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He shook his head, seeming frustrated, which was not what she was going for. She wanted him relaxed. At ease. “I don’t know if it’s a good idea for us to spend time together.”
“What are you afraid of, Zane? That I’m going to kiss you again?” She had a sliver of regret at putting things on the line like this at the outset, but perhaps it was for the best. If he was going to reject her, best to get it out of the way.
“For starters, yes.”
Allison pressed her lips together tightly. She decided then and there that if any moves were going to be made, the first would have to be his. If he wanted her the way she wanted him, he was going to have to show her. She wasn’t putting her heart and pride on the line a second time, especially not when he was so willing to say out loud that he was worried about what she might do. “I promise I won’t kiss you, okay? Just stop acting like you’re afraid of me, because I know you aren’t.”
“Of course I’m not afraid.”
“Then prove it. Let me make you dinner.”
Zane ran his tongue across his lower lip tentatively. It was one of his most adorable quirks and he always did it when he couldn’t make up his mind about something. Allison didn’t like that her offer required any deliberation at all, but she certainly appreciated the vision of his mouth. “Dinner? Nothing else?”
Allison closed up her sarong and rose from her seat. “Fair warning. You might go home incredibly satisfied.” She patted him on the shoulder. “From my cooking. It’s really good.”
Three
Zane’s entire body was humming when Allison left, which left his brain running at a clip to catch up. If Scott knew what was going through Zane’s head right now and how that all centered on his little sister, he would end him. It wouldn’t be a quick death. It would be a long, painful one, during which Scott would drive home a single point—Allison was off-limits. Always had been. Always would be.
But here on a dot of an island, more than a thousand miles away from his best friend, Zane couldn’t deny his churning thoughts or the insistent pulse of electricity in his body. The second Allison’s sarong fell open to reveal the tops of her luscious thighs, the soft plane of her stomach and that little spot on her hip where the tie of her bikini bottoms sat, all bets were off. Or most of them, at least. He’d withstood an unholy rush of blood to the center of his body, so fierce that it nearly knocked him off his feet. Thinking about it was only providing an opportunity to put a finer point on the things he’d wanted to do to her—drop to his knees, start at her ankle and kiss every inch of her lovely leg, moving north until he reached the bow at her hip. The only thing that would make sense if he ever got that far would be to tug at the string, quite possibly with his teeth, slowly untie it and use his mouth to leave her curling her fingers into his scalp and calling out his name.
Thoughts like that were going to ruin Zane and everything he held dear.
He stalked into his cottage and opened the fridge, if nothing but for the blast of cold air against his overheated skin. It didn’t help. It somehow made everything worse—another bodily conflict to endure as the shot of coolness mixed with the balmy salt air—everything on this island felt good. Too good. He popped open another beer and took a swig, but dammit, it was only a pleasing jolt of sweet and bitter, a shock of frothy cold followed by a wave of warmth that made him pleasantly dizzy. The erection he’d tried so desperately to fight off was now at a full salute, begging for attention and hungry for release.
There was only one way to get past this, and it didn’t involve an icy shower. He couldn’t wash away Allison’s effect on him. He had to get past it. He stormed off to his bedroom, shucked his clothes and stretched out on the magnificent bed. The linens were smooth and impossibly soft against his skin, another pleasure he didn’t relish, but this was the only way to keep himself from doing something foolish later tonight when he saw Allison. It was time to take matters—namely, his erection—into his own hands.
He didn’t bother with seduction, reaching down and wrapping his fingers around his length. He closed his eyes and allowed himself the luxury of visions of Allison—glossy hair framing those deep, soulful eyes, plump lips and a smile that could turn ice to a puddle. Her shapely legs and curvy hips. Her luscious breasts. He took long strokes with his hand, imagining kissing her again, except there was no stopping this time. He started things, and she turned up the volume, their tongues winding, mouths hot and wet and hungry for more.
