or maybe he didn’t care, as long as he had access to my father’s money.”

  “You’re not frigid.” He could say that with unequivocal certainty, remembering her heated response to him back in the rain forest. “He was just an idiot.”

  She laughed again and he was entranced by her, even when she was a shade on the loopy side.

  “I know. I figured that out when you kissed me today. I have to tell you, Dr. Lorenzo Galvez, I never knew it was possible to feel so…so alive, so on fire. I wanted to jump you right there in the jungle.”

  CHAPTER 10

  He stared at her, lost to everything but his sudden fierce desire.

  He was instantly aroused—and painfully aware that they were alone in the house with a heavy rain falling outside and a wide, comfortable bed only a few feet away.

  He could have her there in a heartbeat, could assuage his hunger at last. It was the only chance he would ever have to taste that mouth, to be surrounded by her warmth and her soft curves. He wanted to take that chance more than he wanted his next breath.

  “Olivia—” he began.

  Whatever he meant to say was lost when she blinked and suddenly set down her wineglass, looking horrified.

  “Oh no. Tell me I didn’t just say out loud that I wanted to jump you.”

  “Yeah,” he growled. “Yeah, you did.”

  Her color leached away, then returned in a hot, fiery tide. “Don’t listen to me. It’s the wine talking. It…it must be.”

  He drew in a shaky breath, feeling as if she’d just dumped the rest of the Chianti on his head. “Right. The wine.”

  It was exactly the reminder he needed. As much as he wanted her, he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. Not under these circumstances.

  She wasn’t thinking clearly or she never would have made such a confession—and part of his personal credo was never to take advantage of any woman who wasn’t completely, enthusiastically, one hundred percent in full command of her faculties.

  “Forget I said anything,” she muttered. “Forget I’m even here.”

  As if he ever could. He sighed. He should tell her now that he’d called her father. Before he could, she stood up and started clearing away their plates, her attention focused on anything but him.

  He slid his chair back and rose. “I can do this. You went to all the trouble cooking. I’ll clean up.”

  “I’m a messy cook,” she protested.

  “I don’t mind,” he assured her. “Those were the rules when I was a kid. If you don’t cook it, you get to clean it up. Just sit down and rest.”

  She looked as if she wanted to argue but finally she shrugged, still avoiding his gaze, and moved to the living area. She sat down on one of the two armchairs angled to look out the wide windows overlooking the Gulfo Dulce.

  Despite her protestations of her messy cooking style, it only took him a few moments to wash and dry the dishes she’d used.

  He quickly cleaned up the mess, vowing as he finished that he would tell her what he’d done.

  If her father received the message, he would be here by morning to collect her. Judging by what she’d told him about her father, she would need a little time to prepare herself for Wallace Lambert’s arrival.

  But when he returned the last dish to the cabinet and joined her in the living area, he found her asleep on the chair, her neck bent at an uncomfortable-looking angle.

  Poor thing. He had worn her out completely with their long trek through the jungle.

  He sat on the other armchair, gazing out at the steady drumbeat of rain. How many of his turtles were nesting on Playa Hermosa during the last two nights he’d missed the egg count?

  He should be upset at missing critical data, but somehow he couldn’t summon more than a twinge of regret. He pondered that oddity. How had his life changed so completely in twenty-four hours? Two days ago, he would have been frustrated and angry at missing even one night’s data, but somehow his priorities had shifted.

  His work was important; he would never believe anything different. But right now this—ensuring Olivia’s safety—was paramount.

  He leaned his head back against the armchair and sat for a long time watching the rain and wondering how one small, stubborn, curvy female could walk into his life and shake it up so dramatically in only a handful of hours.

  The contrast between the stress of the day and the quiet peace of this moment seemed to seep into his muscles and he closed his eyes, thinking he would only rest them for a moment.

  He blinked awake some time later—not long, he saw when he checked his watch. He’d only drifted off for a half hour or so, but his neck still ached from the unnatural position and he imagined Olivia’s probably was much the same.

  It was silly for her to sleep out here when she could use the perfectly good bed in the next room. He went to her, more entranced than he had any damn right to be by the curve of her throat and a sweep of brown-blond hair across her cheek and the way she pursed her lips in her sleep, as if waiting for her prince’s kiss.

  He sure as hell was no prince, he reminded himself sternly. He was selfish and thoughtless and committed to his work to the exclusion of all else. A rich girl like Olivia Lambert should run as fast and as far as she could get from a man like him.

  But not right now, when she needed to sleep. With gentle care, he scooped her into his arms, holding his breath that she would awaken. She only snuggled into him, wrapping her arms around his neck with a contented sigh.

  Oh, she felt good. Warm curves and soft, sweet-smelling woman.

  Olivia.

  His breathing suddenly ragged, his heartbeat uneven, he wanted to stand there forever and just hold her, just absorb her female essence into all the hard edges of his soul, and he had to use all his self-control to force his muscles to move again.

