Between a Ridge and a Hard Place Page 6

  Great. Celeste had had enough teasing and enough talk. Her plans for celibacy were a distant memory. The hula had taken her over the edge. She was burning for him. All she wanted was to pull him into her hotel room, rip the T-shirt from his body, throw him down on the bed, peel off his jeans and have her way with him.

  However, they were walking away from the hotel, not towards it.

  Biting back the argument on the tip of her tongue, she followed him. Kona, from what she’d seen of it, was a massive lava field descending in a gradual slope from the top of a volcano to a crystalline ocean. Scrubby plants dotted the landscape, and tropical oases—resorts catering to the wealthy—peppered the seashore. During the day, the ropy black lava shimmered and rippled in the sun, giving the place a surreal quality. It was like being on another planet. So different from muddy, vibrant-green Hilo.

  She picked her way across the cool lava, admiring Kanoe’s perfect behind as he climbed over a hunk of black rock. His affection for his island was endearing. She loved how he played tour guide as they’d driven across the island today. His enthusiasm was infectious. But that was earlier. Now, despite the full moon providing enough light to guide her footing, it was the middle of the night. She had no desire to traipse about the rugged Hawaiian landscape leering at his butt like a hungry lioness at a piece of steak.

  He slowed and turned to look back at her, smiling, his eyes twinkling as if he’d read her thoughts. “Not much further.”

  “Good.” The word came out a little more snappishly than she’d intended. She pressed her lips together to prevent herself from saying something she might regret.

  “There,” he said triumphantly, moving beside her and gesturing towards the ocean.

  “Wow.” She couldn’t come up with any better response. The cooled lava landscape tumbled towards the ocean, but right before it collided with the water, a depression formed what looked like a tide pool as big as one of her billionaire clients’ swimming pools. Moonlight glinted silver off the surface of the water. A wave crested over the rocks separating the ocean from the pool, and a skin of white water washed over it, its force rippling the surface to the far end.

  They maneuvered their way down the lava, finally jumping down onto a huge, flat rock at the edge of the water. Kanoe pulled her towards him as she stepped onto the rock. Just before his mouth collided with hers, he whispered, “I’ve wanted to do this all day.”

  Yes. At last.

  He took control and she relinquished it gladly, letting him explore her, reveling in his tropical, sun-kissed taste as she let him lead the dance between their tongues. She slid her hands up his arms and beneath the sleeves of his shirt, stroking his curved biceps. His mouth moved to her jaw, and he grasped the hem of her shirt, hiking it up over her belly until it snagged on the undersides of her breasts. He stepped backwards, a question formed in his eyes.

  Panic flitted through her. What if someone was watching? She glanced back up the hill.

  Nobody was there. They were in a lava field in the middle of nowhere.

  Keeping her eyes fixed on him, she dragged in a deep breath and lifted her arms. He tugged the shirt over her head and dropped it on the rock beside them.

  With trembling fingers, she reached between her breasts to release the clasp of her bra.

  A low sound came from his throat as the bra fell at her heels.

  “Your turn,” she murmured as he raked his gaze over her upper body. She never behaved like this. Getting naked from the waist up, out in the open with the stars staring down at her, for a man she hardly knew? But it didn’t matter. She was feeling crazy, reckless, wild. She wanted to do this with him, out here, tonight. She needed it.

  He yanked his shirt off and she gazed at his bare chest. So hard. So solid. So close she could feel the heat radiating from it.

  He didn’t touch her; instead he knelt before her and started untying her tennis shoes. Now she understood why he’d asked her to wear them—it was for the hike out here.

  “What are you doing?”

  He smiled up at her, showing his dimples. “Taking off your shoes.”

  Dumb question. She gazed down at his black hair and then his shoulder. The tattoo rippled as he moved one of her shoes aside. He had this all planned out. A stab of some foreign emotion surged through her, and before she could think to censor her thoughts, she asked, “How many women have you brought out here?”

