by Lowe, Anna
He cupped her face with both hands and looked into her eyes. “It’s okay, Cara. Let it be okay.”
Was it really as simple as that?
Deep blue eyes promised her it was, even as her soul continued to wrestle with the idea.
He sighed a little, then brought the towel up to dab her cheek. “Now you’re wet all over again.”
She put her hands over his. “You are a prince. A true prince.”
He threw his head back and laughed. Laughter like a ray of sunshine in a very dark place. “No prince.”
“A prince. A gentleman,” she insisted. Because there she was, clinging to him like a child to a teddy bear, while Tobin held back. She could feel the restraint, feel him quivering for more than just a comforting kind of hug. He’d been exactly the same, their very first night. One thin strand of valor tried desperately to put on the brakes while desire poured off him in waves.
His smile faded. “I’ve given up on gentleman. It just doesn’t pay.”
Her chest tightened, hearing the truth in his words. Doing the right thing had only gotten him stung, again and again. But even so, he didn’t give up. That was the thing about Tobin: easygoing teddy bear on the outside, knight in shining armor within.
She nuzzled up, her cheek to his, and rubbed back and forth against the stubble.
“Mmmm.” A happy humming sound came from his chest. “Nice.”
Very nice, so she did it some more. Eased up on her death grip of his shirt and slid her hands across the intersecting layers of muscle on his back. The happy hum was coming from her now. She nosed his ear. He smelled so good. Felt so good to have him this close again.
“Beware, m’lady,” he whispered. “There be dragons in there.”
Her heart thumped harder. “You want me to stop?”
“Only if you want to stop.”
Like that was going to happen.
He looked at her more intently than she ever remembered him doing before. A new and different Tobin. Wounded, even if he didn’t admit it. Wary. She’d done all that to him.
But maybe, just maybe, she could undo parts of it again.
She rapped her knuckles gently against his brow. “Knock, knock. Let the other Tobin out.”
His eyes were closed, his whole body still. Only his lips moved. “What other Tobin?”
The one who loves me, she almost said, but settled for something more neutral. “The one who knows just how to touch me.”
The hand he’d left against her chest twitched, and a whole cheering section went off in her mind.
“The one who kisses me, over and over and over again,” she whispered, running her lips along his jaw.
His cock jutted against her stomach. He nuzzled his chin along hers in a long, sensual scrape that left every nerve in her body humming. His defenses were crumbling — and hers, too. The regrets were still there, but the burning need for more contact was shouldering them aside.
She nibbled his ear just above the lobe. Was that still his favorite spot?
His head tilted to her lips; his mouth opened in a silent sigh of pleasure.
A trail of happy sparks went through her, kindling the desire for more. Much more. To make this man not just sigh for her, but sing and cry and dance. Like she used to do for him, and he for her.
“Touch you where?” he whispered.
She wiggled her butt against his hand. “Here,” she whispered. “And there,” she added, breathing deeply enough to make her chest rise into his hand.
He brushed the other hand down her ass, then back up, bringing her closer. Danced his fingers over her collarbone, then stroked her neck.
The rain was pelting down harder, but nothing could extinguish the fire inside her.
“Kiss me, Tobin.” She was begging, but that was all right, because she’d long since swallowed her pride.
And about time, too, she decided. Pride only got in the way of passion. And life without passion was like life without Tobin: empty as a desert instead of being as full as a jungle that teemed with sight, sound, sensation. Like the sensation of his heart, beating so close to hers.
He tilted his face closer, and she begged again.
“Kiss me, Tobin.”
The old Tobin would have chuckled and teased. This Tobin was serious. Aching. She could hear it in his whisper. “Where?”
“Everywhere.”
Chapter Eighteen
Tobin forced his eyes open, just to know this was for real. Not a dream, not a fantasy, not a memory.
But it was real. So real, it hurt. Hurt in a way he wanted to go on forever. Cara, wanting him. Needing him.
