by Robin Huber
“Sam, stop, we shouldn’t—”
He silences me once more with another passionate kiss and tugs my crop top down, exposing my bare breasts.
“Oh, my goodness, I’m so sorry,” a delicate British accent says, and I shriek.
Sam curses under his breath and I scramble inside his arms to pull my top back up.
“I’ll just be in the foyer,” she says, spinning around quickly.
“Who was that?” I ask with wide eyes as I adjust my top and try to compose myself.
Sam pulls his shirt back on and shakes his head. “I don’t know.” He takes my hand and leads me into the foyer, where we’re greeted by a graceful smile.
“Hello.” The woman stretches her small manicured hand out to shake Sam’s. “I’m Jacinda. I work for Paradise Properties.” She smooths a few stray hairs that have worked their way out of her tight top knot and straightens her crisp white skirt. “I take it no one mentioned that I’d be here to familiarize you with the home and ensure you have everything you need for your stay with us.” She gives an apologetic smile and I see the blush in her olive-colored cheeks.
“No,” Sam says to her.
“I’m so sorry, I didn’t hear you come in.”
“That’s okay,” Sam says, unfazed by the interruption.
“Not to worry, though. This won’t take long.” She winks and the blood burns in my heated cheeks. “Shall we begin?”
I swallow the awkward lump in my throat. “Sure.”
Sam gives me a sly grin and follows her into the living room, where she begins to run through a list of instructions for the amenities. Then she takes us on a tour of each room.
By the time we make our way back to the kitchen, I feel like I probably should have been taking notes.
“Per your request, the kitchen has been fully stocked,” she says dutifully. “But your chef will arrive at these times to restock and prepare any meals you’d like.” She hands Sam a printed schedule. “Your cleaning services will take place during these times,” she taps the paper with her shiny fingernail.
I shoot Sam a worried look. “They’ll be here with us?”
“Not to worry, Lucy,” she says gently. “Your privacy is our utmost concern. You can relax here, I assure you.”
“So, you won’t say anything, then…about earlier?”
She gives me a warm smile and says softly, “Of course not.”
“Thank you.”
“Now, if you need anything at all, my number’s here. You’re my top priority for the next three weeks, so please don’t hesitate to call. My job is to make sure you leave here happy, well rested, and ready for your next big match.” She winks at Sam.
He smiles and nods. “You spoke to Miles.”
“Yes. He’s gone to considerable lengths to ensure you’re well taken care of here.”
I smile at Sam and wrap my arm around his waist.
“You, as well, Lucy.”
“Oh.” I bob my head and smile graciously.
We follow her to the front door.
“Thanks for showing us around,” Sam says to her. “I think we’re going to settle in just fine,” he adds, giving me a wink.
“My pleasure. Talk soon.”
Sam closes the door behind her and flashes his unique eyes at me, and his dimples almost make me forget the embarrassment of being topless in front of our welcoming committee…almost.
I purse my lips over a smile. “I take it Miles forgot to tell you she’d be here to greet us?”
He pulls me into his arms. “Well, either that or I’ve taken one too many hits to the head.”
“Sam, that’s not funny. And since when does Miles care so much about my well-being?”
“Since your well-being is directly tied to my well-being. If you’re not happy, neither am I.”
I look up at him and exhale the worry I’ve been holding in for the last few days. “I’m really happy.”
He drops his hands to my waist and lifts me up again.
“Sam, don’t!”
He ignores me, wraps my legs around him, and hugs me tight. “I’m happy too,” he says against my lips, before enveloping them in his.
“Let’s go the bedroom,” I mumble against his mouth.
“Lucy, there’s no one here.”
“You might have convinced me of that before Jacinda saw me topless. But I’m not likely to forget it anytime soon.”
He puts me down. “Come on. Follow me.” He takes my hand and leads me through the house, pushing the giant glass doors open and pulling me through them until we’re standing outside next to the infinity pool that seems to disappear into the turquoise horizon. He stands behind me and puts his hands on my shoulders. “What do you see?”
I gaze out at the crystal blue ocean, searching for signs of life, but the only thing I see is the fading wake of a boat that must have been Jacinda’s transport off the island.
I turn around in Sam’s arms and say, “Okay, you’ve made your point. We’re alone.” I reach for his hand and spin around to go back inside, but he plants his feet and pulls me back to him, his lips landing on mine again.
He reaches for my skirt, gathering it around my waist, and groans against my neck. “I want you,” he grumbles between his eager lips, which leave blazing trails on my heated skin. “It’s been days. I can’t wait any longer.”
Sweat sheens my forehead and beads down the back of my neck, dampening the strands of hair sticking to it. It’s so hot, I might melt before he has his way with me. “It’s so hot out here.”
“Mm-hmm,” he murmurs, his sticky wet lips finding their way back to mine, and the way that his dewy skin rubs against me makes me forget that I care. I want to melt, if it means melting with him.
I reach behind him and run my hands under his shirt and over the thick muscles in his back until I’ve carefully removed his shirt over his head and pulled it down his tattooed arms. It falls to the travertine tiles at our feet. I run my hands over his round shoulders and across his broad chest, reflecting on the words tattooed beneath his collarbone: Pain Is Fleeting.
