Surrender The Booty

SURRENDER THE BOOTY

Sand and Spurs 1

Carmie L’Rae

MENAGE AMOUR

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

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A SIREN PUBLISHING BOOK

IMPRINT: Ménage Amour

SURRENDER THE BOOTY

Copyright © 2009 by Carmie L’Rae

E-book ISBN: 1-60601-290-8

First E-book Publication: March 2009

Cover design by Jinger Heaston

All cover art and logo copyright © 2009 by Siren Publishing, Inc.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Siren Publishing, Inc.

www.SirenPublishing.com

SURRENDER THE BOOTY

Sand and Spurs 1

CARMIE L’RAE

Copyright © 2009

Warm wet hands slid up the back of Bella’s thighs before retreating in a slow tease that left her trembling and aching for more.

She lay on her stomach in a room so dark she couldn’t see even the outline of walls. Something coarse pressed into her abdomen. The firm bed or platform she lay on had adjusted to the contour of her body. Like sand at the beach.

The hiss of a lover she couldn’t see teased her ear as the sensual hands climbed up the back of her thighs again and licked like a warm tongue at her skin. How long had he been teasing her? She’d lost all sense of time, all worry of anything but this slow, sweet torture being wrought on her body. Her nipples, rigid and raw, rubbed against the coarse bed as her body rocked in a maddening slow rhythm.

“Please,” she whispered. Her throat was tight with misuse and her voice sounded far away, barely audible over the hushed whisper that rose with the rhythm that rocked her.

Something wet and sensual trickled down her legs, and her skin had never felt so warm. Somehow she had found Nirvana, but she couldn’t recall how she had arrived. She couldn’t recall anything. She could only feel. She spread her legs, inviting more, silently begging her lover.

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Carmie L’Rae

A warm breeze blew over her heated skin. Maybe she had died and landed in hell. She sure didn’t deserve to go in the other direction.

Oh, God. If she was in hell, this torture could go on forever without any relief. She pumped her hips hard, desperate to find some satisfaction.

Her efforts met with nothing but frustration. She had to be dead.

The heavy fog of semi-consciousness lifted and she willed her eyes to open. Slowly a pinpoint of light pierced the darkness. She recoiled from the starkness of it, but forced her lids open to the glare. The brightest white she had ever seen temporarily blinded her.

Slowly, the world around her came into focus.

Salt clung to her tongue. Warm waves pulsed against her feet, and wet, hard-packed sand pressed into her cheek. She licked the taste of the sea from her lips. A sweet scent laced the air, and a heavy weight lay against her aching thigh. She pushed her chest off the ground and slowly surveyed her surroundings. The exhausted muscles in her arms burned and shook with the effort of supporting her upper body.

A white sand beach stretched several yards up the shore and powdery dunes rose above it. Sea oats danced in the gentle wind and sun glinted off the quartz in the sand.

The weight against her thigh shifted and she turned to find Jose Marco face down in the sand at her side, his thigh protectively over hers. His hand lay limp in the sand as if it had slid off her back while he slept. How many women would pay to be in her position right now? Millions. Maybe billions. Jose Marco was sexier in person than on the tabloid covers he regularly graced. His handsome features stirred something deep in her belly. A familiar ache, a longing she couldn’t contain. And something else. An awareness, a spark of recognition, like she’d been in his arms before and she belonged in them again.

And she owed him her life.

The events that led them to this shore had been more action-packed than any blockbuster his father had ever acted in.

Surrender the Booty

7

She shook off the lust that heated her more than the Caribbean sun. She was starstruck, like every other woman he met. That was all.

Jose stirred and reached out blindly. He cupped her bottom like he might a lover’s. Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her throat. Starstruck was an understatement. She couldn’t have been more affected if an entire galaxy slammed into her. His touch was electric, and she’d give anything to feel his body pressed to hers, loving her the way she knew he could.

His strong fingers lazily kneaded her flesh, and for just a second, Bella let herself pretend there was something real in his touch. The gauzy cotton skirt she wore had ended up crumpled and pushed up to expose one buttock. The same buttock Jose was working his delicious magic on. How did she end up in this dream? Oh, God. This wasn’t a dream.

