Before she could even think about that, she needed to wash off the grime from all her travels. Maybe take a nap. As much zigzagging as she’d done today, she wasn’t even sure what time zone they were in. She headed upstairs to the master bedroom and stripped off her clothes. Her panties had a wet spot.
All Tony’s fault. Or maybe Josh’s.
What red-blooded woman wouldn’t react to being alone with two hot guys, one a serious flirt, the other a would-be Mr. America contestant? Glancing around the room, she chuckled at the cliché tropical theme—nautilus shell patterned bedspread and curtains, a palm tree-shaped throw rug and a huge beach mural painted on one wall. At least the room was spacious with high ceilings and a canopied king-size bed.
The shower was a large, mostly open square with two heads. Plenty big enough for two…or even three. She tumbled the notion of a threesome around in her head, wondered what it would be like.
She was totally anonymous here and it had been so long since another human being had pleasured her. She’d packed her vibrator, but it lacked a certain warmth and never wanted to cuddle with her after.
Why not try something bad, something dangerous? She turned on the faucet and stepped under the stream. Shutting her eyes, she pictured both men naked and hungry. They wanted to touch her, all over, do things she’d never dared. Desire coursed through her, made her pussy tingle with excitement. She rubbed a bar of soap over her breasts, sucked in a breath of steam as she lingered on her nipples.
God, she missed the feel of a man’s strong arms around her, the rough scratch of a five o’clock shadow against her skin, the heated stares that made her legs wobble.
Liaisons took so much planning for someone like her, always in the limelight, always under scrutiny. Few men could handle that kind of attention. Famous men dealt with it best, already used to the constant attention. Unfortunately, those she’d dated were way more focused on their image than on making a relationship work.
She’d had a couple of regular guys, men without gigantic Hollywood egos. But they’d been too interested in pleasing her, as if they needed instruction. Most were too intimidated to push the envelope, sexually speaking. For once, she didn’t want to be in charge. She yearned for a man to take control of her in the bedroom, make her submit to his will, but she’d never had the nerve to say so.
A blast of cold water ripped her out of her thoughts. Had she run out of hot water already? She gave the faucet a quick twist to shut it off. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. Glancing toward the window, she gasped.
There was a man on the deck just outside the window taking a shower. His back was to her, all tanned skin and rippling muscles. When he turned a little, she realized it was Josh. But she couldn’t stop gawking, couldn’t tear her gaze from his amazing shoulders or his six-pack.
When he twisted toward her, she got a glimpse of his cock. Holy cow! It wasn’t even hard, but it was enormous. Mesmerized, she stepped closer to the window for a better view.
Soap bubbles cascaded over his chest, past his stomach and disappeared in the tuft of brown curls above that amazing… Hey! It was growing. He was getting hard. What the…
Then she lifted her gaze to his face.
Oh God. He grinned, stared at her, obviously enjoying her reaction to his chiseled body. Automatically, she drew her hands up to cover her breasts and she realized her nipples were as rigid as Josh’s erection.
She spun around and rushed out of the shower stall, as far from the window as she could get. Thank God there was a towel on the bed. She grabbed it and wrapped it around her, only it was small and barely covered her.
Releasing the breath she’d been holding, she lay back on the bedspread and threw her arm over her eyes, prayed she’d imagined the whole thing. Maybe she could find another bodyguard here in Honduras to replace Josh.
No. She’d gone to so much trouble finding the two men she had. No way could she take a chance that she’d get some undercover tabloid reporter posing as muscle-bound security. Plus, why not have nice scenery while she was here, rather than some paunchy middle-aged dudes.
Josh certainly was hot. But wouldn’t it be weird with Tony if she and Josh started a fling? At least she had her pick of fabulous eye candy.
When someone knocked on her door, she prayed it wasn’t Josh. How could she look him in the eye now, after she’d seen his… And he’d seen hers?
“Sarah?” a man asked, using the fake name she’d chosen.
