That he was actually a monk? That he didn’t find her the least bit attractive? She wouldn’t buy either of those.
“It’s a beautiful day,” she said, pressing her body along his on the bench seat. “We’re both on holiday—” She stopped suddenly and looked at him. “Unless you’re involved with someone already and—”
“No.” One word, forced through clenched teeth. He took a breath. “If I were, I wouldn’t be here with you.”
“Good. Then Garrett…kiss me again.”
He ground his teeth in a last ditch effort to hang on to his rampaging desires, or at least his professionalism. Then her scent came to him again on a soft wind and he knew he was lost. Maybe he’d been lost since the moment he met her.
Alex the princess might be easy enough to ignore, but Alex the woman was an entirely different story.
He grabbed her, pulled her onto his lap as he moved out from under the steering wheel and looked down into her eyes. “This isn’t a good idea.”
“I think it’s a brilliant idea,” she countered with a smile, then lifted her face to his.
Her eyes were bright, her mouth so close he could almost taste it and her hair flew about them like a blond cloud, drawing him in. He didn’t need any more encouragement. Right or wrong, this was inevitable.
He took what she offered, what he needed more than he’d like to admit. He’d curse himself later for surrendering. For now, there was Alex, a soft sea breeze and the gentle lap of water against the hull of the boat. They were alone and damned if he’d waste another minute.
Six
His mouth came down on hers and the first taste of her sent Garrett over the edge. The kiss they’d shared at Disneyland had haunted him until he had damn near convinced himself that no kiss could be as good as he remembered it.
He was wrong.
It was better.
He knew the contours of her mouth now, how her body folded into him, the sigh of her breath on his cheek. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself more tightly to him. Her hands swept up into his hair, and each touch of her fingers was like lightning through his bloodstream.
He parted her lips with his tongue and she met him eagerly, stroking, tasting, exploring. Mouths fused, breaths mingling, hearts hammering in time, they came together with a desperate need that charged the air around them.
Garrett set his hands at her hips and lifted her up, shifting her around until she was straddling him, her pelvis pressed to his hard, aching groin. It wasn’t enough, but it was a start. She groaned into his mouth as his hips arched up against her.
Alex moved with him, rocking her body against his, as demanding as he felt. She slanted her head, giving as well as taking, tangling her tongue with his, losing herself in the heat that seemed to be searing both of them.
His hands swept up, beneath the hem of that red shirt that had been making him crazy all morning. He skimmed his fingers across her skin until he could cup her lace-covered breasts in his palms. Then he swept his thumb back and forth across her erect nipples until she was twisting and writhing against him, grinding her hips against his.
Her kiss grew hungrier, more desperate.
He knew the feeling.
Her moans enflamed him. Her touch, the scrape of her short, neat fingernails over the back of his neck, felt like accelerant thrown onto a bonfire. He was being engulfed and he welcomed it.
It was as if everything in his life had come down to this moment with her. As if his hands had always ached for the touch of her. His body hard and ready, all he wanted was to peel her out of her white slacks and panties and bury himself inside her.
The ocean air slid around them like a cool caress, keeping the heat at bay and adding new sensations to the mix. Hair rippled, clothing was tugged as if even nature wanted them together in the most basic way.
“You’re killin’ me,” he muttered, tearing his mouth from hers long enough to drag in a deep breath of the salt-stained air.
“No,” she said with a sigh and a grin as she licked her lips. “Not interested in killing you at all, Garrett.”
He returned that smile, and slowly lifted the hem of her shirt, baring her abdomen and more to his gaze. When her lace-covered breasts were revealed, he reached behind her, unhooked her bra with a flick of his fingers then lifted the lacy cups for his first good look at her breasts.
Round and full, with dark pink, pebbled nipples, they made his mouth water. He lifted his gaze to hers and saw passion glazing her eyes. She licked her bottom lip, drew a shallow breath and leaned into him.
“Taste me,” she whispered.
And it would have taken a stronger man than Garrett to turn down that offer. He bent his head and took first one nipple, then the other into his mouth. Moving back and forth between them, he licked and nibbled at her sensitive skin until she was a jangle of need, practically vibrating against him.
Finally, he suckled at her left breast while tugging at the nipple of her right with his fingers. His tongue traced damp circles around her areola and his mouth worked at her, sucking and pulling, drawing as much of her as he could into him.
“Garrett, yes,” she whispered, holding his head to her, as if afraid he might stop.
But he had no intention of stopping. Now that they had crossed the barrier keeping them apart, nothing would keep him from having her completely.
“That feels so good.” She was breathless, her body moving of its own accord, looking for the release she needed.
And as she moved on him, his groin tightened to the point of real pain and he wouldn’t change anything. He dropped one hand to the juncture of her thighs and through the material of her white slacks, he felt her heat. Felt the dampness gathering there at her core.