She twisted to search the beach for Trevor McNamara, the other passenger on board the boat that was supposed to carry them to Isla de Amantes. He had survived, hadn’t he? She dug her hands into the sand and momentary panic shut off her breath until she saw the imprint on the beach where Trevor had lain next to her. Relief released her lungs, and she sucked in the warm, sweet island air. She remembered now. The picture in her mind came in flashes of the three of them struggling ashore together after the boat capsized in the rough water.

They had collapsed the minute they reached dry land. Limbs entwined, thankful to be alive, exhaustion had overcome them. She scanned the shoreline again for Trevor and caught sight of his head as he climbed the backside of a dune. Without the cowboy hat he’d lost at sea, she saw his wheat-colored hair, cropped close to his head but long enough to be blown in the breeze. She waved and he waved back, moving steadily closer.

Jose’s hand crept upward and closed around her waist. “You’re okay?” he murmured.

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Carmie L’Rae

She swallowed hard, her heart hammering from his touch. “Are you?” Her voice came out low and scratchy. She swallowed against the rawness, but her mouth was too dry to make a difference. Jose’s hand moved slowly across her back, dragging rough grains of sand against her skin and pumping heat into her blood.

He shaded his dark eyes with that same hand and searched the dunes until he saw Trevor. “I can’t believe we survived,” he said.

“I don’t think the captain was as lucky.”

Jose gave her shoulder what was meant to be a comforting squeeze, but his touch packed more voltage than the lightning in the storm that had swooped down on them yesterday afternoon.

The purple-black cloud had appeared suddenly. Angry thunder rumbled, and electricity charged the air. The sea responded, rising in waves that slammed into their water taxi. The small boat rode the storm valiantly for a while, then rolled, sending Jose, Trevor and her into the gulf. In the corner of her eye she had seen the captain clinging to the vessel. She would never forget the splintering sound the hull made when a final monster wave crashed against it, or the scream as the captain went down with his ship.

“Maybe he made it ashore around the bend there.” Jose tipped his head toward a curve in the shoreline. “Why don’t we go take a look?”

He climbed to his feet and offered her his hand. His white cotton shirt hung open, exposing his smooth olive chest. Unlike most of the men in Hollywood, his pecs didn’t need any airbrushing for the magazine covers. White sand dusted his dark skin and clung to the hair on his forearms. Bella raised her hand slowly toward his outstretched palm and tried to brace herself for the zing his touch would bring.

They were in a world of trouble, stranded on an abandoned island without the first provision, and her sluggish libido had jumped to life.

Actually it had jumped to life early yesterday afternoon when Trevor McNamara swaggered into her office in a pair of jeans that made her mouth water and asked her to bring him out to this island so he could
Surrender the Booty

9

look over the property. Then her already screaming hormones did somersaults when her fellow real estate agent and friend, Maxine, overheard Trevor’s request and suggested that Bella also escort the deliciously tempting and easily recognizable Jose Marco.

Jose had come into the office only minutes before requesting to see the same parcel of land. As Maxine made the request on his behalf, Jose looked over from his seat in front of Maxine’s desk with curiosity stamped clearly in his dark sex-soldier eyes.

A tingle of anticipation had sparked at the base of Bella’s spine and trickled upward until it settled in her nipples in a stinging ache.

She would have drooled over either of these men any day of the week.

To have them both wanting something from her at the same time left her feeling like she was in the middle of a beefcake sandwich. And she had no idea which one to bite into first.

Now with Jose’s hand folded firmly around hers, Bella’s legs wobbled as she stood. The exhausting swim the night before had taken its toll. Jose steadied her.

“Take your time,” he said in a smooth voice that held just the slightest hint of a Spanish accent.

She nodded and followed him toward Trevor, who carried a bunch of pale yellow bananas and two oranges. “I found breakfast,” he said with an easy smile.

“You said this island hasn’t been inhabited in years, right?” Jose asked Bella as he broke a banana from the bunch and offered it to her.