“Yes?” She held her breath.
“I have your suitcases.”
So used to having things taken care of without having to think about them, she’d completely forgotten to ask one of the guys to carry up her bags. She stood then secured the towel tightly around her. Before she let him in, she grabbed her glasses from the dresser and slipped them on. “Come in.”
Thankfully, Tony entered with her suitcases. “Here you go.”
She hurried over, reached for the handle of the smaller bag, but he didn’t let it go. Her fingers slid alongside his. All the air sucked out of her lungs. Deafening silence hung between them for a long beat. Finally, she let go.
He let out a nervous cough, set one bag on a folding stand and stood the other next to the closet.
“Thanks.” Why hadn’t she noticed how green his eyes were? Or that he had the most adorable cleft in his chin?
His gaze slid slowly over her legs.
She shivered, realizing she wanted him to see her naked, just as Josh had. Combing her fingers through her damp hair, she tried to act natural, pretend her whole body wasn’t humming with pent-up desire.
How had she ended up with two hot as hell bodyguards? Usually they were beefy middle-aged men with bad breath and an even worse comb-over.
“Can I do…anything for you?” His words left no doubt what he’d like to include in his list of services.
Yes. You can fuck my brains out.
“I’m fine, thanks. For now.” She folded her arms across her chest, closing herself off, chickening out.
“My turn now, right?”
She raised a curious eyebrow. “Huh?”
He pinned her with a smoky stare. “I can use the shower in my room, right? Now that you’re done.”
She cleared her throat. “Um, yes.” How had these men she’d met less than a day ago already learned how to turn her into a hormonal puddle of a woman?
I am so screwed.
Chapter Two
Tony wondered if he’d imagined Marin’s interest. Had she really opened the door to him wearing a nothing but a tiny scrap of fabric? Her neck and cheeks had colored with a pink flush before his eyes. No, definitely not his imagination. He must be the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.
Yeah, right. Marin Shay was one of the most beautiful, sought after actresses on earth. Why would she have anything to do with him? Men had to be falling at her feet, although none of the tabloids had been able to link her to anyone in the last year or so, not since Rosco Whitehall had humiliated her with an uber-public break-up.
She was nothing like Tony had imagined. Not bossy or on an ego trip like so many of the spoiled Hollywood celebrities he’d photographed and written about. All the others had been strictly B-list. But Marin Shay? She sat at the very pinnacle of the A-list. And holy cow, was she the hottest thing he’d ever seen.
What an amazing stroke of luck that his car hadn’t started on the first couple tries after all the other paparazzi had followed her decoys away from her estate. He had to admit, her disguise was good—really good. If he didn’t know it was Marin, he’d have been fooled.
It had only cost him a thousand bucks to pay off the bodyguard she’d hired in the Dominican Republic so he could take his place. Poor guy had no idea he’d sold his chance to work for Marin Shay.
Low as he was in the pool of staff reporters, a plum assignment like this felt like manna from heaven. If he could get the right photo of her, a juicy bit of information, he could jump straight to the highest ru
ngs of the ladder. Forget about paying his dues. Everyone at the Weekly Tattletale knew the reporters who brought in the hottest stories were paid two or three times what the guys at the bottom made.
Wasn’t like he was jeopardizing her safety or anything. He’d been taking Krav Maga for more than a year now and thanks to his gun-nut father, he was a crack shot.
So why did guilt keep poking his gut? He brushed it aside when the big dude strode past with a towel wrapped around his waist and that same toothpick sticking out from between his teeth.
“Try the shower on the deck,” Josh advised. “Amazing view.” Seconds later a door clicked shut down the hall.
He and Josh had decided he’d take days and Josh would take nights. Checking his watch, he realized he hadn’t reset it to local time. He started hitting buttons, never completely sure of how to program the damn thing.
