by Zoe York
“You do?”
Her lips pulled into a tight smile. “I do.”
All the air pooled in his lungs fled in a huge rush.
“Really?”
She nodded. “Really.”
He pulled her in for a hug and took a couple of deep breaths before going on. “We got back a week later, but…”
“But I was gone.” Her voice cracked on the last syllable.
He nodded, lost in memories. He’d made a hundred rounds of the town, looking for her, asking after her, wondering how to get in touch.
“You were gone, and I had no way to contact you — no email, no phone, nothing. I tried. I looked up every damn archaeological dig I could, trying to find one starting with Xtla… Xtle… Xt…”
“Xtlemacán,” she filled in, the awkward Mayan syllables flowing off her tongue.
“But I couldn’t find it. Couldn’t find you. I didn’t even know your last name.” He tightened his hug to hide the shudder going through his body. “We tried everything for two weeks, and then…” He trailed off just short of saying, I gave up, even though it was true.
She was swaying gently in his arms now, and all he wanted was to stand there and hold her all night. All week. Hell, a month would be good. The citrus-salt scent of her hair, the light curves of her body pressed into his — yeah, that was good. Better than good.
“So where did you go?” she murmured at last.
He told her the rest, quickly, because it didn’t matter any more, not now.
“Tobin promised to meet his friends in Mexico, so we sailed all the way up the coast, then all the way back here. “We’re heading south now, to Panama for hurricane season.” He couldn’t resist a stop in Santa Marta to try to find her one more time, even though he knew she’d be long gone by then. And even though Tobin complained the whole way about him mooning over some chick.
He’d just about punched his brother. Julie was not just some chick.
So what is she? Tobin had asked.
Damned if Seth didn’t get stuck on the answer. He stood there, shaking his head, gesturing vaguely in the air. What was Julie to him, exactly?
A hell of a lot more than some chick, was the best he could eventually sputter. Then he’d pulled seniority and insisted they stop in the beach town. And there she’d been, at the Coco Loco Café. Bronzed and beautiful as ever.
And now she was here, on this tiny spit of an island, those sky-blue eyes studying his.
“The whole time, all I wanted was you.” He hesitated on the cusp of his confession then let the dam break. What did he have to lose now? “Julie, I still want you. And not just for a week. Not for a month. I want…” He caught himself there, sounding like the self-centered bastard he probably was. I want, I want, I want.
“What do you want?” she prompted, so softly he barely caught the words.
“I want a chance. With you. To give us a try.”
There. He’d said it. Even if she shot him down with every weapon in her arsenal until he was limp and bleeding in a pathetic heap, at least he’d have tried. He didn’t want a fling. He wanted a shot at more. Maybe even forever.
If he hadn’t already blown it, that is.
She was awfully quiet for a minute. Watching him, looking more tired and lost than she’d looked all day. She opened her mouth, and he wanted to coax the words out. Words like I want that, too, Seth. I want to give us a try.
Her shoulders drooped and her chin dropped to her chest. “I can’t think straight, Seth. I have people chasing me. Men with guns—”
“I’ll help you,” he blurted.
“You already have.”
He shook his head. “No, right through to the end. ‘Til we figure this out. Do whatever it takes to get them off your back, or to get you out of Belize. Whatever it takes.”
She glanced up, eyes shiny with…hope? Tears? He couldn’t tell which.
“We?”
“We.” He hammered the word out to make sure she believed, then sealed his lips, because if he said one more word, he’d probably screw everything up.
He gulped and listened to his heart kick madly inside his chest, waiting…until she slid into his arms and pulled herself close. He knotted his hands behind her and let his eyes shut in a silent promise. Somehow, he’d get her out of her mess. Somehow, he’d keep her safe.
And after that, he’d make sure he never screwed up with her again.
— TWELVE —
On a scale of ten, that hug was at least a twelve, Julie decided. The bonus points were for those thick arms, circling her just tightly enough to squeeze her body against his without impeding the rise and fall of her lungs. The steady beat of his heart was like a metronome for hers to follow, instead of galloping in panic at all that had gone wrong.
She’d never needed Seth to comfort her before, but he was good at that, too. She didn’t want to need comfort as much as this, but…it felt good. The weight of his head against hers, showing that he wasn’t staring over her shoulder or checking his watch but snuggled good and close like the two of them were a couple of sleepy sheep.
Except the longer the hug lasted, the less sleepy she felt. Quite the opposite, in fact, since their combined heat seemed to be pooling low in her core. Her hips nudged closer and closer to his while her leg kept wanting to play python and glide around his.
It took the last of her willpower to pull away — everything but her left hand, which refused to let his go. She tilted her head to one side, and they walked wordlessly along the beach.
It felt like their very first night together, yet nothing like it at all. This strange mix of cozy and awkward and excited was the same. In Santa Marta, though, everything had been fun and games. It all seemed so simple at the time: the sand, the sun, the bungalow with its queen-sized bed, beckoning them inside. His body and hers, fitting together perfectly. No false promises, no heavy emotions. Just a week of fun.
