“Please!” she begged and dug her nails into his shoulders.
He pushed a second and then a third finger inside her and thrust in and out of her faster and faster. She gasped at the sensation that shot through her in a hot shiver. She couldn’t say anything. She had nothing in her head but the pleasure of his body—his heat, his scent, the feel of him filing her.
“Please,” she whispered again. He sucked her clit into his mouth and pushed deeper. She gave a cry and the world splintered into a flush of pleasure that swept through her time and time again. Just like a storm, it shook her, leaving her battered.
Mike suddenly pulled away, pulling her up with him. He lay on his back and she straddled his hips. She eased herself onto him until he was fully inside her again. He squeezed her ass and lifted her up off of him and eased her back down. Her hair fell over her shoulder, wrapping around them. She placed her hands on his chest as she started to move faster and faster. She started to make small circles with her hips. Under her, Mike gasped.
His grabbed her ass and squeezed her cheeks. His hips jerked and Karen wiggled once more. Heat spurted up into her and Mike gave a groan.
Breathing hard, Karen fell onto his chest. M
ike trailed his fingertips up and down her back. She rolled onto her side. “We’ve got to get a bigger couch.”
Mike fell down on the couch beside her, breathing hard. He leaned up on an elbow to look over at her.
She touched a hand to his face. “Mike, I’ve missed you, too. But…I’m not going to let you take over my life.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
She pushed up a little and wiggled for some space. “I want a guy who’ll stand beside me—as an equal. You’re still Mike Collins, big shot billionaire. You’re always going to push.”
Taking her other hand, he put it on his bare chest. “And you can’t push back? I sure as hell like it when you do.”
“With you, I feel like I’m back in high school. No matter how much I achieved, I always felt like I’d come up short compared to the popular kids.” She shook her head.
“Karen, you’re selling yourself short here. Look around you. You did this. You’ve made this into a world-class resort. You’re going to be running the place. And if you want it in writing, we’ll draw up another contract. This is about what you want—I want to give you that. And more. You took a chance on me once—took in a guy from the storm. How about giving that same guy another shot at it?”
Chapter Twenty
Karen decided the hotel was made for weddings. The place looked like a massive cake itself. White flowers of all shapes stood in tall arrangements or hung in garlands around the pool and huts, leaving the air fragrant. The weather cooperated with blue sky and puffy white clouds that provided just enough shade, and the trade winds kept the heat at bay. Most of island locals had turned out, and their regular guests as well. It made for a colorful gathering and not just due to the garments—Karen was pretty sure beach bums were rubbing shoulders with billionaires out there.
Karen sucked in a deep breath. The intricate pattern of the tapa—the traditional Fijian wedding cloth—wound around her figure in a strapless gown that swept down to the floor. And Seneed kept fussing with her hair, which hung down her back loose. She turned to Seneed. “I can’t do this.”
Seneed grinned. “Think you kind of have to now. No one’s going to miss this party.”
Was she really going to marry Mike? The day before yesterday, she’d met Mike’s brother and his wife, Zach and Lucy. She liked Lucy at once—she seemed a solid, sensible woman. Zach looked like a cowboy who couldn’t wait to get home. She also had a stack of paperwork waiting in her office, but the new hotel manager—Judy—had locked Karen out, wagged the key at her and said, “You’re not touching it until you get back from your honeymoon.”
She wasn’t sure where you went on a honeymoon when you already lived in paradise, but the yacht Mike had hired for them now sat at anchor just off of the hotel beach, looking ridiculously large and absurdly expensive. She wasn’t ever going to ask what that had cost Mike.
She glanced out the window of her room and glimpsed Mike.
He had on a white suit and an open neck shirt—he’d refused to wear the tapa, but his shirt had a similar pattern on it. He looked like one of the models in the ads he’d developed to lure wedding couples to Castaway Island. Or more like one of the locals. His skin held a bronze tan that brought out the blue in his eyes, and he’d been letting his hair grow a little longer. It curled around the collar of his suit. He looked amazing.
Fingers cold, Karen turned away from the window. “Seneed, would you get Mike for me?”
Hairbrush in hand, Seneed stepped back. “Always with the arguing with you two. Can’t you get through one day without negotiations?”
Karen shook her head. “I really need to see him.”
“Okay, it’s your wedding.”
Five minutes later, Mike knocked on the door and came in. “Isn’t there some rule about not seeing the bride?” He took her hands. “I like you in this thing—you should wear a sarong more often.”
“It’s bark cloth. And the no-see rule, that’s for a European wedding, but Mike—”
“Uh, oh, I know that tone of voice. Please tell me you don’t want yet another amendment to our pre-nuptials? I know you don’t want anything from me. Boy, do I know that after all we hashed out about the money and where it goes. But I’m not changing the trust set up for—”
“Mike, are you really sure about this? I mean, you could probably have your pick of any girl in the world, and I’m not—”