First Time in Forever (Puffin Island 1)

“And do you always do what’s sensible?”

“Always. I like order and predictability. I’m only interested in things I can control.” She kept her eyes forward, staring into the darkness of the bay. Lights from boats sent a warm glow flickering across the water. “With you, I feel out of control. As if I’ve lost my balance.”

“Good.” He moved her hair aside gently, and she could feel the warmth of his breath on the back of her neck. “I’m pleased I unbalance you.”

“I’m worried the reality will be a letdown.”

“It won’t be.” He turned her to face him. His gaze was slumberous, and all she saw in his eyes was liquid desire that mirrored hers. “Are you nervous?”

“Yes. I don’t feel any of the right things when I’m in bed with a man. It’s as if something inside me isn’t switched on.”

His smile was slow and sure. “Maybe it’s a question of knowing where to find the switch. Why don’t you leave that part to me?”

“I think there might be something wrong with me.”

“Honey, there’s nothing wrong with you. I have surveillance footage that proves it.”

She thought about that night in the pool and leaned her forehead against his chest. “I thought you said it would be wiped.”

“After sixty days.” His fingers gently massaged her hair. “So for the next few weeks I have visual evidence that you’re not who you think you are. Or we could try a different way to prove the same thing.”

Her heart was pounding so fast she felt sure he must be able to feel it. “Are you always so sure about everything?”

“Not everything.” He lowered his head so that his mouth was a breath away from hers. “But this I’m sure about.” His hand slid to the nape of her neck, and he held her head while he kissed her slowly, taking his time as he explored her mouth, her jaw, the hollow of her neck until the urgency inside her was a primal, desperate beat.

She wrapped her arms around him, felt him haul her close so that she was anchored against hardness and strength. And still he

kissed her, his mouth exploring hers with leisurely skill until all she could hear was the soft thrumming of her own pulse in her ears and his murmured words of encouragement. If he hadn’t been holding her, she would have sunk to the floor in a pool of molten desire. She was dizzy with it. Disoriented. All she knew was that of all the things that had happened over the past month, this felt the most right. Her hands were in his hair, her mouth responding to the erotic rhythm of his kiss.

She slid her hands down his back and tugged at his shirt.

She pressed against him, feeling the rigid thickness through the thin fabric of her dress.

“Steady.” He whispered the words against her mouth. “We have all night.”

She wanted to tell him that she wasn’t going to last five minutes, let alone all night, but at that moment his hand slid from her hip to her rib cage, and she felt his fingers brush the underside of her breast. It was such a relief that she moaned, but then he drew his hand away and smoothed her back instead, leaving her body vibrating with frustration.

“Ryan—” She’d never felt this desperate for anything in her life before, but even her pleading didn’t persuade him to alter his pace.

He continued to kiss her, long and deep, until she was trembling and shivering, until thick syrupy pleasure spread through her body. She was wondering what would happen when he finally touched her, when he slid the zipper on her dress and she felt his fingers slowly trace the length of her spine. His hands moved to her shoulders, and the dress slithered onto the wooden floor in a whisper of silk, leaving her standing in her underwear.

He eased her away from him, and the look he gave her from under those thick, dark lashes sent a lick of fire burning across her skin.

She trembled with arousal. “I wish—”

“You wish?” His voice was husky and deep, and she lifted her hands to the front of his shirt and started undoing the buttons. Because she was shaking, she fumbled, but he didn’t help her, just stood and waited, holding himself still while she struggled to get him naked.

In the end she gave up and ripped at the last few, sending buttons bouncing across the floor.

She heard him laugh, and then he scooped her into his arms as if she weighed nothing and carried her across the room, through slivers of dark and moonlight, to his bedroom. She saw briefly that it had the same incredible view, the same canvas of sea and stars, and then he was lowering her onto the bed, the muscles of his shoulders bunched as he supported her weight.

Clumsy, she fumbled with his belt, but her fingers were useless, and instead she gave up, frustrated, and covered him with the flat of her hand. He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a laugh and finished what she’d started. She stroked her hands over his powerful shoulders, lingered on the rough texture of his scar and slid lower. She felt the roughness of his thigh brush against the softness of hers, and then he shifted, giving himself full access to her body.

She started to remove her underwear, but he stopped her, pressing her flat to the bed with a wicked smile.

“That’s my job.”

“But—”