Surfer Sailor Lover Spy--Maui
Page 3
“But not time and the mood,” she said. “You’d better call the police. I assume you have your fin phone on you?” She smiled weakly.
He tipped her chin up. “Always. Look on the bright side—you always wanted to meet some Hawaii 5-0 guys, right?” He kissed her lightly on the nose. “We’ll get this taken care of and then I’m taking you into town for a romantic dinner. We’ll get the mood back. I promise.”
Dinner for Two
Ty took her to a cute little restaurant in Lahaina with a view of the water. They sat outside in the shade side by side watching the waves roll in. It was an intimate, romantic place with New American cuisine with a Hawaiian touch, candles on the table, and a wait staff on dreadfully slow Hawaiian time. Ty ordered a cocktail. Treflee craved one heavy on rum, but she was trying to get pregnant so she decided to pass.
“Well, the joke’s on those idiots,” Ty said as the waiter delivered his mai tai. “That wine was non-alcoholic.” He reached beneath the table and squeezed her hand, trying to reassure her.
But all Treflee could think of was how hot she was for Ty and worry about how her twenty-percent chance of getting pregnant was rapidly evaporating. She’d taken that ovulation test at nine Pacific Time this morning, in the airport bathroom of all places. Pacific Time was two hours earlier than Hawaiian-Aleutian Standard Time. The clock was ticking. Quickly.
She couldn’t help glancing at her watch. It was only six p.m., but that was eight back home.
Only an hour remained in their optimum conception window. One hour to dine and dash and get her husband in the sack before her odds of conceiving decreased and her wonderfully sexy mood began to wear off.
But how in the world was she supposed to get pregnant if she kept practicing coitus interruptus?
Coachroaches. Human rats. What’s next?
“In a hurry?” Ty frowned at her.
She smiled and rubbed his arm. “I was thinking—this is all very lovely, but why don’t we just enjoy a drink and head back to the cottage for the main course.” She put as much innuendo as she could into her voice.
He leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Can’t wait to rip my clothes off?”
“We’ve been interrupted twice. I’m a desperate, frustrated woman.” She traced his jaw with the tips of her fingers and smiled deeply into his eyes.
Usually, the mere suggestion would have had Ty calling for the check. He wasn’t a man to turn down sex for food.
But he merely smiled and shrugged. “Whatever you say, babe, but let’s not rush things. Let’s just relax and enjoy being together. Let the sexual tension build.”
She wanted to scream at him, “Hasn’t it built enough already?”
He sipped his mai tai slowly and ordered another one along with an appetizer sampler plate. Was it just her imagination or did he also glance at his watch and look around the restaurant a little too casually?
Fifteen minutes slid by. Yes, she knew she wouldn’t become suddenly infertile for the month at the exact stroke of twelve hours, but psychologically, she wanted the deed over and done with as soon as possible. And she wanted Ty in the worst possible way, with the same longing and urgency she did when he walked in the door after being away on a long mission.
It may have been her imagination, but was Ty stalling?
He probably has another surprise planned for me.
She wondered for a second whether a band was going to show up to serenade her. Or a florist would arrive with a bouquet of roses. So she kept smiling and making eyes at him as she rubbed her foot along his bare calves, trying to be patient.
Another fifteen minutes of small talk and making eyes and eating appetizers and absolutely nothing. Just as she opened her mouth to suggest they ask for the check, Ty excused himself to go to the men’s room.
She made bedroom eyes at him. “Hurry back. I’ll be waiting.”
Always suspicious, Treflee waited until he was well on his way to the bathroom and popped out of her seat to follow him. If he had a surprise up his sleeve, she was going to find out what it was so she could act suitably impressed by it, get it over with, and get back to that cottage. She’d never been so desperate for sex.
She followed Ty as she turned the corner and disappeared down the hallway to the men’s room. She frowned. Drats! He was telling the truth about having to use the facilities. How disappointing.
But just as Ty reached the door, it opened and another man came out. That’s when she saw it—the transfer. With the stealth of a magician, Ty handed something off to the other guy. Only someone with her trained eye would have caught it. In spy lingo, he’d just made a drop.
Treflee didn’t even think, she just reacted and screamed. “You bastard!”
Ty froze. The other guy scurried off.
“You lying, bastard!” She turned on her heel and stormed off. Suddenly things made sense—the way he was stalling and waiting for his contact, the thugs on the beach tearing up their cabana.
Ty caught up with her just outside the door on the boardwalk.
He grabbed her elbow. “Tref, let me explain.”
“You’re on a mission,” she hissed back as she headed to the rental car.
