Twenty-three

Dean spent the morning in the water, doing his best to put what had happened earlier out of his mind.

It was easy to see why Tiree was such a popular place for windsurfers. The combination of white sand beaches, temperate weather, consistent waves, and prevailing westerlies made it ideal. He and his rented board had cut across the waves for hours.

It was exhilarating, exhausting, and exactly what he needed. He felt a shitload better dragging the board out of the water than he had going in.

Shaking the water from his hair, he thanked the kid working at the rental hut and retrieved the towel he’d borrowed from the guest house to dry off his chest and back as he walked up the beach.

He was about halfway up when he stopped dead in his tracks.

Ah, hell. The blood drained from his body, and whatever clarity of mind the time on the water had brought him was gone in the instant it had taken him to see Annie standing there in a bikini. As there wasn’t much of it, it didn’t take long.

He gritted his teeth, trying not to look—stare—but Christ Almighty, it wasn’t fair. The small triangles of silky fabric that covered her breasts didn’t leave much to the imagination, revealing the perfectly round shape of the youthful flesh underneath. She was long and lean with the lithe muscles of a dancer and legs that went on—and on.

Shit, stop staring. But a flat stomach, gently curved hips, and all that cocoa-buttery tanned skin were impossible to turn away from.

He hadn’t exactly been in the best position to get a full look at her this morning, but all the details had just been filled in perfectly.

He’d been right. She had a killer body. More swimsuit magazine than PhD scientist, but damn . . .

“Is there anything you can’t do?”

Her question snapped him out of his lust-induced daze. But his synapses weren’t firing all that quickly, and it took him a moment to realize what she meant.

She’d been watching him windsurfing.

He shrugged, oddly embarrassed. He didn’t believe in false modesty, but her obvious admiration made him uncomfortable. Maybe because he liked it. Usually he didn’t care.

When he didn’t answer, she added, “I thought you were going to wipe out on that big wave at the end. You must have been five feet in the air.”

More like ten, but who was counting?

She was shielding her eyes against the sun with her hand, but for some reason he didn’t think he was the only one staring. She was looking at his chest. He could feel her eyes on him, and it was making him crazy. And hot.

As his low-hung board shorts weren’t going to leave much to the imagination, either, he tore his eyes away.

He noticed a couple of twentysomething surfers sitting nearby and obviously checking her out. His muscles flared a little as he gave them a stare that suggested—rather forcefully—that they think again. They didn’t quite run away, but they weren’t staring any longer.

The unwelcome (and uncharacteristic) possessiveness made his reply come off a little sharper than he intended. “What are you doing here, Annie?”

She dropped her hand and pointed to the spread-out towel that he hadn’t noticed a few feet away. “I was reading. I didn’t know this was the same beach you’d gone to until I realized the rainbow sail guy was you.” She lifted an eyebrow. “I thought real men didn’t do pink.”

He smiled and shook his head. “I figured one stripe wouldn’t do too much lasting damage.” He gave her a long look. “And I’m reconsidering. I think pink might be my new favorite color.”

The drawl was natural; the flirtatiousness was not. But she brought out all kinds of weird shit in him.

She blushed adorably, obviously embarrassed by his appreciation for her bathing suit, but pleased as well.

Remembering that this—them—wasn’t a good idea, he glanced over at the open book resting cover side up on the towel. “That’s a good book. Where did you find it?”

“The library.” She reached down to pick up another one that had been tucked under a bag that must have held her lunch. “I also picked up this.”

It was a Portuguese-to-English dictionary. There was a triumphant grin on her face that told him she’d guessed his motive. He wouldn’t apologize, though. He was just trying to be careful. He didn’t want her to slip. “Annie . . .”

She waved off his concern. “Don’t worry. I’m not going to blow our cover. It still won’t be easy to talk to people, and it forces me to think before I speak. But you can’t expect me not to talk to anyone for days. Speaking of . . . did you get ahold of the person who might be able to help us?”

“Tired of me already?”

