With unfamiliar boldness, she urged him closer until their lips touched. The contact was gentle, but the effect was anything but. As if taking its cue from her reaction, the wind kicked up.
“The storm’s coming,” he whispered, his lips moving against hers.
“We should go inside.” She tilted her head back and smiled at him. “Quickly, before I change my mind.”
He twisted a finger in one wind-tossed strand of her hair. “Is that something you’re likely to do?”
“What do you think?”
“I think it’s time to go inside. Because I don’t intend to let you get away.”
* * *
HE WATCHEDas she fumbled with the key, finally managing to open the door. “Sorry. Just a little nervous.” She stepped over the threshold and stood awkwardly. “Well, this is it. My little home away from home.”
She kept the lights off, but from the dim light of the moon he could see that her cabana was sparsely but comfortably furnished—a bed, a small couch, a cozy breakfast area. With its abundance of windows and bright-colored furniture, the room was airy and inviting.
“I like what you’ve done with the place,” he said lightly. He knew she was nervous, clearly not a woman prone to casual affairs, and it humbled him that she so obviously wanted him.
She headed for the kitchen area and started opening drawers. “Yeah, I spent hours choosing a theme. I almost went with Feng Shui, but decided on island casual instead.” She shut the last drawer and shrugged. “No candles.”
“In my cabana, they’re under the sink in the bathroom with the hurricane supplies.”
“Your cabana?” she asked from the bathroom. She came out holding two thick candles. “Ta-da. So I guess that means you’re a guest here, too.”
“Some of the staff have cabanas. Only the summer kids stay in the bunk room.”
Her mouth twitched. “Not exactly an answer, but the best I’m going to get, right?”
“Right.” He took the candles and matches from her, letting his fingers graze hers. “Not to be presumptuous, but why don’t we light one by the bed?”
“Um. Sure. Bed. Fine.”
Grinning, he moved to the bedside table and lit a single candle, filling the area with a flickering orange glow.
“Much more romantic, don’t you think?” He was forcing himself to make small talk when all he wanted to do was lose himself inside her. Her nearness was driving him nuts, but she was nervous, and for her he was going to take it slowly, was going to make it perfect.
“Very romantic.” She moved closer, standing just a few inches from him.
Her skin glowed in the soft light, begging for his touch, and he traced the line of her neck and shoulder with the tip of his finger. “They sell candles in the gift shop,” he said, sure he sounded like an idiot, but her presence was turning his mind to mush. “I’ll get some for tomorrow.”
Her eyes danced with mischief. “Oh? So you figure you’ll be back tomorrow night?”
He blinked, suddenly realizing that for her this might be a one-time fling. “Oh. Well… I…actually—”
“Michael?”
“Yes?”
She took a deep breath, then reached behind her back and unfastened her halter. “I’m not nervous anymore.” She concentrated on the knot at her neck, and he watched, mesmerized, as the top fell to the ground.
She was stunning, and he could have stared at her for hours if she’d let him.
“Touch me,” she whispered, moving into his arms.
He couldn’t remember ever being happier to oblige a request. Her breasts were firm and fit perfectly into the cups of his hands. He flicked his thumb over her erect nipple, felt himself harden as she gasped and tilted her head back, exposing the sleek line of her neck.
He could see her pulse beat in her neck, and he bent to kiss her there, the warmth of her skin against his lips tantalizing. With deliberate slowness, he trailed his kisses lower, each soft moan nearly driving him over the edge. Her breath came in staccato bursts, and when he closed his mouth around her breast, she cried out, only to stifle the sound with her fist.
