by S. M. Butler
His grip tightened on her waist, but she was just getting started, and no amount of delicious grinding or out-of-this-world kissing would change the fact that he had no clue who she was or what she’d gone through.
This time, it was her punishing kiss to deliver to him, and he opened for her, groaning into her mouth as she poured her frustration over his lips.
She bit his top lip, relishing the way he gasped in surprise.
“That was no love nip,” he growled, and she drifted a faux-soft apology kiss over his owie before sucking the abused flesh into her mouth again.
“Damn straight. You’re a trespasser on my land.” Why did he taste so damn good? She wanted to do tequila shots with him. Lick lime off his naked skin and get so drunk their history wouldn’t matter.
“I was invited.”
She licked down his throat. His Adam’s apple didn’t even bob. Asshole. “An oversight, I’m sure. Mr. Fucking Cool Guy.”
“I’m not being cool about anything at the moment, Larken. And most definitely not about you.” He lifted her easily and carried her backward onto the porch. “Key.”
“I’m going to bed alone.”
He glared at her as he set her down. “No fucking shit.”
She pressed the key into his hand and he opened the door, but when she moved to step past him, he stopped her with an arm across her chest. The warmth of his skin across the top of her breasts was…distracting. She was terribly weak when it came to Vince. Weak and womanly, two of her least favorite things.
He bracketed the side of her body, and she twisted her face toward him.
“I hear you. I really do. But I need this haven just as much as you do. So we’re going to keep talking, and kissing, until you understand that. You get me?”
She glared at him. Yeah. She got him.
This was going to be a long, hot weekend.
Chapter Four
‡
Vince woke up at dark o’clock, long before his alarm sounded. Too early to start clanging around in Larken’s kitchen, although when he poked around, he realized the early hour wasn’t the only barrier to making her breakfast.
He pulled on his clothes from the night before and quietly slipped out of the cottage. In the main house, he found a few lights on and good smells coming from the kitchen.
“You’re up early,” Calli said when he announced his intrusion by knocking on the open archway door to her domain.
“I was hoping I could borrow some breakfast supplies.”
“I’ve already got biscuits in the oven. I can put eggs on for you?”
“That’s mighty generous of you, but I had another plan.” He grinned as the pretty brunette gave him a knowing look.
She didn’t return the smile. Instead, she went to the oven and pulled out a baking tray. She shoved it onto a cooling rack on the counter, then leaned back against the marbled-topped island and crossed her arms. “Larken’s not easily won over.”
Vince straightened up and squared his shoulders. “I don’t expect it will be easy, no ma’am.”
Calli dusted flour off her hands, white puffs disappearing into the air. “You have a history with her.”
“We knew each other a long time ago. We were both different people then.”
“Good that you see she’s changed.”
She held his gaze for a moment, her expression serious and thoughtful, then they were interrupted by the arrival of her husband.
Rik kissed his wife on the cheek, then held out his hand to Vince. “Morning.”
“Coffee’s on, baby,” Calli whispered, bumping her hip against Rik’s.
He laughed and looked at Vince, then nodded to the carafe across the kitchen. “She knows me well. Want some?”
Vince shrugged. Sure, he could have a cup here first before heading back to the cottage. There were some things he wanted to talk about, anyway.
*
Larken smelled coffee and bacon.
To the best of her knowledge, she didn’t have either of those in her kitchen, so that was weird.
She blinked up at the ceiling. She was in her room, and her legs were tangled in the blanket, sweaty from an unusually restless night.
Vince. She replayed the kisses one last time in her head, then sighed and kicked herself in the ass and got out of bed.
After the world’s fastest shower, she threw on a bathing suit, shorts and a t-shirt, and padded into the kitchen in her bare feet.
Vince was standing at the stove, his back to her. He was wearing his shorts from the night before, and nothing else. His dark golden skin stretched tight over his sculpted back. A delicate black ink compass covered his right shoulder blade. Her fingers itched to trace its outline.
Instead, she stated the obvious. “You made breakfast.”
He glanced at her over his shoulder and winked. “You promised yours would be terrible.”
“Nothing wrong with a protein bar and some pineapple juice.”
“Sure. And you’re going to want to pack those.” Another wink, and he turned back to the stove.
“Pack them for what?”
“I’ll let Rik tell you more.”
“No, you know something that I don’t. You should tell me now.”
He lifted the frying pan and efficiently served what looked like scrambled eggs and mixed vegetables evenly onto two plates. He pulled another frying pan, this one with bacon, from the oven, and plated that up as well. He finally added what looked suspiciously like Calli’s butter tea biscuits before carrying both plates past her to the table.
“Vince?”
He gave her a bland look as he sauntered past, darkly confident in his ability to make her wait. “Do you drink coffee now?”
Not really. “Sure.”
“I also grabbed some cola from the main house.”
A cold Diet Coke sounded amazing, but she wouldn’t give him that win. Two could play the “I remember everything about you” game. “Coffee sounds great. You want white sugar for yours?”
