San Amaro Singles: Slammed Part 8

She gave a shaky little smile. "Oh yeah. It was."

"I never have unprotected s.e.x," he told her seriously.

She held his gaze for a long moment. "Never?"

"Never. I swear. And I was tested not long ago, but I'll go again if you want."

She nodded. "I'll think about it. And same goes for me, except I'd venture to say you've been having a lot more s.e.x than I have lately."

He closed his eyes, suddenly hating the fact that she'd walked in on him with two girls yesterday, girls he barely knew and didn't really care about. He reached for her and pulled her into his arms, and she settled against him, her curves fitting into his body. They heard another bang and a distant crash outside, followed by howling wind, and she flinched. He rubbed her back. She seemed to like that. "It's okay, I've got you," he murmured.

"Mmm." He stroked her hair, now all tangled but still silky beneath his fingers.

"Are the nightmares the reason you don't want to go back to San Amaro?"

He went still. "What? No." He frowned into the darkness.

"Then why don't you want to go back?"

He sighed. "I'll go back with you, Brooke. I know I have to. Even though it p.i.s.ses me off."

"I know, but I want to understand what the problem is. Maybe then I can help. That's what I'm here for."

"I thought you were here to chase me onto the plane with a big stick."

He felt her smile against his shoulder. "That too. But seriously, Dylan. I'm here to get you to cooperate so we can save this deal for you. For us. If there's something I can do that will help with that, just tell me."

"Well." With a flash of inspiration, he said, "There is something you can do for me."

"Okay. What is it?"

"I want you to come to a wedding with me."

Chapter Seven.

Her head snapped up. "A wedding?"

He smiled, satisfaction rolling through him at this genius idea. "Yeah. A wedding. We were talking about my friend Matt Ferber earlier, remember?"

"Yeah..."

"He's getting married in a few weeks. Just before the compet.i.tion. I need a date for the wedding."

She sat bolt upright in bed. "We are not dating! Just because we had s.e.x doesn't mean-"

"Whoa, whoa. That's not what I meant."

"We shouldn't have done this! We barely even know each other. We're business colleagues, that's all. Oh my G.o.d, how are we going to work together now-"

"Relax, babe. It's okay. I get it." h.e.l.l, she didn't have to be quite so horrified by the idea of dating him. "I just need a date for the wedding to keep my friends off my back."

She shoved her tangled hair back and shook her head. "Oh."

"I know we have to work together. Look, this is one night. We're here in a tropical paradise-"

"Paradise? There's a cyclone going on out there!"

"Yeah, yeah. That's part of it too. It just happened, okay? Let's not beat ourselves up over it. We both know it was pretty good. Okay, stupendous, actually. But when we leave here, it'll be back to business. Except for the wedding you're going to accompany me to."

"Why should I do that?"

"Because it will help me. Remember? You said you'd do whatever you could to help. I've been trying to get out of going to this wedding, but if you come with me it'll all be good."

"I don't get it."

"What's to get?" He pulled her back down on top of him, enjoying the feel of her soft curves and silky skin. Thankfully, she didn't resist. He tugged the duvet back up over both of them and tucked it around her. "You know how when people are getting married they think everyone should fall in love and get married?"

Okay, he was stretching things now. He hadn't even seen Corey and Matt since he'd left and they were hardly pus.h.i.+ng him to settle down.

"Oh yeah," she said with heartfelt agreement.

"Yeah. So that's why I need a date. Then they won't bug me."

"Oh." She was silent. "And that would make you feel better about coming back to San Amaro?"

"Yeah."

"So it wouldn't be a real date. Just a...pretend date."

"Yeah. Exactly."

"Well. I suppose I could handle that."

"Awesome." He tugged her hair so her head tipped back and once more he found her mouth and kissed her in the dark. And once more, heat built between them, climbing inside him, fast and hard. Thank G.o.d he had condoms in his bag.

In the morning, the storm continued to rage with ferociously gusting winds and torrential rain. The skies remained dark, palm trees whipped around by the wind. Hotel staff were keeping everyone inside, which seriously limited their options for entertainment. There seemed to be no shortage of food, but the restaurants were crazy busy, the atmosphere in the resort becoming almost party-like with the shared experience.

Others didn't seem worried, but Brooke couldn't help but be nervous at the fierce power of the storm. When Dylan spoke to someone at the resort, the front desk manager a.s.sured them that the brunt of the storm had missed them, with more damage happening at Uturoa.

They ordered breakfast but since there were no empty tables, they opted to carry the tray back up to the room and eat there. Even with the curtains open, it was so dark outside they needed lights on. Rain spattered against the windows in sharp gusts.

"Might as well go back to bed," Dylan said with a wicked gleam in his eye as they contemplated an entire day stuck inside the hotel. He lounged on the bed with his cup of coffee while she sat at the small round table.

Oh yeah, that sounded good. Brooke poured herself another cup of coffee from the thermos they'd brought up and added a splash of cream. It wouldn't take much to tempt her, even though she knew it was crazy. Last night had been incredible, and sitting there in the hotel room with him lazily eating breakfast while the storm rampaged outside created a feeling of cozy intimacy and a low-down ache of l.u.s.t inside her.

"Is that all you think about?" she asked, lifting her cup of coffee to her mouth.

"No. But I can't surf right now." He grinned. "It's called making the best of a bad situation. Right?"