Something crashed in another part of the house, then he heard Marin’s loud gasp. Racing from his room, he headed toward where the sound came from—her room. Without knocking, he charged inside and found her dangling in midair, grasping the ledge below a high cabinet, still wearing only a towel. A chair lay on its side on the floor underneath her.
“What the…” He ran to her, wrapped his arms around her legs.
When the towel fell away, she yelped. “Close your eyes.”
“What?” Not like he could really see anything but the back of her thighs in front of his face.
“Just shut them.”
Huffing, he did what she asked. Unable to see her, all her could do was feel her silky skin, drink in her enticing floral scent.
“Are they closed?”
“Yes, ma’am.” But that didn’t stop his brain from filling in the missing pieces—the high, perky tits, the taste of her full, crimson lips, what it would feel like to bury himself to his balls inside her.
“Now put me down.”
Loosening his grip, he let her slide down along his body, purposely holding her close. His cock strained against his fly.
“Keep them closed,” she insisted as she broke free of his grasp.
He heard the rustle of fabric before she said, “Okay. You can open your eyes now.”
When he did, she stood near the bed wearing a short red kimono.
“Thank you for rescuing me.” She gave him a demure smile. “And for keeping your eyes shut.”
Shrugging as if it had been the easiest feat in the world, he bent to right the chair then picked up the towel and draped it over the back. “What were you doing up there?” He gestured toward the high cabinet.
Her neck and face turned a gorgeous shade of pink. “I was curious. I had to see if there was anything inside.”
“And?”
She rolled her eyes and grinned. “Dust bunnies. Somehow I lost my footing and the chair fell over.”
“Well that was worth risking your neck, huh?”
Tightening her sash, she widened her smile. “Sometimes you just have to check it out for yourself.”
“Sometimes you do.” He lowered his eyes to her tits, imagined sliding his cock along the valley between them. A flash of heat seared him from the inside out. He started for the door rather than stand there like a horny teenager with a hard-on. “Let me know if you need me.”
“Oh, I will.” Her voice held a playful edge that ratcheted his lust even higher.
He wiped away beads of sweat from his forehead and returned to his room.
After a long, cool shower Tony was officially on duty. He dressed in a polo shirt and shorts. Before leaving his room, he slipped the thirty-eight he’d bought from the security guard he’d replaced under his belt and went outside to check the perimeter of the property—and to use his cell out of earshot of the others. He’d already confirmed he was able to get a signal here.
Lester, his boss, picked up on the third ring. “Where are you, Tony?”
Static on the line somehow comforted him. Not quite ready to reveal his hand, he hedged. “Somewhere in the Caribbean. But we’re hopping a flight from here. I don’t know to where. Like I told you before, she’s smart.” And unbelievably hotter in person than on screen. He totally understood why every male director who’d worked with her had fallen under her spell. As he rounded a corner of the house, the beach came into view—and so did Marin, settling into a chaise lounge on the bottom deck.
Christ, she looks good enough to eat.
“Gotta go, Les. I’ll call when I can.”
“Pictures, Tony. Get me some good shots.”
He shut his phone, turned if off and headed toward Marin.
In a white low-cut one-piece bathing suit with her hair cascading over her shoulders, she was stunning. She held a hand over her eyes to shield them from the sun as she stared up at him. “You’re wearing too many clothes for the beach.”
He’d love to see her in less too—for more than a split second this time. “I’m on the clock.” He tapped the butt of his weapon. “There aren’t a lot of places to keep a gun in a swimsuit.”
“You could pretend the bulge in your briefs is because you’re just happy to see me.” She waggled her eyebrows and patted the end of her chair. “Get off your feet.” Her voice was like a siren’s call. No way could he resist.
Shrugging like it was no big deal, he took her up on the offer. “You’re the boss.”
She chewed on her lower lip. Good thing his shirt was long enough to cover his growing hard-on. He trailed his gaze over her and drank in that famous body. Long, lean legs, perfectly rounded hips, slim waist and high, full breasts. The woman could disguise herself as a troll and she’d still be the sexiest thing he’d ever laid eyes on. Desire coiled tightly inside him.
