As if she'd heard his thoughts, she moaned her agreement into his mouth. Minimal light filtered through the rectangular portals, slanting illumination over the brown linens in their cave-like haven.
Her frantic hands tore at his jacket, then yanked his long-sleeved polo shirt past his head, sending it sailing to the floor at the same time he finally managed to peel up her neon T-shirt and, heaven help him, her matching green bra.
Damn, he loved her bright colors and the way they echoed the brightness inside her.
The boat rocked under his feet with the gentle slap of each wave against the hull, but the soft swell of Nikki's br**sts above the lacy cups rocked him even more. A chilly gust of salty air blasted through the hatch, beading tempting br**sts against satin, luring him to touch more of her. All of her.
His mouth exploring her neck, he reached behind to close the door. Darker. Warmer.
Alone.
Lowering her, he extended an arm to brace on the edge of the mattress until they stretched side by side along the brown comforter. Shoes thudded—one, two, three, four—onto the waterproof flooring. "Do you want—?"
"Yes. Totally. Want you to stop talking."
"Roger." He could think of better ways to occupy his mouth, especially since she seemed so intent on getting them both in the buff ASAP. He clicked on the miniature lamp mounted to the wall, intent on recording every inch of her to memory.
On her back, she scrunched down her jeans with an enticing wriggle and kicked them free, revealing matching mint panties and oh-so-long legs. His pulse spiked, couldn't possibly jump higher.
And then she proved him wrong.
Nikki skimmed her foot up over his ankle, rucking up his jeans to burrow her toes higher, rubbing back and forth, skin to skin contact all the more intense as the stakes rose for them.
He released the front clasp on her bra, desire pounding harder, pulling tauter. He grazed hot kisses down her neck, lower, so slow, tormenting until she splayed her fingers through his hair and guided him to...
Yes.
He blew warm air over the heart of her a second before he tasted her essence—hot and moist. And apparently just what she wanted if her gasps and sweet whimpers were anything to gauge by, her legs widening to give him more. All. Her release came hard and fast, her clawing grip on his shoulders sending a bolt of pleasure throbbing through him. He held her thighs and soothed her through the aftershocks.
Confined in the cramped hull, she grappled with his jeans, unbuttoning the fly one strained pop at a time. Her hand slid inside and...
Uh, what was he thinking about?
His mind blanked, thoughts washed away along with all his blood flooding south. Jeans flew off as fast as what remained of his restraint. Fishing a condom from his wallet, he sheathed himself and rolled on top of her soft scented body, lowering himself, seating deep inside her.
Her legs locked around his waist, urging him to move, move again, endlessly with an urgency echoed inside him. The boat undulated with waves that left her clinging tight to him for anchor. The surprise surges heightened the pleasure, deeper, harder, then shallow and faster.
Until her toned legs demanded he give all. He gritted his teeth through the blinding drive to finish. But not before her...not before...
Her scream sliced through his restraint like the hull of a boat parting a wave, the wake crashing into a churning tumult that lasted and lasted, finally fading. Shuddering in the aftermath, he sagged on top of her, her sighs heating over his neck. Her hands glided along his sweaty shoulders in feather light touches that slowed along with her breaths at the onset of her nap.
Shifting to his side, he pulled her closer, holding her while she slept. No more delaying. He would have to tell her about his alcoholism, something that could, and very likely should, send her running.
Why hadn't he done this back when the prospect of losing her didn't rock him even more than facing combat?
Resting on her side, Nikki watched Carson's perfectly sculpted face as he slept, not a peaceful nap, but restless, mixed with the occasional twitch as if he might wake at any second. The tiny digital clock blared three in the afternoon, plenty of time to let him relax a while longer. She stretched her arm from under the fluffy weight of the comforter and clicked off the tiny light, casting the cave-like cabin and Carson's features in shadows.
She'd sensed a tension in him while they made love, connecting in some way that scared her to her toenails. She hadn't known the emotions would come so fast, so thick, swamping her in more—deeper—feelings for Carson than she'd ever dreamed. She wasn't so naive that she couldn't recognize the explosiveness of how he made her feel in bed.
Four orgasms in one afternoon was nothing to sneeze at, although he seemed to tease them from her as easily as an achoo.
She'd thought their first time making love had been special, even their abruptly ended encounter months ago. Now she knew none of it had come close to what had been waiting for them. .
Because they knew each other better? Or cared more? Could things grow stronger?
The caring part scared her. Really scared her. Because she didn't trust him not to break her heart again if they got closer. Her cold toes warming between his legs, she allowed her hands the unobserved pleasure of touching him, stroking along his muscled arms that had held her close, down his chest and lower still to his six-pack, tanned even in winter.
She couldn't avoid hearing whatever he'd wanted to say much longer. She'd chased off admissions with sex earlier. But whatever he was holding back, his reasons for leaving her that had nothing to do with work, would all come out soon.