I smile softly and look up at him. “It really is, isn’t it?”
His hungry eyes soften and he shows me his dimples, which are accentuated by the flush of the Caribbean heat in his rosy cheeks. “It’s relative, but for the most part, yes.”
“I guess it depends on the source of the pain.”
He furrows his brow and drops his forehead to mine. “I’ve had broken ribs, countless black eyes, a broken hand and hundreds of cuts and bruises. I’ve been hit by some of the strongest men in the world. I’ve spent hours having my skin tattooed with a needle, repeatedly…” He lets out a soft breath that blows against my heated cheek. “But none of that compares to the pain of losing you.”
“Sam.” I close my eyes and swallow down the echo of the pain that used to hide in the far corners of my heart, hidden away from Drew and Janice and even Sebastian, but mostly from me. “You don’t have to feel that way anymore. You never have to feel that pain again.”
He gazes at me with his beautiful, strange eyes, the blue brightened by the reflection of the sky and the brown lit by the warm sun that reflects the shimmering layers of gold and amber, like the sand meeting the sea. “I’ll never let myself forget what it was like to lose you. To pine for you. To see you with someone else. And to want you so badly I could hardly breathe.” He reaches under my chin and vows, “I will never take you for granted.”
I wrap my fingers around his wrist and promise, “I won’t take you for granted, either.”
The fire returns to his eyes and his lips return to mine.
His hands tangle in my skirt again, the gauzy material clinging to my legs as he fights to get it up around my waist, and I stumble backward onto a dark wicker canopy bed that’s covered with a sheer mosquito net. He shoves it to the side and pushes me back against the creamy white pillows that line the circular bed, kissing my thighs as he moves my skirt out of the way.
&
nbsp; I pull my long hair up and lay it over the pillows, giving my neck reprieve from the infringing heat, and relish the shaded cushions that cool me slightly.
Sam shrugs out of his shorts and closes the mosquito net around us, and it billows in the breeze, dappled with shadows that dance in the filtered sunlight.
“Stop.” I hold my hand up and sit up a little on my elbow.
“What?”
“Don’t move.”
“Lucy, if there’s a fucking spider on me, you better get it right now!”
I crinkle my eyes and laugh softly, remembering his fear of the little eight-legged creatures. “There’s no spider, Mr. World Class Champion.”
“What is it then?”
I sit up all the way and pull my bottom lip between my teeth. “You. This place. Right now. I just want to remember this moment. Forever.”
He smiles and his dimples light up the darkest parts of me, sending a cool rush through my veins, which beg to be heated again. He crawls over me and kisses me passionately, pushing me back against the pillows as he tugs my lips between his teeth, the way that I love, the way that leaves them tingling and begging for more. He yanks my crop top down, leaving it around my waist while he takes turns cupping my breasts and rubbing his thumb gently over my warmed nipples.
I push his boxer briefs down over his hips while he tugs my panties down, and I wriggle my legs against his until at least one of mine is free and he’s lying on top of me naked, rocking his hips against me, though I’m still partially skirted and somewhat crop-topped.
With both articles of clothing corralled around my stomach, he pushes into me with an audible groan that resonates deep in my soul. I wind my arms around his back, careful of his injured ribs, which I know must be aching, though he’ll never admit it, and savor the feeling of him sinking into me, filling me the way only he can, the way only he ever has.
I drop my head back and breathe in the warm island air that only he and I are sharing, overcome by the freedom of being miles away from another human being. It’s just me and Sam. No one else. And with that, every ounce of worry, every extraneous thought that has overshadowed our reconciliation disappears.
“Sam…” I breathe against his mouth, my body absorbing every ounce of him. I put my hand on his face, and he smiles when he sees the smile on mine.
He reaches for my hands and holds them above my head, lacing his fingers with mine as he looks down on me with every slow, intentional thrust.
“I love you,” I whisper, gazing up at his handsome face.
“I love you,” he whispers back and the flames licking my thighs ignite in an explosion that’s fueled by all the oxygen in my body.
I cry out as he continues with slow, strong thrusts, holding my hands and watching me writhe beneath him. I rock my hips up to bring him closer, but he just gazes down at me, holding my hands above my head, keeping his slow, steady rhythm that fans the glowing embers still burning just below the surface of my skin.
“What are you doing?” I whisper.
“I want to remember this moment. You. Like this. Forever.”
I lie beneath him with a satiated smile, watching him watch me as we make love in the shaded heat of the Caribbean, pink cheeked, sweat beading, eyes seeing places inside each other that no one else has ever seen. He’s mine. I bite my tingling lip and sigh with pleasure that resonates through my body and soul. And I’m his.
Finally.
Chapter 3
Lucy
I bend over and wrap my freshly washed hair in a towel, twisting it on top of my head as I stand back up. Sam follows me out of the bathroom, dripping water all over the floor.
“Do you ever use a towel to dry off?” I ask, laughing and steeling a glance of his naked, wet body. His week-long Bahamian tan is beginning to turn the color of honey.
