She fluttered the strip of silk across his belly and swirled it around his erection, her expression mischievously wicked. “Hmmm, after everything you put me through the past six years, I think you need to grovel and beg just a little bit more.”
He groaned, prepared to do just that. By the time she had his wrists secured to the bedpost and her soft hands and damp mouth had traversed the length of his body, he was harder than a spike and delirious with wanting her.
“Ride me, Chloe,” he pleaded in a raspy tone of voice, needing a deeper, more intimate connection with her. “Make me yours.”
With a shivery sigh and desire etching her beautiful features, she impaled herself on his heat and took him to heights he’d never known before. With her heart, body, and soul, she sealed their future, surrendered her love, and welcomed him home.
…And When They Were Bad
Donna Kauffman
Chapter One
His woman had smooth, tanned skin, flashing eyes that said “make me,” a confidant attitude that assured him it would be worth his while…and a body simply begging to be licked. All over.
She was waiting. Just for him. For his tongue, his lips, his hands, fingers…and every other part of him. She was here, at Intimacies. And for the next two days she would be his.
All he had to do was find her.
“Mr. James, sir?”
Cameron turned to find a young man dressed in what apparently passed for a club uniform—low-slung tropical swim trunks and a white muscle tank with the club emblem stitched over the heart. White teeth gleamed against a deeply tanned face; he was relaxed, fit, and exuding vitality. The epitome of what Cameron had come here to discover in himself. The guy with no worries, the guy looking for a good time. The guy looking to discover his inner wild man. If he had one. Dear God, he hoped he did.
Cam cleared his throat. “Yes. Sorry for the delay. I had a meeting—”
“Not a problem,” the young man assured him with a smile that invited him to leave the pressures of the real world behind. If he only knew the magnitude of that invitation.
“I’m Brian,” he said, offering his hand. “The Jeep is right this way, sir.”
Cam shook his hand, then they both ducked against the wind coming off the private seaplane propellers as it scooted away from the dock, heading back out over the crystalline waters in preparation for takeoff.
Good-bye James & Son Industries, Cam thought, taking Brian’s silent invitation to heart. Good-bye divorce lawyers, good-bye IRS agents, good-bye rehab therapists and defense trial lawyers.
Good-bye Cameron James IV, perfect son, perfect husband, perfect company man.
“Mr. James?”
He turned back to the young man waiting to escort him to Intimacies, the new private club tucked away on its own island in the Caribbean. “Call me Cam,” he instructed and hefted his soft leather bag over his shoulder.
Because he’d been delayed leaving Atlanta, the sun was already setting on his first night. He wondered now why he hadn’t just canceled the meeting with his dad’s latest team of defense lawyers; they wouldn’t win an appeal anyway. His dad was guilty as hell and as far as Cam was concerned should sit right where he was, paying his debt to society. He should have flown out first thing. He should have ditched the stop by Rosewell to talk to the latest in his mother’s endless line of rehab specialists. All of whom gave her the attention she craved, none of whom would ever help her, as she had no plans to ever help herself. He supposed he should be thankful he hadn’t heard from Claire’s legal team, although after their last settlement, he expected she’d be busy spending his money for at least the next several months. But none of that mattered here.
The closer they got to the club, the more he felt the various and numerous shackles of his life falling off, like so many rotted shingles. He’d spent his entire life doing what was best for others, being there for them whether they deserved his loyalty or not. For the next two days…and nights, he was going to do only what pleased himself.
Intimacies promised every sort of hedonistic delight a man—or woman—could think of…and several more they’d never dreamed of. He planned to explore every one of them.
As they bumped over the dusty road, Cam ducked as the occasional palmetto frond or other tropical under-growth fanned into the truck. “What’s on tap for tonight? Or have I missed all the fun?”
“Did you receive the club itinerary?” Brian asked, then waved a hand. “Never mind. I’ll run down the list.” He shot Cam a wide grin. “And no, you haven’t missed anything. The fun is just getting started.”
Cam returned the grin. “Fill me in.”
“There was a welcome reception earlier. As you’ve probably read in the brochure, the island is divided into two sections: clothing banned and clothing optional.” He said it matter-of-factly, with no emphasis on either.
Cam hadn’t really given the options a lot of thought. He supposed he’d just go with what felt right.
“We have a main dining lodge,” Brian continued, “though there are other smaller, more intimate places to eat around the club grounds as well, each with their own theme. The main lodge is the one place where guests from both sides of the club can meet and mingle. Minimal dress is required there”—he grinned again—“but not all that strictly enforced. Which works out okay, since it gives those considering switching sides a chance to test the waters, so to speak.”
Cam honestly tried to imagine wandering around among strangers buck naked and couldn’t summon the image. He had no problem imagining everyone else doing it, however, and smiled to himself. So maybe he’d test some waters himself. After all, that was why he’d chosen to come here. Who knew, he could be naked and loving it by morning.
