That had all sorts of interesting possibilities threaded through it and sounded distinctly opposite from her back-off mantra of last night. Asking Cara to assist with this mock wedding might go down as the best idea he’d had all week.
“Yeah?” he growled, mindful of the eyes on them. “We’ll see about that.”
His warning was all for show. He didn’t mind one bit being at the mercy of the windblown, in-command woman by his side.
She winked and ran through a host of instructions directed at other people while Keith made more mental notes. Cara had done a great job, but nothing was ever perfect. Tweaks could and would be made constantly, even after the resort opened.
Behind them, the music abruptly cut off and the crash of waves filled the silence. Gulls dived overhead, their cries a strange but fitting complement to the scene.
The chef, whose name tag said Hans in an amusing contrast to his clear island heritage, cleared his throat. “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the—”
“You can skip all that,” Keith commented drily. “I do. She does. No one objects.”
Cara elbowed him in the ribs. “I’m in charge here and I told him to do the whole spiel. It’s not worth practicing if you skip parts. How long will the mock wedding take? Do you know? No. So shut up and listen to the vows like you wrote them yourself.”
The crowd muttered their agreement so he took a cue and closed his mouth. She was right, after all.
Hans started again, droning through the ceremony verbiage, and Keith shot Cara a sidelong glance. Under his breath, he whispered, “Careful what you wish for, sweetheart.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she murmured back, and the wind blew a lock of her honey-colored hair across her lips, drawing his gaze.
It meant that he was not one to let a prime opportunity pass to take full advantage of her advice.
“Only that I’m totally on board with not skipping one single part of this ceremony.” Keith waited until Hans pronounced them husband and wife and spun Cara into his arms. “Not one.”
With deliberate care, he brushed the hair from her lips and replaced it with his mouth. Slowly, to give her time to get used to the idea.
Her body aligned with his and it was like a sledgehammer to the gut. Desire exploded, racing through his veins, heating his skin. It had always been hot with Cara. But not like this, out of control with fast-burning lust.
I want you, right here, right now.
Forget slow. He tightened his arms and tilted his head to find a sweeter angle. Instantly, the kiss deepened into something better suited for behind closed doors. But he couldn’t stop.
She softened under his lips, so responsive that he nearly took her to the sand so he could properly explore every inch of her. Yeah, he’d done that plenty in the past, but not with this Cara, whom he could not get enough of. New discoveries lay just out of reach and the clothes between them needed to be gone.
What had started as a way to get her into his arms without protest had boomeranged on him, detonating into a wild inferno of need.
The hoots and whistles of the crowd registered a moment later.
Cara broke away and his hands fell from her hair, which was slightly mussed from his fingers. That was as sexy as her kissing him back.
What had happened to no distractions?
Cara Chandler-Harris had happened.
Without looking at him again, Cara clapped once to get everyone’s attention and reeled off another set of instructions, including a pointed reminder to Mary that she should document every step for the real thing. Cara’s wits clearly hadn’t been as affected by that kiss as his—he was still in a fuzzy la-la land.
He eyed Cara through the lens of a man who had just kissed a woman and wanted more. “You did a fantastic job with this run-through today. Would you shoot me if I asked for another favor?”
“Depends on what it is.”
There it was. Her gaze finally reflected a bit of the unsettled ripples in his own stomach. It cheered him for some strange reason and had him reevaluating how many bruises his ego could actually take.
“Check out the honeymoon suite with me.”
She’d either deck him or laugh. He knew it was too soon after the aborted kiss to try again, but with “challenge” practically tattooed across her forehead, he couldn’t let it lie.
Plus, he wanted to find out what else might be different from the first time around, because he’d bet anything the changes in Cara went well below surface level.
She didn’t blink. “Yes. I’d shoot you if you ask me for that favor. Try again.”