“Wait.”
Allie turned back, her heart picking up speed despite her repeated silent warnings not to. Whatever had happened between them back there, or almost happened, it didn’t change the fact that she was right. He was here looking for a level of action she wasn’t up to providing. He’d even admitted he was here to find his inner bad boy. Probably he’d want someone who had some clue about what to do with it when he found it.
And yet, she was stopping, turning.
“The bungalows,” he said, suddenly looking a bit uncertain himself.
She wondered if he was giving in to his Good Samaritan side again and really, truly wished that, just for once, she wasn’t the type who inspired that instinct in a man. She wanted to inspire other kinds of instincts, the kinds that had to do with predator and prey. Dear God, just once she wanted to be the prey. Thinking about the men she’d met so far, she amended that to a predator who would know what to do with his prey once he’d captured it.
“Bungalows?” she managed, her throat suddenly tight.
“I meant the guest bungalows. They’re that way.” He pointed in the opposite direction from where she was heading.
“Oh. That.” She tried to stifle her disappointment, failing miserably. “This way leads to the beach. They have these waterfall shower things down there and…anyway, I know where I’m going. But thanks.”
“Waterfall shower things?”
She nodded, uncertain where he was heading with this. The longer he stood there, the more she wanted him. And she wanted him badly. Making it all the harder to reconcile herself to the fact that she couldn’t have him. If he would just go away, she could go stand under a waterfall, rinse off…and fantasize for a few really nice minutes, before returning to the fray.
“What exactly are they?”
She went still, watching him come closer. Why wasn’t he leaving? What game was he playing? Maybe he’s just curious, Allie, ever think of that? Considering the night she’d had, it wasn’t surprising she’d become wary.
He was looking at her expectantly, so she went ahead and answered him. “You know how most beaches have showerheads to rinse off the sand when you leave the beach?” He nodded. “Well, they have the same thing here, only instead of showerheads, they have these little alcoves made of natural rock with a waterfall cascading over them. You just sort of tuck yourself inside, step under the water and rinse off…or whatever.” She faltered a bit at that last part. Because after discovering one this afternoon after her windsurfing lesson, she’d done a lot of thinking about that “or whatever” part.
“Sounds…creative.”
Oh, if you only knew.
“As it happens, I got in late and haven’t checked into my bungalow yet,” he was saying. “I really don’t want to hike back to the main lodge and go through all that right now. Would you mind if I joined you and rinsed off here?”
Would you mind if I climaxed, oh, one or a dozen times while we do it? “No,” she said finally, the word coming out somewhat hoarsely. It was the best she could manage given the circumstances.
He just smiled, apparently oblivious to her inner turmoil, and lifted a hand, gesturing her to lead the way.
Great, just great. Now she would have to stand under the rush of water with Mr. Adonis here, and still be forced to fantasize to get a little action. How pathetic was that? She should have worked up the nerve to play Body Puzzle. How much worse could it have been hoping she got the right tab for her slot? Of course, she’d thought the mango race would be a bit tamer, which proved right there she shouldn’t trust her instincts.
Lesson number one, she ruminated silently as he followed close behind her. Nothing is tame at Intimacies.
“Except this shower,” she muttered.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?”
She jumped slightly, not realizing until he spoke just how close he was. “Um, exceptional shower.” She glanced at him and forced her lips to curve upward, aiming for that happy-go-lucky smile that said, “Oh no, you’re not turning me into a mass of quivering need just by breathing on my skin. Nonsense! Guys like you breathe on me all the time. I’m totally unaffected.”
Totally unaffected my ass, she thought, turning her back to him and trying like hell not to give in to the urge to disappear into the darkness before he realized just how totally affected she was.
She heard the soothing sounds of rushing water and knew it was too late. They were here. She brightened with relief as it occurred to her that her problem was actually easily solved. There were, after all, more than one of these alcoves. She could slip into one and he could find his own. And maybe, if she was really lucky, she could stifle her moans as she made herself climax at least once. Just to take the edge off, of course. She certainly deserved at least that.
But her relief was short-lived as it became clear that they weren’t the only ones seeking out the waterfalls tonight. And from the sounds she could hear over the rushing water, she realized most of the people here were enjoying that “or whatever” part she’d fantasized about.
“Maybe they’ll all be taken,” she murmured under her breath. “Maybe I’ll be lucky just this once. Maybe—”
“Here’s one,” he said, oh-so-helpfully.
She made a face into the dark, then pasted on a smile before facing him. “Great.”
She hadn’t actually used the alcove this morning, so it came as a surprise that, once they moved inside the intimate circle of stone, the sound of the water cascading over the rocks above their heads created the illusion of total seclusion. Where they could do anything. Privately.
After several long moments, she realized she was still standing there, staring at the water. She imagined him moving under the water, watching it pound down on those shoulders, then that angular jaw as he tipped his head back and…She tightened her thighs against the little quiver that scenario produced, then darted a glance at him, wondering why he wasn’t getting wet. After all, watching him was the one guaranteed thrill she would get this evening. Only he wasn’t interested in the water. He was staring at her.
“Everything okay?”
She snapped out of her little reverie and took a small breath. “Sure, of course. Why wouldn’t it be?” Not giving him a chance to reply, wanting only to just get this over with, she stepped beneath the full force of the water…and gasped as it cascaded over her. Not because it was cold, it was actually about the same temperature as the air. Balmy, in fact. She gasped because it felt good. Wonderfully, amazingly, good.
