Cabin Fever

by Shara Azod

  Cabin Fever

  Shara Azod

  RaeLynn Blue

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2011 Shara Azod and RaeLynn Blue

  ISBN: 978-1-257-85183-6

  Cover Artist: Nicole Givens Kurtz

  Editor: Lacy Hill

  Published by Mocha Memoirs Press, LLC

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be produced or shared in any form, including but not limited to: printing, photocopying, faxing, or electronic transmission, without prior written permission from the authors.

  This book is a work of fiction. References may be made to locations and historical events; however, names, characters, places and incidents are the products of the authors’ imaginations and/or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons (living or dead), businesses, events or locales is either used fictitiously or coincidental.

  Other Works by Azod and Blue

  Safe

  Therapeutic Relations

  Something Deeper

  Black Roots and Cowboy Boots

  Dedication

  For the fans.

  We couldn’t do what we do without you.

  Chapter One

  “Where the hell are we?” Chanta asked. The arch of her delicately plucked eyebrows huddled together in a “v” above her chocolate-brown eyes. With her make-up immaculate and understated, she put any model to absolute ruin. Even frowning, Chanta could cause a traffic jam and a serious six-car pileup. “That doesn’t look like a fabulous island resort, Drew.”

  Drew Nicholson watched his wife silently. Sure he could appease her. Hell, he wanted to, but he stayed silent instead, knowing she would soon either be on the phone with her assistant or typing messages on her blackberry. It was difficult to get and hold her attention these days. He didn’t begrudge her success, Lord knows she worked hard to get where she was at. It just seemed like the higher she climbed the farther apart they grew. He would do anything to rekindle their passion for one another.

  “Drew?” she asked, turning in the seat to face him fully. “Didn’t you hear me?”

  “Yes, of course...” he started.

  She waved him off as her Blackberry began to sing. “Hold that thought.”

  The phone back on her ear, Chanta turned away, putting her back to him.

  Drew liked her back, but he’d seen far too much of it lately. He tapped his foot in time to the stream of soft classical music pouring from the limo’s superior surround sound. His mind wandered back to the discovery he had made recently, the discovery that led to this impromptu vacation. Against the bubble of music and his wife’s voice, he recalled discovering her diary buried underneath old shoe boxes in the walk-in closet. The discovery had made him forget what he had originally been looking for. Hell, he still didn’t remember.

  She gestured with her hands, hands he knew itched to be tied to the posts of their four poster queen. Oh, she’d yet to vocalize something so intimate to him, but he’d read her diary—and it outlined her fantasies. He had often dreamed of such things, but was always trepidacious to mention it to his conservative, buttoned up wife. She had been so wild and free once, when they first married. But somewhere along the line sex had become perfunctory and rare. Now, here, at the Vette Resort, he meant to give her just what she been too shy to tell him—her fantasy made real. Just thinking of the things he had planned made him hard as hell. He had to sit at an awkward angle so she wouldn’t see the log that had grown in his slacks. The thought of Chanta flushed with passion, sweating and panting the way she used to.

  Shit, the anticipation was killing him.

  Just the two of them in a cabin with unlimited access to room service should be sufficient for his plan to work. The equipment he’d brought along, carefully hidden in the suitcase she believed carried her vast and varied wardrobe, made small beads of sweat form on his brow. If he had his way, his wife would be wearing very little during their stay here. Oh, she would pitch a fit when she found the designer “vacation” clothes were still at home in an identical suitcase, but if it went well she just might forgive him.

  Lord, he prayed she would. They just couldn’t keep going on the way they had been. It was like sleeping with a stranger. The only thing she ever got excited about was the latest deal. Like now, on the phone with her prissy assistant—man he really could barely tolerate that woman—going over some red-hot deal that had to be taken care of right away. With the real estate slump, Chanta was quick to jump on a deal. Apparently, even when they were supposed to be relaxing and rekindling the dying flame that was their marriage.

  He had plans for that Blackberry of hers. Just as soon as they arrived.

  “Sir, we have reached the cabin.” The limo driver’s announcement came right on time. The consistent chatter about the buyer and closing costs was quickly starting to work on his last nerve.

  “Drew this cannot be the cabin.” Well at least Chanta had managed to pull herself away from the all-too important phone call long enough to peer out the window at the log cabin.

  The isolated log cabin. Just down the dirt road was a much larger, all-inclusive resort, but he had no intentions of letting Chanta know that. She would be out of here and ensconced in a suite and on her laptop in a heartbeat. Too bad the cabin didn’t have internet and wouldn’t you know it, he had forgotten to pick up the mobile internet device she had left by the front door. Oops.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” Chanta groused climbing out of the limo, ignoring his outstretched hand of course.

