Rub It In

by Kira Sinclair

  And if anything else came across the radio, she’d simply turn the volume down. She didn’t have to respond or pay attention.

  Reaching out with a lightning motion, Marcy palmed the thing and stuffed it into the front pocket before she could change her mind.

  A few minutes later the soft trill of birds and the muted chatter of unseen animals welcomed her. It was decidedly cooler beneath the cover of the trees—not that the days were sweltering or anything. While fall didn’t bring the change of seasons she’d grown used to in New York, there was a difference, however small.

  The biggest problem they had at this time of year was hurricanes, which was one of the reasons they always closed the resort during the fall. While they offered lots of discounts to appeal to frugal travelers, quite a few of them resisted the Caribbean and the potential for their dream vacation to turn into a nightmare with torrential rains and damaging winds. So it wasn’t difficult for the resort to carve out two weeks for routine maintenance and repairs, as well as staff vacations.

  They’d been lucky lately and hadn’t dealt with any major storms in several years. But she knew the island had taken some pretty major hits in the past. The resort had even been closed at one time because of damage the previous owner couldn’t afford to fix.

  But Marcy wasn’t worried about storms, not surrounded by the thickness of the jungle. The tension that had stretched across her shoulders began to ease. She took a deep breath and held it in her lungs. Everything smelled moist, green and vibrant.

  The sudden urge to hurry overtook her and she began to run. The balls of her feet barely touched the ground before springing up again. The exercise felt great, something she’d definitely been neglecting in her work-focused fog. Her muscles protested after a little while—there was no question she was slightly out of shape.

  She was going to fix that, though, as soon as she got back to New York. She was going to make a few changes in her priorities, starting with taking better care of herself. Although she had to admit staring at the nondescript walls of a gym would have little appeal after the natural beauty of the jungle.

  Marcy heard the waterfall long before she saw it. The path became lighter and lighter, making her realize just how dark and dense the jungle had been around her. Breaking through the opening at the end of the path, she stopped to take it all in.

  Despite the force of the water breaking against the rocks below, the entire place had a sense of…quiet. It was old, powerful. Marcy let her eyes wander for a few moments, taking everything in. The water looked inviting, but she wasn’t ready for a swim.

  Her eyes were drawn to the top of the falls. That’s where she wanted to go. From up there she’d be able to see everything.

  It took her almost twenty minutes to walk around the collecting pool to the far side of the falls and the only way up she could find. The rocks were a little slippery from the wayward spray of the water, but she managed to climb up safely.

  There was a small patch of grass, more lush than anything below, spongy and soft. She slipped off her shoes and socks and wiggled her toes. The thick blades tickled the bottom of her feet. Sunlight, unfettered by the trees surrounding the area, fell directly over the patch.

  Dropping her pack, Marcy took out the blanket and spread it in the sunshine. Her original plan was to read her book, but she barely got a few pages in before exhaustion stole through her body, weighting her limbs and eyelids.

  She closed her eyes and tipped her head back. The underside of the leaves above her looked down. The loud roar of the water faded to background noise. A smile touched the corners of her lips and just as she drifted off to sleep an image of Simon popped into her head.

  Towering over her—when didn’t he?—he watched her with that same intense, smoldering gaze he’d used on her last night. And this time when he kissed her, he didn’t pull away. And she didn’t tell him to stop.

  Instead, he slowly, deliberately drove her mad.

  So much for escaping him in the jungle.

  * * *

  SIMON CROUCHED next to Marcy, running a single finger down the scrunched bridge of her nose. Even in sleep she looked frustrated. Wasn’t a nap in the sunshine supposed to ease that kind of stress?

  Her skin was soft. It smoothed out beneath his fingers, her entire face easing. The corners of her lips twitched and she rolled her head closer against his hand. His palm cupped her cheek, the warmth of her sun-warmed skin seeping into him. She mumbled something that he couldn’t catch and then sighed his name.

