“We should get our things,” she said and didn’t wait for my reply. She took the outside stairs up and entered the door where we’d stashed our stuff.
I followed. The woman before me was all strength. The way she picked up her bag and rummaged through it as though her life depended on it allowed me to see her vulnerability. I pried the bag from her hand and walked her back to the wall, where a shaft of light from the small porthole window haloed her as if she was an angel. But I was no saint.
“I need you to understand how very attracted I am to you,” I said while guiding her hand to the bulge in my pants. “No woman gets me hard without touching me the way you do.” I let go of her hand and cupped her right breast. “Your tits are perfect. Just the right size for my mouth.” I slid my other hand to her ass. “And this is a gift from God himself.”
“But?” she asked as though there had to be one.
For once, she didn’t fight me. She hadn’t pushed me away. I gave in to the pull and covered her mouth with mine, wholly prepared for a knee to the balls if I’d read this all wrong.EightLizzyI shouldn’t want, shouldn’t need him. Yet my body burned for him, my thoughts yearned for him, and my heart ached for him.
He tasted of the IPA beer he’d been drinking, but it was much more than that. It was hot, a little angry, most definitely possessive, almost claiming in nature—fueled by which one of us, I wasn’t sure. I was drowning in my desire for him when I was thrown a lifeline in the form of the door opening and my two saviors from earlier walking in.
“Oh, did we interrupt?” one of them asked.
I might have been a little ashamed for not remembering either of their names, but they didn’t seem at all repentant about interrupting.
“It’s fine,” I said, pulling down my shirt that had shifted north when Striker laid his hands on me.
The big guy didn’t move, and his gaze held steady on mine, daring me to leave.
“It’s okay. We’re leaving,” the other said with a grin the size of the sunshine state.
When the door closed, I said, “Don’t you think we should go too?”
Why had I asked? The man had enough power over me already.
“It’s probably better if we wait. The fewer people who see us not walking to the compound, the better,” he said, still way too close.
Just because we were stuck there for the next few minutes, didn’t mean we had to be so close. As I attempted to move away from him, I said, “God, I’m allergic to you,” hoping satire would gain me much-needed space.
His perfect brow rose in question. “Are you finding it hard to breathe around me?” he said with a wicked grin that made me even wetter.
“Maybe,” I admitted and ducked around him to snag my bag. “But it’s the multiple orgasms I have whenever I’m around you that are the problem.” Had I really just admitted that? A glance over my shoulder showed me his lips were curled into a sexy smirk. “And don’t say something like an epic penis infusion from you could be the cure.”
“I would have said epic penis injection, but infusion works.”
Laughing was good for cleansing the soul. I did just that as I left the room because I was more than a little hot and bothered. If we would had stayed there a second longer, I would have given in to his charms even if it meant begging. I needed air to cool off and fast.
Though we hadn’t stayed in the room long, the boat was a ghost town when we came out. We walked across the main deck to the port side and crossed the short gangplank to the pier. But we didn’t follow the last of the stragglers. Instead, Striker steered us right. We left the beach in favor of the wooded area, and before too long, we came upon a strategically placed four-wheeler. The keys I’d assumed he’d gotten appeared in his hand.
“Where are we going?”
I expected another cryptic answer, but instead he was straightforward. “The other side of the island. We can walk, but it is a long one.” When I stood there, he nodded his head at the four-wheeler and said, “Get on.”
The bright and sunny day that had greeted us when we exited the plane had all but dimmed. I was at a loss for time without my phone. After stuffing our bags in a rear compartment, he climbed aboard. I got on, and it was no different than when I rode behind him on his Harley.
The music coming from the direction of the compound muted the sound of the engine firing. The man could seemingly do everything well, straddling the line of sandy beach and trees on this remote island. There wasn’t a road to be seen, and I assumed this was a private island owned by one of the rich students on the boat.