Mistresses: The Consequences Of Desire. Оливия Гейтс

over the water and making the dark sand look as if it disappeared into oblivion. The fresh scent of sea and salt and exotic blooms only added to the feeling of wild, untamed freedom that was so like Cooper himself.

      ‘It suits you,’ she said.

      He huffed, the half-laugh both wry and amused. ‘Why? Because it’s cheap?’ he said and she heard the cynical edge.

      ‘No, because it’s charming and unpretentious and unconventional.’

      He turned up the lamp, giving the modest hut a golden glow.

      Walking to the open deck, he closed two large shutters and then slid the screen door across, cocooning them in together against the Caribbean night. Only the sparkle of moonlight and the sound of surf and chirping insects seeped through the slats.

      ‘Don’t want to risk getting our butts bitten off by mosquitos,’ he said, crossing the short distance back to her.

      She laughed, the rough stubble on his jaw ticklish against her neck as he gripped her hips and nuzzled the sensitive skin beneath her ear.

      ‘Especially such a cute butt,’ he added, giving the butt in question an appreciative squeeze.

      She wrapped her arms around his lean waist and slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans, to caress the tight muscles of the backside she had admired that morning in wet denim. ‘I can totally get behind that sentiment.’

      He chuckled, warm, callused palms sneaking under her camisole to glide up to her ribcage and send a series of tremors through her body.

      ‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ he said. Before placing his mouth on hers at last.

      Releasing his bum, she lifted arms lethargic with lust and draped them over his broad shoulders; driving her fingers into the soft curls at his nape, she let him devour her. He angled his hips and the thick ridge in his pants rubbed against her belly.

      Oh, yes, I want this so much.

      To be taken, to take. She wanted to let her body do the asking and have his answer, in the primordial mating ritual of two animals in need of an endorphin fix. The fact that she liked him, that he seemed a genuinely nice guy, didn’t hurt. But right here, right now, as the building firestorm made the pulsing ache in her sex unbearable, and her nipples tighten into hard, swollen nubs, all she really cared about was satisfying the driving hunger.

      His large hands rose from her waist to frame her face and she revelled in the primitive need making his eyes darken and the muscle in his jaw flex and release.

      ‘Before we take this any further...’ he trapped her against the hut’s wall, the heavy ridge thickening even more ‘...I need to know if you’re on the pill.’

      Crushing disappointment cut through the fog of rum and arousal. ‘You don’t have any condoms? I don’t either, I didn’t think—’

      ‘Hey, don’t panic,’ he interrupted. ‘I’ve got condoms.’

      ‘Oh, thank God.’ Relief gushed like molten lava between her thighs.

      ‘But I’m a belt and braces kind of guy. Condoms break.’ He scooped her hair off her neck, pressed those clever lips to her collarbone, shattering her concentration. ‘That’s how I happened. I’m not looking to father another me.’

      She heard the note of regret, and had the sudden urge to soothe. ‘But you’re so beautiful.’ She cradled his lean cheeks between her palms, drew her thumb over one tawny brow and grinned into those piercing emerald eyes—which had crinkled at the corners with amusement. ‘Your mother must have been so pleased to have you,’ she said, loving the rasp of the manly stubble on his cheeks as all her inhibitions happily dissolved in the sweet buzz of Rum Swizzles and pheromones. ‘Even if you were an accident.’

      She heard his chuckle. Had she said something funny? She hadn’t meant to.

      ‘Not really.’ He sent her the secret hey-there-gorgeous grin that he’d sent her when they were underwater and exploring the reef. Then it had flattered her, as if they were the only two people in the whole ocean allowed to explore its treasures; now it made her heart muscle squeeze and release, exciting her.

      ‘Has anyone ever told you you’re great for a guy’s ego when you’re hammered?’

      ‘I’m not hammered,’ she said, sure she wasn’t. He’d only let her have two more Rum Swizzles, which he’d insisted on mixing himself behind the bar. And they hadn’t tasted nearly as alcoholic as that first one. Plus she’d pigged out on the popcorn shrimp, some delicious jalapeño cheese things and the chips and dips and other nibbles that had appeared at their table as if by magic between dance sets. Right now she was pleasantly buzzed, but her senses felt heightened, more acute, not dull or fuzzy.

      He touched his nose to hers. ‘If you say so, miz,’ he said in a perfect echo of Henry the friendly barman’s Bermudan accent.

      The spontaneous laugh turned to a staggered moan as his hands snuck under her camisole and cupped her breasts.

      ‘Oh, yes.’ She arched into the bold caress as his thumbs brushed her nipples, making the rigid peaks ache. ‘That feels fabulous.’

      He laughed. ‘Stop distracting me and answer the damn question.’

      She opened her mouth to ask what question, but then he plucked at one pulsating nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, and all that came out was a groaned, ‘Yes.’

      ‘Hallelujah.’

      His teasing fingers left her breast to drag her top over her head. And unclip the hook of her bra. He tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it over his shoulder, revealing the naked chest that she’d imagined touching all day.

      Hallelujah indeed.

      He boosted her into his arms, her back bumping the wall, as he wedged the hard ridge between her thighs, pressing it against the damp gusset of her jeans. She gripped his shoulders, her head spinning from the sensory overload. Then he ducked his head to capture one thrusting nipple between his lips and suckled hard.

      Fire roared down to her core and she writhed, swivelling her hips to increase the pressure of his magnificent erection on that hot, sweet, swollen spot.

      He blew across her wet breast, the cool air making it tingle and tighten more. ‘Damn, but you’re gorgeous.’

      ‘So are you,’ she said, admiring the bulge of his biceps as he held her up, the bunched pecs and sculpted abs, and the happy trail that bloomed into a forest of dark blond curls where his low-slung jeans had slipped down under the pressure of her clutching thighs.

      ‘Can I see you naked? Please?’ she asked.

      His answering laugh sounded strained. ‘I guess so, seeing as you asked so nice.’ He dropped her suddenly, clutched her arm as she stumbled. ‘Race you.’

      She giggled as he hopped around on one foot, wrestling to get his boot off.

      ‘Don’t just stand there.’ He tossed the boot across the room. ‘Lose the damn pants or you’ll have to pay a forfeit.’

      Unbuttoning her jeans, she slipped them over her hips, going for the full stripper effect as she wiggled out of them, and loving the way his nostrils flared as he lost the other boot.

      His wicked grin spread, and her heart rate accelerated, as he unhooked his trousers, shoved them down and kicked them off, not once taking his eyes off her.

      Her gaze caught on the magnificent erection, standing proud in the nest of tawny curls. ‘Wow...that’s...really rather exceptional.’

      He laughed. ‘Have I told you, I love your accent?’ He inclined his head towards the last piece of clothing she had on. ‘Now lose the panties, before I rip them off.’

      She whipped them off, twirled them on her finger and flung them away with a flourish.

      ‘Good