Caribbean Crush (Under the Caribbean Sun)

by Jenna Bayley-Burke

  “You don’t want me to go anywhere without you.” He winked, his predatory gaze teasing the whisper of desire deep in her belly.

  “Have you had these delusions evaluated? I’m sure Janny could recommend a good psychiatrist.” She checked the buttons on her blouse, suddenly feeling exposed.

  “What happened to you, Kris? I thought we were friends.”

  “Were we?” She matched his gaze, silently imploring him to have a heart. They’d been much more than friends, at least on her side. “I haven’t heard from you in years. Not exactly how friends treat one another.”

  “You’re mad?” He leaned forward, bracing his corded forearms on his muscled thighs. “When I think of you, I remember all the fun we had.”

  Sure he did. And no doubt he’d thought she’d flop onto her back and spread her legs at the sight of him. She hadn’t been that easy the first time around. They’d danced around that for years before falling into a sequence of summer romances. Four summers of bliss followed by radio silence. When she’d needed him most.

  “I’m sorry if I hurt you in some way. You’ve always been so special to me.”

  “Stop.” She pressed her knees together and leaned forward so she could end this game without an audience. “I’m not interested in being your vacation piece, okay? You had your chance with me, and I will never, ever be interested in playing that game with you or anyone else again. Begrijp?”

  He raised a blond brow and leaned back, assessing her from head to toe. “I didn’t play you. But it’s good to hear you still remember the lessons I gave you in Dutch.”

  “Unbelievable.” She tucked her hair behind her ears, tension pounding like the drums the band played. She scanned the thinning crowd for Sass and Holly but couldn’t see either.

  He stood and held out a hand. “Walk with me. We need to clear this up.”

  She glanced at his hand, then up his muscled body to his face. She might have been blinded by physical beauty in her youth, but she’d learned better. “We need to get through this wedding. In a few days you’ll be back in Holland and I’ll be able to forget you ever darkened this island again.”

  He grasped her hand and yanked her to him faster than she could fight. She gasped and tried to pull away, but he’d gripped her elbow with one hand, splaying the other over the small of her back and propelling her across the lawn.

  “I don’t have anything to say to you.” She said between clenched teeth, wishing she’d worn shoes with a heel she could dig in instead of flip flops.

  “Don’t make a scene,” he whispered, leading her down the low hill toward Blowing Point Harbor.

  Chapter Three

  Blame it on youthful inexperience, but he’d always thought letting Kristin go was the most altruistic thing he’d ever done. He’d liked her too much to string her along, and he hadn’t seen a way for their futures to intertwine. She wanted a family, he wanted success.

  Even if he’d asked her to come to the Netherlands, he’d have had no time for her, and she’d have wound up resenting him. Things would have met a tragic end neither of them deserved. He’d known that five years ago, after his last carefree summer on the island. And so he’d let their affair fade into a happy memory he held dear.

  Realizing she didn’t share the same fondness for their time together cut him to the core. They’d shared four summers of learning and exploring and loving, at least as much as he’d ever been able to love anyone he wasn’t related to. He’d adored her from twenty to twenty-four, still using her memory as the measuring stick for all other women. And she saw him as… He didn’t even want to think about it.

  “Let go of me.” Kristin wrenched away, pushing in front of him as she marched the last few yards toward the deserted strip of beach. She wound her way through outcroppings of coral that littered the slice of sand like ruins of statues. She left her shoes next to one and waded out into the shallow sea. He followed course, joining her in the knee-deep water.

  “I never meant to hurt you.” He wanted to explain, and yet he wasn’t sure what she was so angry about.

  “Tonnis, you have to hear me.” She turned to face him, a storm of turmoil in her warm-brown gaze. “I don’t want you to chase me, to try and make it all better. We are nothing to each other and never were. So don’t go flirting and playing. Let’s get through this wedding and go back to never thinking about the other.”

