Payback Affairs. Emilie Rose

tried to focus her rousing brain and figure out what was going on. Her fingers curled around thick, cotton-covered steel. Oh, yes. Definitely Rand. She inhaled a shaky breath and his familiar scent confirmed the identification. His palm covered the back of her hand, anchoring it in place.

      She tipped back her head, but she couldn’t see his features in the inky room. “What—?”

      “It’s just sex,” he rasped in a low, husky voice that made her insides sizzle with sexual excitement.

      “Okay.” For now. She tested his length and his breath hissed.

      He rolled her onto her back. One hair-roughened leg separated hers and pinned her in place. His big, hot hand released hers to stroke from her thigh to beneath her borrowed T-shirt. His palm coasted over her panties, her waist and covered her breast. Sure. Fast. Impatient. He found her nipple like a heat-seeking missile and tweaked it until she squirmed with need.

      “I won’t marry you.”

      She bit her lip. She hadn’t expected winning him back to be easy. But this was a gamble she had to take. A gamble with risks. “I didn’t ask you to.”

      His mouth took hers, his tongue plunged, dueled, stroked. He devoured her as if his control had snapped, as if he couldn’t get enough of her. And that was exactly what she wanted.

      She didn’t know what had brought on this change of heart, but she wasn’t about to argue. She wanted this, wanted Rand. She needed to be consumed by his passion.

      She smoothed her hands down the warm supple skin of his back and over his buttocks. The muscles contracted beneath her caress. She dragged her nails back up his spine in a feather-light scrape the way she knew he liked and savored his shudder. He wouldn’t react to her touch so easily if he didn’t desire her.

      He fisted the hem of the T-shirt and ripped it over her head. She wished she could see his face when he looked at her, but she could only sense his eyes on her when he braced himself on one straight arm above her.

      His fingers curled over her panties and snatched them past her ankles. That same hand skimmed back up her legs and found her wetness with unwavering accuracy. She started at the electrifying jolt of arousal. He bent and took her nipple into his hot mouth.

      His fingers and tongue swirled simultaneously and everything inside her turned liquid, molten. He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t want him to be. Pleasure blossomed within her, bowing her back and pouring out of her mouth in a low moan. Tara tangled her fingers in his hair and held him to her breast as relentless waves of pleasure pounded her.

      She’d missed this. Missed him. His touch, the hungry tugs of his mouth and the steam of his breath on her skin felt so good. Better than anything or anyone she’d tried and failed to find since he’d left her.

      The snarling knot of need twisted tighter and tighter, but she wasn’t ready to unravel yet, wasn’t ready to have this heady hunger satiated. She wanted to savor the rush of sensations, so she fought off her climax. Fought and failed. Against her will, release snapped through her muscles and whirled through her core, leaving the tickling, tingling sensation in her toes that only Rand could deliver.

      Before she could catch her breath he lifted his head. “Where are the condoms?”

      With her body still quivering, she rolled to her side and opened the drawer, saying a silent prayer of thanks that she’d been optimistic and prepared. Her fingers closed around a plastic packet. She lay back. He’d removed his briefs and his thick erection strained against her thigh for attention.

      Rand took the condom from her, leaving her hands free to map his taut frame as he dealt with the protection. Her senses seemed heightened to his textures, his scent, his heat. She shaped the mounds of his pectorals, thumbed his tiny hard nipples, traced the ridged muscles of his abdomen, his appendix scar, and finally combed her fingers through the tangle of curls at the root of his arousal.

      When she reached lower he swore, grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the pillow beside her head. He shifted until his rock-hard thighs spread hers. His thick shaft nudged her entrance. Eager to receive him, Tara lifted her hips and Rand slid deep in one long, slow thrust. He felt so right buried deep inside her, as if a missing part had finally been found and returned.

      The darkness intensified the sounds of his harsh breathing, the feel of his hard, hot body plunging into hers again and again, and the unique aroma of his skin and their sex. Wanting to touch him, she struggled against the hands holding her captive, but Rand held fast.

      His back arched. He found her mouth for one brief, voracious, breath-stealing kiss and then his mouth grazed her jaw. He nipped her earlobe, her neck. Each gentle love bite shot bolts of desire straight to her core, arousing her more than she’d ever thought possible. She nuzzled his temple, his brow.

      “Rand, please,” she begged and struggled to free her hands. She needed to hold him, to pleasure him the way he did her, to show him how good this was. How good they were. Together. This wasn’t just sex. It was tenderness and sharing.

      He answered by shifting both of her hands to one of his. His weight held her in place as his other hand shifted to her breast. He buffed her distended flesh with his thumb, sparking a response deep inside her, and then he bisected her breasts, her belly and found her center. He plied her with precision until her breaths came in pants and her muscles knotted. Orgasm whipped through her once more, causing her body to spasm and his name to explode from her lips.

      He muffled his answering growl against her neck, sending the vibration straight down her spine. And then he stilled above her except for the bellows of his chest pressing and withdrawing from hers. The cabin fell silent except for their gasping breaths and the thunder of her pulse in her ears.

      He released her hands, but before she could wrap her arms around him he slid to her side and rolled onto his back, throwing a forearm across his face.

      Satisfaction engulfed her. This was what they used to share. This is what she’d missed when he said goodbye. This is why she couldn’t sleep with Everett.

      Because she still loved Rand.

      She twisted to her side and laid a palm on his sweat-slick chest over the whorls of hair covering his racing heart, then she leaned in to press a kiss to his skin.

      He stiffened and bolted upright, dodging her lips and dislodging her hand. He rose and headed for the bathroom. The door closed and the lock clicked, dimming her rosy glow. The shower turned on and her euphoria sank like an anchor.

      That was not how she’d wanted their evening to end.

      She may have taken a giant step forward in having him want to make love to her, but she’d taken two steps back. He’d literally locked her out.

      Fun for one just didn’t have the same kick as sharing new experiences.

      Tara turned in her snorkeling gear, gathered her towel and beach bag and trudged barefoot through the sand between the cabanas selling drinks, souvenirs and beach supplies toward the barbecue area of Crescent Key, Kincaid Cruise Line’s tiny private island and the cruise’s first stop.

      She would have enjoyed exploring the brightly colored reef and fish so much more with Rand by her side. But he’d been gone when she’d awoken this morning. After years of listening for her mother, Tara had considered herself a light sleeper, but apparently she wasn’t easily roused after two off-the-Richter-scale orgasms. She’d never heard Rand get up or leave.

      “Hey, are you solo?” a blond guy about Tara’s age called out as he jogged up beside her. He was good-looking in a toothy, preppy kind of way.

      “Yes.” Not by choice.

      “Me, too. I’m Joe. I was in your snorkeling group.”

      She hadn’t noticed. “I’m Tara.”

      “Where are you headed next?”

      “Lunch and then the Jet Ski Zone. I have a couple of hours before my lesson.”