by D. D. Ayres
Now home, finally, he was breathing easier. It wasn’t a mortal blow. He would recover.
He rubbed his nose. But Oliver was wrong. There would always be scars.
His cell phone rang.
“Aloha ‘auinala, grandson.”
He smiled. “Aloha. Hau‘oli la hanau, Tutu. Happy birthday.”
“You are not here with the others, grandson. You promised.”
“Yes, Tutu. I will be there.”
* * *
Yardley hung off the rail at the bow of the ferry between Maui and Molokai as it docked at Kaunakakai Harbor. Everything she’d ever seen and heard about the Hawaiian Islands was true. Paradise dropped into the middle of the Pacific Ocean. She couldn’t look long enough or hard enough at the sights. Somewhere on the mountainous green island glowing in the setting sun off the bow was the man she’d come to see. But would he be happy to see her?
“Here you go, Ms. Summers.” Oliver handed her the travel kennel with Oleg inside as they stood on the dock a few minutes later. “He’s not much for the water, is he?”
Yard bent down to see her poor Czech wolfdog looking wobbly. He licked her hand gratefully. She could sympathize. Her stomach was still rising and falling though they were on land. “He prefers snow.”
“No accounting for taste.” He picked up both her bags in one fist. “Come on, then. We’re late for the luau.”
“Oh, Oliver, thanks. But no partying for me. I need some sleep before we talk to Kye about hiring me.”
Oliver slung an arm around her shoulders. “If I was to tell you there’s something waiting for you that you’d kiss me full on the mouth not to miss, what would you do?”
Yardley gave him the stink-eye. “I’d think you were trying to sell me a very cheap bit of merchandise.”
He threw back his head in laughter, gathering the eyeballs that weren’t already glued to the gorgeous man.
Two hours later, Oleg had been walked, engaged in a hard-and-fast game of Frisbee, and fed; he now slept gratefully in a kennel that didn’t fly, soar, or bob like a cork in the bathtub.
Yardley, showered and changed, came into the open-air lobby to find Oliver waiting for her. He wore board shorts, a hideously loud flowered shirt, and flip-flops.
She looked down at herself. She wore sandals and a simple white dress with scooped neck and spaghetti straps with a single large hibiscus flower printed at the hem. She hadn’t known what to do with her hair so she’d just parted it and let it fall over her shoulders and down her back.
When she looked up to see why he hadn’t spoken, his drop-jawed surprise confirmed her suspicion. His gaze lingered over every swell and curve of her body, making her worry that the thin material might burst into flame.
“Too much?” She held a hand up to the scoop neck. Maybe too little. The dress didn’t allow for the kind of bras she’d brought. “I bought it in the gift shop when you dropped me off. I wasn’t expecting to attend a celebration.”
He murmured something that sounded like, “The whole package,” and then turned and walked out of the hotel.
Yardley’s mouth dropped open and then she went after him, getting hotter by the second. He could just suggest she change. But to walk out?
She found him outside the hotel doorway, paying for a flower. He grinned at her, accepted his change, and then came right up to her and pushed the hibiscus into her hair behind her right ear. “That ought to do it. Come on, we’re late.”
Yardley heard the party before they swung around a curve and the stretch of beach came into view. Under a large pavilion several dozen people were serving plates of food. Out under the stars, dozens of burning torches were staked in the sand. Several flanked a wicker chair with a high circular back in which sat a woman in a bright-purple floral muumuu with a garland of flowers in her hair and another around her neck.
“That’s Tutu. I’ll introduce you later.” Oliver waved at a few people and then said, “Come this way.”
He steered her toward the large group of partygoers who stood listening to musicians playing traditional Hawaiian music up on a makeshift stage.
With a hand at her back, he propelled her past a blur of smiling faces toward the front of the crowd. Growing a little nervous even in a smiling crowd of strangers, Yardley turned to Oliver. ‘“Look, if you’re escorting me because Kye doesn’t want me here, I can just go back to the hotel.”
Oliver swung his head toward her, an incredulous look on his face. “Do you ever look in your mirror?”
“You heard of the Maori haka? It’s a war dance. This is Kane Hula kahiko. Hawaiian male hula, ancient-style. Some call it the muscle dance.” He winked at her. “Fair warning. You’ll want to kiss me.”
Yardley swung her attention back to the stage. The music had ended and the musicians quickly cleared the stage. A man appeared on stage carrying what looked like a large two-lobed gourd. She’d read about the instrument in the inflight magazine. It was an ipu heke gourd drum.
The musician began to chant, pounding the drum against the boards and using his hand and fingers to tap out a rhythm. It began slow. The chanted rhymes were in Hawaiian but they reminded her of powwows on the reservation where she grew up. Familiar and yet new. Her feet began to move in tiny stomp steps of sympathy.
Yardley had seen women in traditional grass skirts and leis and flower garlands in their hair standing next to the stage. She expected they’d be the dancers. But as she watched the stage wing in anticipation, the women parted, revealing a line of bare-chested men and boys wearing nothing but simple loincloths with a tantalizing strip of cloth hiding their modesty front and rear.