She bit her lip. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know. I was teasing. And yes, it’s in the works.”

“So what do we do now?”

“Sit back and wait. You can read your book and enjoy the beach.”

She might be able to finish the entire trilogy.

“What are you going to do?”

“Didn’t you hear? I have a competition to get ready for.”

She gave him a look that told him he wasn’t fooling her with the laid-back routine; apparently she already knew him too well. “Sit back” wasn’t in his vernacular. He was going to do a little research on his own on the Ocean Protection Front and North Sea Offshore Drilling. There was something about the whole thing that bugged him. Why kill Julien and Claude? Why not just toss the explosives overboard and go with the robbery angle alone? Murdering one’s compatriots seemed extreme even for an ecoterrorist group. Was there another reason? Something they were missing?

He also wanted to check out what Taylor had found on the rear admiral. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe him; he just had the feeling the LC was still holding back about something.

“There are a few things I need to take care of this afternoon.” He eyed the two surfers who’d been watching her earlier, but they were clearly avoiding looking in their direction. “You okay here by yourself?”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Tex. I’m a big girl. I can take care of myself.”

He tried not to jelly at the name, but damn . . . how had she guessed? Although admittedly it wasn’t the most original nickname in the world. But . . . shit.

Oh well, he supposed it was better than Dan.

“Besides,” she said with a wry smile and a nod in the direction of the two guys who were now three. “I think you scared them off. Those guys won’t come near me with a ten-foot pole. I doubt any guy who saw me talking to you will.”

He frowned. He couldn’t tell from her voice whether she was disappointed or not. She wasn’t interested in those bozos, was she? And why did that thought make him feel like cracking a few heads? “I didn’t like the way they were looking at you.”

She waved off his concern. “They’re harmless.”

He wasn’t so sure. She was hot enough to make men stupid. He should know. “I’m not.”

“I think they figured that out. But you don’t need to go to all the trouble; I’m not planning on talking to anyone.”

If that was why she thought he’d done it, he wasn’t going to put her straight. “No trouble,” he said. “But I’m going to make sure they got the message. Come here.”

She might have taken a step back. “Why?”

“I think you know why.”

She eyed him warily. “I thought you said that was a mistake.”

“It was. But I’m about to make another one.”

He closed the distance between them in a long stride and pulled her into his arms. One palm slid over the warm smooth skin of her waist before coming to rest on the silky pink bottoms of the bathing suit he’d admired a few minutes ago. God, that ass. He couldn’t resist squeezing and lifting a little. It was taut and firm and fit perfectly in his hand.

Her hands had looped around his neck almost instinctively. He liked that. But what he really liked was the feel of all that warm, bare skin plastered to his.

She was looking at him with a bemused smile on her face. “You don’t strike me as the PDA type.”

“You do strange things to me.”

“You don’t need to do this.”

“Yes, I do.” He was fucking dying to do this. The next time when he made love to her, he was going to be doing it just like this—facing her.

There wasn’t going to be a next time, he reminded himself.

Right. He was fucking crazy if he thought he could stay away from this . . . from her.

The next moment his mouth was on hers, and he was kissing her. He groaned at the contact—at the taste of cherries.

She was killing him. But what a fucking way to go. He threaded his fingers through her hair to clasp the back of her head and bring her mouth more fully against his. He filled it with his tongue, taking long, deep strokes until the fire in his blood started to pound in his ears.

For a moment he forgot where he was. All he could see was stars. But his cock was thickening by the instant. If he didn’t want everyone on the beach to know exactly how much he wanted her—although that was probably pretty damned obvious from the kiss—he’d better pull away.

He released her. She stood staring up at him, gasping for a moment before looking around sheepishly. Apparently he wasn’t the only one who’d forgotten where they were for the moment.

The huskiness in her voice nearly did him in again. “I think they got the message that time.”

He hoped so. Because he sure as hell did.

•   •   •

After that strange episode on the beach, Annie wasn’t sure what to expect. But when Dan met her in the room later, it wasn’t nearly as awkward as she feared. They went to dinner and talked the same way they had the night before.

