“Dylan,” Ella said as he reached the table. “This is Kendra, Abbie’s cousin and our new pastry chef. Kendra, meet Dylan Gold.”
Dylan stopped at the empty seat beside Kendra’s. She extended her hand. He took it lightly, his gaze moving over her face and down her body, causing her nipples to leap to attention. A zing of electricity tingled over her skin at his touch.
“A pleasure,” he said in a smooth baritone.
In spite of herself, Kendra could feel heat rising in her cheeks. Used to acting tough with strong men from her life in professional kitchens, Kendra tightened her grip, giving him a sturdy, no-nonsense shake. “Nice to meet you, too, Dylan.”
Chapter 2
Late the next afternoon, Dylan rested on his surfboard as he paddled out once more toward the horizon. The Atlantic Ocean was warmer than the Pacific, the waves smaller. But the underlying deep sense of well-being and joy filled him as it always did when he was in the water on his board, the rest of the world falling completely away.
When he was far enough out, he turned toward the shore and peered back over his shoulder. A big, perfect wave had formed about eight feet behind him. He paddled faster. The wave crested toward him, pushing and lifting him. He grasped the board and planked his body just for an instant before rising to his feet, stamping his rear foot and leaning for balance.
He was momentarily lost in a blue, swirling vacuum of pure, perfect peace. Then the wave lifted him, the sensual, visceral power of the ocean coursing through him. He rode the fast-moving wall of water, the wind in his face, adrenaline pumping through his veins. The sheer joy that overtook him as he skimmed along the top of the wave made him laugh out loud.
As it ebbed, he jumped from the board and slid off the back of the wave. He grabbed the nose of the board under his arm as he let the waves pull him in toward the shore. When he hit the shallow water, he rose to his feet, his heart pounding pleasantly, the sun warm on his wet body.
As he bent down to retrieve his towel, he saw the new girl sitting under one of the umbrellas. She was farther down the beach from the main cluster of vacationers who were laying out, playing frisbee or sipping tropical drinks at the beach bar. Before he’d even made the conscious decision to do so, he headed toward her.
He’d been intrigued by her the evening before at dinner. She had short, wavy auburn hair that framed a very pretty face with large blue-green eyes, a snub nose and a full, sensual mouth. She’d been dressed in a cream-colored silk blouse tucked into a black leather mini skirt. Her small, high breasts had been bare beneath the blouse, her nipples visible against the sheer fabric.
The conversation around the table had been companionable and pleasant, most of it directed toward Kendra, as the guest of honor. She’d shared a few funny stories about what it was like as a woman working in a professional kitchen environment filled with hard-drinking, foul-mouthed guys and a slave-driving head chef. She was funny and quick-witted and he’d been charmed by her. She’d struck him as self-confident and strong—traits he found very sexy in a woman, especially a submissive woman.
Ryan had shared that Kendra was heavily into the BDSM scene, but Dylan was still trying to figure out if she was on the Domme or sub side of the equation. It hadn’t seemed quite appropriate to ask it outright at dinner. He’d looked for her later at the nightly dungeon party but hadn’t seen her.
After an hour or so, he had run into her cousin. Abbie explained Kendra was exhausted from her long day of travel and settling in. “Henry is expecting her first thing in the morning. She was already practically asleep when I stopped by her room on the way here.”
Surprised at how disappointed he was, Dylan had tried to distract himself by scening with a cute vacationer. Even as he gave her the flogging she’d sweetly requested, his mind kept drifting back to Kendra. After the flogging, his scene partner had made it quite clear she was eager to take things to the next level back in her room. Dylan let her down gently, explaining he didn’t scene with guests outside the confines of the dungeon.
Even if he’d been attracted to the girl, at thirty-three, casual hookups with virtual strangers no longer held any appeal. Which was ironic, given this new job on Desire Island, where there were literally dozens of eager submissives available to him every night of the week, if he chose to partake.
But that wasn’t why he’d taken the gig. If he could prevent at least one newbie in the scene from using BDSM as carte blanche to engage in stupid, dangerous behavior, he would be happy.