“The main lodge is surrounded by a lagoon with bars set up on both sides in the water,” Brian went on. “There are recreational huts on the beaches and themed bungalows in other various spots on the club grounds. During the day there are organized sports activities listed for each hut. At night…” He laughed. “Well, there are sports activities as well, but of an entirely different nature. The bungalows are available at any time, as long as they’re not occupied…unless of course the inhabitants don’t mind company.” He glanced at Cam. “You’re welcome to join in as many club activities as you wish, or none at all. It’s up to you what kind of vacation you wish to have here.”
Cam’s imagination exploded and his body responded willingly to the carnal visions that filled his mind. Oh, he planned to participate all right.
“The hot-tub relay starts in about forty-five minutes,” Brian offered. “The mango body race is on then, too. You can watch or wade in. Whatever feels good, that’s the club motto.”
Cam wondered how the board members at the newly resurrected James Industries would feel if he introduced that as the new company motto upon his return. New CEO, new company name, might as well have a new motto. Then Brian was whipping the Jeep around a circular drive lit with tiki torches and pulling up in front of a large, round building with a faux thatched roof. “Main lodge,” he announced. “I can check your bags for you and you can pick up your key later if you’d like to dive right in. We have you staying in the Wild Cherry bungalow on the other side of the grounds. Anyone at the desk will be glad to direct you there personally whenever you’re ready.”
“Fine,” Cam said, distractedly. Two women and one gentleman had just exited the building. The man was wearing a narrow strip of wildly colored cloth tied around his hips, just barely covering himself. The women were less modest, wearing only a scrap of lycra on the lower half of their bodies and nothing at all on top. Cam immediately noticed—and approved of—their lack of tan lines.
“Hey, Brian,” one of the women called out. “You in charge of the body puzzle tonight?”
Brian flashed a grin. “You bet. See you there?”
Both women laughed. “We’re voting you captain of the Tab Team,” one said with a wicked grin. “See you later,” the other said, a
nd gave a little wink and wave.
All three quickly disappeared around the side of the building and Cam climbed from the Jeep.
Brian already had Cam’s bag. “I’ll send this to your bungalow, Mr. James. Cam,” he corrected himself with a smile. “There’s a list of tonight’s events on the board next to a big map of the club right inside the main hall.” He pointed to the path the others had taken. “Right down there, around the back. Have fun!”
“Thanks,” Cam said and waved as Brian disappeared into the main building through doors that silently whooshed open, then shut behind him. The brief wash of cool, conditioned air felt good…but he didn’t want anything as civilized as that tonight. He wanted to feel the heat, the humidity, cling to his skin. He wanted to feel vital, earthy, animalistic.
He was halfway around the building before he stopped and looked down at himself with a rueful smile. Oh yeah, you’re a wild man all right. Here he was at the premiere private club, whose brochure beckoned their guests to leave all their civilized ideals behind…and he was wearing trousers—perfectly pleated and cuffed—a white linen shirt expertly tailored for his broad shoulders…and a silk tie. A goddamn silk tie.
He debated heading back inside after Brian and going to his bungalow to change clothes. But he didn’t want to postpone the start of his hunt a moment longer. So he yanked off the tie and stuffed it in his pocket, then untucked his shirt and unbuttoned it, rolling the cuffs up his forearms. His designer leather shoes were kicked into the bushes, his socks and belt following shortly thereafter. He rolled his pants up to his calves and continued down the path, enjoying the feel of the smooth stone path, still warm from the day’s sun, on the soles of his feet. Then he caught sight of himself in a small, glass-surfaced lagoon and sighed. He stuffed his glasses in his other pocket and raked his hand through his hair a few times.
There. Not exactly a wild man. But not exactly Cameron James IV, good guy, either.
“Now,” he murmured as he returned to the path, “where are you, my wanton partner in sin?”
His first impression of the main lodge was that it wasn’t the thriving Mecca of bacchanalia he’d expected it to be. But it was interesting all the same. And stimulating.
Narrow tables filled with all kinds of fruits, juices, and finger foods wound their way around the sinuous design of the place. Small tables were tucked into curved alcoves, while round tables were placed here and there, beckoning larger parties to make themselves at home. Lush tropical foliage filled the nooks and crannies and draped over the backs of the alcoves, heavy with brightly colored blossoms whose fragrance mingled with that of the abundance of food being offered. The effect was heady, sensual…almost insisting that one partake of the bounty being offered.
There were people everywhere, though due to the clever design of the place, it didn’t look at all crowded. At the core was a gleaming mahogany bar that snaked around in a circle, with smooth, tanned leather stools lined up along the outside. Next to it was the map and huge board Brian had mentioned. It was hard to miss as the activities had been chalked in hot red, bright yellow, neon green. Cam shook his head, thinking of the dry erase board in his staid meeting room. He used black markers, and on rare occasions, blue. He made a mental note to invest in bright green and hot red. Maybe even tangerine orange.
A nervous laugh caught his attention and he swiveled his head from the list of activities to the bar, where a young woman sat between two fairly beefy guys.
It was apparent from the first glance that she was even more of a fish out of water than he was. Her artificial blond hair had been piled artlessly on top of her head, her eye makeup applied with a tad too heavy a hand, her lips too glossy. Pink flamingo earrings hung heavily from her tiny lobes, stretching them downward in a not-too-flattering way, but worse was the colored shell necklace she wore that dipped down into her pale white cleavage. Cleavage that had apparently only been achieved with the help of a superhuman Wonder Bra along with the tropical blouse that was tied tightly just beneath them. Even with all the help, there was very little spilling out of the unbuttoned silky shirt. Not that this had deterred her companions.
