by Francis Ray
Zach was waiting for her and walked her to the Jeep. Before helping her in, he leaned over and sniffed behind her ear. “You smell and look fantastic.”
“I feel the same way.” She climbed in and slipped on her hat. “Thank you again. What did you do while I was at the spa?”
“Missed you,” he said. Pulling off, he easily maneuvered through the busy streets. “How does grilled shrimp and steak with baked potato sound?”
“You cooked?”
“I figured you’d want to relax and not stand in line for a table.” He stopped on the side of the main house and came around the Jeep to help her out, but she was already on the ground.
She bit her lips. It was almost dark. Did he expect her to spend the night? She wasn’t sure how she felt about them being intimate again.
“But if you’d rather go out or call it a night, I understand.” He fished the keys back out of his pant pocket.
She hooked her arm through his. She trusted Zach. If she wanted to leave after dinner, he’d take her home. “I’m where I want to be.”
“Then let’s go eat dinner.”
“Your mother must be a fantastic cook,” Laurel said as she sat on a blanket on the beach beside Zach and watched the setting sun paint the huge sky breathtaking hues of pink and blue.
“She is, but she does everything well,” he said casually, his arm draped around Laurel. She’d asked more questions since last night, but he understood the reason. She’d made love with a man she knew very little about. “She still calls and asks if I’m eating well.”
“My mother is the same way.” Laurel kept her head on Zach’s shoulder. “She’s attending her fortieth high school reunion. She called while I was at the spa. She’s having a ball.”
“And probably wondering about you?”
“I told her I was having a fabulous time being pampered and eating too many high-calorie foods.”
“Ah.”
That one word held a wealth of meaning. “I didn’t know how to tell her about you.” She sat up and wrapped her arms around her up-drawn knees. “I made love with a man I barely know. I’m sitting here on the beach with him, knowing full well we’ll probably end up in bed again tonight.”
“Not if you don’t want to.”
She looked back at him. He was leaning back on his elbows, watching her with a single-minded intensity that made her nipples pucker, her body clench. The lantern he’d brought with them to light their way back to the cottage cast shadows over his strong, determined face. Whatever he did that he had decided to take a break from, Laurel was positive he was successful.
“What brought you to Riviera Maya?”
He was silent so long she didn’t think he would answer. The first night he’d said he wanted to forget about business.
“A willful, petulant act of self-indulgence.” He sat up, curving his hand around her neck, his breath mingled with hers. “Then I met you, and everything changed.”
Her skin prickled with desire. Her clothes felt heavy. For the first time in her life, she felt desirable, felt a woman’s power over a man, this man. Her lips brushed across his, suckled his lower lip. He was so gorgeous. So tender and caring. “I saw you and my heart stopped.”
“If I kiss you, I won’t stop until I’m buried deep inside you,” he said, his voice hushed and strained. “Tell me what you want.”
She didn’t have to think. “You. In a big comfortable bed.”
“Laurel.” Her name was a guttural sound of need. Before the sound died, he stood and had her in his arms. Laurel managed to snag the lantern as he started back to the house at a fast clip.
Five
Zach didn’t stop until he was beside the bed. Placing Laurel on her feet, he took the lantern from her and put it on the night table, his gaze never leaving hers. “Are you sure?”
She tugged his polo shirt over his head and tossed it onto a nearby chair. “Very.”
Zach turned the wick down on the lantern, casting the room in a soft glow, then jerked back the bed covering. Taking her willing body into his arms, he gently, slowly kissed her lips when what he really wanted was to hurry. “You’re everything that I desire.”
Her small hand trembled on his chest. Her tongue flickered across his nipple, causing air to hiss through his teeth. She gazed up at him with desire shimmering in her eyes. “Then show me.”
He intended to do just that. This time there was no doubt that she was with him all the way. His brushed his mouth against hers, a slow, maddening glide that inflamed and teased. She pressed against him, asking for a deeper kiss. When he didn’t comply, she curved her hand around his neck, rubbed her breasts against his chest.