  That would change damn it. He loved this woman, more than he thought possible to love anyone. He was bound and determined to show it, to let make her let him show it.

  “It is right on the beach, Chanta and it’s cozy. This is supposed to be romantic remember?”

  He reached down to kiss her, but she turned her head, already back on the phone, so he ended up kissing her cheek. Ah, well. There was time to get her to see HIM for a change, and he was going to use it.

  “I cannot believe this. I will be online in a few. I will email you a new proposal, but do not use it unless he waffles. This is a sweetheart deal, damn it. He had just better realize it.”

  No she wouldn’t, but Drew kept his mouth shut, helping the driver inside with luggage after Chanta’s wake. His wife never simply walked anywhere. She had this stride where her hips swung ever so gently from side to side. He cast one warning glance at the driver who quickly averted his eyes and watched in earnest himself. Still as fine as the day he married her.

  “Now I know you are kidding!” Chanta had hung up the phone and was standing in the middle of the one-room cabin, mouth agape.

  There might have only been one room, other than the restroom, complete with a huge garden tub she had yet to see, but the space was huge. The California king bed, complete with a very nice, sturdy wrought iron headboard sat in one corner. There was a fireplace complete with bearskin rug and assorted pillows, a large overstuffed couch, and even a large kitchen area. Their meals would be delivered of course, but the kitchen was stocked with all sorts of gourmet snacks. It was perfect. No desk, no television, nothing to distract from the main point.

  Chanta.

  “I am not staying here.” Chanta pivoted on a heel, a move she had perfected recently, hands on her hips. “So you can take the luggage right back to the limo now.”

  Drew smiled. His first genuine smile in a while. He tipped the driver and saw him to the door.

  “Drew, did you under
stand what I just said to you?”

  “Yeah, baby I heard you, but we aren’t going anywhere.” Walking right up to her, he tilted her chin upward with one finger. “This is about you and me, about our relationship. Not any of your deals, not spa treatments and shopping. This is about getting to know one another again. And baby that is exactly what’s going to happen.”

  He reached down, gently pried the Blackberry from her hand, and walked over to balcony window. The place had been built on an incline, but you couldn’t tell that from the front. The back porch, however, hovered high from the ground with a wooded area all around. A beautiful view of the trees and the beach could be seen from the back. Beach and wilderness, how could you beat that? He took the instrument of distraction and chucked it over the balcony, not bothering to look where it went.

  “Now, are you going to undress for me, or do you want me to do it?”

  Chapter Two

  Chanta met her husband’s ice-blue eyes and tried hard not to curse him out. Was he suddenly mental? Did the flight fuck up his brain chemistry? Did he think for one second that his pressuring her to this ridiculous bumble neck island would put her in the mood for sex? If he had, he’d been all kinds of wrong. And then to throw out her phone like it wasn’t a $200 piece of essential equipment. She had major work to do, and he’d thrown it away like it was a freaking toy! Navigating this busted ass real estate market took patience, persistence, and pampering of potential buyers.

  And he was threatening to topple all her carefully constructed plans with this childish move of his. Hell, she’d worked too hard for Drew to get a case of the ignored child. Her lips moved, but no words came out. She blinked, prayed for guidance not to erupt all over her husband in fury. She breathed deeply, remembering she couldn’t very well kill him; his body was too heavy to drag out of the place to hide.

  “Drew, my phone...” She shook her head. She couldn’t articulate it without resorting to the worst kind of name calling. That would get her nowhere.

  Instead of going there, she held her palm out and waited for him to put his own damn phone in her hand. Sure, he didn’t have her contact list, but she had the phone numbers in her laptop. Then she glanced at the suitcases just inside the entrance way and frowned. Two suitcases. Zero laptop bag.

  “Drew...my computer...the ebony, leather case with the lilac engraving of my name? Where is it?”

  He smirked, and shook his head slowly. “No laptop, no phone, nothing but your fine ass and me. You think I’m kidding, Chanta? I’m your only entertainment this weekend.”

  “I’m not here for entertainment! I have important work to do!” She hated how exasperated she sounded. Tucking rogue strands of hair behind her ears, she took in a deep, calming breath. It would be all right. Tamika could handle the buyer for a few days. But if the buyer wanted to go ahead with the deal, she had to be available or risk losing the sale.

  “Chanta, we had an agreement.”

  She rolled her eyes. “I didn’t agree with you. I said we’d go on a mini vacation. That doesn’t mean I can just, just ignore my other responsibilities.”

  Drew’s body went still. He lifted his left hand and turned it to face her, palm facing him. He wiggled his ring finger. The gold band caught and reflected the overhead light’s sparkle.

