Chapter Two
Tate Carrington couldn’t believe his luck. He had come to the resort bar hoping for a little sensual distraction. What he found was a gorgeous blonde practically throwing herself at him. The fact that she was angry at him and his construction company was a problem, but not one he couldn’t overcome. Tate loved a good challenge, especially where women were concerned. It was part of the reason why he ended up at this resort in the first place.
They’re looking for a construction crew, his best friend Gavin had said. Come on down and relax a little. This place is crawling with beautiful women begging for sex. It’s the perfect escape.
The past month had been like a dream. He had spent his days doing what he loved—working with his hands—and his nights with lonely singles looking for a little no-strings-attached fun while on vacation. Both things had kept his mind busy. So busy, in fact, that he barely had time to think about his problems back home.
Time to end this goofing around, his father had said that afternoon during their argument over the phone. Stop this construction nonsense and come home.
Yeah, as if Tate was going to stop living his dream so he could take over the family oil company in Texas and become a stuffy suit like his father. Tate wanted to shed both his legacy and his polite Southern upbringing. He was a roamer and a drifter, wanting to go wherever the wind took him. His father’s structured life and rules would suffocate him. Tate wanted no part of the family fortune—not if it came with all the conditions his father had tried to place on him.
Gavin had a similar history, although being the second son put a lot less pressure on him to take over the family shipping business. Gavin understood Tate’s need for freedom and exploration, because he had it himself. Neither one of them wanted to be tied down to anything, or anyone.
Once in the middle of the dance floor, Zoe started swaying to the beat. “Well, what are you waiting for?”
He glanced around at the young, lithe bodies gyrating to the loud bass of the song. “I don’t dance.” Dancing reminded him of the line dancing his father had made him learn as a teen. You need to start embracing the local culture. The more you interact with the townspeople, the less they will associate you with “big oil” and villainize you. Line dancing, rodeos, state fairs…while it was fine for some people, Tate could never get into it. Everyone at those events knew he was the heir to Carrington Oil and acted accordingly. Tate preferred to ride into the city on his motorcycle, where he could blend in with the crowd and be anonymous.
“Come on, everyone dances.” She unpinned the clip from her hair, letting her long waves cascade around her heart-shaped face, and swayed her hips suggestively. “Just move in time to the music.”
She looked so hot. While her white blouse and black skirt looked formal, her moves were far from proper. She was so different than the women he knew back home. Zoe was more free, more uninhibited. Her carefree attitude only made her more alluring. Perhaps dancing with her wouldn’t be the worst thing that could happen tonight.
Tate suppressed a grimace and took her hand. Well, here goes nothing. It helped that there were no steps to memorize. The way she rolled those hips made it easy for him to follow her. Every move she made was sensual, and soon, Tate found himself imagining how those hips would feel swaying up against him.
“Hold me.” She grabbed his hands and placed them around her waist. Then she slid her arms up around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest.
Tate bit back a groan of approval. Zoe felt so soft, so right up against his body. He slid his fingers down over her ass, loving how it seemed to fill his large palms. He had been sporting a hard-on ever since he sat down next to her, but now, with her so close and moving so sweetly, his cock was starting to become painful. Curling his fingers into her backside, he pulled her hips up against his, hoping to alleviate some of the ache.
It didn’t help. Zoe let out a soft feminine gasp, then smiled suggestively as she rubbed herself up against him.
Tate felt his entire body turn harder than granite. He had to have her, no matter what the cost. Leaning forward, he inhaled her sweet, fruity scent and slid his knee in between her legs.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
She closed her eyes and hummed. “I’d feel even better if we could get away from the resort.”
He blinked and leaned back slightly. “You want to leave?” When he picked up women, he had always gone back to their room. His trailer down by the water was his sanctuary, and going to his companion’s room made it easier to slip away in the morning.
She leaned back and shifted her gaze to his lips. “I want to get away from this place.” She tugged on his neck and lifted herself up on her toes. “These people.” She brushed her lips against his. “Don’t you?”