Desire shot through him. This time there was nothing tentative about the kiss. He was a man claiming his woman. Each kiss, each brush of their bodies fueled the need for more.
“Bed,” he muttered, swinging her up in his arms, and tumbled them into the queen-sized brass bed.
Well aware that with her his control was tenuous, he reached for his belt. She came to her knees and watched his every moment. He grew hard and heavy, his breathing uneven.
Hooking his thumbs over his briefs and pants, he started to slide them down. He stopped as she leaned forward, her breath seeming to catch.
Anticipation.
Shoving the pants and briefs off, he reached for her. “You looked breathtakingly beautiful today in this dress and all I could think about was taking it off.” His finger traced over her skin at the top of the bodice, his eyes narrowed in concentration. “Your skin is like silk.” His gaze lifted to hers. “And I want to taste every delectable inch.”
Her body clenched painfully, the wanting at a feverish pitch, and all he had done was kiss her, lightly touch her. His name trembled over her lips.
His head lowered. She felt the warmth of his breath, then the heat of his tongue. She moaned, waited for him to pull the bodice down. He didn’t. He just continued the maddeningly swirl of his tongue on her skin just above her dress, teasing her.
When she thought she would either scream or put his lips on her aching nipple, he slipped the dress beneath her breasts, kissing every inch of the way as he drew it from her body.
The sweet torture had her twisting beneath him. His tongue dipped into her navel, the action boldly erotic. Her sharp intake of breath was loud in the room. He worshiped her, possessed her, until she quivered with the fierce need to be joined with him again.
Quickly putting on a condom, he came back over her, stared into her eyes, and slowly slid into her hot center. Pleasure unceasing spiraled through her as he filled her. She clenched around him, holding him tight within her body.
Locking their hands together, he began to move, surging into her again and again. Each deep thrust brought them closer to completion, pushed them higher.
With the next breath she arched her hips, spasmed. He was there with her, joining her. She clenched around him, holding him to her until the quakes gradually subsided.
She felt boneless and happy. Her eyes closed, then snapped open as Zach picked her up. “Where are we going?”
“Jacuzzi.” He kept walking. “I didn’t take you last night because I selfishly wanted to keep holding you.”
Her heart sighed as he tucked her in his lap and ran the water. “You’re taking care of me again.”
“Always.” Kissing her lips, he stepped into the warm, swirling water, still holding her. “Tonight I can do both, hold you and care for you. Close your eyes and relax. I’m here.”
With a smile on her face, she did as he asked, feeling cherished, glad that she had remained in Mexico.
The next morning Zach watched Laurel wake up by slow degrees. Her body uncurled in his arms, rubbing sensuously against him, the beautiful smile blossoming on her face that he’d go to his grave remembering. Her nipples brushed against his chest, her leg slid up and down his.
Need and hunger curled through him. He grew heavy, yet he didn’t move. Watching Laurel unfold like som
e exotic flower hidden deep in the jungle was worth the sharp claws of need scraping over him.
Black lashes fluttered against her incredible silky skin. He frowned, his eyes narrowing. He relaxed on seeing that the stubble on his face hadn’t marred her skin. He hadn’t lied about wanting to take care of her.
But you did lie.
The truth pierced him. It could cost him the woman in his arms. He’d do whatever it took to keep her.
Her eyelids lifted. “Good morning.”
Thrusting everything from his mind, he brushed his lips across hers. “Good morning. You sleep all right?”
She grinned, slow and easy, sliding against him as she moved closer to his face. “Never better.”
“Good.” He felt her from her soft breasts to her flat stomach to the junction of her thighs. They’d made love twice, then he’d awakened her just before dawn to make love again. His body couldn’t get enough.
His hand speared through her tasseled black hair, remembered it splayed on his pillow, wished they were in the wide bed at his LA home. After Carmen, his encounters with women had been fleeting, and not once had he wanted to stick around afterward or take care of one. He never made love at his place.
