Castaway Honeymoon Isle. Scrumptious sex. All night long. Hunky Dale Emerson.
Mmm-mmm. Every achy muscle brought the feel of his mouth and hands exploring her body back to vivid life, the abandon she'd experienced with him. The orgasms.
Dale's former dates hadn't been kidding. This man knew his way around a bedroom, or a lagoon as it was. And even in this drowsy stupor, Laura couldn't deny that she had it much worse for Dale than she'd ever realized. One night had proven that beyond any doubt and thank goodness this whole fling thing had worked out. If it hadn't, she'd have probably made a cross-country trip to see the man, and that situation would have been loaded. She needed work to distract her from thinking about romance.
She had three weeks to satisfy her desire for Mr. Wrong. Three weeks to get over her obsession, starting…now.
Rolling over, Laura slipped her arm around Dale's waist and molded herself around him like a spoon, all his hard places to her soft ones. Her breasts melted into the curve of his back, her lap folded neatly around his bottom, her thighs outlined his to the knee. She could even hook her toes around his ankle, and she couldn't help but smile at the way they came together, two bodies sculpted to fit perfectly.
Resting her cheek against his warm shoulder, she pressed her lips to his skin. "Good morning."
A hint of chlorine still lingered, bringing back visions of their escapades in Lovers' Lagoon. A shimmer of delicate heat awoke inside with the memory. But overpowering the chlorine was the scent of his morning skin, more potent, more.. .male.
Inhaling deeply, she traced the curve of his shoulder with her mouth, tasted skin and the drowsy closeness that was all warm muscle and promise. Dale made another grunt that broke the stillness, not quite a coherent reply, but the only sound other than the muted splash of the falls.
Tonight she'd remember to open the doors so they could fall asleep to the sound of bubbling water, the fantasy that they were two people alone in the world with no purpose more pressing than to enjoy each other.
Tonight. Just the thought of another night with this man sent a wave of heat through her, only stronger this time, insistent. Her body awakened slowly and with it a need that had grown remarkably stronger for having been indulged.
And she had been indulged. Dale had gone wild after they'd made love beside the falls. He'd carried her out of the lagoon and attentively dried every inch of her with warm towels.
And given her yet another orgasm.
Once upon a time, he'd argued that the towel warmer was an extravagance that, like the themed condom dispensers, had challenged him to find ways to build modern devices into stylized designs. But after Laura had returned the favor on his wet body, she knew he'd been glad he'd made the effort.
And that he'd agreed to be her date, too.
Trailing her fingers down his tight stomach, she aimed for his still-sleepy morning erection and waited for life signs.
"You feel good," he said thickly, shifting his buns back to nestle closer.
"I can feel even better." She gave a leisurely stroke, felt him pulse beneath her fingers. Heat pooled low in her belly and an answering throb awakened deep inside her.
She stroked again.
Dale shivered this time, a full-bodied tremor that hinted at the impressive conditioning of a man who lived an active life. A man who could chase her across a lagoon without breathing hard. A man who could scoop her into his arms as if she weighed next-to-nothing and carry her wherever he wanted.
"Another tally for the score sheet?" he asked.
"Technically, we're ahead of schedule. You said a night with you doesn't necessarily mean the dark."
"You've really analyzed this."
She didn't answer, didn't feel like talking at all. She only wanted to savor the sleepy moment and pressed tiny kisses along his shoulder as a distraction. He surprised her by slipping his hand over hers, assisting in that slow, steady stroking that seemed a very nice way to start the day.
Laura enjoyed the intimacy of awakening together, a warm camaraderie as they worked together to bring him pleasure. She liked that about Dale. He was so easy about sex, as if it was just a perfectly natural part of life to be relished, as natural as eating or sleeping.
Some of the architects she'd interviewed in the planning stages of the Wedding Wing project had been thrown by all the talk about how sex would factor into the new addition. Some were men's men who thought talking sex with her meant preening their feathers to impress her. Others had gotten tongue-tied. One had even blushed so hard that he'd made her blush, too. All had been scratched off her list, and the situation hadn't looked good.
Her co-workers on the board of Falling Inn Properties had been wagering their futures on this expansion. They ware counting on her to launch the Wedding Wing so new business brought in revenue that remained steady on-season and off. After all, couples didn't only get married during the gorgeous summer months in western New York, and the inn wanted that business, too. Whoever built the new addition had to understand the unique function this addition would serve.
Dale Emerson had been that man, even though his company had no track record with construction and their bid hadn't been low. But Laura had known by talking with him that he was the right man for the job. She hadn't doubted her decision once.
"I'm going to come," he warned gruffly.
"I was hoping you would." She continued stroking, riding his bottom and teasing herself into a frenzied awareness with a growing friction that was just shy of satisfying her ache.
"I've got some work to do catching up," he said. "How many times did you come last night?"
Laura forced her thoughts from that exasperating ache between her thighs to the events of the previous night. In front of the mirror. Beside the lagoon. In the lagoon. Beside the lagoon again. How many times in bed?
"I've lost count," she admitted.