  “But I do think of you.” He stared out at the horizon, the sun disappearing into the ocean like his chance of making Kristin ever understand.

  “You are one sick fuck, you know that?” She turned to leave, but he caught her by the elbows and pulled her up against him. Her breath caught, her eyes widening as he focused on her perfectly kissable mouth.

  “I have thought of you. Fondly. Often.”

  She pursed her lips, her breathing ragged. “Of me, or of fucking me?” She hardly spoke the words, and her voice was filled with accusation and pain.

  He released her arms but didn’t move away. He brought his hands to her face, tracing one hand along her jaw and sliding the other into the silken waves of her hair. Heat rushed through him like a dam breaking, overrunning everything that protected him from feeling too much.

  The urge to act on every old desire rose thick and hard between them. An unexpected sensation twisted deep in his soul, reminding him how out of his element he’d felt that last summer. Things between them had been so urgent, so intense. Too intense.

  But he wasn’t a twenty-four-year-old kid anymore. He was a man who didn’t want to be the cause of anyone’s pain, disappointment. He wanted to be that happy memory to her that she was to him. Something to build on rather than run from.

  “Kristin,” he whispered, bringing his mouth to hers.

  “Don’t,” she responded but didn’t move away. She froze in a silent challenge. She’d always been a challenge, had always inspired him to be better.

  “Let me make it up to you.” He spoke against her lips, wanting nothing in life more than to kiss her, taste her and please her.

  “You can’t. It’s too late for that. Let it go and leave me be.”

  “I can’t.” He’d rather die a painful, slow death than let her think he’d used her. Without their summers together, he never would have made it through university, never would have achieved the success he now had. She’d made him feel worthy of it, had channeled his adolescent rebellions in helpful directions. “I want you to look at me that way you used to.”

  “I used to think you were something you’re not.”

  “What’s that?”

  “In love with me.” She closed her eyes, a single tear trailing down her left cheek.

  He pressed a kiss there, tasting the salt of her pain. “I was.”

  “Love doesn’t run, Tonnis.”

  Her words hit him like a kick to the solar plexus. He couldn’t argue that he had opted for the easy way out. He’d been young and stupid and made a horrid error in not letting her have a voice in the decision. No doubt they would have had the same outcome, but his way had saved her years of pain.

  He framed her face in his hands, tilting her chin to look up at him. “You’re right. I thought a clean break would be easier for you, but I was wrong. Let me make it up to you.”

  “You can’t. It’s in the past. Let’s leave it there.” She blinked, her watery gaze begging him for mercy.

  “I need to make you see how much you meant to me. We have to rewrite the ending of our affair.”

  “I’m not interested in reliving the past.”

  “Even if this time, you’re in control of the way it ends? Give me the weekend to show you how much I cherished our summers. And then maybe you’ll see our time together the same way.”

  “And if I don’t? Do I get to erase you from my memory? Never return a call, an email, a letter? You’ll leave me be whenever you come for a visit?”

  “Or maybe you’ll remember how good we were together, how much we shared. Maybe I’ll haunt your dreams the
way you haunt mine. I’ll have you waking up with a smile.”

  He pressed his mouth to hers, years of silent desperation unraveling as her lips parted beneath his.

  Her heart jerked at his touch, her stomach tensing with the kiss. She’d told herself for years that she hated him, blamed him for the tragedy that came at his abandonment. And yet as soon as she’d seen him today, that flutter of excitement had returned, her libido dancing in anticipation. No matter that she knew better, that she no longer had the excuse of youthful, romantic notions of happily ever after, she wanted to feel that fire again.

  She’d been so alive with him. So young and hopeful and free. She’d soared and then crash landed back to reality. If she didn’t fly as high, if she guarded herself, could she make it out alive on the other end? Was the thrill of him worth the risk of repeating the one lesson she really should have learned from?