With Laurel everything changed. He’d have no regrets if . . . He pushed the unwanted thought away. Somehow he’d find a way to explain things to her. “You ready for breakfast?”
She rose up, unself-conscious and so sensually beautiful that his breath caught, his heart thundered. She chuckled and lazily crawled on top of him. “You have a fixation on food.”
He brushed the hair out of her face. “You. You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I see you and I want you.”
“Sounds like a plan to me.” Her mouth brushed across his, bit lightly on his lower lip, then suckled. Her hands weren’t idle. One brushed lightly against his cheek; the other trailed leisurely down his stomach to stroke the inside of his thigh.
Breath shuddered harshly over his lips. “You keep that up and breakfast will have to wait.”
“This is what you do to me,” she whispered as her lips, feather-soft, trailed over his face, the side of his neck. “You shatter my thoughts, make me want things I never imagined, and all of them in your arms.”
He sensed she wanted to be in control. He just hoped he was up to it.
She took one of his nipples into her mouth, flicked her tongue across the tip. Groaning, he grabbed a fistful of sheet instead of grabbing her hips and diving into her hot, tight center. She moved to the other nipple and repeated the act.
“Laurel.” The sound came out guttural, a plea.
“You taste and smell better than any food.” Her mouth moved down his chest, and so did her hand. She cupped him.
His body came off the bed and he grabbed more sheet, wondering how much longer he could withstand the sweet torture. He got his answer when her hand closed around his heavy erection, her thumb flicking across the top as her tongue delved into his navel.
In the next second he twisted and was on top of her. His hands fumbled as he put on a condom. He caught the pleased, satisfied smile on her face seconds before he captured her hips and plunged into her moist sheath. She clamped around him.
“Yes,” she murmured, her hands going around his neck.
He measured the length of her, stroking, his hips pumping. Her legs clamped around his waist as he loved her. She shattered in his arms moments later. He followed.
It was a long time before his breathing returned to normal. Aware that if he didn’t move, he’d make love to her again, he scooped her up into his arms and headed for the shower. Laurel was a burning hunger that he’d never completely appease. Setting her on her feet, he turned away and adjusted the water.
The moment he faced her, he realized his mistake. She had her arms upraised, trying to braid her hair. The motion lifted her lush, perfect breasts. He hardened and groaned.
Instantly she dropped her arms and placed her hand on his arm, her eyes filled with worry. “What’s the matter? Are you all right?”
“Showering together was a bad idea,” he said.
A slow smile spread across her incredible face. She reached around him and picked up a bar of soap, lathered her hands, and swept them down his chest. “Depends on how you look at it.”
“You aren’t the only one who can pull off a great surprise,” Laurel said later that morning, walking backward in front of Zach, one hand holding her hat in the gentle breeze.
“Seeing you happy is enough,” he said, meaning it. She was such an unexpected delight. To look at her dressed in a white lace sleeveless top over a white tank with white cropped pants, you’d never guess she had pushed him to the edge last night and this morning with her sweet loving.
She stopped and waved her arm toward a sleek sixty-foot sailboat. “Your surprise.”
Zach looked from her to the boat, then to the middle-aged burly man in a T-shirt, walking shorts, and deck shoes who was approaching. Laurel’s grin widened.
“Good morning, Ms. Raineau. Mr. Albright. I’m Sam Willis. I care for the boat for Mr. Marshall.” The man extended his hand to Zach’s and held on. “You’ll take good care of the Witch, won’t you?”
“Zach has been sailing for ages,” Laurel told the nervous man, hooking her arm through his. “The owner’s ship is in good hands.”
The man looked pained and handed Zach the keys. “She’s ready to go, but I don’t mind captaining her for you. I do it all the time for Mr. Marshall when he has guests.”