But before the glow of warm satisfaction at having had enough orgasms to obliterate memory dimmed, Dale's hand caught hers. In a sudden move, he pulled her fingers away, and with a burst of fluid motion that startled the sleepy moment, he straddled her, rising in a breathtaking display of lean male.
"You lost count, Laura?" he demanded, trapping her against the mattress and staring down with a roguish look that managed to challenge her despite the wrinkled impressions of the pillow on his cheek and the black hair that stood on end.
"Are you saying that every orgasm wasn't a totally memorable experience?"
He looked so offended that Laura couldn't help but laugh. "I'm saying they were so memorable I'm brain-dead. Last night is just one big blur of pleasure."
With both hands propped on either side of her head, he braced himself above her, careful to support his weight while he filled her vision with broad shoulders, muscled chest and a very sardonic expression.
"Brain-dead, hmm? Do you want to make love to me now?"
She nodded.
"So you want me to touch you? Like this…?" Listing slightly, he balanced on one hand while the other slithered down to cup her breast "And like this." He tweaked her nipple and she shivered. "Do you like how that feels?"
Couldn't he see the flush suddenly searing her skin?
She nodded again.
He continued to lazily fondle her breast while kneeing his way between her legs. She thrilled at the feel of lightly furred muscle grazing her sensitive skin, at the touch of his hot, hard erection when he turned his attention away from her breast to take himself in hand.
"Do you want to be under me this time, Laura?" He re-positioned himself until he could work the head of his newly awakened erection along her intimate places, easing himself in just enough to make her gasp. "Do you want me inside you?"
"I do."
"Your brain seems to be working fine to me." He smiled that devastating grin and drove in another forceful inch. "Which means I just have to be more memorable."
Laura's whole body melted, whether from his awesome smile or the feel of that thick erectio
n pressing inside, she couldn't say. She only knew that she wanted more.
His deep voice excited her, a dark, arousing sound that placed her at his mercy in a purely erotic way. She had no idea what tempting tortures he'd use to bring her to pleasure again. She only knew she couldn't wait to see what happened next.
And it pleased her that Dale looked as caught up in the moment, a small consolation for the way her needy sex clenched him tight and wouldn't let go.
"I want you under me, Laura. I want to sink deep and not stop moving until I'm brain-dead, too." There was such heat in his voice that she could only reach up, slip her arms around his neck and welcome him.
He sank inside her by breathtaking degrees, anchoring himself so deep that she groaned at the sheer power of his presence. He caught the sound with his mouth, a kiss that wasn't playful or demanding, but possessive in a way she recognized on some soul-deep level. She kissed him with that same need, driving out everything else except how they felt with their bodies close.
Rocking her hips, she lifted against him, needing to salve this ache, needing him to move. And he knew exactly what to do. Arching his powerful body, he slowly withdrew, the friction so intense she gasped.
He didn't stop. He made love to her mouth with his tongue, to her body with slow, big thrusts that dragged him nearly all the way out before he drove back with such force that she cried out this time. And again.
A trembling built inside, a mounting vibration that stole her breath as he carried her away with the strength of his desire. She met him thrust for thrust, rising toward a climax that worked its way through her with pulsing force.
And triggered his.
"Laura," he breathed against her mouth, a growl of pleasure as his body gathered tight.
He didn't bother acting as if this monumental explosion of the senses was in any way ordinary, and she wasn't sure if that pleased or scared her. She wasn't sure of anything right now, except that she'd never felt this way. Not with her heart pounding and her breathing hard and her body seizing in tiny climaxes that seemed to go on forever.
Pressing her face into the crook of his shoulder, she shot for levity. "I think we might break your record."
"Or die in the process."
He sounded just as wasted, and from somewhere in her orgasm-fried brain came the thought that this man shouldn't be as totally gone as she was. She couldn't dwell on why. Not now when she was trying so hard to act as if everything was normal, as if he hadn't thoroughly taken her apart She'd have to trust that he knew what he was doing because her experience with record-setting orgasms was limited.
But Dale had been wrong about one thing. Her brain wasn't working all right, because when she'd finally rallied enough energy to open her eyes again, she caught a glimpse of the bedside clock.
"Oh, no!" she burst out loud enough to make Dale rear back and stare at her. "I've got a staff meeting in Ms. J.'s office in fifteen minutes."
He didn't have the advantage of adrenaline to get him moving, but she did, and almost broke off an important body part in her frenzy to get out from underneath him.
"Sorry," she said, without a backward glance, which was just as well because he either couldn't or didn't answer.
Laura didn't want to know which. She'd never make it downstairs in presentable condition in time for the meeting. Razor bum still stung her cheeks and her hair had dried in a tangle—a scary thought given its length. She'd never showered after playing mermaid last night and had just worked up another sweat with a man who hadn't showered either.
Just wielding a washcloth and painting on enough makeup to cover razor rash blew through her allotted fifteen minutes. She burst back into the bedroom, only nominally refreshed, to find Dale sitting on the edge of the bed, staring out at the lagoon looking as out of it as she felt.
"I'll take a look at that skylight in the atrium this morning," he said as she disappeared inside the closet to dig for an outfit.