He rubbed her, pressing hard against the nub of sensation he knew would be aching as he ached. She groaned again, louder this time, and moved restlessly on him. Dropping her hands to the snap and zipper, she undid them, giving him a view of the pale, ivory lace panties she wore before going up on her knees on the bench seat.
Garrett released her nipple, looked up into her eyes and lost himself in their passion-filled depths. He lifted one hand and deliberately, slowly dipped his fingers beneath the elastic band of her panties. She took a breath, let her head fall back and tensed, waiting for his first touch.
She looked like a pagan goddess.
Breasts bared to the sun, face lifted to the sky, hair flying in the wind and her center, open and waiting. He was rocked right down to his soul. She was magnificent. And the need clamoring inside him whipped into a churning frenzy.
He cupped her heat with his palm and was rewarded by a soft sigh of pleasure that slid from her elegant throat. Garrett’s hand moved lower, his fingers reaching. She moved with him, giving him easier access. Her hands dropped to his shoulders to steady herself and when his thumb stroked over that one bud of passion, she jolted and gasped in a breath.
“Garrett…Garrett…” It was both plea and temptation.
He watched her, gaze fixed on her expressive face as he dipped first one finger, then two, inside her damp heat. He worked her body, making her rock and twist as she climbed that ladder of need to the climax that was waiting for her. His thumb moved over that nub again and again until she was practically whimpering. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, her sighs came fast and furious.
He stroked her, inside and out, until her body was bowed with building tension, until she was so blindly wrapped up in her own need, he, too, felt the gathering storm. When the first shocking jolt of release hit her, Garrett steadied her with one hand while with the other he pushed her higher, and higher, demanding more, always more.
“I can’t,” she whispered brokenly. “No more…”
“There’s always more,” he promised and then delivered—another orgasm, crashing down on her right after the first.
She wobbled on unsteady knees and finally dropped to his lap. Only then did she open her eyes and look into his. Only then did
she lean forward and kiss him with a long, slow passion that left him as breathless as she felt.
Never before had he taken so much pleasure from his partner’s climax. Never before had he been willing to put his own needs on hold for the simple joy of watching a woman shatter in his arms.
Dragging his hand free of her body, he reached up and smoothed her tangled hair back from her face. Then he cupped her cheek and drew her in close. He kissed her then, relishing the slow slide of her tongue against his.
Alex’s mind splintered under the assault of too many sensations at once. His hands, his mouth, his breath. He was everything. The center of the universe, and she was left spinning wildly in his orbit. This moment, this touch, this kiss, was everything.
And in the aftermath of two amazing orgasms, it was all she could do to breathe.
She had thought she knew what it was to kiss Garrett. Truthfully, though, she’d had no idea. This was so much more than she had experienced before, there was no way she could have been prepared for what she would feel when it was more than a kiss. When his touch lit up her insides like the firework-lit skies over the palace on Cadria’s Coronation Day.
Alex stared into his blue eyes, suddenly as dark and mysteriously hypnotic as the deepest seas, and tried to gather up the frayed threads of her mind. A useless endeavor.
Her brain had simply shut down. Her body was in charge now and all she knew was that she needed him. Needed to feel his skin against hers. Though she was still trembling with the reaction of her last orgasm, she wanted more. She wanted his body locked inside hers.
She traced her fingertips across his cheek, smiled and whispered, “That was amazing. But we’re not finished…are we?”
“Not by a long shot,” he told her before he gave her a quick, hard kiss that promised so much more.
“Thank heaven,” she answered and dropped her hands to the hem of his shirt. As she went to tug it up, though, a deep, throaty noise intruded. A noise that was getting closer. They both turned to see the speedboat, racing toward them again.
Instantly, Alex pulled her shirt down, fastened her bra and quickly did up her pants. The other boat was too far away still for anyone to get a glimpse of bare skin, but the intimacy of the moment had been shattered anyway, and she didn’t want to risk a stranger getting a peek at her.
Garrett’s gaze narrowed on the approaching craft and his mouth firmed into a grim line. In seconds, he went from ravaging lover to alert protector. He lifted her off his lap, slid behind the wheel of the boat and fired up the engine. The throaty roar pulsed out around them and still, the racing boat’s motor screamed loud enough that Alex wanted to cover her ears.
They watched as the speedboat came closer, its hull bouncing and crashing over the surface of the water. A huge spray of water fantailed in its wake as the driver swung in their direction.
“What’s he doing?” Alex shouted.
“I don’t know,” Garrett called out, focus locked on the fast-approaching watercraft.
The boat was close enough now that Alex could see a couple up near the front of the boat and a child standing alone in the back. She whipped her head around, but saw no one else nearby. Just the far away surfers and the jet boat coming ever closer.