Six pent-up years of needing him, judging by the way she rutted up against him, making everything in him yowl and roar. If she’d hooked up with other guys since then, they hadn’t done much for her. Not the way he could. That’s what her body was screaming: it was him, only him.
He knew because it was exactly the same for him. He hadn’t been playing monk these last couple of years, but no one had ever managed to produce the high Cara did with just a kiss. A whisper. A fleeting touch.
“Cara,” he said, begging right back. And then he got to work on everywhere, just like she wanted.
He slid his lips over hers and got lost there for a while, inhaling her swallowed moans, her sweet Cara scent. Trying hard not to grind his cock against her and let her do the grinding, which was more than enough. Or not quite enough, because he wanted to consume her, take her, have her, all in one bite.
Cara was way ahead of him on that count, though. Her fingers knotted in his hair as she kissed him so hard and deep, his lungs ached. He tried to pretend he had his shit together up until she ran her hands up his chest and went to work on his left nipple, sending fireworks up and down his spine. Cara Leoni, in his arms again. He threaded his fingers in her hair and tried not to squeeze her in too close, lest he break the magic spell.
Holding back, though, was a losing battle. More and more of his weight slid over until he had her up against the doorframe. His hips ground against hers, and Christ, he could picture it already. The door would give and they’d tumble out. Splat — right into a puddle of mud. The way things were going, though, they probably wouldn’t even pause. They’d go right on kissing and touching and slopping around like a couple of randy pigs in the mud.
“What’s so funny?” she murmured, catching his chuckle.
“I can just picture this door giving way behind you.”
“Well, then,” she said in a deliberately sultry tone, “time to trade places, hotshot.” She spun a finger in the air.
Her body shifted, and his followed in a slow, sultry dance. When they’d turned far enough for him to have his back to the door, she squeezed him up against it and kissed him.
And kissed and kissed and holy crap, kissed. He clamped his hands over her delectable ass and hung on. Her hands were all over him, exploring. Remembering. Holding. She’d speed up, then slow down, and he lost track of all sense of time. All sense of everything, because there was only her, tickling his neck then half ripping off his shirt. Shoving his shorts down then slowly fisting his cock.
She drew back, and his lips worked in thin air for a moment, wanting her back.
“Cara,” he started, then stopped. Her look was pure mischief. Pure desire.
She dropped to her knees in front of him, and his heart jumped half out of his chest.
“Jesus, Cara,” he managed, and damned if his voice didn’t squeak like he was still fifteen and using magazines to get this kind of high.
“You don’t want this?” She looked up with those luminous eyes. Eyes with centuries of passion wrapped up inside, just waiting to be freed.
“I want, I want,” he said, and that came out better. More like a growl.
“Good,” she said, leaning closer. “Because I want, too.”
The minute she said it, want slid over to need and his body screamed for more.
There was a puff of air, then the world’s lightes
t kiss. Then a wider, wetter touch that could only be her tongue.
He dropped his head back against the door with a heavy thunk and slid his fingers into her silky hair.
“Cara—” he moaned, giving up any pretense of having his shit together. Not with Cara working him like this. Toying with the tip of his shaft, then taking him deep, deep — holy-shit-deep.
She could have said anything then. Tobin, get on your knees and bark like a dog. Tobin, get over to the bed and let me tie you down. He’d do it in a heartbeat. Anything for her. For this. This slice of heaven he thought he’d never, ever experience again.
She came up for a breath of air and murmured “Oh, yes,” before closing over him once more.
Then it was him saying Oh, yes over and over as she worked him with those perfect lips, that clever tongue. What her mouth couldn’t reach, her fingers made up for, circling, then squeezing, then letting up, the perfect interplay of a little too tight and more-please-more. He might even have said that, once or twice.
