Safe and Assigned to Ecstasy [The Heroes of Silver Island 5] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting)

by Tonya Ramagos

  “If I take a walk with you, the view will follow me.”

  She was the view he was talking about, but where the hell had that come from? Even if it was true, he didn’t need to come onto her. He needed to do something to send her running back down the beach the way she’d came.

  “Would that be so bad?”

  Alec heard himself make a sound that might have been a half laugh. He knew he didn’t smile, though her question did amuse him. He’d trained himself not to smile because every time he’d done so in the mirror, he’d seen Veansa’s leer, always so cold and calculating, the kind of leer that would frighten a woman like her.

  Yes. Yes, taking a walk with her would be bad. This woman was beautiful, sexy, and smart. He got the sense she was perceptive as hell, too. In short, she was dangerous territory and, when a man’s defenses were down the way his were these days, it was smart to keep the threats to a minimum.

  But when he looked at her, he heard the word “No” come out and when she smiled, he felt the effect of that dazzling curve of her lips awaken things inside him he wasn’t sure he was ready for, things he wasn’t sure how to face.

  She didn’t touch him. Not with her hand. But she did close the scant bit of distance between them and nudge his arm just above his elbow with her shoulder, encouraging him to turn. The zings that shot through him at that nonchalant contact nearly encouraged him to do things he was sure neither of them was ready for. Things such as reeling her in against him and crushing his mouth to hers, or yanking up that tank top she was wearing and the bra beneath to feast on her breasts, or pushing her white shorts and panties to her ankles before he tossed her to the sand and buried his throbbing dick in her sodden heat.

  Alec shoved his hands in his pocket and gritted his teeth as he turned and started to walk, inwardly coaching himself to keep his demons locked down tight. Forcing himself on a woman was something Veansa had done on more than one occasion. He remembered that far too clearly and had been struggling with the guilt since realizing he’d basically been brainwashed into believing that was the man he truly was.

  Had McIntyre enjoyed rough sex? It was a question he couldn’t answer. The memories that had returned so far hadn’t been about anything sexual. As for the cross-between-the-two man he was now, he didn’t know. He hadn’t had sex with a woman since the last time he remembered doing so as Veansa and the things he’d done to that woman had been revolting enough to make him steer clear of any woman who had even hinted at sex since he’d started to build his new life.

  Until tonight.

  Until Jennifer.

  And if he didn’t get away from her soon, he was fucking toast.

  Which meant he shouldn’t be going for a walk with her on the beach in the middle of the night beneath a moonlit, star-filled sky. He shouldn’t even be talking to her, though he felt himself wanting to talk more, wanting to get to know her, wanting to know everything about her. And he absolutely shouldn’t get close enough for his bicep to brush her bare shoulder, either, but he did as he shortened his strides and fell into step beside her. More of those zings shot through him at the contact, sending an electric current ricocheting through his system. He side-stepped, putting a safe couple of feet between them before he did something stupid like flatten a hand on the small of her back or lace his fingers with hers.

  “Are you here on vacation or a resident?”

  Alec considered her question for a moment, weighing his answer. He hadn’t made up his mind if he was going to stay on the island indefinitely or return to Waterston at some point. Cooper had assured him that his job with the bureau was still intact and would be there whenever he decided to come back as an agent, but how could he when he remembered little about his time as an agent before? More, how could he when being an agent was what had gotten him to where he was today?

  “I guess I’m somewhere in between.”

  “A vacationing resident.” She shot him a smile that made his muscles bunch, his senses spring to full alert, and his dick turn to stone.

  Christ, the woman was captivating. He’d been thinking about her, unable to get her out of his mind, when she’d plowed into him. He’d been trying to convince himself that he’d exaggerated her beauty in his mind, that she wasn’t as sexy, as gorgeous, and as appealing as he’d thought she’d been at Ménage a Drink.

  In truth, she was every bit of that and then some.

  “What do you do for a living?”

  Smuggle drugs into the US and trade others for weapons which are then sold to the highest terrorist cell bidder.

  No, that had been Veansa’s line of work. McIntyre was a special agent with the FBI. Except, although he hadn’t been nixed from the bureau’s employment records, he hadn’t returned to being an active agent either.

  “I’m between careers,” he told her, going for the safest answer that came to mind.

  Obviously realizing that was all she was going to get out of him about his job, she said, “I accepted Cerrie’s job offer.”

  “Are you looking to become a resident?” Maybe that was the incentive he needed to make up his mind whether to return to Waterston or stay on the island. Getting to see her every day would definitely be an added perk to sticking around.

  If he were looking for a commitment.

  Which he wasn’t.

