by Marie Carnay
“You can’t mean that.”
His nails bit into her flesh. “I always mean what I say.” He yanked her closer and his arousal dug into her belly. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
She smiled as he kissed a trail up her neck. “I have some idea.”
Slipping her hand between their bodies, Chelsea stroked the hard length of his cock through his pants. Damn. Where had he been all her life?
It didn’t matter whether Bronx was just toying with her or taking advantage because she was the only woman on the island. Lots of people had vacation flings all the time. Wasn’t that what spring break was all about?
Chelsea had been too broke and too busy studying in college to ever go wild. Now she had a whole month, and she should enjoy it. Bronx licked her earlobe before grazing the tender flesh with his teeth. The pain popped Chelsea’s eyes open and she gasped.
“Too rough?”
“N-no.” She pushed against his chest. “Do you know your way back to the house?”
His lips landed on her neck. Her pulse fluttered. “Prefer a bed?”
“It’s… dark.”
Bronx stilled and pulled away. His laugh startled her. “So it is.” He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear. “Guess we should find our way back before Beckett sends out a search party.”
Beckett. How could Chelsea forget about him? She smoothed down her dress and nodded. “Yes. I suppose you’re right.”
Bronx slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. “Don’t think this means we’re done. I’ve barely gotten started.”
Chelsea swallowed, thankful he couldn’t see her cheeks flush in the dark. They walked toward the dim lights shining through the trees before she paused. “Any idea where we left our shoes?”
He didn’t break his stride. “We can find them in the morning.”
Chapter Nine
CHELSEA
Bronx Kingston was a dangerous man. Chelsea ran her fingertip over her lower lip where his teeth had left a mark.
The man had teased her starving libido with a kiss and a grope while the sun set behind them, and then he left. A morsel of meat, a crumb of bread. That’s what he’d given her. And it turned her dormant desire into a painful need.
As soon as they’d stepped foot inside the house, his phone had rung and off he’d gone, hushed whispers filtering through the tiled entryway as he disappeared. Odd. But then everything about the trip had so far bordered on bizarre.
First a private jet, then the beach, a disappearing act from first one brother and then the other. Chelsea didn’t know whether the pair were toying with her, preoccupied, or both.
She glanced around. Terra-cotta tiles covered the floor and Moroccan-style white and blue tiles lined the walls. Archways opened to the grounds all around and stairs led off to what she presumed were bedrooms or offices. The place was more palace than house.
A few steps inside and the sound of music pricked her ears. Chelsea followed it to a covered lanai at the rear of the house. The patio led straight out to the sandy beach and the ocean beyond.
In the few minutes she’d been inside, the clouds had cleared. The moon shone bright on the ocean water, lighting up the beach in an eerie luminescence.
“Looking for company?”
Beckett’s voice startled her and Chelsea turned around. He sat on the wall of the lanai, back to a column, lowball in his hand.
“Sorry to interrupt. If you point me in the direction of my room…”
“Nonsense.” He swung his legs down and hopped off the wall. “Stay and have a drink.”
Beckett made his way to a table and uncorked a bottle. The clear liquid landed in the glass with a splash. “I’m afraid I don’t have any ice. But Bahamian rum is good warm.”
He held it out and Chelsea walked up to take it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He clinked his glass against hers and waited as she took a sip.
Smooth and velvet, with a vanilla finish, the rum went down easy. She smiled. “You’re right. It is good.”
“Sorry my brother’s such an ass. He should have at least found you a room.”
Chelsea shook it off. “It’s okay. He got a phone call. It sounded important.”
“Bronx thinks everything’s important. It rarely is.” Beckett walked to the patio’s edge and stared out at the ocean. “I’m not sure we should have agreed to come with you.”
“Why not?”
His shoulders tensed. “We don’t have the best relationship.”
Ouch. Chelsea tried to commiserate. “I’m sorry.”
“Do you have any siblings?”
“No. I’m an only child. My parents had me late.”
Beckett nodded and sipped his drink. For someone who dressed like he hadn’t a care in the world, it seemed as if a heavy weight hung around his shoulders. Chelsea knew so little about him and his brother. But from the way Bronx kissed, passion must run in the family.
“Bronx said he’s been here before, is that right?”
Beckett turned to face her. In the moonlight, she couldn’t read his expression. Was he upset she asked? “He said that?”
“Mm-hmm. I can see why.” She smiled and glanced at the ocean. “It’s beautiful.”
Beckett exhaled. “This is one of the most spectacular places on Earth, if you ask me.”
Chelsea sipped some more of her drink as the breeze washed over her. “Why don’t you two get along?”
Beckett broke eye contact with a frown. “It’s complicated.”
Damn. She hadn’t meant to pry or dig up bad memories. “I’m sorry. It’s not my business.”
“No, it’s okay.” Beckett reached out and touched her arm. The heat of his fingers made her jump. “I should be a better host. We did invite you here.”
She smiled. “If I remember right, I invited you.”
He slid closer and the blue of his eyes caught the glow of the moon. “Tell me, what do you want out of this trip?”
Chelsea sucked in a breath. “What a loaded question.”