“Not when it’s eighty degrees out,” he says, opening the balcony doors and walking outside naked. The sheer white curtains billow into the room with a warm breeze, and thunder rolls in the distance. The sun is still shining, but it won’t be long before an afternoon thunderstorm moves through.
I unwrap the towel from around my body and drop it on the floor at my feet while I search through my half-empty suitcase for a pair of panties.
“In there,” Sam says, pointing to the dresser next to the hand-carved four-poster bed, which is draped in white sheers.
I give him a curious look.
“I washed everything last night while you were snoring, I mean sleeping, on the couch.”
“What? I do not snore!”
He laughs softly. “Only when you’re really tired. I think you were worn out from our hike across the island yesterday.”
I shake my head, but I don’t refute him.
“I put all your clothes away in those drawers,” he says, gesturing to the dresser again. “I figured it was time you stopped living out of your suitcase.” He smirks. His suitcases were promptly unpacked and tucked away in the back of the closet the day we arrived.
I narrow my eyes and pull one of the drawers open to find all my bras and panties neatly folded in little stacks.
Sam wraps his arms around me and presses his sun-warmed body to mine. “I wouldn’t protest if you skipped putting on clothes altogether, you know.” He kisses my neck beneath my ear, knocking the towel off my head, which tugs my long hair.
“Ow,” I say, leaning over to unwrap the towel from my hair—it falls to the floor. I stand up and rub my scalp, and run my fingers through my damp hair to separate the strands.
“You okay?” Sam asks, picking the towel up off the floor.
“Yes. And I’m still not going to start running around outside naked with you, okay?”
He laughs and picks my other towel up off the floor, taking them both back to the bathroom while I get dressed.
Without warning, the sun disappears and it begins to rain sideways into the room.
“Ahh,” I squeal, running over to the doors to close them. I fight with the wet sheers that wrap around my arms when I try to move them out of the way. “Sam,” I call as thunder crashes loudly and a flash of lightning lights up the darkened sky, making me jump.
He steps beside me, dressed in shorts now, and manages to the get doors closed with the curtains on the inside. “It’s really coming down.”
“Yeah.” I wipe my wet arms and head to the bathroom for another towel. “Guess that’s why they call it the tropics.” I dry my arms and face, inspecting my reflection in the mirror. I’m definitely not as tan as Sam—I’ve been bathing in SPF 70 all week because my skin is fair—but I like the sun-kissed glow on my cheeks.
I reach for my brush and run it through my hair, then I flip my head upside down couple of times to tousle the long pieces.
“What are you doing?”
“Flipping my hair.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I always do it. It helps it dry, I think.”
He gives me an amused look. “You’re weird. Cute, but weird.”
“I’m weird? You’re the one running around naked all the time. This isn’t The Blue Lagoon, okay?”
“You have a problem with me being naked?”
I fight hard against a smile that turns the corners of my mouth up. “No.” I wrap my arms around his waist. “I most definitely do not have a problem with it. It’s just a little unconventional.”
“That’s what’s so great about this place, Luc. There are no rules to follow. Now, I know how hard that is for you”—he narrows his eyes—“but before we leave, I want to see you throw caution to the wind.”
“You want me to get naked with you?” I say, sighing with inevitable defeat.
“Well, that’s easy.” He grins. “What I want is for you to get naked with me and go swimming, or jump in the ocean, or maybe even roll around in the sand,” he says, arching an eyebrow. “Like in The Blue Lagoon.”
“I was pretty sure I heard you snoring the other night when we watched it.”
He smirks. “I was awake for the good parts.”
“Okay.” I laugh. “I’ll consider it. But I might need a little liquid ambition before I go stripping my clothes off outside.”
He holds his chin back and says, “I think we can manage that.” He takes my hand and pulls me through the house, until we’re in the kitchen.
I follow him around the corner to the butler’s pantry, which must hold every kind of liquor there is.
Sam opens the cabinets and stands next to the wine fridge. “Pick your poison,” he says with smiling eyes.
I glance over my shoulder at the darkened windows, which are still being pelted with rain. Why not? I sigh and say, “Dealer’s choice.”
Three hurricanes and one Fireball shot later, I’m sprawled across Sam’s legs on the couch, asking, “What’s the coolest thing you did while we were apart? After, you know…”
“Prison?”
“I was going to say after you got famous.”
“Oh. Well, let’s see…I got to meet Rocky.”
I sit up straight, bumping into his hand and sloshing his drink over the side of his glass a little. “You met Rocky?” I ask, ignoring the spill. “Like, the Rocky? Sylvester Stallone?”
“Yeah. I’ve met Sly a couple of times.”
“Shut up!” I say, shoving his shoulder. “You call him Sly?”
“Yeah”—he laughs—“that’s his name.”
“Oh my, God, that is so cool. Did you tell him that you’ve loved him since you were a kid? That you wanted to be Rocky when you grew up?” I ask dramatically.
“Yeah, I mean, maybe not so enthusiastically, but I let him know he was important to me.”
I slouch against the back of the couch and whisper, “Wow.” I watch the rain coming down and sip my drink. He’s so out of my league.
“What about you? What’s the coolest thing you did while we were apart?”