His eyes rolled back in his head, and the only thought that fit in his blissed-out mind was that the minute he did get his shit together, he’d make her soar as high as she was sending him now, and do it for hours. Make her climb until she was whimpering the names of all the saints her parents made her memorize in Sunday school — the ones she really, really shouldn’t call to mind at a time like this. Then he’d plunge inside her, man inside his woman, and make her sing to heaven as he finished what she was starting. Then they’d lie there sweating and heaving and muttering Hallelujah and Amen.
Except right now it was him doing the muttering, the sweating, the heaving. He rocked on his heels, setting a rhythm she caught on to, and Christ, he’d never felt his balls go that tight, his cock that heavy or slick. She had both hands wrapped around his hips now, squeezing him closer, and though he’d been in the same position a couple of times, he hadn’t felt anything this close to total meltdown ever in his life.
But he sure as hell wasn’t going to come in the mouth of his Italian princess, so he hauled her up to her feet and crushed his lips over hers. A little harder than he intended, but that seemed to suit Cara just fine. She tasted like…like him, and that set off a raw, animal urge.
“Fuck, Cara.”
“Oh, we’ll get to that,” she said, looking far too satisfied for a woman who hadn’t yet gotten her share. “I promise you, we’ll get to that. But right now, we finish this.”
This was her pulling his hand down to his cock and finishing him off, both of them together. Her hand should have felt tiny under his, but she had all the power. She watched his face from an inch away as he thrust harder and harder into her hand.
Let her watch. Let her listen. If she caught even a tiny fraction of this high, he’d be okay.
He heard her giggle, then huff into his ear. “Gotcha, hotshot.”
“You had me from the very st—”
The very start, he’d meant to say, but it got cut off by the tsunami that swept him into coming, hot and hard and heavy, in her hand. She milked every last drop while he shuddered and groaned and finally went limp.
Cara whisked the towel over both of them then ran a hand up his chest and chuckled.
“Gotcha.”
Chapter Nineteen
Cara tucked her nose into the hollow of Tobin’s collarbone and breathed him in as he slowly came down from his high. That scent was pure Tobin — an ocean breeze mixed with a lush jungle flavor that he’d made into his signature blend.
Him. Tobin.
Hers.
She snuggled closer, not quite ready to meet his eyes. Where that blow job had come from, she had no idea. Maybe it was the jungle, calling out the primal need in her. Maybe it was the result of having felt so trapped and alone over the past days, or even the past couple of years.
Or maybe it was the power of two long-lost soul mates, united at last.
How she’d ever let him go or doubted him, she didn’t know. Right now, all she felt was the driving need to hold on and never, ever let him go.
So she didn’t, even when he bent, flexed, and cradled her against his chest. She didn’t let go as he carried her to the bed, and she sure didn’t let go when he leaned her back on the mattress. Wherever he went, she went, too.
Which led to a moment of wrestling with the mosquito net and the last of her clothes, plus a frantic dig in his bag for a condom. But even that they did together; she held the bag while he rooted around.
“I bet you Tarzan never had these moments,” he frowned.
She snorted. “I doubt he did. That Jane was a prude.”
“Gotta feel for the guy. It’s not like he had a lot of options.”
She glowed a little. God knew Tobin had all the choice in the world, but he wanted her. Her!
He crawled over her body and tucked the condom next to the pillow. “Me, Tobin. You, Cara.”
“So show me your stuff, hotshot.” She kept her voice playful, instead of blurting the uncensored version in her mind. Yeah, show me. Show me hard, fast, and deep.
Yep, her inner cavewoman had definitely taken over. And God, it felt good.
“Be careful what you wish for, princess of mine.”
“What are you waiting for, my good knight?”
His lips quirked. “Just deciding where to start. Here?” His eyes stopped on her lips, and he rubbed a finger across the seam. “Or maybe here?” His hand ghosted over the left side of her torso, hovering a hair over her skin.
She cheated and sucked in a deep breath, thrusting a breast into his palm. Getting him off had her wound tighter than tight, and her body begged for release.
