Gray pulled back, sliding his mouth away, his gaze locked on Laney’s. Holy. Wow. The man packed a whole lot of sexy into a rapid-fire kiss. She managed to keep herself from demanding an instant replay, but barely. Proposition? Check. Hot kiss? Check. Sexy removal to the bungalow for wild, crazy sex? That part she was still working on. Ask him to carry her, and the man, no matter how buff, was likely to have a heart attack. Piggyback? Fireman style? Just thinking about navigating the path back to the resort gave her a serious case of the giggles.
Gray tugged her to her feet and pointed them both downhill. “What’s so funny?”
“Having sex is so much simpler with a bike. You leave the bar, you get on the bike, mission accomplished.”
“You don’t ever stop thinking, do you? Next time I’ll bring my bike.” But that slow grin was back on his face. “I prefer a challenge. How about this?”
He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. It was natural to slide her arm around his waist. They descended a hundred yards.
A hundred yards later, a new thought popped into her head. “What if someone sees us? Will you get in trouble?”
He gave her a look. Right. Hello. Secret sexy drinks menu.
“Do you mind?”
She had no idea. It would be awkward—not to mention downright embarrassing—if the other people on the island thought she’d been reduced to ordering a guy off a menu. Like she couldn’t get her own date.
“It’s a game, sweetheart,” he said softly. “A fantasy. Don’t overthink it. If it works for us and you enjoy it, the rest of the island can go screw themselves.”
Poetic and insightful up until the end.
“This path is relatively isolated, and the bungalows are sited for maximum privacy. There’s no line of sight from one to the other.” A frown creased his forehead. “Which is an oversight. Anyone could get into your bungalow, and resort security would never know.”
When they reached her bungalow, she fished in her beach bag for the keys. Overcautious, perhaps, to lock her door on a teeny-tiny private island in the Caribbean, but old habits died hard.
“Can I come in?”
He was giving her one last chance to back out, to change her mind. She looked at him and she knew. She was going to do this. For herself. Just once, she was going to be wicked and daring and do what she wanted. Tomorrow could take care of itself.
“Yes.” One word. Funny how potent a single syllable could be.
The key slid through the lock strip and the light flashed green. Good to go. She stepped inside and he followed, the door closing behind them with a soft click. He turned the lock as she toed off her sneakers, thinking fast. Did she strip everything off? Invite him into the shower? Darn it, she should have thought this through more, maybe asked Ashley what she did when she brought a stranger home and then copied her.
“Laney,” he rasped, and she knew then the doubts didn’t matter, because he’d started on her fantasy and she wasn’t the one in charge anymore. He was going to give her exactly what she’d asked for.
“Hands on the wall,” he ordered, and how could four words be so seductive? He laid his fingers over hers and just stroked for a minute, giving her a chance to sink into the rough-soft feel of his hands moving over hers. It was an unfamiliar sensation, having his big body pressed up against hers so tight she couldn’t step away. She should have felt suffocated. Dominated. And she did feel that last sensation, but God, it was hot. He was letting her know that he was there.
“If you want to stop, you tell me to stop.” He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “I need us to be clear on that. Can you do that for me?”
His body enveloped hers, close enough she could feel his cargo pants brush the backs of her bare legs. Finally, finally, she didn’t have to do anything. All she had to do was let go and feel. And he made her feel so much, starting with the ticklish sensation of his army pants. Maybe they could play soldier next. God, that could be good, too. She sensed he’d let her explore her fantasies for as long as she wanted to. Stretching up, pressing her fingertips against the wall to steady herself, she pushed back against him where he was hard for her.
“You’re going to do what I say.” His mouth was at her ear, giving her the rough words she wanted so badly. “Not because you don’t have a choice, but because you want to. All you have to do is let go and let me take care of you.”
“Promise,” she whispered. White plaster danced before her eyes, the fan stirring the air in lazy strokes overhead. She was adrift, waiting. Waiting for him to touch her. To please her. It felt strange to be passive, but it was strange-good. There were no worries about whether or not he came or how long it took her. This was her night. Her fantasy.