by Ann Jacobs
Casey couldn’t resist tasting him. She bent, took him between her lips. The glistening drop of silky fluid at the tip tasted salty on her tongue.
She wanted more. She wanted it all. All of him filling the empty place between her legs. The void in her heart. She took more of him in her mouth. He bucked against her.
Then an air horn shattered the silence.
Chapter Eight
Casey’s head collided with the steering wheel. Craig struggled to hold the car on the road. The way she shoved him back inside his boxers and tugged his zipper up felt more like desperation than seduction.
What a way to go from the brink of ecstasy to acute embarrassment in the time it took a passing semi driver to honk his horn! He’d lost his fucking mind. So, apparently, had Casey.
Damn it, he should have let her hand stay where it was, not urged it upward. He sure as hell should have put on the brakes before she’d started doing things to his cock that could have taken him to heaven—or just as easily landed them both in some rural county lockup.
At least one of them should damn well have remembered they were in a low-slung convertible with the top down—and thought about the show they’d be giving passing truckers.
Not to mention any Florida State Troopers who might be driving along the road in SUVs.
But her mouth had felt so good on him. Good enough to squelch the doubts that had assailed him ever since he realized he didn’t have a snowball’s chance of fooling her into thinking he was as savvy in bed as she. And too good for him to feel more than relief that it had been a semi driver and not a cop who’d passed by and gotten an eyeful.
Hell, he could hardly wait to get them to that resort hotel where he’d booked their room so he could beg her to continue. No matter what the end result might be.
Craig glanced at Casey and smiled. Then he noticed tears streaming from her eyes.
He pulled off the Interstate onto a two-lane state road and pulled over onto the shoulder.
“What’s wrong?”
“God, Craig, I’m sorry.”
He brushed the tears off her cheeks. “Sorry? I’m not. Well, I’m only sorry we had to stop. What you were doing to me—it just about blew my mind.”
She only sobbed harder.
“Come on, baby. No harm was done.”
“You must think I’m—”
He covered her mouth with one hand, then took off his dark glasses and looked into her eyes. “I think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever known. And I can hardly wait to get you all to myself, with no bosses or truck drivers to horn in on our fun.”
“You’re not angry?” She blinked, then rubbed the back of her head.
“A little, but with myself. It never struck me what a vicarious thrill we might give to anybody passing by in a truck or SUV. But then, you had my mind pretty well occupied with other things.”
Casey shot him the come-on smile that had drawn him to her in the first place.
“You’ve kept my mind occupied with other things since before you asked me out. But still….”
“Still what?” he asked.
“Couldn’t we have gotten arrested for…for indecent exposure or something?”
That was the least serious of several misdemeanors Craig could think of that might have earned them a week or so in jail. Casey didn’t need to know that, though.
“The driver who honked isn’t likely to report us. Even if he did, no one would come after us. It would be our word against his. We already got our punishment—the embarrassment we felt when he honked that air horn.” He rubbed the swollen spot on the back of her head. “And this bump where the steering wheel got you.”
As he stroked her, he wondered if the impact had done any real damage. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh.” She plucked his sunglasses from his hand and set them on the console. “The sun’s starting to go down. I want to see your gorgeous eyes.”
“Then let’s get back on the road. I’ve got plans that involve a beach view, a king-size bed, and long uninterrupted hours of getting to know you from head to toe.”
* * * * *
“Here we are.” After they crossed the toll bridge and drove onto the island, Craig slowed the car and turned onto a drive lined with palm trees and lush with tropical greenery.
Casey choked back a very un-savvy exclamation when she saw a gorgeous dusky pink hotel set at the tip of a sandy beach. Self-conscious, she smiled and took in the sights as they drove into the resort compound.
“Look, a tennis court. Maybe we can play a few games before—”
“The love we’re gonna make doesn’t involve a net and racquets.” He took a hand off the wheel long enough to caress her bare thigh. “Come on, let’s get checked in and…”
She tried for a nonchalant look as she preceded him into a lobby filled with art deco furniture and lush greenery.