He slowed and turned around, taking up way too much space in her little kitchen. The giant dragon skull on his chest practically winked at her as he spread his arms. “I looked. Couldn’t find it.”
“Not much of a recon specialist after all, then,” she purred, opening the freezer door. “I only have it to make cookies once in a blue moon, so I keep it in here. Bugs love it.”
“Cookies?” He took the tub of sugar from her hand.
“Chocolate chip.”
“My favorite.”
“I remember.” The truth was, the sugar was for a rare sweet tea craving. Probably the last time she’d made cookies was…for David’s kids. Anger flushed through her system and she spun around because Vince deserved all the pissed-off blonde she could throw at him—for the shit he’d pulled when they were younger. Not for another man’s betrayal.
She heard coffee pouring behind her, then he quietly slid a mug onto the counter beside her hand. She glanced down at her knuckles, white where she was gripping the edge. “Thank you.”
His voice was soft in her ear. “Let’s eat.”
“Vince…” What could she say? Sorry for being a complete bitch? Sorry that it’ll happen again, maybe even before the apology is finished? This was who she was. And that desire to make it all better…that was a path that would lead to her falling head over heels for him again.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ve got all weekend to talk.” He slid his coffee cup onto the counter beside hers and settled his hands on her hips. She could feel his solid warmth behind her and she closed her eyes as he swished her still-damp hair out of the way so he could kiss her neck.
“Come have breakfast,” he murmured against her skin, making her shiver.
“Okay.”
Silently, they carried their mugs to the table, then tucked in. It was very good. Maybe she should learn to cook.
Or maybe you should relax about the idea of having Vince around.
“This is better than a prot
ein bar,” she finally said, smiling behind her half-eaten biscuit.
“I didn’t make the biscuits.” He grinned back.
“No, but you made them happen. Here, in the privacy of my little cottage.”
“You like being removed from the rest of the team, huh?”
She nodded. “I won this place from Mats in a poker game, and I’m never giving it up.”
He laughed. “You guys do that on a regular basis?”
“Nothing else to do for fun on the island.”
He raised one eyebrow.
“At night.” She tossed a chunk of biscuit at him. “There’s only so much swimming and climbing and target practice one can do before one needs a bit of relaxation.”
“My idea of relaxing at the end of a day like that is a bit different than poker with buddies.” His eyes darkened as he found her gaze.
Did it just get hot in here?
“Well,” she said slowly, glancing down at her mostly empty plate. “You said something about packing some food?”
“Calli’s putting together a basket for us, actually.” His cutlery rattled on his plate as he stood up.
She shoved out of her chair, eyes still glued to her plate. “Okay.”
“You’ll need a change of clothes.”
“Okay.” She still wasn’t looking at him. Looking at him meant seeing how he looked at her, and she wasn’t ready for that again. Wasn’t ready for the heat or the understanding.
In the kitchen, she scraped her plate clean, then filled the sink with enough hot water to wash their dishes. He waited at her shoulder, and when she twisted to take his dishes from him, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist instead. “Larken…”
He didn’t get any further than that. His bare chest was right there, the black ink and golden skin too tempting. She touched him, palm to chest, and his plate clattered to the floor as he surged into her. His hands cupped the back of her head, his fingers slicing through her hair, and his lips parted hers immediately on contact.
No hesitation. No asking for permission. Just groaning demand as he thrust his tongue against hers.
Whimpering, she wrapped her arms around his neck and he hoisted her onto the edge of the counter, her ass hanging over the sink.
As she tightened her limbs around him, holding him in the vee of her legs, he slowed the kiss to a seductive exploration of her mouth. Hello, tonsils. I’m Vince Nash, sexiest man on earth. Remember me?
She did. God help her, she remembered everything, and she couldn’t help but imagine just how much better he probably was.
And she’d learned a few things over the years, too. Her hands itched to slide down his body and unzip his shorts. Turn the power imbalance around in a better, more pleasurable way.
No. Not yet.
She’d given in to the reality that they’d do this, soon. Better be really soon, her ovaries demanded as he rocked his erection against the seam of her jean shorts, putting a perfect amount of pressure on her clit. Oooohhhh… maybe one orgasm wouldn’t hurt.
As if he could read her mind, he stroked down her torso and found her breast, outside her shirt. Yes! her libido screamed. God, his hand felt good there. So good.
Too good.
First she needed to better understand what they were doing.
What he was doing, here on Camo Cay.
And with her.
She needed boundaries and information and her libido needed to shut up.
“Stop,” she managed to get out, and immediately he pulled back. No, a protest sounded in every cell of her body. Sadly, yes, her brain lectured right back. “That was…” she swayed into him, her swollen lips tipping back toward his mouth. “Good. And now it’s over.”
“It was good,” he murmured. “Let’s do it again.”
“Uh-uh.” Don’t yell at him. “See, you make me want to throw things. Which is mostly on me, I get that. So we just need to slow down, okay? Because I’m afraid that if we keep doing that, it’s somehow going to end badly. And then I’ll…”
“Stomp your feet like a toddler and have a tantrum?”
