Some Kind of Wonderful (Puffin Island 2)

She kept the words in her head as she unlocked the door to the cottage. “My jeans weigh a ton.”

“I’m happy to help you with that, Dr. Forrest.” His hands closed over her shoulders and he lowered his mouth to her neck.

Heat shot through her and she closed her eyes. “How does that help? Or are you trying to melt me out of my pants?”

“Maybe I am.” He kicked the door shut behind them, took her hand and led her up to the bathroom.

“This shower is not built for two. It’s going to be cozy.”

“Cozy works for me.” He stripped off her jeans, T-shirt and underwear, followed by his own, and Brittany shivered and ran her hands over the hard planes of his chest.

She felt the familiar knot of scar tissue and pressed her mouth to it.

Tension rippled through him and he lowered his hands to her shoulders. His eyes were flinty dark, like the sky before a storm. “Don’t—”

“I wish none of that had happened to you.”

A muscle flickered in his cheek and he slid his fingers into her hair, massaging her scalp with his hand. “It’s all right.” His words were neutral but she felt the distance in him, that distance that she’d never totally managed to breach.

“Trust me, Zach.” She rose on her toes and ran her mouth over his jaw. “You don’t have to protect yourself anymore. Trust me not to hurt you. Let me in.”

There was a glitter in his eyes and an expression on his face that she didn’t recognize.

For a moment he stood perfectly still, and then he reached out and switched on the shower. She gasped as needle-sharp hot water cascaded over both of them, warming their skin.

He washed her, his clever fingers leaving no part of her undiscovered, and by the time he finally turned off the water she was trembling.

She tried to speak but tumbled straight into the penetrating heat of his kiss. Sensations blended together, racing over her skin and seeping into her pores. She was no longer cold but hot, feverishly hot, and he licked into her mouth, kissing her with intimate precision. She felt the heat of his palm slide up her rib cage and then he dragged his thumb over the tip of her breast and she went weak and pressed against him. “What time is dinner?”

“When we’re ready.” He wrapped her in a towel and carried her through to the bedroom, taking ruthless advantage of his superior strength as he flattened her to the bed.

“You’re going to make us late.”

He gave a slow, wicked smile. “Honey, I’m going to make you come.”

“Again? You’ve pretty much done nothing else for the past few weeks.” She laughed and then gasped as he spread her thighs. “Zach, stop—you can’t—we already—I don’t have time—I—Oh, God—” The laughter turned to a moan as she felt the slow, slippery sweep of his tongue against her most sensitive flesh. He explored her with ruthless skill, holding her captive as she writhed against the explicit torture.

She cried out his name and felt him rise above her, his body hard and heavy as he entered her with a single thrust that took him deep. She slid her

hands down the taut muscle of his back, almost sobbing with the relief of being able to finally hold him with both hands. His skin was warm and sleek and she slid her fingers lower, down to his backside, arching her hips to take him deeper still.

He groaned deep in his throat and surged forward, finding a perfect rhythm, filling not just her body but her head and her heart.

In a tiny corner of her mind, appearing like the merest wisp of a cloud on a perfect blue-sky day, was a niggling worry that he’d never lower that barrier enough to lose that control and for once, she wanted him to forget technique and make love with his heart and not just his body. She felt the rasp of stubble against her skin as he kissed her neck, the ripple of muscle and the hard strength of his body and then there was a subtle change in his rhythm and all thought left her as he drove her skillfully to climax.

It felt as if it would never end, her body closing around his, her inner muscles rippling down his shaft. It left them both spent and he rolled onto his back and took her with him, holding her firmly.

Dazed, she lay there, drifting out of a sexually induced slumber, feeling his hand gently stroke the curve of her hip, wanting to tell him she loved him but too scared of driving him away.

AS LUCK WOULD have it The Galleon was crowded, which meant there was no chance their presence would go unnoticed. And anyway, he’d known from the moment Brittany had walked into the kitchen of Castaway Cottage that going unnoticed was an impossibility.

She’d chosen to wear a short blue dress that revealed mile-long legs.

He’d taken one look at her and almost swallowed his tongue.

“I’ve changed my mind about going out.”

She’d smiled and walked past him towards the door. “I’m hungry, Flynn. You need to feed me before we go another round.” So now here they were, staring at each other over fine linen, sparkling silverware and the flicker of candles.