  Need, hard and sharp, twisted deep inside. He wanted to startle her awake, to strip her bare and take her here on the soft patch of grass. Resisting, he dropped to his knees beside her and went slowly, letting his fingers tickle across the exposed curve of her shoulder. The neck of her T-shirt was stretched out, pulled tight on one side and hanging halfway down her shoulder on the other.

  Tiny freckles dotted her skin. They were cute and unexpected. He wanted to reach down and kiss every single one, but refrained. He trailed his fingers up her throat. Even in sleep, she moved toward him, revealing more skin for him to play with.

  Her eyes fluttered beneath closed lids and her soft pink lips parted. Reaching with the other hand, he let it trail softly down the outside curve of her thigh. Circling her knee, he moved back up. Her legs were toned and tanned, although he had no idea when she took the time to sit in the sun. At least, not before the past two days.

  She rolled beneath his caress, parting her legs and opening herself to him as he moved higher. A brief spurt of guilt shot through him, but he pushed it away. He had no intention of taking advantage of her. Although her unconscious response to him was gratifying. And probably more real than anything she’d shown him before now.

  At least now he knew for sure that he hadn’t been mistaken last night, or so overrun by his own lust that he’d imagined something that wasn’t really there.

  His fingers bumped along a small, jagged scar that ran diagonally up the inside of her thigh. Feeling by touch, he realized it was almost two inches long. He wondered what had happened.

  Without thought, he leaned over and placed his lips to the spot. It was a bad idea. She gasped, her body quivering beneath his mouth. Her skin was warm against his lips, soft and inviting. The strings from the hem of her cutoffs tickled his face, reminding him just how close his mouth was to what was hidden beneath.

  Her feet scissored and tension tightened her muscles. It was his first clue that she was awake.

  Turning his head, he kept his mouth close to the temptation of her body and looked up into her face. She stared down at him, her eyes now bright and vivid, definitely awake.

  “What are you doing?” she whispered, her voice thick with sleep.

  “Kissing it and making it better?” he asked, arching one eyebrow.

  She moved again beneath him, not in an attempt to push him away, but in a restless motion that he understood. The same need crawled through his body, making his skin feel tight.

  “That healed a long time ago.”

  “What happened?” The heat of her body seeped into his open lips, making them ache to touch her again.

  “I dropped a knife. It cut me on the way down.”

  Had she done that here? A vision of her first clumsy attempts at cooking made his chest tighten. “When?”

  “I was twelve.”

  He hated the idea of her in pain. His fingers brushed softly over the puckered skin. But at least she hadn’t injured herself on his watch without him even knowing about it.

  Rising on her elbows, Marcy twisted and pulled herself out from under him. He let her go, knowing it wouldn’t be for long. Not if he had his way and he could convince her to give in to what her body obviously wanted. From where he’d been, he could smell the heady scent of her arousal.

  “What are you doing here, Simon?”

  “Looking for you.”

  “Why?”

  He decided not to answer her question. He didn’t want to. He wa
sn’t entirely sure what the answer was anyway. From the window in his office he’d watched her walk into the jungle this morning. He knew where she was going. And for the rest of the morning, while he should have been concentrating, he’d been thinking about her.

  Fantasies shared space with concern, knowing she was out in the jungle alone. There were snakes and jaguars and high cliffs. And while Marcy was one of the most capable people he’d ever met, she wasn’t invincible.

  Finally, after finishing a chapter, printing it out and adding it to the pile of work he’d already done, he gave in to the urge to follow her. The day was nice and warm. He wasn’t accomplishing much anyway. Maybe if he burned up some of this need and energy he’d be able to concentrate again.

  But he wasn’t about to tell her that.

  “You said my name.”

  “What?” she asked, confusion clouding her eyes.

  “In your sleep. You said my name.”

  Her eyes widened with shock for just a moment before she hid her reaction. “I did not.”

  “You did. I promise.”