He chuckled, but skimmed on. “Or maybe here.” His voice dropped an octave as his fingers tiptoed toward her mound.
“Everywhere,” she whispered, arching into him.
He tilted an eyebrow at her, and it sent flames licking through her body. Little flames that shot off in all directions, then reunited in a single, raging fireball in her core. She was writhing under him now, spreading her legs, inviting him in.
“Tobin…”
“So impatient. Don’t you know we have all night?”
Her inner beast nearly let out a yowl, but Tobin drowned it with a kiss. His lips made little rippling motions over hers, setting wild signals through her nerves. His hand toyed with her breast, scooping and shifting the soft flesh while his thumb brushed over the nipple, bringing it to a peak. She hadn’t felt so high, so wild, so…electrified in years.
Something between a squeak and a moan escaped her lips. “Oh, that feels good.”
His hand strayed lower and slid between her legs, parting her folds.
She murmured something that came out garbled and low.
“You like that.” The corners of his mouth quirked up.
Yeah, she was unraveling at the seams, but at least she had the satisfaction of hearing his voice go raspy and deep.
“You like it, too,” she managed. Right before he slid a finger inside and made everything in her sing.
“I do.” He flashed a wicked smile and slid a second finger in. He moved them in wide, wet circles, around and around.
“Tobin,” she groaned, not really sure what she wanted to say.
“Cara.” His eyes went dark with unveiled desire.
His fingers slid deeper, faster, honing in on the spot that would shatter her while his thumb pressed harder on her clit. She closed her eyes, riding this roller coaster to the very top, ready for the thrilling drop on the other side.
“Tob—”
She got that much out before his teeth scraped over her nipple, and then she was flying on a wave that seemed to tumble all of her insides. Like falling off a surfboard and swirling around in the frothy aftermath. Only better. Way, way better. She shook with an orgasm that went on and on until the roaring in her ears dulled to the quiet whisper of waves rippling over a beach.
She swallowed a couple of times, because she hadn’t come that hard or that long in…i
n…well, a very long time.
Tobin kept busy, fluttering little butterfly kisses all over her chest, and when she cracked an eye open, he flicked his eyebrows up and smiled.
“You like that.” Just the sound of his voice lubricated her joints.
“I love it.”
I love you, she almost said. Good thing she was still catching her breath.
The rain pattered on the roof as the shower eased away, and the bungalow was dim. Twilight had fallen in a rush. The jungle came alive with a thousand squeaks, squawks, and chirps. Another minute passed in blissful, boneless oblivion, and if his cock hadn’t jutted into her hip, she may well have spent another hour lying there. But Tobin’s touch was like an on switch, and just like that, she was ready for more.
She jackknifed up and searched between the pillows for the condom, then tore the package open with her teeth.
Tobin’s eyes shone, and then he winked.
“Hungry, much?”
Cara shoved him back onto the mattress. She’d show him hungry.
“Starving.” Not just for sex, she was starving for him. For them to be one.
His cock twitched when she touched it, then throbbed as she unrolled the condom slowly, enjoying every hard inch. It was strange, though, too, because when they got engaged, they’d switched from condoms to the pill, not wanting a single layer separating them.
Now, that layer was back. That separation. She blinked a couple of times to push the lump in her throat back down. She wasn’t about to ruin this magic with regrets, so she ran her hand over his hard length, then swung into a straddle over him. Quickly, before she chickened out.
She leaned low and sucked his lower lip between hers, rubbing it back and forth. A trick she’d learned from him, because while he was distracted with that, she tugged his arms up high. Then she reared back to admire the view, keeping his arms pinned over his head.
Tobin Whitman Cooper, ski hunk, surf god, and part-time jungle explorer, stretched out under her like a prize. Grinning like a fool, as if he were poised at the top of a mountain of fresh powder, ready for the ride of his life.