“So does that mean you’ll do whatever I say?” She stretched out her legs and propped them on his lap, dangerously close to his cock. Her toenails were painted hot pink and one had a tiny line of daisies painted across it. He’d never been much of a foot man, but she turned him on so completely, even the idea of sucking on her toes sounded appealing.
He ran a finger along her ankle. “I guess so. You tell me I have to rub your feet, I rub your feet.”
“Okay.” Letting out an adorable laugh, she wiggled her legs. “Rub my feet.”
Pulse hammering, he started with her toes, worked his way to the instep of her left foot. She sighed her approval as he used both hands to twist in opposite directions. Then he massaged the top and the heel. Since when did a woman’s feet turn him on?
Had he imagined that she’d moved her other leg closer to his erection? There it was again.
Nope. Definitely not my imagination.
Reining in the overwhelming desire to pounce on her, he set her left foot down—on his cock—before taking the right one in hand and repeating the process. He’d never felt such soft, smooth skin.
She rolled her head back, shifted her hips often enough to confirm she was probably getting wet.
God, he wanted to bury himself in her. The noontime sun conspired with her incredibly hot body to make his temperature rise about a hundred degrees into the unbearable zone. Did he dare move his attention to her ankles and beyond?
Before he had a chance to try, she yanked her leg away and scooted off the seat. “Let’s get in the water.” She took off her hat and tossed it Frisbee style onto the deck then started running toward the shore. Like an excited little girl, she kicked up the surf. Her exuberance was contagious. She hooted and howled, splashed in the aqua colored water.
“I’m free,” she shouted. “Come on, Tony.”
I’m free. Her words hit him like bullets. All she yearned for was a couple weeks to act like a normal person, unencumbered by the millions of eyes always upon her.
And all he wanted was to rat her out. The minute he called her location in to Les, it would be front-page news on every tabloid in the world. Then guys like him would descend upon this place like the vultures they were.
Yet she’d made the choice to be a star. No one had forced her, unless you counte
d her bastard of a father. From what he’d read, Parker Shay had ridden her hard until she’d made it big. Then he’d drained her bank accounts and disappeared. So much for family loyalty.
But still, she made more money than God doing a job she probably loved. Tony loved his job too, hoped to make it big. Didn’t that give him the right to pursue a huge story that could be his ticket?
She waved at him again. “I’m growing old here. Come on. Are you scared?”
Yeah, he was scared—terrified that he’d developed a conscience. Why couldn’t he look at the assignment objectively? He always had before. He’d met her less than twenty-four hours ago, but her vulnerability—that fissure in her carefully crafted persona—had already gotten to him. Only a real asshole would exploit it. Like every celebrity reporter and photographer he knew.
And what about her security? Josh was probably fast asleep by now. He glanced along the shore then out to sea. They were completely alone. Miles and miles of desolate beach stretched in either direction. Hell, he’d see a boat coming an hour before it could get anywhere near her.
There’d be plenty of time to be a reporter after a swim. He practically ripped off his shirt, set his gun, wallet and phone on the chair and covered them with her hat. Then he stripped down to his boxers and raced into the water, dove under a wave before he reached her. He watched her legs scissor back and forth as he neared. Wrapping his arms around her thighs, he lifted her up and broke through the surface. He felt like a kid, a kid having the best day of his life.
Laughing, she pretended to struggle. “Let me go!”
“For a price.” The only sound he heard was the pounding roar of the surf as he stared up at her. The world fell away and there was only her, gazing down at him with those huge, soulful eyes. And he wanted her more than anything—more than the story, more than his career.
Her smile gradually faded. She set her hands on his shoulders and he lowered her so they were face to face. Her lips, so full and compelling, parted. For him. Then her mouth was on his and he tasted her, breathed her in. She wrapped her legs around his waist and deepened the kiss.
Shades of Sexy: Six Uber Hot Stories Page 10