Oliver leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Kye’s tutu requested that all eligible male descendants dance a traditional hula for her birthday.”
A ripple of excitement ran over her skin like wildfire as his meaning registered, and then ten men were moving onto the stage. Youngest in the front and more mature in the rear. All bare-chested with crowns of leaves on their dark heads, necks, wrists, and ankles. At center back, the tallest, was Kye.
Yardley licked her suddenly dry lips as the syncopated rhythm caught at her pulse. The two lines of men began moving in time to the beat. Footsteps and small precise kicks that were powerful yet graceful moved them first right and then left across the stage as the audience erupted in applause.
But for Yardley there was only one man on stage. All she could do was stare at Kye as the muscles of his powerful thighs moved him across the floor, bent knees swiveling in and out, mesmerizing in his power, grace, and strength. Arms flexing and flowing through actions even she recognized as paddling and pulling fishnets. They all wore serious expressions in concentration for the performance.
How had she ever thought the hula was a dance strictly for women? This was raw, vigorous, masculine grace on view.
The rhythm picked up as first one and then another of the dancers took center stage to show his prowess.
When Kye stepped forward, Yardley could not stop herself from gasping as lust flash-banged through her body. Then laughter erupted from her.
Too late to stop the sound, she saw his gaze roam the crowd and then catch on her face and hold. If he was surprised, it did not show in his serious face. He seemed to grow taller, the ripped muscles of his chest and arms shown to great effect by a fist on each hip, flexed. He saw her. The raw energy of the moment causing those nearest her to glance around and look her way.
And then he was moving. The rhythm slower now, more deliberate. His hips began to move in slow circles. The suggestive undulating motion riding liquid though the rhythm was all for her. That’s what his gaze said.
The rhythm increased, forcing his concentration away from her.
But it didn’t matter. The raw energy of his dance belonged to her. Others might view the flick of his hip that flashed a butt cheek, but it didn’t matter. He was the most beautiful beast in creation. And she wanted him, wanted him with the same urgency and power that moved his gorgeous bod
y across the floor. When his turn was done, he fell back in line for the next dancer. It didn’t matter. They were surrounded by others, but the connection between them held. The profoundly sensual experience of Kye dancing for her left her weak and aroused, overheated and shivering in anticipation.
All the things she had feared—the conversations, the recriminations, the hurt and regrets—melted away under the powerful rhythm of the visceral need to be together.
She barely heard the thunderous applause and cheers and whistles. She was moving toward the edge of the stage and the push of the crowd fell away for her. Several people patted her shoulders but she didn’t have the power to acknowledge them. There was only this drumming in her soul and the need to reach Kye.
And then he was as before, glistening with sweat, his powerful chest rising and falling with the exertions of the dance. He looked at her, the raw hunger in his gaze nearly buckling her knees. But he didn’t speak. Didn’t touch her. So she did.
She flung herself at him, pushing through the crowd.
“That’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
He watched her uncertainly. “Really?”
“Fuck yeah.” She slapped both hands to her mouth. “Sorry.”
He shook his head, thinking harder than she’d ever seen him. Then the aloha smile spread across his face and he grabbed her hand. “Okay. Come on.”
She stumbled after him as he plunged into the crowd, cheering now his obvious conquest. “Where are we going?”
He looked back at her. “Do you care?”
Abso-freakin’-lutely not.
CHAPTER THIRTY
Leaves from his floral collar and cuffs littered the floor. His loincloth was out in the hallway. Her dress hadn’t made it two feet inside the front door. He’d murmured something about buying her a new one as he broke the straps and let it slide off her damp body. Her panties didn’t fare much better. Kye in heat was a wonder not to be missed.
Somewhere in the middle of their steps toward the bedroom, the need for a bed gave way to a more basic need. They subsided to the highly polished wood floor.
Their bodies, slick with sweat, slip-slid over each other as they grappled to bring themselves skin-to-skin and then even closer.
The kisses were just as quick and hungry, tongues licking and flicking, lapping up the taste of each other.
She breathed him in as the heat and weight of him settled over her. The floor beneath her felt cool against her feverish skin.
He pulled up. She heard foil rip. Condom. She didn’t ask. She didn’t care. But she wondered. Where could he have gotten it?
And then he was kissing her again. She groaned into his mouth as his tongue ravished hers. She wanted to feel his tongue any- and everywhere on and in her body, but that would have to wait. The heat coursing through her veins demanded release before it turned her inside out. It felt like life and death. Or something even more serious.
She grabbed at his shoulders, smoothing her hands over the wide expanse as she remembered how his body had rippled and flexed, much like the ocean she had been staring at earlier. The push–pull motion of the sea. That’s what she wanted to feel inside her. Kye inside her. No doubts. No regrets.
He looked down at her, dark eyes glittering in a face tight with need. “It’s going to be hard and quick, Yard. I’ll make it up to you later.”
She frowned up at him. “Quick and hard is what I need, Kye. Hurry!”
He flexed her knees against his shoulders and scooped a hand under her butt to lift her to the right angle and then he was pushing down. Her body tingled and burned in response to being filled, but even that was not enough.
She reached down and grabbed his ass, pulling him even tighter against her.