At the registration desk she returned the clerk’s welcoming smile, hoping her expression masked doubts that lurked dangerously just beneath her skin. Apparently Craig had no second thoughts. He laughed at something the clerk said as he signed the credit card slip with a bold black slash of his pen.
Of course he probably did weekends like this all the time.
Casey tried to tamp down the sudden jealousy that surfaced when she imagined him with other lovers.
“Have fun, you two,” the clerk said as he handed Craig two plastic key cards. “You’re in Room 169. It’s on the ground floor overlooking the Gulf. Do you need a bellman to help with your bags?”
“No thanks. I can handle them.”
Craig handed Casey one of the cards.
Did her hand shake when she took the card? She hoped not.
She followed him down a long hallway. Paintings along the way sent subtly sexual messages with their vivid swirling colors and blurred phallic symbols.
A message she got well enough without visual stimuli.
Craig opened the door to the room and set their luggage down. Casey sniffed the air. It smelled of sea salt and vanilla and something darkly sensual. Something elusive.
Musk?
She sought out the source of the strangely sensual scent. There it was. On the dresser.
Silver spangles embedded in two fat white candles caught her eye. Their red-orange flames flickered in the breeze.
She noticed Craig flipping through an advertisement for local restaurants. The room’s sensual invitation didn’t seem to have fazed him.
Casey tried not to care, but it was hard, watching him concern himself with food when all she could think about was getting naked and getting it on.
“What say we go get something to eat?” he asked.
“Okay.” She wasn’t about to argue. Part of her wanted him now, but a scared little voice inside her said to grab what amounted to a brief reprieve.
“There’s a seafood place a half-mile or so down the beach. We can walk.” He grabbed her hand and practically tugged her out of their room.
Strange behavior for a guy who’d had sex foremost on his mind moments earlier.
He seemed no more anxious than she was to stick around in the luxurious room that faced the Gulf and boasted a sunken whirlpool tub for two and a big round bed with a mirrored canopy. She even thought she’d seen him blush when he’d checked out titles of the DVDs in a tower beside the giant TV.
Were they erotica or porn or just plain R-rated movies with suggestive titles? She didn’t know. But she was grateful she wasn’t going to find out right away.
* * * * *
Dusk settled in as they made their way down the pale sandy beach. A neon crab sign and a giant pink neon flamingo flashed in the distance. Casey noticed a huge replica of a Budweiser can perched atop the building with the flamingo logo.
The summer sun formed a fiery ball in the western sky, its glow transforming the puffy white clouds to shades of rose and pink, lavender and gray. The same waves that bathed shores all along the Gulf sloshed gently against the sand. For the moment
she let herself pretend she and Craig were the only people in a vast world of land and sea. A romantic world where raw sexual need cloaked itself in the tender emotion called love.
She squeezed his hand.
He squeezed back.
The unease that had gripped her when they crossed the threshold into their hotel room was dissipating. It seemed she and Craig had no need for conversation now. That their minds were perfectly attuned. Focused on this minute, this place, each other. It was almost as if they were in love, not merely almost lovers.
When he looked at the weathered wooden restaurant with its neon crab in a neon trap, then at her, she smiled and nodded. The delicious aroma of clean sea air and spicy seafood gumbo filled her nostrils when they stepped inside.
Seated at a rough-hewn table overlooking the Gulf, they looked over a menu someone had written by hand on a wobbly chalkboard. A waiter spread newspapers on the table, then set down some appetizers. Blue crabs, apparently the restaurant’s featured dish, dominated the tray that also held a basket of fresh raw vegetables, several dips, and two small plates.
With his single hoop earring and scraggly beard, the waiter reminded Casey of the pirates who, legend said, used to do their dastardly deeds along the Texas and Louisiana coastlines. “Enjoy,” the waiter said after scribbling their order on a dog-eared pad.
