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“Don’t say things like that…you’ll make me want to keep you,” she says in a dreamy voice before her eyes drift closed.
I laugh and ignore the way my heart gets a full blown hard on hearing those words.
It wants to mate her as much as my dick.
Thank God for my job and my unbreakable commitment to spending the rest of the year in Colombia.
Otherwise, I’d be tempted to follow her home.
Friends
Regan
“How did you end up in Colombia?” I prop up on one elbow, reaching over him, to grab a slippery, tender slice of mango from the small plastic container that was part of the lunch our guided tour provided.
“You know, for someone who actually studied journalism, you ask imprecise and vague questions.” He shakes his head in amazement.
“And here I was, just thinking how wonderful you are. Thanks for reminding me what a know-it-all you are.”
His eyebrows shoot up, a cocky grin spreads from ear to ear, and his eyes dance with relish. “You were thinking I’m wonderful?”
I scoff and curl my lip. “You have selective hearing. I said you’re a know-it-all.”
“Ah, Regan,” he says, tssking in mock disapproval. “But you like know-it-all’s, remember?” He leans forward and nips at my bottom lip. They’re swollen and kissed nearly raw, and I wince, even as I open my mouth for his kiss. He swipes his tongue along the inside of my tender flesh, and I groan against his lips.
“I only said that because you were ten years old and sad, but, really, I hoped you’d grow out of it.”
He holds his hands up in the universal sign of surrender, as if this fierce, fearless man would ever give up on anything. But it's sexy that he'd pretend to for me. “You’re right, it’s a bad habit of mine. I know I started it, but let’s not fight. I’m sorry.”
God, why can’t he stop being perfect? I wrinkle my nose at him. “Okay. But only because you asked nicely.”
He blows out a breath as if he’s relieved. “Now, let’s get back to the part of the conversation where we talk about how wonderful you think I am.”
Effervescent laughter bursts from a wellspring deep in my soul. I am awash with delight. Being with him, laughing, arguing, teasing, it’s like stretching my legs after hours of riding in the cramped third row of an overcrowded minivan.
He reaches one of his long, thickly muscled, arms over my body. He smells like me and mangos, and for a second my wits scramble.
He plucks a slice of mango with his deft fingers. It’s perfectly ripe, the succulent flesh barely taut enough to contain the juice. My mouth waters.
I reach up and take a tiny bite of the fruit in his hand.
“I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so good,” I groan at the perfect balance of sweet and sour.
He swipes at my lip, catches a dribble of juice on the pad of his thumb and sucks it into his mouth. “Hmmm, It’s good,” he muses. “But your pussy’s sweeter.”
I bite my lip, and heat suffuses my cheeks. I fan myself. “You could start fires with your mouth.” The smoldering unabashed hunger in his eyes makes my whole body tingle.
“You could start wars with that face,” he says.
I roll my eyes at his over the top praise. I have zero make up on and haven’t tried to brush my hair for two days. I know I look a fright. But Stone looks at me like I walked out of the ocean like Venus herself.
And I love it.
Being with him is like having a decadent dessert for every meal. Indulgent. Expensive. Impossible to resist. “It’s a shame we’re not alone, hmmm?” I nudge his calf with my foot.
He scans the riverbank that the rest of our excursion party is spread out across. We’re a small group made up of other couples and we’ve all retreated to private, shaded spots to eat lunch.
“All I see is you.” He picks up another juicy slice of mango and lifts it to my lips but before I can bite it, he drags it down my chin, down my chest and draws it around my nipple through the dark green fabric of my bikini top.