He told her a little more about his past. It sounded pretty messed up. His alcoholic mother and abusive deadbeat father certainly weren’t going to win Mom and Dad of the Year. Reading between the lines, she realized that the military had been a stabilizing force in his life, taking the place of the family who had left him to fend for himself. She asked a little about his time in the navy, but it was clear the subject was off-limits. Not wanting to ruin the night, she didn’t voice her suspicions about his being a SEAL.

Maybe she didn’t want confirmation.

It wasn’t until they’d finished getting ready for bed that the air in the room grew thick with tension.

She was already under the covers when he came back from the bathroom. He was wearing gym shorts and a T-shirt, which she suspected were for her benefit.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he said, holding her gaze, his jaw tight.

In other words, he was leaving the decision up to her. They both knew what would happen if he got into bed next to her again.

The air practically crackled with heated anticipation as he waited for her to make up her mind. It should have taken much longer than it did. But she wanted to be with him again. This morning had been amazing, but it had just been a taste. A wicked, delicious taste, perhaps, but she knew there was much more.

Just because she’d never done casual didn’t mean she couldn’t do it.

Was it a good idea? Probably not. She already liked him too much and had become strangely attached. But she took that to be largely due to their circumstances, and she wasn’t going to waste the chance to experience what she expected was going to be phenomenal, mind-blowing, no-holds-barred sex.

She met his gaze unhesitatingly. “I don’t want you to sleep on the floor.”

The clear invitation didn’t lessen the tautness in his body any; he seemed to be holding himself by a very tight rope.

Did he have any idea how attractive he was right now? She couldn’t take her eyes off the dark, chiseled lines of his face, the hard line of his jaw, and the silvery blue of his eyes.

Tough guy. Hard as nails. Too blunt. But hot. Really, really hot.

“I don’t want there to be any misunderstandings,” he said. “I can’t offer you anything more.”

“I’m not asking for anything more.”

He put one knee on the bed and pulled off his shirt.

Holy shit, that wasn’t fair. His body was . . . built, incredible, insane. Pick your extraordinary adjective. She wanted to run her finger down all those lines and ridges.

Or maybe her tongue.

Unaware that he’d just turned her body into a pool of liquid heat, he still seemed hesitant. “Casual, right?”

“Very casual.”

All-night-long casual, she hoped.

“You sure?”

She shook her head. “Do you always give a girl this many times to change her mind?”

He smiled—that not-quite-half smile that she loved. “Maybe not. But this feels”—he shrugged—“I don’t know—different.”

She told her heart not to catch at that.

It didn’t listen.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” He leaned down and smoothed a lock of hair back from her cheek, but his hand stayed and he caressed the curve with his thumb.

The gesture was so gentle and sweet—so opposite everything she thought of him—her already caught heart tightened a little more.

Don’t flip. Please don’t flip.

Too late.

She didn’t want him to hurt her, either. But she wanted him on the floor even less. No tenderness, she reminded herself. Physical. Make it physical.

“You won’t.” She pulled him down on top of her. “But I want you to make me very, very sore.”

He muffled a curse and groan as his mouth covered hers, his good-guy efforts finally giving way. All the hesitation was gone as he came down hard on top of her.

The weight of all those muscles should be crushing, but it wasn’t. It just turned her on even more. She loved the solid feel of him. The hardness of his body on top of hers. It made her feel vulnerable and small, but protected at the same time.

She was a strong woman. Confident. Independent. Capable and happy to take care of herself. She’d told herself she’d never need a man to protect her. But there was some tiny primitive instinct buried deep inside her that responded to his strength. To his sheer physicality and blatant masculinity. And it was weeping with pleasure right now.

She would have muffled a protest when he rolled slightly off her, but her mouth was too busy sliding against his tongue—she would never taste cinnamon again without thinking of him, thanks to that toothpaste—and then she realized he’d only done it so that his hand could have free roam over her body.

