The smell of coffee and bacon made her empty stomach growl.
“How long have you been up?” she asked.
He looked at her over his shoulder and grinned as he came out of that deadly crouch like some lethal, languid panther who had only been tamed by her. “Morning, little teacher.”
“Good morning.”
He made her a paper plate of eggs and bacon and brought it to her, then went to the small cooler to fetch some butter for her toast and a small carton of orange juice.
“Wow, full service in bed. I like that,” she said as she sat up on the air mattress which had been surprisingly comfortable while she slept. Marianne made sure to keep the sheet wrapped around her.
His eyes turned dark, seductive. “I have to say that servicing you in bed gives me a great deal of pleasure.”
She blushed even more.
“Not to mention you gave me quite an appetite after last night.”
She smiled at the deepness in his voice, knowing exactly what it heralded, and one quick glance at his groin confirmed it. Kyle Foster was a sex machine.
“So, what’s on the agenda for today?” she asked, before she took a bite of her bacon.
Kyle drew a deep breath as he thought it over. In the book they were supposed to be outrunning the drug dealers who were enemies to the arms dealer or some shit like that. For all he knew it could have been a car dealer chasing them.
He’d spilled coffee on the book earlier that morning and hadn’t been able to finish the chapter. Not that it mattered.
With just the two of them, there wasn’t really a way to fabricate a group of people pursuing them.
He was good, but that was beyond even his abilities.
So he’d have to think up something else for them to do.
“Well, I think we’re safe here on our private beach. I say we enjoy the day. What about you?”
Her smile dazzled him. “It sounds like a plan to me.”
Marianne finished her breakfast and dressed while Kyle cleaned up and shut down the stove. As soon as he had it cleared, he got up and pulled a gun out from under his folded shirt. Ejecting the clip, he checked his ammunition, then returned it to the hilt. He put the gun back in the concealed holster and then fastened it around his waist before he put his shirt on to cover it.
His movements appeared reflexive, as if he wasn’t even aware of what he’d done.
“You always do that?” she asked as she tied her shoes.
“Do what?”
“Check your gun.”
He frowned. “My gun?”
“The one you just put behind your back.”
“Oh,” he said, his face lighting. “My weapon. Yeah, I guess I do. I never thought about it.”
She sucked her breath in between her teeth. “You’re a scary man, Kyle Foster.”
“So they tell me. But how about I put Scary Kyle away for the day?”
“I think I would like that.” She pulled his shirt up. “Want to leave that behind?”
He cringed at her suggestion. “I don’t think I can. That’s like asking me to leave my arm behind.”
“Yeah, but I don’t want either one of us to get shot in the event I get a little frisky with you later.”
One corner of his mouth twisted up at that as he pulled her into his arms. “Frisky, huh?”
She nodded.
He dipped his head down and kissed her while reaching behind his back to unfasten the gun. “All right, teacher. For you, but only for today.”
He moved away to unload the ammo and then placed the gun and clip in a small box near the stove.
Marianne sighed in relief. She might like to read about cops and robbers, but real guns made her very nervous.
Kyle grabbed a hand shovel and bucket, took her by the hand, and led her down to the beach.
“You like clams?” he asked.
“Yes, why?”
“Want some for dinner?”
“Sure.”
She frowned as he walked around the beach, studying the sand. After a second he bent over, presenting her with an exceptionally nice view of his butt.
He started digging.
It was awfully hard not to walk over to that butt and cup it. Or better yet, to cup the nice-sized bulge that she had become more than just a little acquainted with the night before.
“What are you doing?” she asked, moving closer to him.
She had to fist her hand to keep from stroking him while he worked.
He glanced up from his task. “Digging up dinner, want to help?”
She was astonished when he produced a clam from the beach. “I’ve heard of doing this, but I’ve never seen anyone do it before.”
He examined the clam, then put it in the bucket. “Want to try it?”
“Sure. What do I do?”
He took her hand and pulled her along the sand. “We’re looking for airholes,” he explained. He paused by a small dimpled circle in the sand and indicated it with the toe of his foot. “That one’s called a keyhole. Clams make it so they can breathe. All you have to do is put the shovel a few inches away and then you can dig it up.”
Marianne was a bit timid at first. “How is it a New York City boy knows about digging up clams?”
“Travis Lamb, one of the guys I was in the Navy with, showed me how to do it when we were on leave in Charleston years ago. His mother took the whole house full of guests out at dawn, and we dug up enough clams for her to make a shitload of chowder for an Independence Day party that night.”
“You really were in the Navy, weren’t you?”
“Hell, I can even fax you the discharge papers if you want. They have the official seal on them and everything.” Kyle smiled warmly, then helped her dig.
Marianne closed her eyes for an instant as she felt his warmth surround her. She’d never done anything like this or enjoyed anything more than just feeling him behind her as the sun shone down on them.
This was peaceful. Comfortable.