  She nearly groaned aloud. Good one, Celeste. What a way to ruin the moment.

  He froze and then rose to his feet, his face dark, his mouth flat at the corners, and growled, “You think I bring all the nani haole chicks out here to go puinsai with them?”

  “Um…er…” She might’ve been able to answer the question had she understood it. At times, his accent and the words he used were completely undecipherable. At other times, he spoke like one of her colleagues back at home. It had never occurred to her that she wouldn’t understand the native dialect of English in Hawaii. Malia never spoke like this—but Malia certainly knew better than to try it at the office.

  Speaking through his teeth, he said, “You don’t like pidgin? You want me to speak like a haole? I can do that too. The question was: Do you think I bring all the beautiful mainland tourists out here to fuck them?”

  He thought she was beautiful.

  He’d just used the f-word in a very lewd way. The part of her with the good-girl Catholic school background nearly fainted. The rest of her shivered with anticipation. She’d also made him angry. For some reason, his narrowed eyes, the tension in his muscles, the sheer power radiating from him, thrilled her. Made her hotter for him.

  Holding her ground, she asked, “Do you?”

  He stilled, then closed his eyes for a long moment. “No.”

  She inched closer to him until her nipples brushed against his chest and the bulge of his erection pressed against her lower stomach.

  It took a great deal of effort for her not to pull off his jeans then and there. Stay on track, Celeste.

  “What about local girls?” she challenged.

  Finally, he touched her. He gripped her wrists, pinning them to her sides. “I’ve never brought a woman here. Any woman. Ever.”

  Her heart hammered, her blood sped through her veins. Her nipples pressed against his pecs. His hands were hot against the tender flesh of her wrists. No man had ever held her this hard.

  She liked it.

  The muscles in her body clenched involuntarily, and she let out a little moan. Not an orgasm, but so, so close.

  Heat flooded her cheeks. How could such a simple thing nearly make her climax? He must have seen the blush and didn’t understand, because he released her. “Sorry.”

  Suddenly desperate, she crushed her body against him. “I want to see you naked. Please.”

  A slow, sultry smile spread across his face. Keeping his eyes on her, he kicked off his shoes and reached between them to unzip his jeans.

  Celeste slid his pants and boxers down, kneeling as she reached his ankles. He stepped out of them.

  She tentatively reached up to stroke his cock. It stood at attention, darker than his tanned skin, so hard, yet so smooth. Like the rock they stood on, but pulsing warm and silky. Human. Touching it sent a vibrating wave of anticipation through her body.

  Gently pushing her hand away, he knelt to face her. “Your turn.” That dark look passed over his face again, but it wasn’t anger this time. “Lie back.”

  She sobered and nodded solemnly, running her teeth over her lower lip. He bunched their discarded clothes to pillow her head. In one smooth movement, he pulled her shorts and panties down her legs and over her feet.

  Here she lay, naked, on a magically smooth, sun-heated rock in the middle of the night, with a magnificent Hawaiian she barely knew, the soft swoosh of waves the only thing to be heard.

  What would they say in the office?

  She can run, but he won’t let her go without a fight…

  Secret Obsession

&
nbsp; © 2008 Leigh Wyndfield

  Three years ago, Clemant Taylor left Blue Island to escape her secret obsession with Wade Tawes, the son of her clan’s greatest enemy. But when the head of her family becomes ill, she is forced to return to Blue—at the risk of succumbing once more to Wade’s irresistible sexual lure.

  Promising herself she won’t be enticed again into having mind-blowing sex with him, she vows to focus only on stopping the escalating violence between their clans and the collapse of the island’s way of life.

  Wade Tawes, now the head of a family that has long sworn to seek retribution against the Taylors, is stuck between loyalty to his clan and his love for Clemant. He doesn’t know how he’ll do it, but he plans to force his family to accept his choice, after he finds out who’s really behind the vandalism that is ripping the island apart. And after he convinces Clemant that she really does love him.