No protest necessary. His touch set her aflame. She was on fire. Hotter for him than she’d ever been in her life.

She didn’t understand this kind of attraction. How her body seemed to shoot from zero to light speed in an instant. How her skin felt hot and too tight. How her nerve endings were tingling and on edge. How every inch, every muscle, every fiber of her body was tuned to him. She just went with it. Let the fierceness of the attraction take over.

And God, was it fierce!

She arched in his hand when he covered her breast. Wrapped her leg around him to hold him tighter when he notched himself between her legs.

Her entire body went liquid.

She responded to his kiss as she’d never responded to another man. Savoring every stroke of his tongue. The roughness of his just-shaved jaw on hers. The feel of those big callused hands claiming her body. Her hands on his body.

She wanted everything he had to give . . . and more.

Physical, she reminded herself. Keep it casual. But there was nothing casual about this. It was fierce. Intense. Powerful. Overwhelming.

It was need at its most primitive. It was two people who wanted each other with every fiber of their being. Two people who couldn’t wait to have sex again because they knew how good it had been the first time. It was pleasure and sensation at its most erotic.

He pulled back long enough to remove her nightshirt. He stared at her breasts for so long her cheeks warmed and her nipples tightened. She started to lift the sheet that he’d tossed off her back up, but he stopped her.

“Don’t. God, do you know how badly I wanted to strip that damned bathing suit top off you today?”

He rubbed the back of his finger over one nipple, and she sucked in her breath. It wasn’t just from the touch, but from the heat in his eyes when he looked at her.

“I wished you were in a burka with the way those assholes were looking at you, but I was imagining you naked. I could see the pebble of your nipple, but I didn’t know they’d be this pink.” His accent got deeper when he was turned on, and it was heavier than she’d ever heard it. He lowered his face to her breasts. “Yes, definitely my new favorite color.” He licked one, circling his tongue around the taut tip in a delicious swirl of heat.

She moaned as her body melted. Dampness and heat spread between her legs. The throb of need intensified.

“I’m going to suck you now, sweetheart.” His breath blew over the damp and throbbing skin. “Do you want me to do that?”

“Yes,” she breathed—gasped. “Oh God, please yes.”

He covered her with his lips, sucking her into his mouth. A tight vacuum that pulled the pleasure from deep inside her in a sharp needle of sensation. His tongue swirled the tip, making it tighten some more. She arched into his mouth as the pleasure wound tighter and tighter into a spiral of need.

“Do you like that, Annie?” he whispered. “Will you come if I touch you?”

She whimpered at how good that sounded. She wanted him to touch her. Her body was primed for it. She wanted to come.

“As good as that sounds, I think I want to taste you first.”

His mouth was already sliding down her stomach, licking a gentle, warm trail along the way. She felt his hand on her hips as he quickly worked her underwear down her legs.

“So fucking beautiful,” he said.

His mouth was so close to her crotch she was practically shaking.

Did she say she didn’t like foreplay? She was wrong. She liked it a lot. She liked this a lot.

He moved her legs over his shoulders and then his face was between her legs. She nearly shot off the bed at the first stroke of his tongue.

The sound of his groan nearly made her come right there. It was warm and sweet and filled with pleasure. It was the groan of a man who liked to give a woman pleasure. “God, you taste good. So fucking sweet.”

And then she lost the ability to think as he nuzzled his mouth against her and went to town. Feasting on her as if he couldn’t get enough. Swirling his tongue. Sucking. Rubbing his face and jaw against the soft insides of her thighs. Her legs tightened. Her heels pressed into his back. Her hips pressed and lifted against his mouth.

More. Pressure. Oh God, yes. That feels so good.

She split apart. Coming in a burst of white-hot pleasure that shot through her like a bolt of lightning.

He let her ride it out against his mouth. Drawing every spasm of her climax out.

When it was over, she was drained. Completely wrung out. She should have just collapsed.

But that wouldn’t be right. Turnabout was only fair play.