And then he was in the water beside her. And she simply had to look. One peek. Well, one peek turned into a lingering glance, which evolved into a full-fledged ogle.
Damn, he was as wonderful as she’d imagined. Better even. He tilted his head back, worked his fingers through all that thick, gorgeous hair and let the water pound down on his chest. His shirt clung to every ripple in his back as he turned beneath the spray, the muscles in his arms bunching quite perfectly as he raked his hair back and enjoyed the flow of water over his skin.
Her nipples pebbled and it had nothing to do with the feel of the water spraying her own skin. In fact, she’d all but forgotten about her own shower.
And then he opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. “Feels incredible,” he said, his voice somehow deeper, more intimate sounding. It made her shiver. “Cold?”
She’d never been so hot in her whole entire life.
“Here, turn around,” he said, “I’ll help you get the stuff out of your hair.”
She had no idea what he was saying, only that his lips were moving, because his hands—big, wide, and warm—were on her shoulders now and nothing else mattered except that he was touching her.
He shifted her so her back was to him, then his hands moved up into her hair. He tilted her head back under the heavy stream of water and slowly began to work the pulp from the strands. The pressure of his fingertips felt incredibly good on her scalp. Her skin came alive under his confident ministrations. A moan slipped out before she was aware of it. His fingers stilled for just a second and she held her breath, hoping like hell she hadn’t just ended what was, so far, the highlight of her vacation.
Then his fingers started massaging again and she sighed deeply in relief and let herself lean back, just a tiny bit, into his hands. Hands that were moving, down her neck, back to her shoulders. He was turning her again and she worked hard to come out of her sensual fog and stifle her extreme disappointment that shower time was over. “Thank you,” she managed.
He left his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes the whole time. It was all she could do to merely hold his gaze in return, and not grab his hands and drag them to her breasts and the nipples that were all but screaming for attention. His attention. His very explicit attention.
Just as she went to step back, to end this before she did something humiliating, his hold tightened. Just a flexing of fingers, and just for a moment, but a telling one. As if he, too, were warring with some inner decision.
“I—I should probably—” she began to stammer.
“Rinse your shirt out,” he finished, fingering the sodden silk plastered over her collarbone.
Her heart hammered as they continued to stand there, gazes locked on one another, his fingertips playing over the wet fabric of her shirt. Was he offering what she thought he was offering? And if so…“Yes,” she blurted before common sense could reassert itself. “Yes, I should.”
Then he grinned. And she quivered.
The grin faltered just a bit, a brow raised in question as his fingers stilled. She covered his hands before he could take them away. He’d offered, dammit, and he was going to follow through. “I’m okay. It’s just—” What the hell, she thought. “There was nothing ‘nice guy’ about that grin.”
And then it was back, full-blown and far more dangerous than she could have imagined. “That’s the best thing anyone has said to me all day.” He stepped closer. “All year, in fact,” he added, his fingers sliding down along the edge of her shirt to the bare skin between her breasts. “And God knows, it’s been a hell of a year,” he murmured, leaning his head closer to where his hands were lingering.
She had no idea what he was saying. She was using all her concentration to keep her knees locked and herself upright. When he began to peel the silk off her damp skin, her grip slid from his hands up to his wrists, then to his forearms, which flexed ever so perfectly beneath her touch.
He nudged her backward, just slightly, so the water hit only the bare skin of her breasts, beating lightly against her nipples, which were obvious now even through the soaked padding of her bra. She wanted to feel him touch her there, wanted to feel the water pummel her overly sensitized skin as he rolled her nipples between his fingers.
But when he started to undo the front clasp of her bra, she had a moment—a very brief one—of hesitation. It was an instinctive reaction, borne from too many less-than-enthusiastic reactions when she’d revealed her less-than-bountiful self to a prospective lover.
Lover. Dear Lord have mercy.
But she couldn’t think about that now. Focus on his hands, she schooled herself. It was all she could handle anyway. But his hands didn’t move, so she opened her eyes, only then realizing she’d closed them.
“Are you okay with this?”
She could only nod. Water clung to his thick lashes, framing eyes that looked like sparkling bits of gold in the moonlight. He smiled and shifted his forearms just a bit and she flushed, realizing she had a death grip on him.
“It’s not like we haven’t already revealed this part of you tonight,” he said, only a hint of amusement in his tone.
She flashed a rueful smile and gave what she hoped was a carefree laugh. Which was difficult as this had somehow become far from carefree. For her anyway. “It was the surprise that you’d want to see them again that gave me pause.”
He didn’t even blink. His grin grew wider as the look in his eyes turned almost…predatory. She shivered in response. Feminism be damned, she thought, there were times when being the prey was good. Very, very good.
“Can I tell you something?” he murmured.
Anything! “What?”
“It’s your nipples.”
“My wha—?” But the word ended on a gasp as he brushed the tips of his thumbs over them.
He dipped his head a bit, then he looked up at her through those impossibly sexy lashes and said, “Ever since I first saw them, I haven’t stopped thinking about how they’d fit into my mouth.”
She had no idea what her reaction should have been, but probably not the laugh that burst out of her. It was part in amazement and part in nervous shock. This man—this Adonis—wanted her nipples? “Well,” she managed finally, “I think you should definitely find out.”
He dipped down and blew across the very tips of them, then said, “I was hoping you’d say that,” just before extending his tongue and lightly flicking the water droplets that clung to their engorged tips.