  He remembered the exact combination of sensations to unlock her resolve. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her into the hard strength of his muscled body. With his fingers toying with that sensitive spot on the back of her neck, and the warm male scent of him, lust overwhelmed her.

  She threaded her hand into his hair and gave herself permission to test her resolve. A rush of desire, a jumble of trepidation, expectation and stale regret pushed her on. The crisp taste of him intoxicated her as he traced his fingers up and down her arms, sensations building as he pulled her arms behind his head, gripped her waist and lifted her off her feet.

  She fisted her hand in his short hair, tugging his head back and opening her mouth to his. She took control of the kiss, teasing him with her tongue and plundering his mouth. She kissed him harder, demanding more until their hunger for one another threatened to turn into primal animal need.

  They’d had sex on the beach before. Quite a few times in fact. Her blood heated as she recalled the amazing sensation of his hardness sliding into her, his hands on her hips as he pushed deeper. Warm sand squeezing between her fingers as he took her from behind. She’d come in an explosion of sensation, and he’d carry her into the ocean, the water lapping at their bare bodies until they were ready to go again.

  It had been so long since she’d bothered with sex, she imagined she’d have to adjust to the size of him again. Memory of that full, complete feeling pulsed in her womb. What would it hurt, really, if she took him up on his licentious offer? She missed sex so much she’d been toying with the idea of a one-night stand for ages. This would certainly be more acceptable, and it was guaranteed to be good.

  Loud, electronic music spewed from his pocket and he stiffened. She pulled away, finding her feet again and remembering that what had wound up broken the last time she’d tangled with him was her heart.

  Antonnis rested his forearms on the driftwood table and peeled the label from his beer bottle. The reggae beat of the band drowned out all chatter in the seaside bar, even the spirited conversation his father and Dutch were having across the table. Twinkle lights were strung along the roof of the giant tiki hut, illuminating plumes of smoke from the barbeques in the back.

  “You know what this stag party needs?” Falco shouted into his ear. “Women.”

  Antonnis laughed at the way his brothers both glowered at their childhood best friend. A year ago, they would have been the ones to suggest the pleasurable distraction. Now, they seemed determined not to get caught with their gazes anywhere that might piss off a future wife.

  Falco must not have noticed the evil glares. “What kind of stag party doesn’t have any kind of decoration? Or entertainment? If I were the best man—”

  “I’m the best man for just that reason,” Harm rumbled from his seat, crossing his arms over his chest and casting a menacing glare at them both, as if Antonnis had been the one to bring up strippers. “We’re here to relax and stay out of the way while the girls have a glass of champagne.”

  “You two might as well do the same, since they seem to have made a purse out of your balls.” Falco squared his shoulders and nudged his elbow at Antonnis for encouragement.

  “It’s his funeral. If he wants to spend the night the way he’ll spend the rest of his life, we can only mourn with him.” Usually, Antonnis would be all for taunting his brothers or finding more attractive company. But right now his mind centered on a certain blonde who probably sat between the women his brothers were fixated on.

  Maybe there was some kind of voodoo on Anguilla. Like a love spell that had turned the limestone lump into an island of fantasies.

  “We could find our ladies,” Johannes offered, a wide smile splitting his face.

  “Not happening, brother.” Harm turned his glare on full force. “Sassy is staying at Dutch’s place with her parents, and I’m tasked with keeping you off that hill.”

  “Hardly seems fair since your woman will be in your bed when we return home.”

  Harm shrugged, the long-sleeve T-shirt he wore stretching across his chest. Antonnis wondered how in the world Harm managed to keep a shirt on when the temperature never dropped below eighty, but he decided not to poke the bear about his fashion choices in this blasted heat.

  “Where do you think they are?” Antonnis asked, leaning forward. “A posh club on one of the resorts? There’s no harm in watching a little dancing as long as it’s your girl shaking it, right?”

  Both his brothers pinned him with the same annoyed glare. Johannes spoke first. “Why would you want to watch Saskia dance?”