“Yes.” The kiss was soft and inviting, and for a moment, Tate felt a twinge of guilt. The right thing to do would be to let her know who he really was—the head of Carrington Construction—and why the work wasn’t finished. What he had told her over drinks was true. There was a perfectly good explanation as to why the chapel was nothing but a hole in the ground. The exotic wood Zoe had ordered for the construction wasn’t native to the island. It was difficult to find, let alone purchase, and would be on backorder for another week at least. It wasn’t his fault, and if she had returned his phone calls, she would have known this, and they could have worked out a suitable alternative. Since she’d never given him the time of day, he couldn’t work on the project, and instead had turned to more pleasurable pursuits. For the past three weeks, he had spent most of his time cruising the island on his motorcycle and flirting with the guests. Now that she was here, he could make some meaningful progress on the project, but it seemed as if she didn’t want to talk about business. She wanted to have fun instead.
Having fun was fine by him. The good thing about owning his own company was that he could set his own schedule. He loved the island and was in no rush to finish this project. If she wanted to have sex instead of work, then that was what they’d do. She was the boss, after all.
“Good.” She nibbled her lower lip and dragged her finger around his neck to his jaw. “Do you know somewhere we can go and be alone? Your room perhaps?”
“I’m not staying at the resort.”
“Even better.”
His mind raced as he slid his gaze down to her soft, full lips. They couldn’t go to his trailer—it was far too personal. And they couldn’t go to her room. That morning, during his motorcycle ride, he had found a secluded hot spring not far from the resort. Perhaps he could invite her for a little skinny dipping.
“We can’t go to my room, but I might know of another place.”
“Might?” She moved her leg up the outside of his thigh, pinning it to his hip and allowing his cock to slide against her pussy. “You aren’t sure?”
Hell, he wasn’t sure about anything anymore. With each passing second, it was becoming more and more difficult to think.
“Maybe I can help you think of a place.” She arched her back, pressing her pebbled nipples into his chest. The air around them stilled, and the other dancers faded into the background as his gaze dropped to her lips. Tilting his head, he gave in to temptation and kissed her as he grabbed and held her leg close to his hip.
She tasted like strawberries and alcohol. It was a sweet, intoxicating taste that caused his mind to go blank and his body to harden. He felt as if he was drowning but didn’t care. He wanted more, needed more. He was done being teased by this woman. There was only so much he could take.
Tilting his head, he plunged his tongue deeper into her mouth. She moaned and slid hers against his, freely accepting his advances.
Fuck, she was perfect. Taking off these formal clothes would be like unwrapping a sensual present. He inched his fingers up underneath her skirt. She looked so proper. He wanted nothing more than to discover all of the secrets underneath her professional outfit.
He slid his hand up around her leg and eased it under her panties. The heat of her skin seeped into his palm and burned its way down to his core. She whimpered and curled her fingers into his hair as he bent his knees and ground his aching cock into her body.
Then the music changed, reminding him that other people were nearby. He had to get this woman somewhere private before they both exploded on the dance floor. Reluctantly, he eased back from the kiss.
“Do you mind riding a motorcycle?” he asked as he laced his fingers with hers.
“You have a motorcycle?”
He flashed her a half smile. “It’s the only way to travel.”
“I’ve never been on one before.”
“There’s no better time than the present.”
She inched closer and slid her finger down his chest. “Will I get to put my arms around your waist, like in the movies?”
His cock stirred, and a sense of urgency rose up in his core. If he didn’t get inside this woman soon, he was going to go off like a teenager.
“Yes,” he said. “I mean, you would have to, for safety reasons. I don’t want you to fall off.”
“No, we can’t have that.” She brushed her fingers over his cock, then took his hand. “Lead the way.”
It took him a minute to realize that she meant he was to show her the way to his bike. Damn, where had he parked it? It seemed as if he had arrived at the bar a lifetime ago.
Glancing around, he nodded to the left and hoped that was the direction of the parking lot. “Come on, then.” He tugged her away from the crowd. “Let’s go.”