He beeped the car open and they both climbed in. She crossed her arms as they pulled out and made the drive back to the cottage in stony silence. She was angry, but not enough to air dirty CIA laundry in public. She wouldn’t jeopardize his job or national security.
At the cottage, she stormed in and plopped on the bed, totally unafraid of any other lingering cockroaches.
Ty sat next to her. “Yes, I was on a mission. But it’s over now.”
She stared into her lap. He tried to take her hand, but she pushed him away.
“I don’t know why I should trust you. You lie for a living. Why would you ever tell your wife the truth?” She looked up and stared him in the eye. “I’m not your cover wife. I’m your real wife, the woman who loves you and wants to have your baby.”
“Tref,” he pleaded. “Please listen to me. Let me explain.” He took a deep breath. “I did all this for you.” And then he went on to explain how the Agency paid for everything, things he couldn’t afford on his own.
“You didn’t have to lie to me. You could have told me,” she said when he was finished.
“I was hoping you’d never find out and I wouldn’t have to. I wanted this to all be magical and stress-free for you.”
“I know.” She stared at her lap again and caught a glimpse of her watch. 7:30. The game was over.
She blinked back tears of disappointment. This was so not the romantic second honeymoon she’d dreamed of.
“I’m sorry. Next time I’ll be honest. I swear.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep.” She couldn’t look at him as she spilled her secret. “It’s not that.” She paused. “I’ve been keeping a secret, too. I’m ovulating. Or I was. But we’ve missed the window now. Maybe next month. At home, without the pressures of vacations and missions.”
“Ovulating? So that’s why you’re so horny?” He shook his head. “And here I thought you were just reacting to my animal magnetism.” His voice was teasing as he tried to cheer her up.
She lifted her head and looked him in the eye.
“Tref, if I’d known I would have said screw the drop.”
“I know. I should have told you, but I wanted you to be relaxed. No pressure. For things to be like they were on our first honeymoon.”
He gently pushed the hair back out of her face. “Damned by good intentions.” He kissed her shoulder. “We’ll make a baby. This month or next.”
“Not this month. And you’ll probably be gone next month. Emmett’s given you way too much time at home already. And your thrill-seeking gene is acting up. Too much more time without a mission and you’ll go stir crazy. “
He got a funny look on his face, as if he was debating with himself. “You’re right. So come with me.”
“What?”
“Emmett’
s given me a mission on the surfing circuit after our vacation is over. Lots of tropical locales. What do you say? Will you be my cover wife or girlfriend or mistress or whatever the hell?”
“Serious?”
"Yeah, babe. Dead serious." He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck, whispering seductively in her ear, "I haven't abandoned our mission."
He slid the strap of her dress off her shoulder, trailing his fingers down her arm until she shivered beneath his touch. As he reached for the second strap, he sucked her earlobe, moving around the outer rim of her ear, licking as he went in a way that made it almost impossible for her to think.
"I have every intention of creating our baby in paradise. Even if I have to make love to you every day in every locale in every position in the Kama Sutra and beyond."
"Beyond?" The thought of acting out the Kama Sutra with him made her want to clench her legs together, to somehow hang onto and savor the pulsing heat building, to tease him until he was as ready as she was rapidly becoming. "That's dedication."
"What can I say, babe?" He thrust his tongue in her ear in a purely incendiary, perfectly wicked way, lighting every nerve in her body as he slid a finger between her breasts. "I have my heart set on a daughter named Plumeria Passion Miller."
"In that case, you give me no choice." She slowly unbuttoned his shirt until it fell open, revealing his sun-bronzed, defined, and fantastically hard chest. Her breath caught. Sometimes she couldn't believe he was hers. "I won't be responsible for blowing your mission. But only on one condition—you call me anything but dudette."
He thrust his finger slowly in and out between her breasts, teasing, but not quite touching her erect nipples, winding her up, stringing her tautly, sending waves of pleasure building through her.
"Fine by me. I'll call you Betty." His eyes danced with tease and flirtation as he pulled a long-stemmed red rose from the vase on the nightstand.
In surfing lingo, Betty meant hot surfer chick. It was also the nickname she most despised for her given name, Elizabeth.
"Call me Betty at your own peril." She grinned and shoved him playfully in the shoulder.
Still holding the rose, he fell back onto the bed as if she'd toppled him, pulling her over him until she straddled him. She settled onto the warm, hard, enticing bulge in his shorts, and did a slow lap dance as she pulled her sundress over her head until her breasts popped free and bounced just the way she knew he liked. But it was a desperate game she played. Rubbing against him, she wouldn't be able to resist the temptation of taking him inside her much longer. And she wanted him to break first.
