Dirty Games (Tropical Temptation)

Just as her ponderings about the animals and insects part of the equation started to freak her out, the vegetation ended. They shot into sunlight so bright and startling, she blinked behind her polarized sunglasses. Drifts of sand encroached on the path, shushing her tires. She sort of stalled to a stop beside where Luke stood straddling his bike. He took hold of her handlebar in a caretaker move that wasn’t necessary, but made her heart stutter anyway.

“What do you think?”

She forced herself to relinquish the sight of his big, masculine hand wrapped around her bike handle, tendons raised in an unconscious show of strength, and looked at her surroundings. The curtain of green they’d traveled through surrounded a small cove. The beach slanted gently down to where knee-high waves foamed out to an iridescent sheen on pearly white sand. Beyond, blue-green water stretched all the way to the horizon. Puffy white clouds sailed there like a distant regatta.

“Breathtaking.”

“Yeah.”

She turned to find him looking at her, his dark glasses pushed to the top of his head so she couldn’t mistake the fact that she was the object of his attention. He was calling her beautiful, and it was nothing she hadn’t heard hundreds of times from hundreds of people, but from him, it went beyond an acknowledgment of lucky genetics, or even a compliment. It meant something. Or she wanted it to, at least. Swagger was her only defense against that stare of his—the one that saw so much more than she’d ever shown anyone. She dismounted and walked her bike toward an outcrop of rocks. “If you’re trying to make me forget you dragged me through the better part of an Ironman under the pretenses of a beach day, you’re going to have to try harder.”

He walked his bike over and parked it beside hers. The corner of his mouth lifted. “What’d you have in mind?”

“Dance with me.” The request flew out of her mouth before she realized what she’d intended to say.

He looked as startled by the request as she was. The breeze rustled through the palms while he shrugged off the backpack. The waves lapped the sand. From the depths of the trees came the warble of birds. “We don’t have any music,” he finally said, as he unzipped the center compartment and busied himself digging around inside.

“Are you blushing?” Delighted at the thought, she moved closer.

“No.” Without looking up, he handed her a towel.

She tossed it to the sand. Her sunglasses and slouchy tank top followed. “I’ve got at least twenty different playlists on my phone.” She didn’t give a damn about music. It suddenly occurred to her that she hadn’t really danced in months—not since the knee sprain—and she missed it. She felt like dancing, and she wanted his arms around her when she did it. “What’s the matter, Luke? Afraid to dance with me? Worried you can’t keep up?”

She kicked off her shorts and twirled away, loving the sheer freedom of the movement, knowing her hard-won shape made the most of the little black bikini she’d chosen. Thanks to Luke’s coaching…browbeating…whatever, and her own determination, her body had returned to the slender, camera-ready condition she’d taken for granted most of her life. Experimenting, she did a fluid turn and took it into a leap. The familiar weightlessness left her giddy. She landed ankle deep in a wave and sucked in a quick breath as tiny droplets of cool water splashed her.

Deciding to deal with the painful part sooner than later, she leaned over, scooped up handfuls of water, and poured them on her arms, chest, and middle. In the process, she couldn’t help noting with satisfaction that five weeks of work and sacrifice were definitely paying off in the form of lean limbs, a flat stomach, and an ass tight enough to star in its own close-up. Weight training had put new definition in her arms and torso. She’d always had dancer’s legs, and at this moment, she wanted to use them.

Her chosen partner, however, stood barefoot at the waterline, arms folded across his superhero chest. “Seems like a partner would only get in your way. How about I be the audience?”

He needed convincing? She could be convincing. Especially since she’d caught the admiration in his eyes, not just for her body, but her ability. She wanted more of that. Because they had the spot all to themselves, she did another twirl, whipped off her bikini top in the process, and covered herself with her arm. Aware of his eyes now locked on her partially hidden breasts, she flung the top at his feet. “I prefer audience participation.” She skimmed a foot through the surf and kicked water at him.

“Careful what you ask for.”

“I don’t think I need to be careful.” To prove it, she turned her back on him, stretched up onto her toes, and twined her arms behind her head, lifting her hair and letting it tumble down her back. “You know what I do think?”

“If you’re smart, you’ll think about how fast you can run.”

“Ha. I think big, bad Luke McLean doesn’t know how to dance.”

The next instant quick hands spun her around. She found herself caught in strong arms and pulled against unyielding contours of an unmistakably male frame.

A hot, hard ridge carved space for itself along her fluttering stomach. Very male.

Her limbs turned leaden and heat dripped like melted caramel from low in her abdomen to a place between her thighs.

“This is how I dance,” he murmured.

A burly hand sank into the back of her bikini bottoms, cupped her ass, and lifted her. Stranded her against him. “Dirty dancing?” she panted.

His mouth nuzzled her ear. “I guess that’s one name for it.”

“Okay. I can work with your skillset.?

??

He hitched her higher and let her slide down the length of his cock. “Good to know.” His teeth sank into her earlobe.

Her eyelids threatened to close, but she mustered up some willpower and squirmed out of his hold. “Uh-uh. I meant dancing. This is my area of expertise, so I’m in charge. I get to be the trainer. You’re the trainee.”