She laughed in triumph as she uncovered a clam of her own. Kyle reached for the bucket. His hips brushed against hers, letting her know he was hard again.
She felt heat sting her cheeks.
“Why are you always blushing?” Kyle asked.
“I… uh…” She cleared her throat, not sure what to answer. The truth was her sexuality had always embarrassed her, and Kyle was so at ease with it.
Then again she’d never been more sexually aware of anyone else. Every time she looked at Kyle, she wanted to take a bite out of him. Pull him into her arms, throw him down on his back, rip his clothes off, climb on top of him, and then ride him madly until they were both sweaty and spent.
Of course, she’d done a lot of that last night, and it still wasn’t enough to satiate her.
She wanted more of him.
He stared at her intently as he took her hand into his. He laid a gentle kiss into her palm, all the while staring into her eyes.
“What’s the matter, Marianne?” he whispered. “Are you scared of how much you make me want you?”
“A little.”
He brushed a light tender kiss across her lips. She moaned at the taste of him as he moved her hand so that her palm was pressed against his swollen erection. “Have you ever made love on the beach?”
She cringed at the thought. “Someone might see us.”
His look turned mischievous. “Afraid? I thought you were Ren Winterbourne. Woman of adventure.”
She bit her lip to keep from laughing. “Ren doesn’t have to live with herself or the embarrassment of being caught in flagrante delicto by a stranger.”
He pulled his shirt over his head and tsked at her. “So much for fantasy, huh?”
Marianne stared at his tanned, muscular chest. He really was scrumptious. Irresistible.
And this time when he kissed her it was fierce, demanding. Every part of her thrilled at the taste of his tongue dancing with hers. At the way his hand felt cupping her face.
He laid her back on the beach.
The sane part of herself told her to push him away, but the repressed part of her refused. She’d lived sheltered and safe the whole of her life.
Kyle hadn’t. A man who was riddled with bullet scars knew nothing of fear. Nothing of trepidation.
He only knew how to live in the moment.
How she envied him that.
He pulled back and reached for the buttons of her shirt. “Well?”
Marianne swallowed. “If anyone catches us, you’re a dead man.”
He laughed at that. “I’ll even loan you my weapon to shoot me.”
“Promise?”
“Absolutely.”
Taking a deep breath, she slowly unbuttoned her shirt.
Kyle watched breathlessly as she opened her top for him. It was the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. Strange. He’d had much better looking women striptease for him. Watched them peel their clothes off like a pro.
None of that had ever turned him on the way Marianne’s timid movements did.
Her quiet hesitancy was a breath of fresh air. She wouldn’t do this for someone else. He wasn’t just another lay to her.
He liked the feeling of being special.
In his life, that was something that had always been sorely missing. The type of women he’d dated had always known the score. Always known their way around a man’s body.
Not Marianne. She was just an unassuming woman from Middle America, living a life that was nothing special.
Nothing special to anyone but him.
He found her remarkable.
She moved her hands away from her shirt and ran them down his back. Kyle dipped his head down so that he could taste her bared flesh.
“Hmmm,” he breathed as he flicked his tongue around her navel. “I think I’m addicted to your taste.”
Marianne closed her eyes while his hot breath scorched her. This was the most unbelievable moment of a life she had spent playing it safe. A life made up of daydream fantasies of something like this happening to her.
To her surprise, she found herself laughing.
Kyle lifted himself up to stare at her with a stern frown. “You know, it’s not a good thing to laugh at a guy when he’s trying to seduce you.”
She brushed his hair back from his face and smiled up at him. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking of how you swept me off my feet yesterday. Literally.”
His frown faded as his face relaxed into a heated, intense stare. “Anytime you need a hero, baby, you just call me.”
She moaned as he dipped his head down and kissed her fiercely. Mmm, how she loved the taste of his mouth. The way his muscles rippled around her.
Marianne wrapped her body around his and reveled in the sensation of his bare chest against the part of hers that was bared by the opening of her shirt. She felt him from her lips all the way to her toes.
Her heart thundering, she ran her hands down his back, feeling the dips and welts of old scars there. Her heart wrenched at the thought of how much pain he must have lived through.
“I don’t know,” she whispered against his lips. “I think you need a keeper a lot more than I need a hero.”
Kyle froze at her words. “Would you care to volunteer for the job?”
“Would you let me?”
Her question hung in the air between them.
“I’ve never had anyone interested in it.”
“Never?”
He shook his head as the truth of that sank in. “No, it’s why I joined the Navy. All those sappy, stupid commercials about teamwork got to me, and I thought it might be nice to be part of some kind of family.”
She toyed with his hair as she watched him quietly. “Did you find it?”
“I did with the SEALs. I knew with them I had a kindred bond.”
“Then why did you leave?”‘
“Joe came in and selected three of us from my unit. Tony and Doug had been like brothers to me and I didn’t want to let them down. When they signed up for BAD, I followed suit.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Not until they dumped me on this damned island and told me to rest here for a few weeks.”