  But the feud heats up, blood is spilled, and pressure for revenge mounts on both sides. Wade and Clemant must find a way to heal the rift between their clans—or their world will implode, leaving them both empty and alone.

  Warning, this title contains the following: explicit sex, graphic language, and a bone-chilling mystery.

  Enjoy the following excerpt for Secret Obsession:

  “I need to talk to you in private,” Wade announced, making his voice loud enough to travel around the room.

  “I’m quite certain we have nothing to say to one another.” Clem closed the latches on her case with a snap.

  Skirting the table, he leaned down and murmured, “Give in or regret it.” He hated to be a hard ass, but Clemant’s strong personality would crush him if he gave her an inch. She wasn’t getting away, no matter what he had to do to be alone with her.

  Clem’s eyes narrowed, and he could see she’d fight him. Bring it on, he thought, his body tensing. He would have her or blow the island into chaos by fighting her in front of witnesses.

  Mike stepped forward, his hands fisting, and with that aggressive action, Wade knew he’d won. Clem would acquiesce rather than risk a fight between them.

  “Give us five minutes, Mike,” she said, holding up a hand to stop her cousin’s husband from escalating the situation.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Clem.”

  Thank you, Mike. You just said the magic words.

  The old Clem would have roared for Mike not to tell her what to do. This Clem didn’t. Instead she smiled. “Give me five. Both of you.”

  Mike and Jenny left, throwing worried glances Clem’s way. Wade followed them, closing the door, wishing there was a lock. Not that it mattered. Feeling dangerous and volatile, he knew he’d risk the whole island walking in on them to have her.

  He turned and for a moment, they faced off, sixteen years of obsession between them layered on top of a seventy-year-old family feud Wade wasn’t even sure he understood anymore.

  Right now none of that mattered. All that mattered was driving his cock deep inside her, tasting her mouth, relieving the fierce pressure in his soul.

  She stood by the table, her expression unreadable. Then she placed the briefcase on the floor and stepped out of her heels, as if she’d made up her mind. Joy and intense satisfaction raced through him.

  “There’s no fighting it,” he said, crossing the room.

  “No,” she agreed.

  There was no use in fighting it. Her mind shut down, leaving only her burning body behind, her last rational thought that she was glad she’d stayed on birth control even though it had been over a year since she’d last had sex.

  He caught her by the shoulders, his fingers digging into her flesh, his mouth descending onto hers as if he thought she might try to get away. Immediately, he rubbed across her shoulders in an apology, but the kiss went deeper even as his hands lightened.

  Once, when she was home from college, they’d lain in Old Man Willard’s abandoned boathouse and he’d told her he loved the taste of her. His kisses had always been more about tongue than lips, an exploration of her mouth that never failed to leave her panting.

  For a moment, she stood still, allowing him to lead, letting his smell curl around inside her head. His scent had changed. It was less about salt and spice and the open sea. Now it had the tint of responsibility, the tang of Jim’s and Don’s cigars, and the dusty flavor of his store—all woven in with the masculine taste of Old Bay spice she realized made up the core of him.

  Something inside her body that had been locked in a dark corner of her soul snapped its moorings. Her passion leapt out, grabbing her best intentions, tossing them down onto the ground and stomping them into bits.

  Her hands scored his chest, digging into the skin beneath his shirt. The gold and green in Wade’s brown eyes sparkled around his irises as he gazed at her. He’d filled out, his shoulders wider than the last time she’d touched him, his muscles bulking as if he’d been working the boats, instead of just running his store. Worry lines that hadn’t been there three years ago streaked his face. He’d aged, although it only made him that much more handsome.

  They were utterly silent, years of stolen moments training them not to make a sound. Her ex-husband had thought it was unnatural, had tried to get her to moan and talk during sex, but she’d learned this way and it was impossible to change.

  She wanted to rip his clothes, send buttons flying to the floor. Rend and tear. But she’d never been able to fully let go of her control, always fearing that they’d be discovered by their torn clothing. Instead, she tugged his shirttail from his pants, her hands burrowing beneath the fabric to run across flat abs and up his chest, brushing the mat of soft hair growing there. She smoothed her fingers across his nipples, wanting desperately to taste before their five minutes were up.