“Is it?” His eyes tracked the angle of her jaw before dropping down to her chest.
“W-what I meant was—”
Beckett reached out with his free hand and traced the edge of her dress, starting with the strap and edging lower. His fingertip brushed the swell of her breast before pausing at the dip above her sternum. “It seems to me you want something but are afraid to ask. You know it’s just you and me and Bronx here for an entire month, right?”
Chelsea swallowed. “What about the staff?”
His tongue darted out to wet his lips. “They only come when needed, I believe. If you’d rather, we can send them home for the duration.”
“No! I mean—”
His finger resumed its course up the other side of her dress and off her shoulder. “Are you afraid to be alone with us?”
“Should I be?”
“Depends on the answer you still haven’t given me.” Beckett rolled forward onto the balls of his feet until his face hovered above her. Faint wrinkles fanned out around his eyes and when he stared down at her, his pupils swelled.
A ton of bricks lodged in Chelsea’s throat. “I haven’t thought about what I want in so long, I don’t know how.”
His lips curved. A dimple surfaced. “Start small.”
She tried to think but his face blotted out the moon’s glow and his body radiated so much heat, she felt fevered. The sweet, earthy smell of the rum on his breath weakened her resolve.
Would admitting what she wanted be that terrible? Would saying it out loud be worse than keeping it to herself? They only had a month. After that it would be back to her life in New York, a hamster on a giant, never-slowing wheel.
And Beckett would be gone.
Her lips fell open and the truth slipped out. “A kiss.”
Beckett’s nostrils flared as he leaned in. “Lucky for you, that’s something I can deliver.”
BECKETT
So fucking soft. Damn. Beckett’s lips melted into Chelsea’s as he kissed her. Pushing her had been unfair, but he needed to know. Did she want him as much as he wanted her? Was it only one-sided? Had she already fallen for his dashing younger brother?
From the way her body melded to his and little noises rumbled up her throat, he knew the answer. Chelsea wanted him.
With his lips pressed against hers, he reached for her drink. It slipped from her fingers and he set it next to his on the ledge. Nothing held them back except his lie.
Damn his self-conscious, doubting nature. Bronx had been right. He never should have covered up. He should have admitted they owned Sarabelle from the start. But it was too late.
He couldn’t just tell her now. What would she think of him? That he was a liar and a user. Someone out to take advantage. It didn’t matter the reasons; Chelsea didn’t know him. She’d make up her own mind. It would be the end of everything.
Beckett gripped her by the waist, his hands digging into her soft flesh as he raked his tongue over her lips. She opened for him with a moan, allowing him in to taste the remains of island rum on her tongue.
If they only had a month together, then he would make it count. Give her everything she wanted. Needed. She’d escape her life back in the city and Beckett would soak up every drop of her bliss.
He’d have an entire month of lust and desire. Thirty days of her delicious curves to explore. Secrets to divine. Wants to uncover. At the end of it she would leave and Beckett would go back to being alone.
His hands slipped beneath her dress, higher and higher, up over the swells of her ass, beneath the edge of her panties. God, he wanted to rip them in two and take her right there.
She broke their kiss with a gasp. “What if someone sees us?”
“There’s no one here who cares.”
“How do you know?”
“Just trust me.” He dove for her breasts, nuzzling the space between before swiping his tongue beneath the lace of her bra. Chelsea groaned and Beckett yanked her closer, her body pressed up against the rigid length of his cock, desperate already to be inside her.
“Beckett. We shouldn’t. There might be someone on the beach…”
He shoved his hand between them with a growl. “If it matters that much to you, keep your clothes on. I can make you come like this.” He tugged her panties to the side and sought out her heat.
Fuck. So wet. She could put up as much of a fight as she wanted, but Chelsea’s body couldn’t hide from him. Beckett nudged her legs wider with his knee, spreading her open for his fingers to work their magic.
Up and down he stroked, smearing her slippery arousal over every tender inch of her skin. Chelsea shook from his strokes, her hands clutching at his shoulders as he found her clit.
Swollen and so damn sensitive. One flick and she cried out. Another and she shuddered from pleasure. Making her come would be divine. Addicting.
“Beckett, I—”
He smiled and kissed her silent, fingers flying over her clit again and again until she exploded from his touch. Her lips froze against his, her fingers dug into his arm, and Chelsea came.
Beautiful.
Round two would be even better. He slipped his hand free and tugged her panties back into place as she trembled.
“Sorry, it ended up being more than just a kiss.”
As Chelsea blinked her eyes open, Beckett swiped his fingers across her lips, smearing the lush remains of her desire on her skin. Her eyes widened as he bent to taste her.
Mmm. Yes. “As delicious as I imagined.” He sucked his fingers clean. “Next time it’ll be my tongue that gets you off.”
Chelsea stepped back and Beckett let her. Her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the sand behind him. He could erase all her fears with a single sentence, but at what cost?
If he admitted the truth, and told her she needn’t worry about onlookers because they all worked for him, she’d probably slap him. Demand to leave. He couldn’t have that. Not after tonight.
