So thick. So aroused. So hers for the taking.
Her hands landed against his shoulders. She made a feeble attempt to get away, but he held her close and didn’t let go, and truly, she didn’t want to leave.
“God, you feel good,” he mumbled. One hand slid around to the small of her back. The other slinked into her wet hair. “Mm…warm.”
She wasn’t warm. She was on fire. And if he lifted his hips like that again, so close to where she wanted him to rub against her, she might not be able to stop herself.
“Thad,” she warned again.
“See how good it can be, Blondie?” He rocked his hips slightly. Tugged her tighter to him with the hand at her back. The rigid length of his erection brushed the sensitive skin between her legs, and she couldn’t help herself. She groaned. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “Not just good. Amazing.”
Maren’s eyes slid closed, and she arched into him, forcing her hips into closer contact with his. Oh yes, he felt good. So good. She was running on too little sleep, not enough food, and way too much adrenaline. And everything else—the reasons she couldn’t have him, the things left unsaid between them, her purpose for being here in the first place, seemed to fade into the background.
“Thad,” she whispered.
“I know.” He lifted his shoulders from the back of the tub and pressed his lips against the column of her throat. “This isn’t sex, though. Think of this as…nursing me back to health.”
She laughed but didn’t pull away. God, she should pull away. “Nice try.”
His lips curled into a smile against her skin. “No? Then how about celebrating the fact we’re alive.”
Her hands landed on his shoulders while his lips trailed a line of hot, wet kisses from her throat to her ear and finally to her jaw. Tingles raced down her neck, into her breasts, and across the tips of her nipples. A moan slipped from her lips. His muscular chest grazed her oversensitive breasts while the hard length of his cock pressed against her throbbing sex, right where she wanted him most.
“Maren…” He kissed her jaw, her cheek, nipped his way to the corner of her mouth. Then slid his tongue along her bottom lip and lifted his hips again. “I want you.”
Sparks ricocheted through her lower body. Oh, God… She wanted him too. She pressed down against him, groaned at the wicked sensation, and gave up the fight.
His mouth closed over hers in a possessive kiss. His tongue instantly found hers. She framed his face with her hands and kissed him back, stroking his tongue with hers in the way she wanted him to stroke her body. With his fingers. With his cock. For just a second…for a few minutes…she wanted to let go of the hows and whys and everything that could have happened to them. She just wanted to
feel
.
He changed the angle of the kiss, tasted her deeper, lifted his hips once more, rubbing against her clit again and again. She moaned, dragged her mouth from his, offered her throat. Loved the way he could still drive her crazy with his lips, his tongue, with those wicked hands against her breasts.
At some point, he’d untied her bikini top. She was so lost in him she didn’t know when. All she knew was his warm, rough fingers were twisting her nipple, sending sharp currents of arousal straight to her sex, and his lips…moving down her throat, across her chest, heading for her breasts.
“Oh, Thad…” She arched her back, groaned when he squeezed her breast, when he brought it to his lips. And nearly came out of her skin when he licked around her nipple and finally drew her into his mouth.
She rubbed against him again and again, saw sparks when he suckled, when he bit down gently on her nipple. Frantic hands pulled at her bikini bottom and tossed it aside. And then his mouth was at her throat, her jaw, her lips again as he wiggled his hips out of his shorts.
“Maren…” His mouth claimed hers once more. Hot, wet, needy kisses that only supercharged her more. And then she felt his fingers against her sex, pressing into her wetness and drawing a slick line up around her clit.
She shivered, lifted her hips to give him more access. Knew nothing but the exquisite feel of his touch. Her body trembled as he pressed inside her and stroked deep, and she kissed him again, thrusting her tongue into his mouth the way he was thrusting his fingers inside her body.
“You’re so wet,” he mumbled against her lips, “and tight. Just like I remember.” He captured her hand and brought it to his cock. “I’m dying here, Blondie.”
He was hard in her hand. Long and thick, and she knew he’d feel even better inside her body. She stroked him from base to tip as he kissed her again. As he groaned into her mouth and circled her clit with his thumb.