She reemerged with a freshly dry-cleaned suit, which would be about the only thing fresh about her this morning.
"I'll get a crew together as soon as I diagnose the problem. Who knows, maybe I'll luck out and it'll be something Jackson and I can fix."
"Don't you dare. The man's here for his wedding. You can't ask him to work." She dragged a silk shell over her head and reappeared to find Dale suddenly close enough to kiss. She took a surprised step backward and he reached out to steady her.
Just the feel of his fingers on her arm sent a tingle through her, proving that all those orgasms hadn't satisfied her hunger for him, but heightened her awareness. Great. Three weeks of breaking records and Dale would be right—they'd wind up killing each other.
"Jackson won't mind, trust me," Dale said. "It'll be a break from the in-laws. From what I hear, they're a hoot. Career military."
"Did it ever occur to you that he might like his future in-laws?" When Dale only frowned, Laura added, "I'd forgotten they were military, though. I'm glad you mentioned it."
Not only did it suggest one possible explanation for Delia's mother's concerns about appearances, but it gave Laura the perfect way to mingle her guests. Mentally filing the information for later, she decided she might work it to her advantage when warming up Delia's parents to Falling Inn Bed's unique features.
Dale ran his fingers through his hair, making the glossy waves stand up on end. Laura couldn't help but smile as she pulled the skirt into place around her waist, which earned her a full-fledged scowl.
"I'm taking a shower," he said.
"This isn't fair. I'm not going to have time to get back here until after lunch. I smell terrible."
Leaning close, he trailed his open mouth along her neck and made her shiver. "You taste like a beautiful woman who's happy she's finally spending time with the man of her fantasies." Another kiss. Another shiver. "Now go to work."
Then he headed toward the bathroom, leaving Laura staring after him, admiring the sculpted power of his broad shoulders and back, the nice tight flex of his butt And realizing that Dale was exactly right.
She was very happy. Shower or no shower.
Chapter Eight
Laura arrived at Ate staff meeting over fifteen minutes late and slipped into the conference room muttering an apology. Taking her seat, she dragged her gaze around the table to make eye contact with her co-workers.
Ms. J. peered at her from over the report she held, her dark gaze not missing a thing, leaving Laura desperately wishing that this morning wasn't day one of mixing business with pleasure. She'd been late to dinner last night, too, and while she couldn't be sure that tidbit had made it back to her general manager, several of her co-workers were very well aware of her lapse.
Being late again didn't look good Making excuses would only draw attention to the fact, and excuses wouldn't work here. Ms. J. deemed actions far more valuable than words.
Laura had known that from their first meeting during her preliminary interview for the position of wedding concierge. She'd been twenty-two and fresh from college, enthusiastic about Falling Inn Bed's unique status as a romance resort.
The inn had been renovated during her senior year, and the moment she'd heard the plans for the place, she'd abandoned her own plan to hightail it from Niagara Falls to take on the world. She considered the opening of this unusual hotel an omen that she should stay in her hometown and make peace with her past She'd shown up to that first interview a nervous wreck but determined to prove she was the only woman for the job.
An ultraprofessional woman, Ms. J. was tall, attractive and seriously formidable after surviving decades in hotel management in the then male-dominated hospitality industry.
Had Laura not wanted the job so badly, she might have let Ms. J.'s tough questions and serious demeanor intimidate her. But she had been determined to succeed, and after years working for this woman, Laura knew there was nothing to say to excuse her tardiness. Last night she'd been fashionably late. This morning she'd been just plain late. And she didn't h
ave Dale along to gallantly take the blame.
"Join us, please," Ms. J. said.
Dougray couldn't leave well enough alone. "Och, lassie, I dinna think I've ever seen your hair unbound. Ye look like Rapunzel from the tower."
"Thank you," she said automatically, not sure whether to take his comment as a compliment or not She wished he hadn't called attention to the fact that she wasn't presentable and sat down, silently willing Ms. J. to get the show rolling again.
To Laura's relief, her general manager did exactly that, and continued to review the night audit Quietly propping her briefcase against the chair leg, she left her things inside, refusing to draw any more notice until her turn came to give a department report.
Of course she should have known she'd never get off that easy. They weren't halfway through the night audit when Annabelle slid a note her way. Glancing down at the familiar handwriting, she read:
New perfume? Smells like chlorine.
Laura scowled, but Annabelle just smiled, withdrew the note and slid it into her day planner.
Here was a reminder why Dale could never be the man of her dreams. Practical, reliable Laura was never late for a staff meeting. This man with his killer orgasms was trouble.
Fortunately the meeting continued smoothly—without further mention of her tardiness—and Ms. J. called a short recess not too far into the proceedings to let her menagerie of dogs out for a walk.
Laura had been watching the ladies, as she liked to call the little dogs, and knew a walk hadn't been on any of their minds. The motley crew, consisting of an English bulldog, a boxer and two teacup poodles, had been slumbering peacefully in their corner of the conference room, an impressive display of good doggy manners honed by lifetimes of hotel living.
But with Ms. J.'s direction, the ladies filed obediently out the door, leaving Laura free to hit the side bar for a desperately needed cup of coffee.
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