No, if all he could have was Chelsea Miller naked and willing for a month, then he’d take it. Inch by glorious inch.
Beckett motioned toward the rear stairs with a smile. “The bedrooms are upstairs. I can show you to your room.”
She glanced in their direction. “I think I can manage if you just point the way.”
“As you wish.” He pointed out the dimly lit window. “The third room on the right. Your bag is hanging on the door.”
“Thank you, Beckett. For everything.”
There was no mistaking the sincerity in her voice, but Beckett wondered. Was she walking away because she was overwhelmed and hadn’t meant to take it that far? Or because she wanted Bronx?
Whatever her reasons, Beckett let her go. They had a whole month to get to know each other and her room was just down the hall.
As Chelsea reached the foot of the stairs, Beckett called out. “Open your windows tonight. You can fall asleep to the sound of the ocean.”
Chapter Ten
BRONX
His flip-flops sank deeper into the sand with every step away from the main house. Bronx hadn’t been able to make sense of Beckett’s desire to live on Sarabelle for years.
The place was a ghost town. A handful of staff who only showed up when needed, no regular visitors. It wasn’t even listed on any maps. At less than a square mile of area, it wasn’t exactly a burgeoning metropolis.
Just the thought of all that ocean water on every side made Bronx’s throat close up. He preferred the grandness of a city. Not the claustrophobic seclusion of an isolated island.
The minute Beckett had lied to Chelsea, Bronx knew there was more going on than a man who’d turned into a hermit. Lying to her about owning the island didn’t make sense. Sure, he’d played it off like he was embarrassed, but Bronx knew better.
Why would Beckett be embarrassed over the island he loved so much that he never wanted to live anywhere else?
Over the years the Kingston family had built numerous buildings on the site: the main house, a barn for a handful of horses fifty years ago, an airplane hangar, and a few work buildings.
Waking with the sun, Bronx had slipped out of his room and gone on an expedition. If Beckett was hiding something, he was going to find out what the hell it was.
So far, he’d come up empty. No obvious hobbies, no animals in the barn. Only a small prop plane and a skimmer as means to reach mainland. He was missing something.
The last building loomed ahead of him. Originally built as employee quarters, the place had been everything from a guest house to a functioning cooking school. With the shutters pulled closed and no lights on of any kind it looked more horror movie set than anything now.
Bronx stepped up to the closest window and tried to peer inside. With the morning sun still low on the horizon, he couldn’t make out much. A few oversized pieces covered in sheets. A workbench of some sort.
Is that a flat screen on the wall?
Bronx frowned. Was Beckett remodeling the place? Planning on turning it into something new? He traipsed through the vegetation to the front door and gave the handle a shake. Locked.
Odd. Who needed to lock anything when they owned the whole island?
“Looking for something?”
Bronx spun around. Shit. His brother didn’t look happy to see him. Bronx flashed him a grin. “Just out for a morning walk. I can’t remember the last time I’ve actually toured the island.”
“You should have asked. I’d be happy to show you around.”
Yeah, right. Bronx motioned at the building. “Doing some remodeling?”
“No.”
“Looks like you’ve got a workshop set up in there. Anything interesting?”
“Not really.”
Bronx frowned. “Is there something going on you don’t want to tell me about?”
Beckett shoved his hands in his shorts pockets. “When has my life ever been a concern of yours?”
“Excuse me?”<
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“You heard me. I only hear from you when you need my signature for something or you need me to make an appearance to keep some investors happy. You don’t give a damn about what I do with my life. Why the sudden interest?”
Bronx stared at his brother. With five years between them, they had never been close. Beckett excelled at everything when they were younger. Swim team? The star. Academics? Straight As. Women? Forget about it.
It didn’t matter what it was, his older brother had already paved the way and set the bar so fucking high. But to hear him talk, one would think he was the younger brother.
“I’ve always been interested in your life, Beckett. It’s not my fault you shut me out.”
Beckett snorted. “Right. Saintly Bronx Kingston never does anything wrong.”
Bronx glanced at his watch. “Have you been pounding Bloody Mary’s or something? I know island time can be vague as shit, but it’s nine in the morning.”
“I’m sober.”
“Then what the hell is your problem?” Anger crept into Bronx’s voice, but he couldn’t help it. Beckett was so wrong about him. “First you lie to Chelsea about this place and now you won’t even tell me what’s in the building. Something’s going on, Beckett.”
His brother shook his head and glanced past him to the water. His hair had grown long and shaggy and it fell in his eyes before he brushed it away. “I should have known you didn’t mean it.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Chelsea. This wasn’t some grand gesture on your part at all. When did you swoop in, Bronx? Before the auction was even over?”
Shit. Everything was twisted up, again. “It wasn’t like that.”
“Then tell me, what is it like?”
“I thought you needed some company. When you said you liked her, I thought if I got the two of you together you might…” Hell. Bronx slumped his shoulders. “I’ve been an ass.”
“So you admit it. You went after her.”
Bronx didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t meant to come on to her. Not at first. But one look at those onyx eyes and matching hair, her plump lips and flushed cheeks… Bronx had forgotten all about his original motives.