  “This is the only responsibility you have right now, baby.”

  She opened her mouth to argue, but thought better of it. Sure, they hadn’t been making it like bunnies, but hell, she was tired most nights. Work exhausted all traces of energy so when Drew touched her, her libido would flicker before fading. She loved him, a lot, with her entire being, but her work life drained her energy—greedily consuming like some fat, gluttonous monster.

  Drew yanked the knot in his tie, loosening it. He pinned her to the spot with an expression of hunger plain on his face. With jerking motions, he removed his tie. The tie she bought him for their anniversary, the tie she’d longed to have tied around her wrists, binding her to one of the posts of their king sized bed.

  He held it up to her like an offering—a promise—before he slung it around his neck. Saving it for later—but what later? He had no idea about her secret longings…did he?

  Chanta swallowed the hunk of mounting desire in her throat. She caressed her right wrist as if the silk of Drew’s tie had swept across her skin.

  “First one undressed starts the licking,” Drew promised with a hushed breath. His eyes narrowed in lust didn’t waver from her, watching her reactions to his slow strip tease.

  “Oh, no you don’t. I told you to grab my laptop before we left. What else did you leave at home?”

  “You’re going to be last and that means I get to lick first.” He completely ignored her question. “You know where I’m going to start first? At that sexy ass of yours. Right across the curve of your beautiful ass. God, it’s so damn sweet!”

  He unbuttoned his pinstriped shirt with ease, his fingers gliding effortlessly over the round plastic bits. His eyes locked on her face, determination shined out from them. He meant to seduce her into getting naked she realized. With resolve, the firm set of his smirking grin giving testament to her deduction.

  Wasn’t happening. He’d pushed too far—gone too far.

  “I want my phone back,” she said patiently, biting each word. “Now.”

  Drew arched an eyebrow at her and unbuttoned his cuffs. Palming the cufflinks into his strong, capable hands, hands that cupped her breasts with care, held her attention for a brief moment before she realized what she was doing and snapped her eyes back to his face. His deliciously broad shoulders shrugged indifferently.

  “That phone has held your attention long enough. Not anymore. Not tonight, not tomorrow, and not for the next few days. It’s about us—no one else.”

  “How do you think I’m going to handle that deal for the business executive from San Diego? I just suddenly don’t answer my phone or respond to emails and what? He’s going to take that as a good thing?”

  “Don’t give a shit about his sweetheart deal.” He tossed the shirt to the floor. “You’re still too damn dressed.”

  She put both hands on her hips and shook her head; the mass of black curls brushed her shoulders. “You’re not going to get to forget my responsibilities and you’re damn sure aren’t going to get me into that bed.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  There. Take that.

  Drew crept closer to her, his delicious chest on display. He deliberately moved leisurely, slower and slower, while his grin grew wider. That grin. Damn him. It was that lopsided grin that wore her down in graduate school when she swore she wanted nothing to do with the white dude, no matter how fine he was. It was the grin that ended arguments a bit sooner than they should’ve been, and it was threatening to tear down her resolve again. She lifted her chin and crossed her arms. No can do. Drew wouldn’t win this one. She had to get her phone back or at least use his Smartphone to take care of her responsibilities.

  “Chan-ta,” he said softly, stretching out her name into two seductive syllables.

  His breath raked across her flesh and set her belly to flop. Chills skated down her spine and she shimmied in her slacks, her love button beat once, twice in warning. Damn Drew and his infectious smile.

  “Stop it!”

  He circled around her like a shark ready to devour the increasingly succumbing treat. “Chan-ta...”

  His hands touched her waist, non-threatening, comforting. She was completely unprepared for the sharp slap to her behind, however. The palm of his big hand warming the cheeks of her butt made her gasp. With ever more firmer swats to her ample ass, Chanta’s throat grew increasingly dry. She started to tremble from need, her clit beating so fast it seemed to compete with her heart. Chanta’s thoughts spun. What was he doing? Why was he doing this?

  “Drew!”

  Just what the hell had happened to her conservative husband?

  “Scream my name as loud as you want,” he purred into
her ear. “No one else’s going to hear you. I want to hear you scream my name, tell how hard you want me to pleasure you, until your throat is raw. Then I’ll nurse you back to health and do it all over again”

  The next swat set her cheeks on fire. She turned around to face him, to tell him to stop, to do it again, to...

  Drew’s lips crashed over hers, claiming them the way he hadn’t since the day she said “I do.” With the strength of his kiss he told her how much he meant every single word. He meant to take her and set the dwindling flame of their marriage out in the open, kindle it with his relentless love and watch it explode in a bonfire of fiery heat. Irritation dissolved underneath the power of that kiss—how could it not?