Casey wanted to do just that. If only she could tamp down the worry that had her stomach churning.
“Try this.” Craig dipped a cucumber spear and lifted it to her lips.
At least it wasn’t the whole cuke. But that didn’t stop her from conjuring up Mr. Big in her mind—or remembering what she’d been doing to Craig an hour earlier in his car. Her cheeks burned, and she practically choked on the savory appetizer.
At that moment Craig skewered a cherry tomato, dunked it into the creamy dip, and popped it in his mouth.
Her skin sizzled. She had to be as red as the pile of crab shells on the tray. She dared a surreptitious glance Craig’s way. Damn it, he apparently was anticipating nothing more at this moment than the beer-battered shrimp and home fries he’d ordered—that, and making short work of the rest of the appetizers. All she could think of was what they’d done before and what else they’d be doing later. Again she hoped he wouldn’t blame her for her deception after they’d made love.
She latched onto the beer the waiter poured from a foam-topped pitcher as if it were a lifeline. Maybe it was. The icy amber brew slid down her parched throat, helped to cool her overheated body.
It seemed to have the opposite effect on Craig. His gorgeous blue eyes darkened almost to the color of a midnight sky when his gaze settled on her cleavage. Cleavage she’d never before revealed so much of outside her bedroom.
A light gust of wind off the Gulf ruffled his dark hair but he didn’t seem to notice. He seemed mesmerized. Vulnerable. Maybe he wasn’t as collected as he seemed, because when the waiter set a plate of shrimp and fries in the center of their table, he hardly took notice.
That made Casey smile. How could his mouth not be watering at the sight and smell of the crunchy treats? Hers was. She picked up a jumbo shrimp by its tail, dipped it in cocktail sauce, and held it to his lips.
“Eat. You’ll need your strength.”
“Damn right I will.” He grinned, then took the whole shrimp in his mouth, leaving Casey holding the severed tail. He never took his gaze off her when he reached for another of the deep-fried morsels and held it to her lips. “You’ll need your energy, too. Eat.”
She hadn’t realized before now that eating could be a sensual feast. It was, though. When they’d shared the last shrimp, she watched Craig lick his lips. His tongue snaked out, caught a bit of foam, retreated. Then he did it again, slowly finding the last of the white foam as he looked at her.
Was he imagining licking her that way? Casey recalled his husky promise to taste every inch of her body. Suddenly she couldn’t wait for him to do it. The wanting was suddenly much stronger than her fear.
She laid her hand high up on his thigh and met his gaze. “Let’s go back to our room.”
* * * * *
They took off their shoes and walked down the rickety stairs of the restaurant into the velvet darkness. A sliver of a golden moon barely penetrated the vast black sky.
The wind had picked up since they’d gone into the Crab Shack. Much like the urgency had built up inside her.
A sea bird squawked in the distance. Craig laced his fingers through hers, the way Casey recalled dates doing when she was a kid. His touch held no hint of the tentativeness or hesitation she remembered sensing from would-be teenage lovers, but then he was no kid on a desperate quest for grown-up sex.
A sudden gust of wind came off the water and whipped at her hair. Her bare legs grew goose bumps. She trembled from the cold, but her hand was warm and securely enfolded with Craig’s.
He stopped. Turned. As though he felt the chill that had engulfed her, he cupped her face with both of his hands. He ran a thumb over her lips. “You’re cold, baby. But you won’t be cold for long.” He lowered his head and took her mouth.
Softly. Tenderly. Then harder.
She opened to him, unable to resist his unspoken desire for more. He swept his tongue inside, still cupping her face with both hands.
The rising tide sent waves crashing against the shore. Mellow instrumental music wafted through the air from a nearby club, its tropical drumbeat mingling with the sounds of the sea. They were two, yet one, alone in a world where nature reigned, alive and primal on the beach where it merged with man-made temptation.