She eyed him over the rim of the cup she held in both hands, trying to hide her smile. He was pretty irresistible, dammit. Last night he'd turned her inside out with pleasure, and her girl parts gave a squeeze as she had to admit she wanted more of that.

But she wasn't going to make it that easy for him.

"Well, I can think of other things to do."

"Really? Like what?"

"I have a deck of cards. We could play Crazy Eights or Rummy or something."

"Strip poker."

Now she had to laugh. "You do have a one-track mind."

His silvery eyes gleamed. "I don't deny it. Hey, come on. I'm not very good at poker. You could probably get me naked in no time."

"Why don't I believe you?" For some reason, she firmly believed that any kind of game in which there was compet.i.tion was something he was going to excel at. Including poker.

The idea of getting him naked was pretty appealing though. Even if all she did was sit and look at his beautiful body with all those tanned muscles. Lord, she was melting all over again, slow liquid heat seeping down through her body to between her legs.

"You don't believe you could get me naked in no time?"

A smile tugged her lips as their eyes met across the room. "No. I mean I don't believe you're not very good at poker."

"Get the cards," he said softly.

"I don't want to play cards."

"Perfect. Neither do I." And his hands went to the b.u.t.tons of his s.h.i.+rt.

"What are you doing?"

"It's called stripping without the poker."

She tightened her thighs and watched him. Her mouth went dry and her eyes fastened on him. He shrugged out of the s.h.i.+rt and let it drop to the floor. Her eyes feasted on the ripped abs, the slabs of his pecs with dark nipples, the thick muscles of his shoulders and upper arms.

She sighed.

"Your turn," he said.

She swallowed and looked down at herself. She wore shorts and a swingy tank top. Biting her lip, her hands went to the hem of her top. Dylan's hot eyes fixed on her had her pulse racing as she lifted the top. Heat rushed over her body as she pulled it over her head then sat there in her bra and shorts.

He nodded approvingly and began to loosen the ties of the board shorts he wore.

"Stand up and turn around," she directed him.

He lifted an eyebrow and his hands paused. "I beg your pardon?"

She motioned with a circle of her index finger. "Stand up and turn around," she repeated, her voice husky. "I want to see your a.s.s."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Oh you do, do you?" But he rose to his feet, turned his back on her and continued unfastening his shorts. "Who put you in charge?"

She knew the exhibitionist in him had no problem stripping like this for her. And why would he? His body was a work of art, male perfection. She watched the muscles in his back ripple as he pulled open the shorts with a rip of the Velcro fastener. He held them up and gave his a.s.s a shake. She smiled. "I did. Drop the shorts."

"Bossy." He slowly began to lower the shorts, moving his hips. "I like it."

Inch by inch, he revealed more skin, paler skin, and her breath caught in antic.i.p.ation as the curves of his b.u.t.t were revealed. He had an amazing a.s.s, so muscular and round, the skin so smooth. Her palms tingled to feel it.

"I want to bite you," she told him, shocking herself.

He gave her a s.e.xy, amused glance over his shoulder. "Oh yeah?"

She nodded, wiping damp palms on her thighs.

"Bossy and kinky," he replied. "Who knew? But I approve." He lowered the shorts another inch or two. She licked her lips, now picturing the front of him. Her p.u.s.s.y heated and squeezed. "You can bite me, but you have to be naked too."

"Okay," she whispered.

The shorts slid lower still on his muscular thighs. She drank in the sight of him with avid, hungry eyes. When he bent forward at the waist, tugging the shorts the rest of the way down his legs, pus.h.i.+ng his b.u.t.t out toward her, her p.u.s.s.y clenched hard. Oh G.o.d.

He stepped out of the shorts, still with his back to her, and bent to pick them up, giving her a clear view of that perfect beautiful a.s.s. And when he parted his legs, giving her a glimpse of what was between his legs, a small whimper escaped her. He slowly straightened. Once more, she licked her lips.

"Can I turn around?" he asked, humor coloring his deep voice.

"Yes."

He turned. His c.o.c.k thrust out and up from the thick patch of dark hair at the juncture of his thighs. Holy floating jellyfish, he was beautiful.

Her dry mouth began to water. She wanted to taste him. She made a move toward him but he held up a hand. "Naked," he reminded her, the corners of his mouth kicking up.

She wanted to rip her clothes off and dive on him, but he'd given her a wonderful show and now watched her with a warm appreciation that gave her the confidence to slow things down. She reached behind her and unfastened her bra then let it slide slowly down her arms and chest. For a few seconds it caught on her hard nipples and she paused, peeking at him up through her eyelashes. His c.o.c.k jerked and his eyes darkened.

She rose on slightly unsteady legs and unfastened her shorts. Unlike him, she let them drop to the floor and kicked them aside. She hooked her thumbs into the sides of her thong panties.

"Turn around," he requested hoa.r.s.ely. "You have a nice a.s.s too."

Smiling, she pivoted slowly and did as he'd done, lowering her panties inch by inch. And then, bravely, she too bent over to pick them up. The sound of his sharply indrawn breath reached her ears and she smiled. She glanced at him over her shoulder as she rose and took in his parted lips and rapt expression.

"Beautiful," he said.

She almost wanted to sigh. She'd seen the girls he'd been in bed with the day she arrived, and he'd probably been with so many women way more beautiful than she was. She was average-brown hair, brown eyes, average height, average size. Nothing really beautiful about that.

"What?" he asked. "Look at me, Brooke."