  “No. It’s just temporary while I’m on the island.” She paused for a beat, bent to pick up a seashell out of the sand, and held it up in front of her face to give it a quick study in the moonlight before shoving it in the front pocket of her shorts. “I’m starting to think Lexie might be, though. It might be good for her. You know, to move here, make a fresh start.”

  What happened to her? Alec debated asking, but once that discussion door was open, it would go both ways. On the outside, only someone with keen instincts and perception would see that Lexie was battling her own demons inside. As for himself, one only needed good eyesight to see his scars and a fairly workable brain to deduce he’d have at least a few inner demons of his own.

  “It’s not a bad place. Lots of open-minded people. Lots of good people.”

  “Are all the islanders in ménage relationships?”

  “No, many of them are single. The population is pretty well-rounded, too. That surprised me considering nearly all of the ménage relationships are two men sharing one woman.”

  “You would think that would cause the men to outnumber the women.”

  “Yeah, but it doesn’t. It could be because of the tourists,” he speculated, feeling himself start to relax more than he had in years. “People come and go, some stay longer than others, some decide to make it their home. Some manage to get on the island and cause trouble, mostly protestors of what the island stands for, but the sheriff has tightened security at the welcome center and pretty much keeps things from getting out of control.”

  And hadn’t it been something to learn that the sheriff of Silver Island was none other John Cabelly, former US Navy SEAL with Team Six? Alec didn’t remember the man from his time as McIntyre or Veansa and was pretty sure he’d never met Cabelly face to face before coming to the island, but he’d read the man’s name in the stack of reports that had been written on the joint effort take-down of the Phay cartel by the SEALs, FBI, DEA, and other law enforcement forces. He’d seen the recognition in Cabelly’s eyes when he’d introduced himself as Alec McIntyre, too, though Cabelly hadn’t made any comments about the cartel or so much as asked why Alec was on his island.

  “Everyone Lexie and I have met has been friendly. Some have been a bit more eccentric than others, and I can’t deny that Arianrhod freaked me out a bit. Not in a bad way,” Jennifer rushed to add, “but the way she seemed to already know things about me and Lexie was bizarre.”

  “Some people think of her as the island’s psychic, if you believe in that kind of stuff.”

  Her chocolatey eyes danced as she glanced at him. “Do you?”

  “Not so much.” Alec let a few minutes of silence fall betwee
n them before he broke it, not because it had become uncomfortable, but because he found himself really wanting to keep talking. “What made you take the job at Ménage a Drink?”

  “I enjoy bartending. I started doing it to pay my way through college and missed it when I quit.”

  “What do you do now?”

  She gave him an arch look. “Promise not to run if I tell you?”

  Alec wasn’t sure what she could possibly tell him that would make him run, so he said, “I promise.”

  “I’m a psychologist.”

  Okay, that damn near did it. He stopped walking and dug his heels into the sand, gauging its inertia for his escape. He’d promised not to run, but they had made it far enough down the beach that he figured he could make it to his rented cottage in about five seconds flat.

  She’d stopped walking, too, and turned to face him, her expression a mix of sympathy, apology, and amusement. “You’re not running, but you’re wanting to.”

  After all the time he had spent with various doctors prodding at his brain in the last two years, he should’ve pegged her as a psychologist from the start. Instead, he’d let his attraction to her run the show, let it cloud his sense of perception. Fuck, he was so far off his game it was pathetic. He’d thought he had at least gotten some of it back. The one thing he hadn’t lost with his memories was the ability to read people, to instinctively know things about them, and realize when he was being trapped.

  “Alec.” She said his name so softly it almost got lost in the sound of the waves. “I didn’t ask you to walk with me so I could meddle in your head.”

  Thank God for small favors. That was if she was being honest. He studied her face in the moonlight, gazed deep into her eyes, and decided she wasn’t lying. She’d told him the truth about her profession, knowing it would put him on alert. She could’ve lied then, told him she was anything from a beauty consultant to a CPA, and he probably would’ve believed her, but she hadn’t.

  “Then why did you?”

  “Impulse.” She nipped her bottom lip, making him want to beg her to let him do it instead. “Company.”

  “Is that all?”

  His life spent facing dangerous situations, both as McIntyre and as Veansa, kept his heartbeat steady. He was definitely smack in the middle of danger now and, for the first time in either life that he could remember, he wasn’t sure how to handle it. He knew how his body wanted to proceed. Just thinking about touching her, tasting her, and listening to her cry out as he pushed her over the edge again and again had made his dick harder than granite. It was his mind that was the ever continuing problem, but when she closed the distance between them, flattened a hand on his shoulder, and dragged it down his bicep, whatever rationality his mind had been hanging on to spat and sputtered into the gulf behind her.