  She scoffed. “Please, a promise from you isn’t worth the breath it’s uttered with.”

  “That hurts.”

  She shrugged. “The truth usually does.”

  “I think I liked you better when you were asleep.”

  He expected her to make some snappy comeback. It was what they did—verbally spar. He was beginning to think all that aggression had just been an outlet for the sexual frustration that ran between them like a live wire.

  Instead, she looked at him and said, “Liar. Right now you’re trying to figure out the fastest way into my pants.”

  He rocked back on his heels. She’d surprised him. The wheels in his brain spun as he tried to figure out the best response to her candor. He wasn’t sure there was one, so he decided to match her honesty.

  “You wanna save me the trouble and just tell me?”

  She laughed. Sunshine washed across her face and her eyes sparkled. He wasn’t sure if it was from the direct light or from something more…something internal. He hoped it was more.

  Her laughter eased, but even as her gaze connected with his again her body continued to quiver with fettered mirth. “No, I don’t think I do.”

  Pushing herself up from the ground, she grasped the blanket that he still knelt on and yanked against it. It barely budged, but that didn’t stop her from trying again.

  Simon rose and watched as she folded it, making sure each corner matched and the final product was perfectly square. Stuffing the blanket in, she zipped her pack and moved to fling it over her shoulder. Reaching out, he snagged it from the air. Her body jerked against the unexpected weight as the pack fell suspended between them.

  Using it to reel her closer, Simon stepped into her space. His eyes snagged on her mouth and he did nothing to hide his fascination. He watched as her lips jerked, almost parting, before she clamped them into a tight line.

  Slowly he let his gaze travel up to her eyes. He stared at her, watching as emotions flitted through the bright blue centers. She was fighting a war that she couldn’t win. But he knew she was damn well going to try.

  And that was going to be part of the fun.

  While he’d never been one to look a gift horse—or willing woman—in the mouth, there was something about Marcy that stirred more than just his libido. This push-and-pull thing that they had going excited him in a way nothing else had in a very long time.

  Not even his work. And that cost him a lot to admit.

  “You want me, Marcy. Why don’t you save us both a lot of misery and just admit it?”

  He didn’t touch her. He didn’t try to influence her. He wanted this to be her decision, her capitulation.

  Licking her lips, she said, “What woman wouldn’t? You’re sexy as hell and you know it. You use your charm and those laid-back bedroom eyes like weapons. But you’ve never used them on me. Why now?”

  She would ask that. She would want to understand all the angles, to analyze and inspect and pick apart the options and reasons before making a decision.

  “We’re here. You don’t work for me anymore… .”

  Her decision flashed through her eyes long before it left her lips, but that was all the encouragement Simon needed. He reached for her, jerking her full-length against his body.

  In his arms she felt small and delicate. There was a disconnect between his perception of her and the reality. She wasn’t fragile, but it was easy to forget just how tiny she really was.

  He dived in and devoured her. Their mouths met and melted together. He’d expected their first real kiss would have an edge of aggression, as their words usually did. He was wrong.

  There was heat and urgency. Need. His tongue scraped against hers, shooting sparks through his entire body. Her gasp of surprise blasted against his open mouth. She tasted like oranges, chocolate and lavender all mixed together.

  His hand fisted at the nape of her neck, dragging her head back so he could get more. With the other, he grasped her waist and pulled her up his body. She wrapped her legs firmly around his waist, anchoring them together and, more important, telling him she wanted this just as much as he did.

  Her palms pressed against his chest, curling in and urging him closer. She ripped her head out of his hold, squeezing her thighs to push herself higher up his body. She was looming over him, and for the first time since he’d met her, he had to tip his head back to keep up with her.

  She pushed in and took what she wanted. Her fingers grasped the side of his head and held him as she matched him thrust for thrust, the heat of her mouth over his as devastating as anything he’d ever experienced before.