  Antonnis held up his hands. “I don’t care what the brat does. I’m just thinking a stag party is supposed to be more than drinking with Papa and Dutch. There should be something untoward. Poker maybe?”

  “We’d have to go back to the house for that,” Dutch cut in. “Anguilla is more interested in dominos.”

  “This is a happening place,” Falco deadpanned.

  The older men erupted in laughter, slapping one another on the back in camaraderie. “Sebastian and I should head home, let the youth have their fun while we retire.”

  His father kept laughing, wiping at his eyes. Antonnis couldn’t recall seeing the man this joyful or relaxed. Theirs was a story of sadness and loss, of working hard to fill the gaping hole left from his mother’s death. While at home, his father usually seemed happy enough, but this was a side of the man he didn’t recognize.

  Sebastian pushed a hand through his silver hair. “Or maybe we’ll sail, chase the sunrise and congratulate ourselves on a match well made.”

  “Careful, Papa,” Harm said with a wink. “Hannes hasn’t realized you and Dutch planned this entire marriage.”

  Dutch dismissed the notion with a wave of his hand. “If he knows what’s good for him, he’ll see to having the grandbabies we both want. Our children are far too old.”

  “Old enough to try and out drink us.” Sebastian held up his empty glass.

  “Sorry lot. They’ll never learn.” Dutch rose from the table and his best friend did the same. He pointed at Harm. “See that he’s at the church and sober.”

  Harm laughed. “I could say the same about both of you.”

  The older men made their way to the bar and Antonnis leaned toward his brothers. “Seriously. Where are the girls right now?”

  Chapter Four

  Kristin took her place beside Antonnis, grinning at how uncomfortable he looked. She’d set out to ignore him all day, and it was having the desired effect. She wasn’t trying to be rude, just to level the playing field since he’d undone her resolve with a kiss last night. She didn’t want any flirting getting in the way of Saskia’s wedding.

  “I don’t know where you live,” he whispered without moving his lips.

  “With Janny,” she whispered back, and then tilted her head toward her best friend and the man who stood ahead of them. “Is Falco a common name in the Netherlands?”

  “Common enough,” he answered, linking their arms for the trip down the aisle.

  “It’s his real name?” She kept her voice low, wanting to keep him talking abo
ut anything but their relationship.

  “Of course it is.” He tilted his head closer. “I need your cell number.”

  “So you can lose it? You’re not the best at returning phone calls.” The music began, the romantic hum of a string quartet floating from the front of the old church all the way back to the foyer they waited in.

  “Just give me the digits. I’ll remember them.”

  She arched a brow, wishing she didn’t get such a thrill from the desperate look in his light-blue eyes. “I’m not a call-me-maybe girl. I don’t give out my number to just anyone.”

  He all but growled her name, and Janny twisted around, pinning them with a look that reminded them they were about to walk down the aisle. Witness a wedding. And that she had no business winding him up when she wasn’t going to play with him.

  “We need to leave the past where it belongs,” she whispered as the double doors opened and flooded the foyer with gazes eager to glimpse the bride.

  “I don’t want to.” He squared his shoulders and rose to his full height, taking her with him as they strode toward the altar.

  She pasted on a smile, letting the faces of her friends and neighbors serve as a reminder that she had something to protect. Her heart. Her reputation. And the desire to teach Antonnis Prinsen that he could not have things his way this time.

  “I’ll bet that’s what they were doing last night.” Falco leaned against the bar set up on the beach, watching the women dance in bare feet on the wood floor that had been laid on the sand. A warm breeze drifted up from the surf to the beachside reception, easing the sweltering heat. The band did a commendable job of playing every song people expected at weddings, and in the last hour they’d only taken one break. Weddings were usually a formality, but Johannes and his bride seemed to have planned a party.

  “Beats the hell out of playing poker on a boat.” He took a full breath of the fresh air scented with tropical flowers and ocean breezes.