The tension in his body built, but coiled tighter, a push and pull he wouldn’t be able to take for long. To edge himself closer, he conjured an illusion of Allison naked and the feeling of her body on top of him, holding him down with her warmth and softness. He imagined being inside her—the closeness, the heat—and her heady sweetness perfuming the air as he brought her to her peak. With that thought, the pressure was released and he arched his back, riding out the waves of pleasure. His breath hitched in a sharp inhale, then came out in a long rush of relief. He settled back on the pillow and slowly pried his eyes open, not to the sight of Allison but to the white painted ceiling and whirring fan overhead. He turned and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. He had four hours until dinner. Hopefully this solo rendezvous had prepared him. Now to shower, read a few chapters of a book, take a nap and hope that he could keep his libido in check.
Five minutes before six, Zane headed to Allison’s cottage, dressed in jeans and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He carried his flip-flops and walked barefoot through the sand, which was still warm from the day’s rays. Over the water, the sun was dipping lower, painting the sky in vibrant shades of pink and orange. It was so obvious and easy to say, but Rose Cove really was paradise. He didn’t want to leave anytime soon. Having distance from his past and from Joshua Lowell? Amazing. If it weren’t for Scott, and Zane’s company, he might never go back to Falling Brook.
He found himself taking his time as he strolled across the beach, now approaching Allison’s. She had every window and door flung open, allowing him to watch her in the kitchen, milling about. He really hoped she wasn’t going to put the full-court press on him tonight, and that her only intention was for the two of them to spend a few hours together. It was time to leave The Kiss where it belonged—in the past. Their circumstances did not allow for him to ever go there again. One thing he’d learned when his parents lost every penny of the family’s money to Black Crescent and Joshua Lowell’s father was that the sooner you learned to accept your personal situation and deal with what you had in front of you, the better.
“Knock, knock,” Zane said, standing at the French doors to Allison’s cottage. “I brought a bottle of wine, but I can’t really take credit for it. Your aunt stocked my fridge.”
Allison turned and smiled, looking fresh-faced and sun kissed, wearing a swishy black skirt and a royal blue tank top. Her feet were again bare and her hair was up in a high ponytail. There wasn’t a single made-up thing about her, and that made her perfect, however much he wished he hadn’t noticed.She’s your best friend’s little sister. Don’t be an idiot.It was his new mantra. He committed himself to repeating it over and over until it became part of his psyche.
“I’m glad you came.” She took the wine from him and carried it straight to the kitchen counter. No kiss on the cheek hello. No hug.
Zane was relieved, even if there was something in his body that was registering as disappointment. “Well, you know, I had so many invitations, I wasn’t sure what to do.” He took a seat at the kitchen island, with a view of the cooktop, where something delicious-smelling was simmering away.
Allison laughed, then handed him the corkscrew. “Here. Make yourself useful.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He got up and opened the bottle, then took the liberty of finding the wineglasses, which was easily done since this kitchen had the exact layout of his own. “To friends.” He offered her a glass and held up his own for the toast.
“Yes. To friends.” She took a sip, hardly looking at him at all.
He wondered if he’d been too standoffish earlier. He only wanted to keep things in a place where nobody got hurt. He didn’t want to loseallof the warmth between them. Just some of it. Keep things friendly, but not too friendly. “Have you seen any of the other guests on the island at all?” he asked.
She shook her head and lifted the lid off a pot. “I haven’t. Angelique stopped by and told me that a few people canceled their reservations because there’s talk of a hurricane.”
“That’s what you were talking about with Scott, isn’t it?” This didn’t sit well with Zane. It would be just his luck that the weather would go bad and ruin his idyllic vacation. Worse than that, they were sitting ducks if a bad storm came through.
“Don’t worry. Both Angelique and Hubert said this happens all the time. The forecasts are often wildly inaccurate, and the models have the storm going any number of directions.” Allison gestured outside with a nod. “Look at that sunset. There’s no way a storm is coming.”
He stole a glance, even though he’d been admiring it minutes earlier. “You’re probably right.”
