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“Lift your skirt, so I can put these on you.” He knelt down and looked up expectantly. She raised her hem for him. “Higher.”
She pulled it up to her knees.
“All the way, Roo. I want to see all of you.” His voice took on that demanding tone and his dark eyes glittered. “Spread your thighs for me, while you’re at it.”
Feeling unaccountably shy, and ridiculously naked without her pubic hair, she raised the hem to her waist, staring steadfastly ahead.
“I love that you can blush,” he traced a light finger along her inner thigh, “and that you did this for me. All exposed for my pleasure.”
“The waxer said—”
“I know the rules. Besides, after the sanding last night, I figured you could use a rest.” He placed a gentle kiss on the baby soft skin just where her labia parted, his tongue lightly darting between. Her pussy pulsed in respons
e, moisture flooding for him. She gasped. “So responsive,” he murmured, then set to locking the cuffs around her ankles.
He made her stay that way, holding up her skirt above her waist, while he fastened the wrist cuffs and collar, then turned her to face the mirror. “See how beautiful you look?” He kissed her temple, his darker skin a foil behind her. This was another iteration of her, exotic with the cuffs and collar, gleaming gold against her slightly darker tan, her legs tapering to the elegant vee between her thighs.
“Ready? I think you’ll like what I have to show you. It’s someplace special to me.” Nothing about his behavior seemed less than a sexy man taking a woman out for a date, but she knew him well enough now to sense the dark emotions seething beneath the surface.
His driver took them to the seaplane harbor. To her surprise, Miguel settled in the pilot’s seat and winked at her.
“You know how to fly?”
“I’m an excellent pilot—do you trust me?”
Implicitly. It rocked her to realize how much. She’d met him a week ago, nearly exactly at this same time, barely knew anything about him beyond his sexual proclivities—only because he refused to share anything else—and yet she felt like she trusted him more than anyone she’d known. It made no sense. After all the men she’d gotten to know in the right ways—the lovely meals, the galas, long conversations about careers and politics—with this one she’d somehow let down her guard in a different way. Possibly because he didn’t know Matilda Campbell, CEO. He knew only Tilda, drunken dumpee, and Roo, who was spontaneous and sexual and, what had he said? Oh yes—uncomplicated.
So, it didn’t matter what she felt because this fling would go nowhere. He didn’t want to know that side of her and, really, he didn’t need to, for what they had. This would be enough. She’d make sure of it.
“All part of the vacation-dare package, right?” she replied lightly.
“That’s right.” He gave her a funny look, however, as if he’d expected her to say something else, then put on his headphones, adjusted the mike and fired up the engine.
Taking off from the water felt entirely different than from a concrete runway. At first the plane trudged through the water, more like a boat. But, as it gained speed, the water seemed to part, giving way to air without the least hesitation. They soared up into the sunset sky with ease and grace. This must be how the seabirds feel.
They flew fairly low, over the gilded water, to a nearby island. The plane skidded into the bay like a water skier, coming to an easy glide of a stop near a pier. She forgot her darker thoughts in the loveliness of the moment.
“Easy, yes?” Miguel looked pleased at her grin of delight. He was determined to enjoy himself, clearly, so she needed to get on board with that.
He helped her out of the plane and held her hand as they walked along the short pier to a boardwalk that led into the jungle, lined with glowing lights fed by small solar panels.
“What island is this?” she asked.
He gave her a sideways glance and shrugged. “We never named it.”
“Ohhh.” She shook her head. “Your private island. I had one, too, but they get so expensive to maintain, you know? All that landscaping.”
His lips twisted in wry appreciation. “In truth, it belongs—has belonged, always—to the family holdings. I’m basically a tax-paying citizen who gets to enjoy a national park.”
“In a country of, what, 30 people?”
“No, more like 150, with all the extended family.” He looked up, counting in his head. “Actually 154, by the latest accounts.”
“Wow. There are nine of us, including spouses.”
“The Campbells were a large clan—you just stopped counting all the cousins along the way.”
“That’s true.”