  Wade pulled back to gasp for breath, the chugging of his lungs barely audible in the silence of the room. They were so used to being utterly soundless. His body shuddered, and she knew he fought for the restraint they’d need to keep her cousins on the other side of the door.

  His face was strained with desire, grinding his back molars, eyes narrowed. It was a look she knew well.

  What Clem had realized one day was that by keeping silent, it had been harder to lie to each other about their feelings. The painful desire had nowhere to go but onto their faces. They never shut their eyes, either, but kept their gazes locked on one another, drinking in the other’s pleasure.

  Rising up on tiptoes and pushing aside his shirt, she ran her mouth lightly along his collarbone. She knew he liked it, knew it was one of his many secret places that drove him higher.

  One of his hands slipped from her shoulder, petted across her breast, then raced to the bottom of her skirt. Sliding underneath, he caught the top of her pantyhose and underwear, then pulled them down, dropping to a crouch as he followed their descent. She lifted one leg so he could ease them off. His touch was as worshipful as it had always been, cupping her foot in a brief massage on the way by.

  Being with John, she’d finally learned how another man’s hands could caress her body. Until then, she’d never been with another and hadn’t appreciated Wade. She hadn’t understood just what he’d given her.

  His hands traveled up the outside of her legs, tracing the muscles in her calves and thighs as he stood. She realized she wasn’t the only one comparing changes. Fingers trailed lightly over her breasts, thumbs pressing gently at her nipples.

  Her hands fumbled at the top of his pants, jerking at his belt, lowering the zipper, undoing the button at the top. Like a crack addict, her fingers shook and lost motor skills. Three years. Too long.

  He fell to his knees and pushed up her skirt. His breath caressed her mound. He’d use his mouth on her, if she needed it, but she shook her head. She was more than ready. He nudged her thighs apart and ran his thumb from her clit to her channel, sliding on an hour’s worth of moisture. Silently, she rocked back on her heels and closed her eyes to keep from screaming.

  Opening her eyes and staring at the expos
ed beams running across the ceiling, she fought to control her breathing, control her mind. She’d remembered him as a good lover, but she’d forgotten how amazing he really made her feel.

  Meeting his gaze, she caught his satisfaction. It would have made her angry, but she couldn’t have any other emotion at this moment but desire.

  Then he stood, dragging his pants down his hips, letting his huge cock spring free. Pre-come spilled over his head, begging for her mouth. Would he still taste the same?

  He guided her hand to his erection instead, then let a sigh escape his lips at her touch. “Heaven,” he lip-mouthed, then picked her up and whirled to put her back against a nearby rough wooden wall.

  Her stomach flipped over and she blinked away sudden tears. Why couldn’t it have been this way with her husband? With any other man but Wade Tawes?

  He bent his knees and grabbed her hips, his thighs muscled and dusted with hair. She pressed his cock to her channel, sliding his head in her wet desire, her momentary sadness replaced instantly with need. For the count of five, she teased him, caressing his shaft with her hand.

  In one thrust, he entered her, ramming to the hilt.

  Christina Marshall has no desire to have a man in her life. TJ McFee and Jonathan Winslow are on a mission to change her mind.

  The Strength of Three

  © 2007 Annmarie McKenna

  As the daughter of an abusive drunk, Christina could care less about the lack of men in her life. So why is she having seriously erotic dreams about two of her bosses?

  Jon and TJ are men who go after what they want and right now their focus is on a certain blonde-haired, brown-eyed nymph who’s done her best to blow off anyone of the XY persuasion. She’s a challenge. Never let it be said that either one of them ignore a challenge.

  Their seduction is set off course when Christina’s mother dies and her father reinstates himself in her life. When accusations of murder fly, Chris must find a way to learn to trust both Jon and TJ. Her very life may depend on it.