Overhead, the fan whirled, blowing her hair and kissing her naked skin as she dropped the dress off the edge of the bed.
His eyes dilated. "Bangin'," which meant hot.
"Banging is exactly what I want, baby," she said.
Using the rose, he stroked her neck with its soft petals. Then he moved to her breasts, circling them until she arched back and moaned. Finally, he ran the rose across her budded nipples, down her stomach and over her inner thighs.
She shuddered and arched back farther, pointing her breasts to the skylight above and letting her head fall back, closing her eyes to feel the full impact of the tide of pleasure rising inside her and between her legs. What delicate, exquisite, romantic torment this was.
She lifted off Ty just slightly, wondering what other magic he could work with that flower. As if to answer her, he pulled the tiny triangle of her thong panties away from her skin and ran the rose beneath it, stroking the throbbing, aching, pulsing heat between her legs.
She gasped. A good spy can use anything as a weapon. Ty wielded that rose like an instrument of pleasurable torture.
Egged on by the rose, the wonderful ache for his touch and the feel of him deep inside was in deliciously full force, but she had to be careful not to let it carry her away just yet. She had to have him.
Maybe things aren't so desperate, after all. It was more than a thought. It was a feeling, a revelation, almost a prayer.
She pulled the rose from his grip and tossed it on the pillow next to him as she leaned down to whisper, "That is not the long, hard shaft I'm aching for."
His eyes were dark in the rapidly fading light. "Isn't it?"
"You know it's not." As she reached for the zipper of his shorts, she leaned down and kissed him, deeply, slowly, relishing the dance with his tongue. She slid the zipper down a notch and kissed his neck. He tasted of sun and heat and salt. He tasted like Ty.
Another notch and she sucked his nipples. One more notch and she got a feel of a long, naked shaft. "Commando?"
"A good spy's always prepared."
She grinned and took him in her hand, staring him in the eye and stroking him, daring him to let go, testing his restraint, watching as he slowly lost his grip on control. She leaned down and took him in her mouth, licking and sucking him as if he were the most tantalizing ice cream cone on a hot Hawaiian day.
He moaned and tipped her chin up, stopping her from bringing him to completion. "Damn it all, Tref. You do know how to break me." In one, quick, smooth move, he flipped her on her back and braced above her, then slowly peeled her panties off.
She'd won. She arched up to meet him, and slid him inside her as she wrapped her legs around his waist and squeezed him from deep inside.
He thrust. She gasped and let go of all her emotional baggage—all the stress and all the pressure, all the hopes, and every one of the desperate dreams of motherhood. As he rode her as hard and fast and expertly as he rode the curl of a wave, she lost herself purely to the pleasure, to the feel of his taut body against hers, to the tightness that built each time he plunged into her, to the union of their souls, their oneness, and the pure joy of simply being with him.
With each thrust the ripples of pleasure and need raced toward a shore of climax. Until finally she let go of her last bit of physical control and the pleasure broke over her, crashing around her, sending her to depths of delight she'd never experienced before. She was hot and vibrant and full of life.
Ty moaned and collapsed on her. She held him, smelling the wonderful scent of him, cradling him, her lover, her soul mate. As her breathing slowed and she relaxed into the bed, the climax reverberated deep inside her, into the very depths of her womb.
"I love you, Tref." As Ty brushed her lips with a kiss, she smelled roses.
She turned her head and smiled at the red rose on the pillow next to her. "I think we'll call her Rose."
Thank You!
Thanks for reading Surfer Sailor Lover Spy—Maui. I hope you enjoyed it!
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License to Love Available August 27, 2013
Gina Robinson mixes seduction and secret agents like nobody’s business. And this time, she’s headed to Las Vegas, where romance is the biggest gamble of them all…
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About the Author
Gina Robinson lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and children. She loves humor, romance, suspense, and spies. Not necessarily in that order. She writes spylicious romance, contemporary romance, historical romance, humorous thrillers and women's fiction.
If she could meet just one fictional spy, she'd be hard pressed to choose between James Bond and Max Smart. In her opinion, the perfect spy would be a combination of the two. Most days she writes while wearing slippers, flip-flops, or tennis shoes, depending on the season. But she loves a great, sexy heel and has a closet full for special occasions.
Connect with Gina online:
My Website: http://www.ginarobinson.com/
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Amazon Author Page
Also by Gina Robinson sold at Amazon.com
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The Spy Who Left Me
Diamonds Are Truly Forever
Live and Let Love
License to Love
Love Another Day, Spring 2014
And more spylicious romance
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Spy Games
Lipstick Spy School
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