“Come on,” said one of the men, “just let me undo that knot.” He fingered the thick knot of silky fabric just below her breasts.
She laughed nervously and took a too-big sip of the obscenely large tropical drink that sat on the bar in front of her. Leaning forward caused what little nature had given her to be pushed almost beyond the bounds of the contraption she’d strapped them into. Both of her companions made no attempt to hide their overt appreciation of the display.
The one man continued to finger the knot, his hand splayed across the smooth white skin of her stomach. “Come on, honey. Just undo this one little knot, then we’ll take you over to other side. You’ll love it. Promise.”
The other man leaned in and whispered something in her ear that turned her pale-as-pearl skin bright pink.
She tried to laugh as she swatted at him, but Cam saw her swallow nervously…and take another lunging sip from her curly red straw.
“What can I get you?”
Pulled from his observations, Cam turned to find a young, deeply tanned woman on the other side of the bar. She had a red flower tucked behind one ear, a cascade of thick, dark hair, a welcoming white smile, and just enough bright yellow and green material tied around her voluptuous body to cover what needed covering…and make him want to rip it off her. Now this was more what he’d had in mind.
He moved closer to the bar. “What do you recommend?” And are there more women like you who happen to be guests? Even the way she moved aside and gestured to yet another smaller chalkboard listing the club specials was sinuous and inviting. Her hips were wide, her waist impossibly tiny. Her breasts, barely covered, sat up perfectly without any wires or unnatural support. They’d fill his hands and then some. And those hips, the way she moved them…
“See anything you like?”
Cam had to bite back a grin, mentally shaking his head. He was thinking like a randy teenager. But then, as a teenager he hadn’t had time to think randy thoughts. He’d been too busy taking care of his mother, whose “spells” had become rather frequent at that point. And when he wasn’t doing that, he was studying so he could graduate the top of his class, just as Cameron James numbers one through three before him had done. And then had come Harvard Business School, then working for his father, and finally marrying the perfectly bred corporate merger wife. Of course, that had been followed by dealing with his father’s federal embezzlement trial, his mother’s latest relapse, discovering his wife in bed with both her tennis instructor and Missy, her doubles partner, all the while holding the century-old family company together as the IRS tried to tear it apart.
No, he’d never had time to be randy. But where in the hell had being the good guy gotten him?
“I don’t suppose the club employees do much mingling with the guests,” he ventured.
She smiled and leaned against the bar, her manner relaxed and very inviting. His body stirred with an instant R.S.V.P.
“There are rules,” she said, then shifted a little closer as she softened her voice. “But at Intimacies, rules are made to be broken.”
“Are they now?” Cam responded, shifting his weight and leaning on the bar. Could it really be as simple as this? “You might be able to help me out then, as that’s exactly what I came here looking to do.”
He was interrupted by a little shriek, followed by masculine laughter. Unwillingly, he shifted his gaze back to the pale blond woman. One of the men had successfully undone the knot and she was clasping both hands to her breasts, easily covering them with her small palms.
“Now, now,” she scolded with a laugh, trying for all the world to sound as if she could handle the situation she found herself in when it was obvious to anyone paying attention she’d long since gotten in over her head.
Cam knew he should just turn away. After all, she was a grown woman who wouldn’t be her
e unless she wanted this kind of attention. She was on her own. He’d left his white knight membership card at home. He turned back to the bartender, whose sexy green eyes were all but devouring him. She fingered his collar. “Nice.”
He could have told just how nice, but he was more interested in getting out of his clothes than discussing where he’d had them tailored. “Thank you. Interesting outfit you have on there. Very…provocative.”
White teeth flashed, her full lips curving in a knowing smile. She was quite probably a half a dozen years younger than his thirty-two, but probably just as capable of making him not care.
“I’m glad you’re…provoked,” she said. “Have you decided on your drink order yet?”
He shook his head slowly. “Too busy trying to decide if I could actually undo that knot on your hip”—he held her gaze and went for broke—“with my teeth.”
Dark pupils shot wide and she licked her lower lip. Heaven have mercy but he wanted to taste that lower lip.
Another squeal punctured the intimate cocoon he was weaving around them.
The bartender looked over at the woman at the same time he did. She sighed, but quickly smiled at him. “Let me take care of this.”
Cam noticed that one man was nibbling the blonde’s earlobe, while the other was busy trying to explore what lay beneath those hands, almost white-knuckled now in their attempt to keep their protective shield up over her breasts. Then someone else came up to the bar asking for a drink and Cam swore under his breath. “I’ll handle it,” he told her, thinking that he’d do whatever it took to break up the unfortunate threesome while his wanton fantasy island barmaid fixed a few drinks. Then he could return and set up a rendezvous with her when her shift was over. Maybe they’d have their own private mango body race.
As with most things in his life of late, however, events didn’t exactly go as planned.
Chapter Two
I Love Bad Boys Page 18