  The bedroom was dark, lit only by the pale, watery moonlight reflecting off the white mosquito netting. He pushed it aside and lowered her to the bed. Her arms were still tightly wound around his neck so he had no choice but to follow her down to the mattress until he could extricate himself. She held on as tightly as a liana vine.

  Bracing himself above her on one hand, he reached the other behind his neck to try to pry her free, all the while painfully aware of her curves pressed against him, her heat burning through the thin layers of her borrowed cotton dress.

  He couldn’t seem to break her hold from this awkward angle and the delectable feel of her body against his was quickly fraying the tenuous hold he had on his control.

  “Olivia?” he whispered. “Sweetheart, you need to let go.”

  “Don’t want to,” she murmured, and tilted her head so her lips barely brushed along the side of his neck.

  He closed his eyes, shivering at the raw heat scorching through him. She didn’t know what she was doing; she was not even half-awake, he told himself. But somehow she managed to find exactly the right spot to fray that control even further.

  Her eyes were open now, he could see in the moonlight filtering through the netting, just before she pulled his head down, seeking his mouth.

  Like the rest of her, her mouth was soft and warm and tasted sweet and heady. Ren tried to hang on to sanity but the sudden glide of her tongue and the tangle of her legs around his were quickly eroding his control.

  This was his only chance to touch her, to kiss her, some demon voice reminded him. Her father would be coming in a few hours, and then she would be out of his life, taking all this sweet eagerness with her.

  He could surrender to the overwhelming temptation for just a moment without jeopardizing his control, he told himself. One tiny sliver of time. He would stop
things before they went too far.

  On a sigh, he kissed her, aroused beyond belief.

  She gave a soft, erotic sound and responded with an enthusiasm that took his breath away, along with any vague idea he might have had about stopping anytime soon.

  Their mouths tangled for long, delectable moments, until her body began to shift restlessly against him. Her borrowed dress buttoned up the front and it was an easy matter to work a few buttons free to reach silky skin beneath.

  She wore nothing but the dress, he realized. He should have expected it since she had no change of underclothes except the bikini she’d been wearing on Suerte del Mar. Still, he felt a little jolt of shock at the sight of that creamy skin in the moonlight, at those lushly feminine curves that had haunted him from the moment he saw her.

  “Touch me,” she ordered, fully awake now, and he was helpless to resist. He wanted more light, wanted to see her laid out before him like some kind of gorgeous calendar girl from a different era. She was ripe and voluptuous and everything he had ever dreamed of in a woman.

  He might have been able to resist her if that was her only appeal to him. But she was also brave and smart and funny and he was crazy about her.

  She sighed his name, her hands massaging his shoulders, playing with his hair, exploring his skin.

  They were going to catch fire in a moment, he was very much afraid. He tried frantically to hang on to his control, but it slipped further away with every touch of her mouth and caress of her fingers.

  “Make love to me, Ren. Please.”

  He had to close his eyes against the heat and wild hunger thrumming through him. Though it just about destroyed him, he eased away from her.

  “Olivia, I can’t take advantage of you.”

  “What if I want you to take advantage of me?” she asked, her voice thready with need.

  He groaned. “Liv—”

  She cut him off effectively by wrapping around him again, until nothing in his world existed but her.

  “You have to. It’s my honeymoon.”

  A strangled laugh caught in his throat. “Wrong groom, babe.”

  “Who cares about him? He’s a jerk who doesn’t deserve me.”

  She smiled, but he saw lingering shadows in her eyes. He was quite certain her heart hadn’t been bruised by her broken engagement. She had said as much at dinner. But perhaps her pride hadn’t escaped unscathed.

  He pressed his mouth to her forehead. “Damn straight, he doesn’t deserve you. And neither do I.”

  She shook her head, sitting up against the headrest. In the moonlight, her eyes looked clear and alert, he saw with relief. At least he could put that worry to rest, that she was either still half-asleep or still mellowed from the wine.

  “You saved my life, Ren. You protected me from all the snakes in the rain forest. Rafferty, the fer-de-lance, the squatters. All of them.”

  “You don’t owe me anything for that. Especially not…this.”

  In answer, she leaned against him, all lush curves and sweet-smelling skin. He could feel her smile as she kissed him, though he thought perhaps it was a little on the tremulous side.

  “I don’t want to make love to you out of a sense of obligation. I want to make love to you because with you I feel things I had no idea I ever could. I need you, Ren.”

  How could any man possibly resist the entreaty in her vivid blue eyes, the low timbre of desire in her voice?

  He had wanted her from the moment she brushed against him in the undergrowth of James Rafferty’s estate, and every passing hour had only increased his desire.

  She was every fantasy he’d ever had come to life.

  And hell. He was only human.

  “Please, Ren,” she whispered again and he groaned as the lingering vestiges of his control flew out the window into the tropical night.

  He yanked her to him again, his mouth urgent and demanding, and she responded with an exultant laugh that shivered down his spine like trailing fingers.

  It was too late now. She had sealed her fate.

