Unbelievable (Beg For It 4)

He must have caught me looking because he gave me a wink. “I’ll let you touch later on.”

“Still cocky stranded on a deserted island.” I shook my head.

“Hell, yeah, I’m cocky. Just you wait until I build you a fire and roast you up some fresh fish.”

My mouth watered at the prospect. We headed down to the coastline again, following it until we reached a rocky outcropping.

“I knew it!” Colt exclaimed victoriously. I navigated around the long way, in and around where I didn’t have to climb jagged rocks. Around the bend, I saw a shallow lagoon, clear water over white sand. In the middle of it, looking like a man in the middle of a wilderness survival video, stood Colt, knee-deep with a spear aimed and ready to fire.

For a man good with words, he was good with his hands, too. It took a couple of hours and a bunch of splash-falls and swearing, but he emerged victorious with not one, not two or three, but four fat fish, two caught with the net and two with his spear.

“Man brings meat!” he roared, pounding his chest.

“It took you less than a day to turn into a caveman!” But I was happy about it. Those fish looked delicious.

Now I knew exactly what to do. Years spent dreaming of cooking school had also meant hours of watching all sorts of cooking videos, from DIY to reality shows. I knew how to prep a fresh whole fish.

While I gutted and cleaned, Colt went about building us a fire. A real, honest-to-goodness fire. He started with dry hibiscus branches, pushing one along the other in a flattened-out groove. Then he added the smoldering, smoking wood dust into some dry coconut fibers and gently blew on them until a flame licked out bright, bold and yellow-gold.

“Yes!” We high-fived. While I cooked the fish he found us some more mangos and added in a few ripe papayas.

I wasn’t sure I’d ever had a better meal. Peeling back the fish meat, eating it with my fingers along with juicy, freshly picked tropical fruit, I knew the noises I made were obscene. But Colt was right there with me, grunting and groaning.

“Oh My God!” I moaned, eyes closed.

“Yes, just like that.” He eyed me, enjoying watching my pleasure.

I threw a stick at him. Not a large one. I couldn’t afford to injure my life support system. “Seriously, Colt. How do you know how to do all this outdoorsy stuff?”

“My Gram. She was a firm believer in making sure we all had wilderness survival skills.”

I said a prayer of thanksgiving to his lovely grandmother in all of her wisdom. “Is she really outdoorsy?” I pictured a homespun type, strong and sturdy.

Colt burst out laughing so hard he doubled over. He wiped his eyes. “She’s a baroness,” he finally managed.

“A what?”

“She’s the Dowager Baroness of Warwick.”

I sat for a moment, squinting at him. “Are you shitting me? Do those sorts of titles even exist any more?”

“They most certainly do.” He stood up, brushing off his pants. “I’d like to introduce you to the Baron of Warwick.” He clicked together his heels and gave me a formal bow.

The fish almost fell out of my mouth. Only it was too tasty to waste, so I shoved it back in. “Shut up.” Now I threw a palm frond at him.

“I will not shut up,” he informed me. “You know it’s treason to taunt a baron.”

“I’m American.”

“Well, that explains why you’re acting like such a hussy.”

“Aren’t you American?” He nodded in affirmation. “Then how are you a baron?”

“You don’t have to be born in England to inherit a title.”

“Are you sure?”

“Are you sincerely asking me? Because I might have to subject you to a long lecture on the types of titles and the various ways in which they can be bequeathed.”

“I don’t even know what that word means.”

“Do you see how boring it will be?”

He had me laughing so hard I almost forgot how filthy and desperate we were, stranded on a deserted island in the middle of nowhere without a flare or any other way to signal for help. Almost.

“Panic setting in?” he asked, right on cue, as our laughter subsided and my hand started white-knuckle-gripping my knee.

“A bit.” I acknowledged, letting him pull me up to standing.

“Then how about a dip?”

With a mischievous smile, he pulled me out of the cave and down a narrow path we’d missed before to the shallow lagoon. The moon shone down, illuminating the shimmering waters. A soft, warm breeze blew. I couldn’t imagine how good it would feel to dip my body into the warm water after the heat of the day. It was still probably near 80 degrees, but earlier it had felt much more hot and humid.

Fuck it. I started peeling off my sticky clothes, suddenly ravenous for a swim. He could see me naked. He’d stripped me down on my kitchen counter top. Had that only been a week ago?

I was under the water quick, not waiting to see if he was watching. But he was watching. I knew he was.

We swam together in the warm, shallow waters of the lagoon, the stars shining brightly overhead.

“How’s your jaw?” he asked, bringing his hand to brush my cheek.

“Fine.” I touched it, realizing the Band Aid had come off. I didn’t remember that happening. “How’s your head?” I asked, bringing my fingers around to the back of his neck.

“Never better.” He circled his hands around my waist, drawing me closer, bringing his lips to mine. We kissed slowly, savoring each other as the warm water lapped around our naked bodies. Moving against each other, our fingers caressing, our lips and tongues tasting, we drank each other in under the moonlight.

“This is so crazy.” Breathless, I kissed his neck, his shoulders.

“I’m just glad your clothes have finally come off.” He brought his hands to my stomach, slowly working their way up to cup my breasts. “I kept waiting for you to get too hot in the sun.” He palmed me, brushing his thumbs up over my nipples. Pushing his muscular thigh between my legs, he brought me higher up. And he started to lick, working his way along one breast as he massaged the other, sucking my nipple, taking his time.

I moaned, pressing against his hip. He secured me there, pushing up and rocking against me.

“So gorgeous,” he groaned, burying himself in my breasts. Cupping one in his large hand, he brought his mouth to my stiff tip and sucked, then used his teeth with the slightest graze. Men had always enjoyed my breasts, but no one had ever made me feel so treasured. Or so hot.

But then he stopped. Panting, he rested his forehead between my breasts, then pulled gently away.

“Here, let me help you carry your things back up.”