She gave him a peeved stare.
He offered her a wicked grin. “Now I’m thinking I should thank them for it.”
“You’d better be thinking that.”
He rubbed himself against her, letting his body caress hers. “Believe me, Marianne, I am.”
Marianne sighed as his kiss swept her into heaven. She didn’t even protest when he removed her shirt and laid her back against the scratchy sand. Strange, this didn’t look uncomfortable in movies and such, but in reality…
She groaned as Kyle unzipped her shorts with his teeth, then pulled them down her legs. And when he did the same with her panties, she almost came just from the sheer eroticism of the act. He was like a wild predator set loose on her.
One who wanted only to devour her.
What was it about him that made her burn like this? That made her forget the fact that they could be discovered at any moment?
“You do like to live dangerously, don’t you?” she asked as he crawled sinuously up her body, nibbling every inch of the way.
“There’s no other way to live.” His hot breath teased her taut nipple before he opened his mouth and claimed it.
Marianne sighed in satisfaction as she cradled his head to her. His hair teased her skin while his tongue encircled her areola, teasing it to a hard, bitterly sweet nub that made her stomach contract every time he licked it.
The waves ran up the beach, lapping gently against her bare feet while the hot sun heated her almost as much as Kyle’s touch did.
Kyle pulled away only long enough to remove his jeans.
Marianne couldn’t fathom why a man like this was interested in her. “Are you sure you’re not one of the actors they hired for this?”
“Positive. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. You just seem too good to be real.”
He snorted at that, then turned over with her so that she was on top of him. He reached for his discarded jeans and pulled out a condom, which he opened with his teeth, then reached around her so that he could put it on.
“I think you’re the only person in my life to ever say such a thing to me. Most people I know curse the day they met me.”
“I don’t believe that.”
She gasped as he lifted her up and set her down on his hard shaft. Marianne moaned at the feel of him inside her. The tip of his cock tickled her deep, making her entire body throb from the feel of him there.
Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she rode him slow and easy, savoring every lush stroke of his body with hers.
“I can’t believe I just met you,” she said. It felt as if she’d known him much longer.
Kyle watched her as she milked his body with hers. Her hair fell around her lightly freckled shoulders, which had just a hint of red to them from their exposure to the sun. She was so beautiful there. Like some ancient goddess who had been washed up on the shore to seduce him.
He took her hand into his and suckled the pads of her fingers. He let the salty taste of her skin whet his appetite for her even more.
She was unlike any woman he’d ever met. She was cut from the same cloth as the pure, innocent homecoming queens he had dreamed about in his youth. The women he’d passed countless times on public streets and elevators. Decent women who knew nothing about espionage or lies. Deceit.
She was the kind of woman who would turn in the wallet that contained a thousand dollars without stealing a single bill.
His head reeled as she quickened her strokes. He reached up for her and pulled her lips to his so that he could feel closer to her.
Let some of her decency creep inside him.
He wanted to crawl inside her body. To find a safe, warm spot where such a thing as goodness lived.
Maybe if he stayed with her just a little longer some of her decency would rub
off on him.
She came calling out his name.
Kyle didn’t move as he watched the ecstasy on her face. When the last tremor had shuddered through her, she collapsed against him.
He rolled over with her again so that he could take control.
Marianne held him close, brushing the sand from his back as he slid himself in and out of her, thrusting against her in a demanding rhythm.
He was incredible. Powerful. Every stroke went through her, exciting her, and when his orgasm came, he cried out, then lay down on top of her.
She held him there, letting his breath stir her hair as his heart pounded against her breasts.
She closed her eyes and sighed contentedly. “Wow,” she said quietly. “I think I felt the earth move.”
He chuckled, but didn’t make any move to leave her. “More likely it’s just the waves moving the sand out from under us.”
She blew him a raspberry. “You’re such a spoilsport.”
He kissed her lightly on the lips, then pulled her into the surf so that they could bathe in the crystal clear water where little tropical fish swam around their feet.
It was a perfect, surreal day.
“I feel strangely like Jane in some Tarzan movie.”
Kyle beat his arms against his chest in imitation of an ape and made a Tarzan cry.
Before she could draw the breath to laugh at him, he bent at the waist and rushed toward her, lifting her up and tossing her over his shoulder.
Marianne shrieked and laughed at his antics. Until she saw the sight of the pink wounds in his back. She had felt them while they made love, but this was the first time she had really seen them up close in the light of day.
Her heart thudding, she touched one long, ragged scar that ran just under his shoulder blade. “What is this from?”
“I think that one’s from the razor-wire fence I slid under in Beirut about a year ago. Thank God I had my leather jacket on, or it would have done some serious damage.”
“From here, it looks like it did.”
“Nah,” he said, setting her back on her feet. “It’s a flesh wound.”
BAD to the Bone Page 5