Craig deepened the kiss. He devoured her mouth. His tongue thrust deep, hard, in an erotic, exotic rhythm not unlike the sounds around them. Waves breaking over sand. Sea birds calling. Music beckoning patrons to the clubs along this finger of Sanibel Island sandwiched between the Gulf and the historic city of Fort Myers.
The cacophony of sounds would always remind her of Craig. A mix of exotic, erotic, and country-western twang. The mix was singularly sensual.
Casey wasn’t cold anymore. She wrapped her arms around Craig and drew him closer. Seeking bare skin, she slid her hands under his soft knit shirt. He shuddered, but his skin was warm when Casey stroked him. The rock-hard muscles above his waistband rippled against her fingers.
He broke the kiss and moved his hands down from her face. Her bare skin tingled everywhere he touched her—her neck, the upper curve of her breasts, her back. Though the darkness obscured his expression, she imagined his heated gaze following his hands.
The muscles in his back tightened beneath her fingers when he cupped the curve of her buttocks and pulled her hard against him.
He wanted her as much as she wanted him. Casey exulted in the knowledge, in the feel of his cock, huge and rigid behind the zipper of his khaki shorts. They weren’t just having sexual foreplay. They were making love. At least she was.
She rested her cheek against his chest and listened to his heart pound against her ear. Should she share her feelings, let him know how dear he’d become to her after a few short days?
Suddenly he tore himself away and grabbed her hand. “Let’s go inside now. You’ve got me crazy for you.”
Chapter Nine
Crazy for you.
She might not have much experience, but Craig’s comment sounded like a statement of raw sexual need, not undying devotion. Banishing her disappointment, she held her own feelings deep inside, certain he wouldn’t want to hear them.
In their room a few minutes later, Casey gathered her sexy things and retreated to the bathroom. With luck she’d manage to gather up the nerve to go to him without too long a delay.
* * * * *
Craig stripped down, then stashed his sex toys and a box of condoms in a slide-open compartment built into the headboard on the big round bed.
He stood in the patio doorway, his gaze fixed on a faraway light that penetrated the almost moonless darkness.
Why was Casey taking so long?
<
br /> He glanced at the wide expanse of hot-pink sheets and ivory blankets he’d turned back moments earlier. Maybe he should turn on some sexy music on the stereo, then crawl in bed to wait for her.
No. If he lay down, he’d be staring up at that mirror inside the canopy. Looking straight at his own doubt and vulnerability.
By the time Casey joined him, his face would be as red as the shells on the crab they’d had before dinner.
He mentally reviewed what he’d learned in his studies this week.
Slow. Easy.
His balls ached and his cock swelled to full erection. Slow and easy, he imagined, would be easier said than done.
Talk sex talk but nothing too explicit. Dirty language turns some women off.
Four-letter words wouldn’t bother Casey, unless he missed his guess. Still, he’d watch his mouth. He’d never been much for using locker room language anyhow.
Be gentle the first time you make love. Even if it’s not her first time.
Good luck there. Already he was close to losing it, and they hadn’t even made it into bed.
“Craig?”
His mouth went dry at the sight of her, barefoot and apparently naked beneath a short robe. The thing looked like a man’s shirt except that it was made out of something shiny, slippery looking, and blacker than the sky outside. Her legs seemed to go on forever.
He’d soon know how it felt to have them wrapped around his waist.
That thought sent blood rushing to his groin and left him dizzy with anticipation.
She unbuttoned the robe. But she wasn’t naked underneath. His mouth went dry at the sight of taut, female flesh veiled in something black. Something so sheer he could make out the indentation of her belly button in the dim light provided by flickering candles and the fluorescent glow that flooded the room through the open bathroom door.
Her puckered nipples poked impudently against the fabric, beckoning his hands and mouth. But he couldn’t drag his gaze from the tiny heart-shaped patch of lace that drew his attention to the apex of her thighs.