At least, that’s what she’d told herself. Even as the days and nights of that magical week cycled toward the inevitable goodbye, she went on lying, or at least procrastinating. Because they were supposed to have had that final fun Friday together, then a Saturday to deal with goodbye.
But then that Friday had rolled around, and everything fell apart. She’d gone straight back to work and straight back to lying to herself — that Seth didn’t matter to her. That he hadn’t kindled an inner fire that refused to go out.
The fire burning brightly under this perfect tropical night. She tightened her fingers around his, and the inner flames blazed higher still.
“Nice island,” she whispered just to fill the silence.
The palms all seemed to lean in to eavesdrop, and a seagull dipped closer, the white of its wings flashing in the moonlight.
“Hmmm,” Seth agreed, pulling her hand up and holding it against his abdomen. “Nice place.”
It was all she could do not to run her fingers over the ridges of muscle under his skin. Because yeah, the place was nice, but not at all conducive to keeping a clear head or thinking about more important things, like the mysterious gangster-cops chasing her earlier in the day.
No, this idyllic splotch of sand in a turquoise sea was just not the place for thoughts like that. More like the place to lean left so her side was pressed along his. The place to let her arm slide around his back while they walked and let him do the same.
This island was perfect for all that. So perfect that they eventually stopped walking and folded in on each other, coming face-to-face. She turned into Seth’s chest, and her eyes didn’t have time to check his because she pressed right into a kiss.
A long, soft kiss that was like the sea: it seemed to go on forever, and she didn’t want it to end. The kind of kiss that wouldn’t stay innocent for long. Not with the waves whispering, the palms giggling, the stars smiling overhead.
It was just like their second or third kiss of their very first night together — the one that followed the first couple of shy touches, right before that wave of desire knocked
both of them over and swept them away.
Just like that. She let her tongue trace the whole perimeter of his lips, then delve deeper to tease his into action. She flattened her breasts against his chest, squeezing every ion of air out from between them, rubbing against him like a lioness with her mate. Which wasn’t far off, considering the purring kind of rumble building in his chest. Though lions, of course, didn’t slide their paws into the waistline of each other’s shorts.
He brought his lips to her ear and focused his kisses there a while before pulling in a long, heavy breath. “Julie.”
She shook her head and brought his lips back to hers. What was there to discuss? Everything was a consuming light, pulling her toward him. She needed contact, not words. She needed him.
“Julie.”
She kissed right through it like they were back to that Friday and nothing would keep them apart.
“Julie…”
She slumped in his arms. What was the difference between this night and all their other times together when he hadn’t shown the slightest hesitation?
The moon shone the answer right back at her. That was then, this was now. And this time, there was more at stake. This wasn’t sex any more. It was more.
“Don’t you dare go all gentlemanly on me,” she mumbled into his shirt. “Because I prefer the pirate.”
His perfect lips curled up at the ends. “I don’t want to stop, but this pirate’s pockets are empty.”
It took her hazy mind a minute to figure that out. No condom. The slutty part of her mind sent her hands tunneling into his pockets, conducting a thorough search. No condom, but there was a handful of something else. More than a handful, in fact. She ran her fingertips against the length of his cock and smiled at the quiver that produced.
“Pity,” she murmured. It was sort of a compliment, in a way. Maybe he didn’t just want to use her for sex. Maybe not all men had one-track minds.
Then she let a secret smile spread across her face as she pulled his hands toward her pockets and guided them in. A rustle ensued and Seth cracked a huge grin.
“You don’t.”
“I do.” She smiled into his lips, feeling ridiculously pleased with herself. Never mind what it suggested about women and their one-track minds. In truth, she’d been cleaning up in the tiny bathroom on Serendipity when the condoms fell out of her bag, and she’d pocketed them without thinking. But maybe her subconscious had been at work, because something about Seth did that to her. That combination of really nice guy and buccaneer.
“Here I am being all gentlemanly while you’re being a vixen,” he murmured.
“I prefer pirate, thank you very much.” She rolled her sandal over the rough coral underfoot. “Though, I have to admit, I’ve never had my way with a man on an uninhabited island. How about you?”
“Had my way with a man?”
She play-slapped him then ran the hand down his hip. A tiny tremor went through him, making her pulse spike.
“Have you ever rescued a helpless damsel in distress and kissed her on a deserted tropical island?” She held her breath, suddenly not sure she wanted to know. Maybe he’d been charming women all the way down the coast. He and that brother of his…
He snorted and shifted so their bodies were perfectly aligned. “You’re no helpless damsel.”
“I was today.”
“You scaled a ten-foot wall with glass on top!”
“Eight feet. Nine, tops.”
“You jumped on the back of a speeding motorcycle.”
She had to laugh at that one. “You were barely moving.”
“I was going at least thirty.”
She shook her head, then caught him in a kiss that sent another flaring zing through her body. “Sailor’s choice: palm tree, or missionary style on the beach?”
His head went up to the crown of the nearest palm. “Tree?”
“I mean against it, not up it.”
His eyes lit up enough to show her he’d probably had that fantasy, too, but never actually tried it. A hand slid against her shorts and the package rustled again.
“How many condoms you have in there?”
Heat rushed to her face because, yeah, that felt good. To be wanted — and more than once — ahead of time.