“Would you believe that yesterday was the first day in a long time that I’ve done that?”
“No.” He pulled her in tight as she scooted off the counter, finding her legs wobbly as she stood again. But this time he kept it at just a hug, and she let herself sink into his chest. “Eres ardiente, pero me gusta.” You’re a fiery one, but I like it.
He said it to himself as much as to her, under his breath and in Spanish. She didn’t react and he just kept hugging her. The last time she’d heard him speak Spanish, one of the nights he’d snuck into her barracks room when her roommates were out, she hadn’t understood the amazing and mysterious lines he’d whispered against her skin.
Now she understand enough.
She’d learned Spanish after her second tour of duty in Iraq. She’d been up for promotion, and it had seemed like a smart career move. She didn’t learn it because of Vince—by that point, she’d moved on. Enough time had passed, for sure. And maybe it was seeing the spec ops guys come and go like haunted ghosts in theater, all bearded and wild. Sunglasses firmly in place. Inaccessible to the average grunt.
And that’s what she’d been. Vince had always been ambitious, and she’d just wanted to be employed.
So she’d let go of his memory and trained herself to imagine each of those anonymous special forces soldiers was Vince, ignoring her. Not seeing her.
She only wondered once in a blue moon why their paths actually never crossed.
But they hadn’t. And as far as Vince knew, she didn’t know what he’d just said.
“Don’t play dirty,” she said, a watery laugh tripping off her last word. “Spanish isn’t playing fair.”
He searched her face. “It wasn’t something romantic, don’t worry.”
Her heart squeezed, because it had been the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her. But of course he hadn’t meant it to be seductive. He’d been talking to himself. She pressed him slowly away from her body, turning them so he was in front of the sink and she had the getaway path. She gave him a coy smile. “The entire language is mysterious and romantic. So if you’re going to curse me or something, do it in Norwegian.”
He laughed. “Or Scottish, or Texan?”
“Check and check. Only decidedly unsexy men can be on this team.”
“I’m going to change your mind on that.”
“Oh yeah?”
“That’s the thing that I talked to Rik about while I was getting breakfast supplies. You and I…we need a test of our teamwork.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
She crossed her arms. “And you have a plan, I take it?”
“Rik suggested we head to Quester’s Island for a day.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No!” Larken paced backwards, then twisted and turned away from him. A deserted island not far from Camo Cay in the archipelago, it was rumored to be haunted—and covered in buried treasure. Neither belief was true, of course, but it had a certain adventurous appeal. Adventurous and romantic.
“He thinks you should put me through my paces. Figure out whether or not you want me on your team.”
Could she let herself want Vince? Put her heart on the line again?
The real question was, could she stop herself from wanting him? No, she couldn’t.
Inhaling a shaky breath, she nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”
Chapter Five
‡
Vince wanted to take a boat and go, just the two of them, but Larken had a gleam in her eye when she announced it would be better for them to be dropped off by Jackson and picked up exactly twenty-four hours later.
“Not much of a challenge if you’ve got a getaway option, is it?”
“Do you seriously think that spending a night with you is that stressful?” he asked under his breath as they headed down to the dock.
“It’
s not the night that I’d be worried about,” she said, winking at him.
He wasn’t worried about the day, either.
Larken could hiss and growl all she wanted, but each time they got close, she dropped her shields and he got a taste of her secret softness.
That was all he needed—just a hint that she could give herself to him.
He was thirty-one, and in the twelve years since they’d parted ways, he’d never had a woman excite him like she did. He was old enough to know what he liked and what he wanted, and on both counts, it was Larken.
In all her “watch out, asshole” glory.
She’d always been sharp. Always had an edge. But the raw hurt was a change from when they were teenagers.
He was looking forward to the rest of the day. Alone, just the two of them on an island full of history and secrets. That was a lot like them, actually. And as soon as she was ready to show him hers, he’d return the gesture.
Until she was ready…he could keep her tongue occupied in ways that kept her from snapping at him.
And he’d enjoy every minute.
*
Larken stretched out in the back of the speedboat, tipping her face to the hot, Caribbean sun. She loved the turquoise waters and early sunsets. Such a change from growing up in Michigan. Grey lake water and long summer nights full of mosquitos and her father getting drunk off his gourd…yeah, she didn’t miss anything about her so-called home. That was why she hadn’t been back since her mother up and moved to San Francisco to live with a man she’d met online. A painter or something.
With a twinge in her gut, she glanced at Vince, taking up his usual amount of too-much-space beside her.
She’d met his family once, at the end of the sniper course they met on at Fort Benning. They’d each had a week of vacation before they needed to report back to their home units, and after four sex-filled nights at the shore, he’d taken her to his home town.
He’d introduced her to his parents as his girlfriend. They’d been lovely. She’d let herself hope that she’d be back for Christmas. But by the time the holidays rolled around, he was off to Illinois for his prep course in Navy Special Warfare, and she went to Cabo instead.
