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The hand he’d gripped to my shoulder trailed down to my breast. “I am already filled with those kind of ideas, tupulai…”
He dipped his lips to finish that with a kiss—
But uttered an Arcadian oath instead, thanks to the new buzz of his phone.
“Somebody needs you.” I teased the subtext to that with a little buck of my hips. “More than me. If that’s possible.”
He dug out the phone, scowled at the screen then rammed the device to his ear while jabbing a thumb in to open the line. “Adym. I left instructions not to be—” His features bugged in shock. He bolted to a sitting position. “When?” He swiveled around, glaring the direction of the beach. “You are certain?” By the time he looked back to me, my clothes were already in his other hand. “Understood,” he barked, pushing the garments at me. “Merderim, Adym.”
His voice emphasized the thanks. A lot.
Did I dare ask him what for?
“One of the women on the beach saw me entering the grove,” he muttered as I climbed back into my T-shirt.
The second my head emerged, I flashed a curious stare. “And called Adym about it?”
“No.” His face tightened as he stood and zipped up. “Called Ambyr about it.”
That sure as hell explained things.
“Holy shit.” I hurried back into my jeans—mentally bashing myself at the same time. Officially, there was nothing here to be holy-shitting about. On paper, Shiraz was still an unclaimed man—though that wasn’t a valid argument either. “On paper” didn’t mean crap when it came to people’s hearts and minds. On paper, I’d been Ryan’s committed girl. On paper. Dad was a bad-ass detective, out to catch bad guys. The descriptions hadn’t stopped Ryan from leaving, or a criminal from putting a bullet through Dad’s brain.
On paperwouldn’t stop everyone in this kingdom, and possibly the world, from branding me as the skank who’d been Shiraz Cimarron’s fuck buddy before he settled down with the nice island girl.
Not the lover he’d taken to the damn moon and back.
Not the woman he’d led back a special part of herself with his dominance.
Not the person who was never going to be the same, after knowing the perfection of his passion…
Moroseness for another time. A much later time.
Right now, I had to find my damn shoe.
The black boot magically appeared—clutched in long fingers I was doing my best to forget. “Thank you.” I accepted it without looking up. Adding his eyes atop the temptation of his fingers was a definite no-go at this moment.
Though the beautiful bastard himself had other ideas.
“Lucina.”
Much different ideas then getting out of here—with those fingers now sifting into my hair, his breath mingling with my own, and his head tucking lower, making me watch how he bit into his bottom lip. Yeah, right into the part I’d taken a nick out of.
“The thanks, tupulai, is mine.”
I didn’t want to answer him with such a swoony smile. I should have been giggling at him and that clichéd line, not angling a stare so enamored, I could feel the stars going twirly-sparkly in my eyes. Shiraz smirked in return, knowing how his sultry utterance would unravel my resistance…melt the marrow in my bones…fry the damn blood cells in my veins.
He knew it would tear down all my walls again, making it possible to take me in his arms for another long, toe-curling kiss.
And yeah, every one of my toes coiled in. As I sighed into him.
As he moaned back—then pushed in more. Parted me. Invaded me. Reduced me…
And in the doing, reimagined me.
Once more, I wasn’t anyone or anything. Gone was the little girl who’d had to grow up so fast, as well as the woman she grew up into. And the woman who just wanted to be that loved little girl again. And the woman who recognized those issues, knew she’d been escaping them with sex, and didn’t care.
But gone as well was the wedding planner who always scoffed at the concepts of soul mates, colliding stars, and the sacrifice of true love.
