He shrugged. “Clever girl.”
He could practically see the inevitable question pass over her face. Why not? But she didn’t ask it. She didn’t pry.
He, however, wasn’t nearly so polite. “You want me to stay anonymous,” he said simply.
She nodded.
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Not to him. “Tell me.”
She slipped closer, sliding her arms around his neck, her face close to his. “Because, darling Michael, that’s part of my fantasy.”
* * *
BEFORE SHE COULDtalk herself out of it, she captured his mouth with her own, thrilled that she could be so bold and reckless. He tasted like sin—decadent, delicious, more satisfying than chocolate—and she reveled in it, exploring, tasting, teasing.
Her head was light, her knees weak—every cliché she’d ever heard about hit her in the overwhelming onslaughtof pure passion. It was all right there, in her head, her belly, between her thighs.
He nibbled on her lower lip, teasing her with his teeth as shots of electricity scattered through her. Her body melded to his like molten steel, and she pressed against him, centering his thigh between hers in the futile hope that the pressure might somehow squelch the craving fast building inside her.
His hands caressed her back, his fingers splayed across her skin while his thumbs stroked her side and teased the swell of her breasts. She moved against him, silently trying to urge his hands forward, wanting his hands hard on her, wanting the storm inside her to build to a maelstrom, desperate for him to take her right then, right there, so there could be no chance that she’d do something as foolish as change her mind.
“Please,” she murmured, surprised she could even form sounds, “touch me.”
“I am touching you.”
His voice, raw and gravelly, seemed to pool between her thighs. She realized his hand had slipped between them, and he was stroking her through the thin material of her wrap-around skirt.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered.
More. She mouthed the word, but couldn’t say it out loud. She was being decadent. Wild and wanton. And damned if that didn’t scare her to death.
She’d never behaved like this before, never asked for what she wanted. Neverwantedlike she did now. Notlike she felt with him. A wave of fear crested, decades of being the good girl kept pulling her back until she felt herself stiffen in his arms.
His hands stroked her hair, soothing and calming her. “Whatever you want, sweetheart. As slow as you want.”
His finger slipped under her chin, tilted her head up, and she saw the concern on his face. He took a tiny step back, still holding her hand, but increasing the distance between them. Whereas before they had almost seemed like one person, now there was a thin strip of air. A billion molecules keeping her from him, and to Kyra, the gap seemed wider than the Grand Canyon.
He turned slightly and nodded toward the ocean. “Why don’t we backtrack a little? Take a walk on the beach? I can tell you bad jokes, and you can pretend they’re funny.”
He took a step, but she tugged him back. “No!” She gnawed on her lower lip as he stopped and looked at her, the corner of his mouth twitching.
“I promise the jokes aren’t that bad.”
She laughed, thankful he could so easily put her at ease. “I don’t want to talk.” She shook her head, frustrated. “That’s not what I meant. Talking is great. You’re great. I just don’t want to talk now. I didn’t mean…earlier…it wasn’t—”
He hushed her with a gentle finger to her lips. “I want you more than any woman I’ve wanted in a long,long time. If you’re telling me that you want to go inside your cabana with me, then just nod.”
She kissed the tip of his finger, then, before she lost her tenuous courage, she took it in her mouth, swirling her tongue around the digit, relishing the salty taste of his skin. She closed her eyes and drew his finger in further, letting her teeth graze his knuckles as she abandoned herself to passion.
He moaned, and his free hand slipped around her waist, pulling her close until she couldn’t mistake just how much he wanted her. His breath was hot against her ear, stirring her hair as a sound of pure masculine satisfaction escaped him.
“Sweetheart, that damn well better be a yes, because I don’t think I can stand it if that’s your way of letting a guy down gently.”
With one final sultry tug of her mouth, she released his finger. “Yes,” she said, hooking one arm around his neck. “That most definitely is a yes.”