“Guy’s an idiot,” Garrett told her as the boat swung into a sharp turn. “If he doesn’t throttle back, someone’s going to—”
Before he could finish the sentence, the child flew off the back of the boat, hit the water hard and promptly sank. The boat kept going, the two other people on board apparently unaware they had lost the child.
“Oh, my God!” Alex stood up, frantically waving both arms at the driver to get his attention, but she went unnoticed. “The boy! He hasn’t surfaced!”
Garrett shut off the engine, yanked his shirt over his head and tossed it to the deck then shouted, “Stay on the boat!” before he dove into the water.
His body knifed below the surface so cleanly he hardly made a splash. Terrified, Alex watched as he swam with swift, sure strokes, tanned arms flashing in and out of the water as he headed for the spot where the boy had gone under.
Alex’s stomach jumped with nerves. With outright fear. She threw a glance at the jet boat, still flying across the water then looked back to where Garrett was swimming purposefully toward the child in trouble. She felt helpless. Useless. She had to do something.
Sliding behind the wheel, she fired up the engine and carefully eased the throttle forward, inching the boat closer to Garrett. She’d never driven a boat before and the power at her hands terrified her. One wrong move and she could endanger both Garrett and the child. Too much gas, she could run over them—if she didn’t hit them outright. And there was the damage the propellers below the surface could do.
Tension gripping her, Alex’s hands fisted on the steering wheel as she fought her own fears and her sense of dread for both the boy and Garrett. She kept her gaze locked on Garrett’s sleek figure slicing through the water. Where was the boy? Why hadn’t he come up? How could Garrett find him?
Fear ratcheted up another notch or two inside her as she inched ever closer. She risked another glance around; she was still alone out here. The jet boat hadn’t returned.
“Do you see him?” she shouted.
Garrett shook his head, water spraying from the ends of his hair just before he suddenly dived deep, disappearing beneath the water entirely.
Alex cut the engine and stood up, watching the ever-churning water, hoping, waiting. What felt like hours ticked past.
“Come on, Garrett,” she chanted, studying the water, looking for any sign of him. “Come back up. Come on!”
How could he hold his breath that long? What should she do? If she jumped in as well, would she make it that much more dangerous? One more person flailing about? She wasn’t a strong swimmer anyway.
She heard a roar of sound and turned her head to see the jet boat hurtling toward them. If they didn’t slow down…
“Stop!” Waving her arms and jumping up and down like a crazy woman, Alex screamed and shouted to get their attention. Idiots. Complete idiots. Didn’t they realize that they could run over both Garrett and the child they must have finally realized was missing?
The boat slowed and when the engine cut off, the silence was deafening.
“Tommy!” The woman yelled as the man on board dived off the stern of his boat. Hanging over the railing, the woman was oblivious to Alex’s presence, her focus concentrated solely on the dark water and what might be happening below.
Alex felt the same.
She didn’t know how long Garrett had been underwater. She’d lost track of time. Couldn’t think. Could hardly breathe. Dimly, she was aware that prayers were whipping through her mind at a furious rate and she hoped that someone upstairs was listening.
Apparently, they were. “There!”
Alex pointed at the shadow of movement in the dark water as it headed toward the surface. The woman on the boat behind her was still screaming and wailing. Alex hardly heard her.
Garrett shot out of the water, shaking his hair back from his face. In his arms, a boy of no more than five or six lay limply, eyes closed. A moment later, the man from the jet boat popped up beside Garrett and tried to take the boy.
Garrett ignored him and swam toward the jet boat. Alex followed his progress, her gaze locked on him and on the pale, young face he towed toward safety.
“Oh, God. Oh, God.” The woman was babbling now, tears streaming down her face, voice breaking on every word. “Is he breathing? Is he breathing?”
Garrett laid the boy on the cut out steps at the back of the boat and tipped the child’s head back. While Alex watched, Garrett blew into the boy’s mouth once. Twice. The waiting was the worst part. The quiet, but for the water continually slapping the hull and the now quiet weeping from the woman who had to be the boy’s mother.
Again, Garrett breathed air into the boy’s lungs and this time, there was a reaction.
Coughing, sput
tering, retching what seemed a gallon of sea water, the little boy arched up off the deck of the boat, opened his eyes and cried, “Mommy!”
Instantly, the woman was on her knees, gathering her son to her chest. Rocking him, holding him, murmuring words only he could hear between the sobs racking her.
Tears streaked down Alex’s cheeks, too, as she watched the man in the water grab Garrett and give him a hard hug. “Thanks, man. Seriously, thank you. I don’t know what— If you hadn’t been here—”
Garrett’s gaze drifted to Alex and she felt his fury and relief as surely as she felt her own. But mixed in with those churning emotions, pride in what Garrett had done swelled inside her. He’d saved that child. If not for him, the boy would never have been recovered. His parents might have spent hours looking, wondering exactly where the boy had fallen in, having no idea where to search for him.
To Kiss a King Page 8