  He should have expected her to be as much of an aggressor with sex as she was with everything else. Although it actually surprised him. He was used to women taking a backseat and letting him lead. It was sort of exhilarating and liberating to have her fight him for control.

  But he wasn’t about to give in. Taking several steps, he set her back against the closest tree. Shade, a cool breeze and anticipation had a shudder quaking through him.

  She made a tiny sound in the back of her throat that he swallowed, the first piece of her he planned to claim. With the weight of her body resting against the trunk, his hands were free to explore. Pushing against the hem of her shirt, they scraped up the soft skin of her belly.

  Her muscles jumped beneath his touch.

  She writhed against him, the apex of her open thighs pressing tight to his aching erection. Denim had never seemed so thick and annoying in his life. He leaned into her, pinning her hips hard against the tree, looking for relief.

  “Simon.”

  The radio he’d been forced to bring with him, since he was apparently in charge, squawked at his hip. He ignored it. Or tried to.

  Dragging his hands higher, he wanted to cup her breasts, to fill his palms with her soft round curves. He never made it. She stopped him, slamming her own hands over his with the thin layer of her shirt between them.

  Pulling back, she looked at him. “Are you going to get that?” Her words were breathy. Her lungs worked hard beneath his palms, her ribs expanding and contracting in a tantalizing way that made his hand slip against her skin.

  “No.” Was she crazy? Whatever catastrophe Xavier wanted to tell him about could wait. For an hour. Or maybe until tomorrow if he had his way.

  “Simon!”

  The screech was louder, and somewhere behind them it echoed.

  With her legs still wrapped tight around his waist, the tempting center of her sex pressed against his throbbing cock, she raised a single eyebrow. Her blond hair, in complete disarray thanks to his desperate fingers, clouded around her disapproving face.

  With a sigh he extricated a hand—but only one—and reached for the radio at his hip. Pressing the button, he growled, “This better be important.”

  Marcy’s eyes flashed. He rocked his hips against her and relished her soft gasp and the way the azu
re depths clouded with passion once again.

  But they didn’t stay that way. Not when Xavier’s voice floated between them.

  “We’ve got a problem.”

  “I hope so, or you’re about to get fired.”

  Marcy’s lips twisted.

  “Apparently the construction crew managed to get water on the main electrical panel.”

  “Holy crap,” he muttered. “Are they completely incompetent?”

  He realized it was the wrong thing to say, because Marcy began to squirm against him—and not in a good way. She was no longer overcome by passion. She wanted down. Now.

  She pushed against his shoulders and dropped her legs from around his waist. Her body hung suspended between him and the tree, her toes dangling at least half a foot off the ground.

  Damn it. With a frown of his own, he wrapped an arm around her waist and lowered her gently to the ground. So much for picking up where they’d left off. Although he wasn’t about to just let her walk away.

  Keeping her tight against his body, he asked, “What’s the damage?”

  “One of the crew was shocked, but he seems to be okay. Dazed.”

  That didn’t seem so bad. Not that he wanted anyone injured, but if the man was conscious, it couldn’t be life-threatening. Unfortunately, their on-staff doctor had left with most of the employees.

  Xavier’s voice crackled again through the connection. “And somehow a small electrical fire started. I’ve implemented fire protocol, but most of the staff is gone.”

  Before Xavier could even finish, Marcy was jerking out of Simon’s hold. Grabbing her abandoned pack, she flung it over her shoulder and started down the path at a fast clip. Simon was right on her heels.

  From out of nowhere another radio appeared in her hand. It was a nice trick, although Simon assumed it had been in her pack and was probably the source of the echo he’d heard. Not the cavern of the falls as he’d assumed.

  “Xavier, how big is the fire? What buildings are in danger? Is someone getting the pumper truck?”

  “Not big. Luckily, the panel is at the back of the main building and so far the only thing on fire is a small shed. I’ve called for the truck…but it won’t do us much good. The water’s out, remember.”