Dirty Games (Tropical Temptation)

The nerves came back with a vengeance. “There’s this, like, nylon body-stocking layer inside, so it’s not as uncomfortable as it sounds. Do you have your phone, or a camera, or…” Shit, she was babbling. She was naked, and babbling, and… “I’m so sorry.” Crying. “I’m sorry I accused you of selling me out. P-please forgive me, Luke.” Good lord. Not just crying. Ugly crying. She turned away and tried to get herself together.

Big hands closed on her shoulders and eased her back against a warm, solid wall of man. “You’re forgiven, under one condition.”

“Anything.” She drew in a deep breath, as strong arms enfolded her. “Any condition. Any consequence, or punishment. Name it. I know I deserve it.”

His low laugh fanned her neck. “Don’t give me any ideas, Trouble. The condition is that you forgive me, too.”

Confusion had her turning in his arms. “Forgive you? For what?”

“For allowing you to believe I lacked respect for your career.”

“It’s okay—”

“It’s not okay.” He tightened his hold on her, and rested his forehead against hers. “I disparaged something important to you. Even at the beginning, before I knew you, I realized your career meant a lot to you. At best, I treated it like a frivolous pursuit, and at worst, called it bullshit. What I should have said, weeks ago, was that I admire you for knowing what you’re passionate about, and following that passion. What I should have said, Quinn, is that I love you, and I want to support you in whatever fulfills you. Will you trust me to do better with that in the future?”

“I do. Trust me, too, Luke.” She pressed a hand to his cheek. “I want to give you the same. I know we met because I needed you to drop everything going on in your life and attend to me, but I swear I’m not that girl.”

“I know.” He cupped her jaw in his hands and kissed her long, and deep. So long and deep, she was battling tears again when he raised his head. But this time they were joyful tears. Still, she blinked them away, fished his phone from his jeans pocket, and stepped out of his arms.

“Trouble?”

She handed him the phone, and then pushed her shoulders back and shook her hair out. “I believe we have some ‘After’ shots to take.”

“We don’t have to. You don’t have to prove anything to me. I know you know I didn’t sell the others.”

“I want you to have them.” Lifting her chin, she sent him a silent challenge. “I’m not the same woman I was six weeks ago. It’s got nothing to do with a flat stomach, or a toned ass. It’s not because of any physical transformation. It’s because I’m in love with you, Luke McLean. That’s the ‘After’ and I want you to see. So take your damn pictures.”

He tossed the phone over his shoulder, and gathered her into his arms again. “I don’t need a picture. I only need you.” Then he lowered his mouth to hers and proved it—until her legs clamped around his waist, his hands gripped her hips, and they both struggled for air.

She stared into his eyes and rocked herself against his hard-on. “I think some parts of you are definitely in need.”

He scowled at her from under his brows. “That’s a consequence of you prancing around naked.”

Laughter bubbled in her throat. “You know, I’m a big believer in consequences.”

“That’s good, because I’ve got a big consequence and it’s all for you.”

“Is that a threat, Mr. McLean?”

“That’s a promise, Trouble. Forever.”