  * * *

  Something had changed. She could sense it in his kiss. One moment, he was restrained and cautious, the next he kissed her with a deep, urgent passion that took her breath away.

  She gloried in it and wanted to absorb every touch, every kiss into her memory. Every sense was alive, hyperaccentuated. The rustle of the sheets beneath her, the lacy netting around them, the sound of the rain cascading outside. Everything seemed to add to her awareness of him.

  He trailed kisses down her throat to her chest, bared after he worked the buttons free on her dress. She shivered when he kissed the slope of one breast and nearly swooned when his tongue darted out to lick and taste.

  Her hands were busy taking his shirt off, baring those hard, broad muscles and all that beautiful skin. She caressed him, relishing the leashed strength she could feel there.

  At last, when they had touched and explored until she was quivering with need, he leaned back and reached to pull off her sundress.

  “I need to see you,” he said, his voice roughened with desire. He flipped on the generator-powered lamp by the bedside and Olivia squirmed beneath his intense gaze.

  She felt fat and uncomfortable and longed more than anything to pull the light blanket over her to hide her curves.

  “You are absolutely the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “You don’t have to say that,” she mumbled. “I know I’m fat. It took me four months to lose fifteen pounds for the wedding and I think I’ve gained it all back stress-eating in the last two weeks.”

  He leaned back, his eyes dark with unmistakable shock. “You’re perfect, Olivia. I’ve been fantasizing about touching these curves since the moment I met you.”

  “You have not.”

  In answer, he arched an eyebrow and covered her curves with his fingers. “Have too,” he murmured. “And I’ve fantasized about doing this.”

  She nearly came off the bed when his mouth moved to her breast and his tongue danced across her nipple.

  “I’ve spent all day trying not to imagine all the ways I want to touch you.”

  She gasped as his fingers slid across her body to try out one of those methods in a particularly innovative spot.

  His fingers danced at the apex of her thighs and she arched against him, forgetting all about feeling dumpy. Instead, more of that heady empowerment swept through her.

  “For a scientist, you’re amazingly creative,” she managed to murmur through the heat scorching her.

  “You have no idea,” he murmured, his breath warm against her curves.

  She wanted to find out, she thought. She wanted to spend all night in his arms, learning his secrets and sharing her own.

  She had never felt like this, had never even imagined it was possible—this sweet surge of blood, the glittery tug on her emotions.

  She wasn’t crazy enough to think this meant anything more to him than a physical release after their ordeal together. She was not the sort of woman who could catch and keep a wild heart like Lorenzo Galvez.

  In the morning she would catch a flight out of Puerto Jiménez for San José and then home. The heat and magic of this moment, the two of them entwined together while the rain poured down outside, might be all she ever had of him and it would have to be enough.

  She pushed away the bittersweet thought and drew his mouth to hers for another of those drugging kisses as her hands explored his warm skin. She loved everything about him—the curve of his spine and the breadth of his shoulders and his slim hips.

  His butt was a glorious thing. She should know, since she’d just spent all day watching it ahead of her on the trail. It seemed incredible that she was here in his arms and could touch everything she had watched and lusted over all day.

  They spent long moments exploring each other, and then the mood seemed to shift. Everything took on a new intensity. His gaze roamed over her as he touched her intimately again, those clever, creative finge
rs playing across her sensitive folds.

  At last, when she felt as if she stood on the edge of that jungle tree house ready to leap a hundred feet off into the unknown, he entered her. She gasped, wrapping her legs around him and holding him close, wanting to sear this moment into her memory.

  His mouth met hers, his eyes burning with passion and something else, something soft and tender that took her breath away.

  “Olivia—” he said, his voice raspy.

  In answer, she arched against him, pushing him inside deeper. He groaned and gripped her hands in his, and their bodies tangled in a sensual tropical dance.

  She forgot about being stilted in bed, about her usual discomfort and natural reticence. In his arms, she was a wild, earthy goddess and she claimed every ounce of her power.

  She was back in that tree house in the rain forest, teetering on the edge, toes tingling and her stomach a jumble of glittery heat and need. He brushed his mouth against hers, and the silky rasp of his skin against hers sent her tumbling headlong over the edge, only to soar like one of those brilliantly plumed birds.

  She gasped his name and his fingers tightened on hers, and then he joined her in flight.

  * * *

  She had no idea it was possible to feel so incredibly content, loose and comfortable inside her skin.

  Ren pulled her closer until she laid half across him, his heartbeat a loud drumbeat in her ear. She traced a hand across the hard, defined muscles of his chest and wanted this moment to last forever.

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead and Olivia closed her eyes, absorbing every sensation into her mind. She had never known this kind of intimacy, this soul-deep connection, had never even imagined it. And she certainly never guessed, judging by previous experience, that such fiery passion lurked inside her.

  She might have never discovered such a glorious world if not for Ren Galvez, with his shaggy hair and wild edges.

  Profoundly grateful for the twist of fate that had brought the orbits of their respective lives into a collision course, she kissed the hard line of his jaw. “Thank you,” she murmured.