He arched his hips so the tip of his cock brushed against her swollen clit. Maren shivered and groaned. He captured it on his lips and moved again.
His hand left her sex, settled at her waist. The other fell against her other side. He lifted her easily so the head of his cock was lodged at the entrance to her body. Then pulled away from her mouth, looked down, and groaned.
He was watching. The idea sent a naughty thrill through her, and the lust she saw burning in his eyes only made her hotter. “Thad…”
“Hmm…?” Eyes still locked where he touched her, he lifted his hips. Pressed inside one tiny inch. And oh…that felt so good. Her eyes slid closed.
He drew out, trailed his cock up to her clit, and circled again until she saw stars, then slid back to her opening.
She groaned. Felt herself slipping. Felt every wall start to crumble.
“God, Blondie. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted you this much.”
She wanted him too. But his words brought reality back to the forefront of her mind. And as crazy as she was for him at the moment, there were still some things she wasn’t willing to risk. “Thad…we can’t.”
“Yeah, we can,” he said in a low voice. A sexy voice. An I-need-you-now voice. “We definitely can.”
She lifted her hips and backed slightly away, preventing him from sinking inside her again. If he did that—even a fraction of an inch—her resistance would fail. Hand still wrapped around the base of his cock, she leaned her forehead against his. “We can’t. No condoms.”
For a second, he didn’t say anything. Didn’t move. And then he groaned in utter disappointment.
The sound relieved her. Why, she didn’t know. But knowing he was in as much agony as her eased the sting, just a little.
She started to pull away, but his hand closed over hers around his cock, and then his mouth was on hers, kissing her deeply all over again.
When she was breathless, when her libido was right back in overdrive, he drew her hand up and down his hard length, and against her mouth he whispered, “I might not be able to fuck you right now, but that doesn’t mean we have to stop.”
He let go of her hand, found her sex again, and she groaned as he sank two fingers inside her wetness. His thumb flicked her clit again and again. Electrical currents arced all through her body as he pressed her back and his mouth returned to her breasts, to her nipples, already so hard and aching for his touch.
Yes.
Yes
… Why had she fought this?
She closed her eyes and stroked up and down his rigid length. He groaned against her breast, thrust deeper inside her. She arched so he’d hit that perfect spot and squeezed him tighter.
His mouth trailed up toward her neck, and he raked the fingers of his free hand into her hair, drawing her mouth right back to his. Tongues fused. Their bodies slapped while the wind howled outside. He thrust deeply with his tongue; with his fingers. She stroked faster and rode the palm of his hand.
She felt him growing harder in her hand. Hotter. Longer. Knew it wouldn’t be long. And her own arousal built to a crescendo. She kissed him, as frantic to feel his release as she was her own. And when his entire body tensed, when she felt him right on the edge, she closed her hand tight around the tip and squeezed.
He groaned long and low, and she captured the sound with her mouth, stroked even faster. Warmth filled her hand, and knowing he was being consumed by his orgasm triggered her own. Bright light exploded behind her eyes, ricocheted through her limbs. Made every inch of her body tremble. Sent her entire body sailing.
And then she was falling. Through time and space. Through memories and emotions she’d vowed never to relive. Through a feeling that was so sublime she didn’t ever want it to end.
She was falling…for the man who’d broken her once before. For the one who’d saved her life, who’d taken care of her, who was every bit the sexy bad boy she’d fallen for all those years before.
Falling for the man who, if she wasn’t careful, would this time break her for good.
C
HAPTER
T
EN
A
dull, throbbing pain brought Thad’s eyes open. He blinked several times and stared up at a dirty, water-stained ceiling and a strand of light shining in through a hole overhead, warming his skin.
He tried to remember where the hell he was but came up empty. He’d been on more than one bender in his life. After Colin’s death, there was a good three to four weeks he barely remembered. But this headache didn’t feel like a hangover headache, and the kink in his shoulder had nothing to do with too much alcohol.
Groaning, he twisted to his side, realized he was in a bathtub, and pushed himself up on his hand. Memories of the night before rushed back as he fought to stop the room from swaying. The storm. Running through the sideways rain. Maren…
A wave of heat rolled across his hips, and a vision of what he and Maren had done together in this tub made him hard all over again. Blinking, he looked around for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. The mattress lay pushed against the far wall, and the door was open. He held his breath and listened, but only the soft sound of the ocean met his ears.