Obviously the man was relinquishing control of the boat under duress. Zach had tried to hire a private boat to take them out, but all of them were booked. Mentioning Blade’s name had gotten an appointment to the Tree Spa, which was owned by Navarone Resorts and Spas. Rolling Deep had gained them entrance to the nightclub. He was positive Blade’s name had been used again. The sailboat probably belonged to a friend or associate of his.
“You don’t have to worry,” Laurel assured the man again.
Zach took pity on Willis, who was practically wringing his hands. “Why don’t you come aboard and watch me take her out? If you’re not satisfied with the way I handle her, I’ll turn her over to you.”
“I’ll get the towline.” Willis rushed to untie the boat.
“You’re a softy, Zach Albright,” Laurel whispered and headed for the gangplank.
Zach followed, a smile on his face.
“So, how did you pull it off?” Zach asked at the helm of the boat. Laurel stood in front of him with her back pressed against his. The wind lightly tossed her hair.
“A friend of the family interceded,” she said. “Few, if any people, say no to him.”
Blade Navarone. He’d been right. “Why didn’t you ask him to get you into the spa?” Zach asked.
“Because this is more important.” She grinned up at him.
His chest felt tight. Leaning over, he kissed the top of her head. Her hair danced in the breeze. Each time one of the silken strands touched his skin he remembered it on his body last night and this morning as she had slowly driven him beyond his control. “You constantly amaze me and make me want to be better.”
“If we didn’t have an audience, I’d kiss you.”
Not for the first time, Zach wished he hadn’t caved about dropping off the caretaker as planned. But the man had looked so stricken when Zach had mentioning turning back to drop him off, Zach had kept sailing. “A good sailor loves his boat. It’s more than just the means of making a living. It’s a part of him.”
“I feel that way about my vi—”
Zach was glad for the dip of the boat at that very moment. He’d probably tensed as much as Laurel had. If she admitted who she was, he’d have to do the same. He wasn’t sure she was ready for that yet, but he couldn’t keep putting it off.
“I wanted a guitar when I was twelve. My father was against it so I saved up enough to buy one at a pawnshop. Of course my mother discovered it in my room, but she never said anything. I
t was our secret,” he recalled fondly. “I still have that guitar and wouldn’t take anything for it.”
“Do you play for a band or something?” she asked cautiously.
He shook his head. “I don’t play professionally, but I can do a mean imitation of Jimi Hendrix. That was one gifted man.”
“His life was too short,” she said, her voice sad. “I wonder if he would have been happier if he’d never hit it big.”
“I doubt it. He’s another example of his career being who he was,” Zach said. “He had so much natural talent. His guitar was an extension of him. Few musicians are gifted, or should I say blessed, with that incredible innate ability. He left us way too early. His legacy is the extraordinary music. No matter what, the work stands. That’s all any good musician can ask for, to be proud of the music.”
“So you think musicians should never settle for anything less than their best?” she asked a bit cautiously.
“Yes.” He wondered if she had doubts about her albums. She gave everything when she played on stage. “Never. They owe it to themselves and their public to do their best every time they walk up to that mike.” Zach brought the boat around. He was on dangerous ground, but Laurel’s recordings could be so much better and, from her question, she had concerns. “Hendrix put his heart and soul into his playing. He made you feel. His spirit was strong.”
Turning, she curved her arm around his waist. “Will you play for me before we leave?”
“Finding a guitar won’t be difficult here, but I haven’t played in years,” he confessed. “You might run screaming from the room with your ears covered.”
“I’ll take that chance. I can’t imagine you not doing anything well.”
Something in her voice had him staring down at her. She looked innocent, but he saw the teasing glint in her eyes. He laughed and she laughed with him, the sound carrying on the wind and creating its own music.
“Play.” Laurel handed Zach the electric guitar. She’d inquired about a music shop from Willis. He had gladly given them the information and sent them happily on their way and away from the Witch. Luckily, a music store was only a few blocks from the dock.