The hunger in his movements created a delicious friction, her body pulsing with every shift of muscle and cock. She closed her eyes, the better to just feel.
As he pounded into her she began to see him dancing behind her closed lids. The undulations now punctuated by thrusts of his cock that lifted her butt higher and harder against him. It was all that she had been feeling as she watched him move, and more. This was only for her, and him.
Suddenly he was holding her hips and thrusting into her with everything in him. Her head made little squeaky noises against the floor but she didn’t care. His breath came quick and sharp between his teeth. She held her breath, holding on against the moment that pleasure spun her out over the edge, away from everything safe and secure and known.
And then she dropped, spiraling through an ecstasy as powerful and blissful as the man above her.
He came with her, grunting his pleasure into her ear as he slammed himself into her and held there, pumping out every drop into her.
They lay in silence for some time. The moonlight spilled in from the double doors open onto the night. She had no idea where they were, who lived here or might have heard them. Gradually, she realized that she could hear music and laughter, and smell roasted pork. Below it all was the hiss and roar of the ocean. They hadn’t gone far from the party. In fact, they were on full view to anyone who might happen past the doors. But she no longer cared.
She closed her eyes, shutting out the world beyond them.
Kye’s body, heavy and sated, sprawled across hers. This was paradise. If anyone didn’t understand what had just happened between them, she felt sorry for them.
* * *
“What’s this? Tears?” Kye was leaning over her, moonlight spilling its pearly luster over his bronzed shoulders.
“Don’t be crazy.” She playfully batted his hand from her cheek and sat up on the floor. “I don’t cry. I never cry.”
He rolled up into a seated position, spread his legs, and then pulled her in between them, her back to his chest as they gazed out on a night grown quiet after the dispersal of sleepy guests. He wrapped both arms around her to hold her close as he kissed her neck.
She folded her hands over his muscular arms, hugging his hug. “I want…” Lord, this was hard. But maybe she’d done harder things. “I want to learn what you need to make you love me.”
Something moved in his chest, something less than laughter but more than a growl. And then he was turning her to face him. And he was smiling. “Ma‘ane‘i No Ke Aloha, Yardley.”
She strained to see his expression in the dark. “You said that to me before, on New Year’s Day. What does it mean?”
He used a thumb to brush away her non-tear. “Love is here and now.”
“Oh.”
His aloha smile turned dangerously hot. “Nou No Ka ‘I‘ini.”
“So I want to know that means…?”
“Let me show you.”
* * *
“Since I totally deserted my tutu’s birthday party before the cake, could you make it clear to my grandmother that your interest in me is deeper than lust?”
Kye was scooping cereal into his mouth. It was sunrise in what Yardley had learned was his grandmother’s beach house. Amazingly, his grandmother had not come home last night.
Yardley smiled, feeling the expression slip and slide across her face as if she’d had too much to drink—drunk in love with Kye. “Why would I do that?”
“She worries. She says all that women see when they look at my pretty face is a good time. I’m a beefcake bimbo. She’s says that the reason I haven’t married is that women ogling me, like last night, have ruined me for a serious relationship.”
“Maybe she’s right. I was in total ogle mood last night.”
He looked at her darkly over his coffee cup. “What about this morning?”
“You’re fishing for compliments? You are so vain.”
He shrugged smugly. “I know what you think.” And he went back to drinking his coffee.
“What I don’t understand is why your tutu encouraged you to take dance lessons. She had to know you in a loincloth was not going to be good for local morals.”
“To the contrary. It’s a Hawaiian tradition. She’s ver
y strong on tradition. I’ve been dancing since I was ten. She told my parents it would keep me off the streets and out of gangs.”
“I guess it worked. Does Law know about your talent?” He scowled at her and Yardley chuckled in delight. “Oh, now I’ll have leverage with you.”
“Nothing new about that.”
She watched for a few moments longer, wondering why he hadn’t brought it up. “Don’t you have any questions about why I’m here?”
“Oliver told me a woman was coming to us for a job as a handler. I’m guessing that’s you.”
“I need a job.”
“You need to explain that.”
She did, quickly, about Law deciding he wanted to settle down and making plans for marriage, and how it coincided with her desire to take a break from Harmonie Kennels.
He watched her with a careful eye, giving away nothing of his feelings in his expression. “Hm. You don’t have a job? I’ve always been attracted to strong independent working women.”
She tried to match his laid-back attitude. “That’s why I thought I should sign up with a SAR organization. I’ve always wanted to see the world. Work alone with a dog.” She sat up. “Oleg!”
“He’s with Oliver. Or rather, Oliver is with him. He texted during the night and sent his thanks. He slept in your hotel room last night as payment for his dog-sitting services.”
“How would he—?”
“He’s Oliver. He can talk nearly every woman out of her panties. I’m sure getting a key to your room wasn’t a stretch for him. Nor making friends with Oleg. He’s a dog man.”
“Remind me, I owe him a big fat kiss.”
“Over my dead body.”
Yardley just smiled.
Kye smiled, too. “As it happens, BARKS is always on the lookout for competent people. Of course, you’d have to pass muster with the bosses.”
“Oliver says you do all the hires.”