The storm must have passed sometime in the night. He didn’t care when; he was just thankful it was gone. Pushing up on achy legs, he tugged up his shorts and stepped over the side of the tub. When he reached the sink, he flipped on the water, leaned forward, and splashed cool liquid on his face, then glanced up into the mirror and grimaced.
The wound across his left temple was a mix of black and blue and angry red. And yeah, it hurt like a motherfucker. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he wiped his face with a towel and turned for the door, then remembered the woman who’d attacked him.
His adrenaline shot into overdrive. He stumbled out into the bedroom and found it empty too. Broken glass from the windows lay shattered across the bed and floor. Outside on the beach, palm fronds and debris from the storm littered the bright sand, and the crystal-blue sky showed no sign of the previous night’s wrath.
But there was still no sign of Maren.
His heart rate jacked up. He shuffled toward the door, avoiding as much of the glass as he could. If that psycho woman had come back… If she’d brought friends…
His chest tightened, and fear for Maren’s safety consumed him.
The grassy area behind the casitas was littered with more debris—downed limbs, trees, and roofing materials that had blown off during the storm—but still no Maren. He rushed out onto the beach, looked up and down for her, couldn’t see her. Couldn’t see anyone.
He raked a hand through his hair, tried to think of what to do. Pain shot across his forehead, but he ignored it. His chest rose and fell with his quick breaths, making it hard to get air.
Voices echoed somewhere close. He whipped around, froze, and listened. Soft laughter echoed on the gentle breeze. Laughter he’d know anywhere.
He pushed his legs forward, jogged around the side of a small building, and finally saw her. Wearing a frayed piece of white cotton tied over her bikini at her hip like a sarong, her blonde hair billowing behind her as she stood in the sunlight, laughing and chatting with a local man who could be as old as her father.
Relief rushed through him. Overwhelmed him. Pushed out all other thought.
“Oh, you’re awake.” Her smile faded as he approached. “This is José, he’s going to—”
He captured her hand, pulled her into his chest, slid his fingers into her silky hair, and just held her close.
His eyes slid closed. Against her warmth, his heart rate slowly started to come down. She was alive. She was okay. All those crazy thoughts he’d had a moment ago…none of them were real.
He drew in a shaky breath, then let it out.
“Um…Thad?” She tensed against him.
“Scared me, Blondie.” He breathed deep again and just went on holding her, loving the way she felt against him. “You gotta stop doing that.”
“Thad?” she said again. “I can’t breathe.”
Realizing he was holding her too tight, he released her. And when she stepped away, out of his arms, he remembered they weren’t alone.
He looked toward the toothless man to his left, the one who was grinning like an old fool.
“This is José,” Maren said again, smoothing her hair. “He’s agreed to give us a ride back to camp.”
Surprised, Thad glanced back at her. She’d found them transportation. Not only had she saved his life and nursed his wounds, she was now rescuing him.
He reached for her hand, wanting—no, needing—to touch her, and smiled. “You’re taking this hero status to heart, aren’t you?”
A wary look crept into her eyes, and slowly, she tugged her hand from his, then looked back at José. “I think we’re ready anytime you are.”
“
Si, si!
” José said, running around the cab of the rusted Ford truck and pulling the passenger door open. “Come, come.”
Thad looked into the truck and spotted the mangy dog sitting in the middle of the bench seat, panting in the morning heat. He glanced back at Maren, who was already walking around the vehicle.
She shrugged. “I guess you’ll have to ride in the back.”
José moved to the end of the truck and lowered the tailgate, then motioned for Thad to climb in. Maren was too busy petting and talking to the dog to care what he was doing. And, he had a sinking suspicion, avoiding him all together.
More disappointed than he expected, he walked to the back of the truck and climbed in. Said a thank-you to José. As he settled back against the truck’s rear window, he shot a look inside. Maren was watching him, but when she caught him looking at her, she whipped around and faced the windshield. And she didn’t look back.