“Two.”
He nodded, and the impish look was gone, replaced by something dark and hungry. “Then I vote for the tree.” He was already backing her toward the nearest trunk, all pirate now, dark and gritty and hungry. “Then we’ll find a smooth patch of sand where I can lay you down and watch your face in the moonlight when I touch you.”
His words were like a third hand, gliding down her spine. Because the pirate was a poet — a poet who could make her panties wet without a single touch. Because the subtext was there: I want to watch your face in the moonlight when I screw you senseless. I want to make it good for you and for me.
Those promises, she couldn’t wait for him to make good on. She was already clutching at his shirt, wishing it were gone.
“Touch me where?” she asked, all husky now. Because her back was against the trunk of the palm and his hips were squeezing against hers. Hard.
“Nuh-uh.” He shook his head. “Not giving the whole pirate fantasy away too soon.” He traced the lower edge of her bikini top and she pressed more tightly against him.
“Doesn’t have to be a fantasy, sailor.”
— THIRTEEN —
“Good,” Seth whispered, though he might as well have yelled Go! because the two of them were off and away. His mouth got busy with her neck, nipping between kisses and she couldn’t help but let her head loll back against the tree. He slid his hands across her back and tugged at the bikini strap that stuck out from the collar of her shirt. Then both shirt and bikini were shucked and dangling from her hands — because it was she who’d tugged them both off. It was her hurrying him on, because this was a hell of a lot better than fear and uncertainty and where-the-hell-do-I-go-next. This was warm and accepting and safe, because behind that pirate was a prince of a man who’d give her every pleasure, satisfy every urge.
Seth’s broad hands cupped her breasts and lifted as his thumbs teased her nipples into straining peaks. She closed her eyes and let all her senses feast on his touch. His sailor’s hands were like massage pads, switching from coarse scrub to soft rub as different parts of his palms and fingers touched her. Her shoulders were flexing backward, all but wrapping themselves around the tree — anything to give him more access. Breath became a form of speech as she huffed and sighed her pleasure into the night.
“You like that,” he chuckled.
She gulped and nodded. The man could tie her upside down from this tree and she’d like it. He’d always managed that trick — finding her inner switch and flipping it. Out with the capable, independent woman, in with the whimpering beast.
He grinned and followed the curve of her body down like a slide, peppering kisses as he went. She wanted to howl for more because he was waking every primal urge in her soul. She laced her hands through his hair and eased him away from the plump side of one breast to the nipple, but damned if the man didn’t skim right over it on the first pass. But just when she was about to protest, he darted back, latched on, and sucked.
“Oh God,” she mumbled, letting her head thunk back against the tree. Seth could make her high just from his touch. The stars were already looking like blurry swirls of light. A whole art gallery of constellations stretched overhead, winking and cheering her on.
It felt good. It felt…free. Which really didn’t make sense — giving herself over to a man completely, even confidently. But nothing about this crazy day made sense. Nothing about the way her body yearned for his from the moment they’d met, all those weeks ago.
Didn’t make sense, but instinct said it was right.
Her fingers plucked at his shirt, working desperately to get it off. He must have chuckled out of the side of his mouth, because she could feel the bounce of his lips on her breast a
long with the sound. He leaned back in a squat, yanked his shirt off — zoom, a whole checkerboard of muscle bared to her eyes — and then he was back, sucking her nipple into his mouth then letting it out slowly. In, then out, until the sound of the ocean in her ears was a roar.
This was just what she remembered — and what she’d tried to forget — of their carefree week together. Seth had always given her everything before asking for anything in return. His only hurry was achieving her pleasure, and he worked her higher and higher until her body thrummed with desperate need.
He leaned right to play with the other breast then slid down to her navel. For one breathtaking minute she thought he might go lower still. Her hands might just have nudged his head in that direction, except he straightened instead and took her mouth in a plundering kiss. The whole weight of him was against her now, the smooth plates of his chest squeezing against her breasts, his sculpted shoulders under her hands. All he needed was a beard and he’d be Neptune, come out of the sea to take his pleasure with the woman of his choice.
Her. Plain old her. She was his top choice. Her whole body quivered.
The breeze kicked up a notch and she worked her hands down his body, pushing his shorts down until he kicked them off, then let her explore. She let her hands scoop behind to admire the powerful slab of his ass before slipping around the front to fist his cock. He sucked in a deep breath, and she did, too, because the man really was a god, too big to be true. But the building moisture between her legs promised it would be an easy ride. A good ride. Hell, a magical ride.
She slid her hand toward the bulging head of his cock then rode back up, tugging the foreskin as she went.
His head went heavy on her shoulder, but the bulk of him went stiff as he groaned. “Ju…”
Good to know she wasn’t the only one losing it here.
“You like that,” she murmured.
“Like?” He shook his head slightly, whispering, “Like is not the word.”
She repeated the heady ride, imagining him sliding inside her body instead of in her hand. Her legs twitched with anticipation, her breasts swelling full and hard. She slid down the full length of him, let a finger circle his crown, then dragged up until her fist was nested in the curls at the base. She paused there, feeling him pulse in her hand.
