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“Yeah.” He let her slide to her feet and moved to stand in the doorway. “Whoever it is, they’re going away. But since we’re inside, and you’re naked, what shall we do?”
“I’m not really in the mood to run anymore.” When Will turned to face her, she refused to hide her body. Let him look his fill. She’d rarely made love with anyone in full daylight, but she couldn’t hide a thing if they were going to. “Do you have any other suggestions?”
“Breakfast?” He closed the French door and stepped closer to her. “Have you eaten?”
Arabella took a step backward. “No, but I’m not hungry. Are you?”
He followed, and, with an extra stride, was close enough to reach out and close a hand around her wrist. “Yes, but not for eggs and toast. Is that your bedroom behind you?”
Every time he touched her, her pulse surged and she had trouble remembering how to breathe. “The bed’s not made.”
“Too early for maid service.” He continued forward, propelling her through the doorway. “Besides, I like the idea of climbing into a bed still warm and rumpled from your sleeping in it.”
“I…I’m pretty sure it’s no longer warm…”
He placed a finger over her mouth. “Shh. My turn for a fantasy.”
How much of a fantasy could her messy bed be? She shrugged. “Okay. But I’m warning you, I lost an earring in there somewhere last night, so if you get punctured, it’s on you.”
He gave her a gentle push, and she landed on the edge of the bed. “Warning noted.”
It took all she had not to cross her arms over her breasts or spread her palms in her lap, but instead she sat up straight and gave him a look she hoped conveyed a dare. “I think it’s my turn to see what’s on offer here.”
“On offer?”
“I watch a lot of BBC. Now, strip, bartender. Before I change my mind.” To her great delight, and relief, he didn’t laugh at her. If he had, she’d have thrown him out and called the trip a celibate experience. But his eyes, dark-blue as it turned out, lit with an interior flame, and he didn’t take off his T-shirt. He shredded it off. And he didn’t have a six-pack. He had an eight-pack. Scattered hairs on his chest failed to hide his bronze nipples.
Not one flaw, so far. Her body-image issues rumbled deep within her, but before they could put in a full appearance, Will dropped trou, and a whole other set of issues appeared. Maybe not issues.Whoa.“You planned to run down the beach without underwear?”
“No.” He chuckled. “I pulled them down together to save time. Worried about my junk?”
“No,” she breathed, reaching out a single finger to smooth the drop of clear precum on his impressive equipment. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about there.”
This adventure just got real. Sure, it was easy to say let’s have an affair, no strings, with the first handsome guy she saw then go home and never look back. And who better than a bartender at a resort? He lived on an island thousands of miles from her. Once she got on that plane to go home, she’d never run into him at the office or in the corner deli.
No. Just as she’d planned, she’d go back to work, to her career, alone. Perfect, right?
“Bella?”
Maybe not. Maybe she didn’t have it in her to spend the better part of two weeks locked in intimate embrace with a man she had virtually nothing in common with but who made her blood boil then walk away. Even if he could make her every fantasy come true.
“Bella, you’re staring at my dick. Is something wrong? Do I have an ugly skin condition?”
Heck no.And if she had to balance just under two weeks of time locked in this man’s embrace with running the damn beach three times a day? Arabella Carmichael did something then she’d never done without coaxing in the past.
Closing her fist around the exceedingly rigid penis bobbing in front of her face, she bent forward and took it in her mouth.
“Oh my god, Bella.” He rocked toward her then away and back again. “You don’t have to do this yet.”
She hollowed her cheeks and sucked hard, bobbing up and down in time to a rhythm in her head. Instead of feeling awkward and kind of hating it, she liked it. He was clean, a little salty, maybe. Better now than after their run, she suspected.
“If you keep that up, I’ll be…yes. Like that. Right there.” Will rested his hands on her head then grabbed her braid and held tight, forcing her into a little different rhythm. “I really think you should…”
She scraped her teeth over the ridge at the base of the bulbous head then ran them down the shaft until he bumped the back of her throat. Fighting her gag impulse, she held it there with enough bite at the base to convince him not to move. He pulled hard on her braid and she relented, eased back on the pressure and glided back up until only a fraction of an inch remained in her mouth then dove deep again. Up. Down. In. Out. Varying the actions of her teeth, tongue, and lips to keep him on edge without letting him fall over the edge into orgasm. As if she knew what she was doing.
With him, she did. Somehow, she interpreted his breathing and the way he pulled on her braid and everything about him, taking cues on how to move. Before, she’d always felt a little awkward, as if the guy was in charge, and she followed. Not at all her personality in any other part of life. Maybe why sex took a backseat to the rest.
If it had ever been like this, she’d have been an addict. What about this man made her feel free enough to make the first move? Well, almost the first. But definitely the first serious one.
Massaging his sac, she felt the moment it contracted and let him jerk her back. “Not yet, Arabella. I want to be inside you the first time.”
She gave him a soft smile. “You were inside me.” She licked her lips, and he shuddered.
“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. Scoot over.”
Arabella moved into the middle of the mattress and lay on her back, no longer worried about the rumpled sheets and blanket pushed to the foot of the bed. Will joined her and propped himself up on an elbow.
“I thought you wanted inside me?”
“What’s the rush, Bella? We have all day.”