  * * * *

  Jennifer felt his bicep flex beneath her palm and wanted to feel the rest of his muscles do the same. She was in trouble, the kind of trouble that scared her to her toes even as it excited all her girly parts. She was being bold and brazen and knew where that would likely lead her. It wasn’t like her to make the first move on a man, especially one she’d just met. She didn’t do one-night stands and didn’t jump into something with both feet before carefully thinking it out first. She certainly hadn’t taken the time to carefully think it through before she’d touched him and, now that she had, her ability to think seemed to have taken a quick sail off the island.

  “Have you ever wanted to do something even though you knew it was too soon, even though you knew you shouldn’t do it in the first place?”

  His hands were still in his pockets, and he was standing ramrod straight except for his head. His head was bent, his gaze locked with hers. “Time is irrelevant. When I’ve known for a fact I wanted something, I did it and said to hell with the consequences.”

  She could believe that. He struck her as the type of man who wouldn’t worry about repercussions, no matter how bad the outcome turned out to be. Was that how he’d gotten all those scars? She wanted to ask about them, but after his reaction to her being a psychologist, she knew better.

  “I want to kiss you.” She dropped her gaze to his mouth, not to emphasize what she’d just admitted. She did it because if he said anything, she would have to read his lips. There was no way she would hear him over the sound of her pulse pounding in her ears.

  He didn’t say anything. Instead, he dipped his head lower, stopping his mouth so close to hers that the warmth of his breath fanned her lips.

  It was an obvious invitation, and one Jennifer didn’t allow herself to hesitate before accepting. She rose to her tiptoes, feeling them sink in the sand until she was at just the right height to close that scant bit of distance he’d left between their mouths. Then, she gave in to the want and kissed him.

  She brushed her lips lightly over his, paused as fiery embers of desire rained through her body, and wound her arms around his neck. She leaned into the hard, solid wall of his body, wicked sensations dancing through her as her curves flattened against his planes. Still holding his gaze, she kissed him again, and swore she heard him groan.

  She was sure she’d imagined that because her pulse was still pounding ninety-to-nothing in her ears. Her heart was hammering so viciously against her breastbone she wondered how it didn’t break right through.

  Whether she’d imagined it or not, the sound compelled her to follow through with what she had started. She touched his lips with the tip of her tongue, dragged it over the moist flesh, and then closed her eyes as she dipped it between them. His tongue was right there waiting for hers and, oh, he tasted delicious. She slid her tongue over his, circled it, and knew for a fact she didn’t imagine it this time when he moaned into her mouth.

  She lost herself in the mind-blowing, panty-wetting, fantasy-fulfilling kiss and startled when he finally touched her. He closed his large hands on her hips, pulled her so close even oxygen would have trouble getting between their bodies, and angled his head as he claimed control, taking the kiss even deeper.

  Yes, this was what she’d wanted, what she’d needed. She’d only felt this insane, urgent desire to be with a man one other time in her life. She hadn’t acted on it then and had regretted it every day since.

  She was acting on it now and silently vowed there would be no regrets when it was over. She was on vacation. Why not make the best of every opportunity? She deserved tonight. She’d spent her life too focused on doing the right thing, never stepping out of line, and ensuring that her reputation stayed pristine even at the bars she’d worked. She’d never indulged in a night of spontaneous toe-curling, soul-empowering, rock-her-world sex with a man she hardly knew. Sex with Alec would be all that and more. She felt it in her bones, in the way he devoured her mouth, and in the way her body fit so perfectly against his.

  He ended the kiss all too soon for her liking, eased his mouth back, and traced the outline of her bottom lip with the tip of his tongue. “If you’re not wanting to finish what you’ve started, then you should let me walk away now.”

  She laced her fingers in the back of his hair, toyed with the strands, and decided it wasn’t too long for her taste after all. “And if I do want to finish what I started?”

  The wheels turning in his head were almost a visible thing. He stared at her for a long time, so long she started to wonder if he was going to answer her at all. “Then we should go somewhere else,” he finally said, his voice rough and thick, “because we’re in the middle of the beach at the moment.”

  He was right. It was dark, but not too dark for anyone else who might decide to go for a late night stroll to see them. She looked to her left in the direction they had been walking and saw a row of cottages lining the beach not too far up ahead. No doubt if the residents of one of them decided to step outside they would be spotted in an instant.

  “No sex in public is one of the sheriff’s strictest laws.” Alec moved his hands to her shoulders, and he danced his fingertips over her arms that
were still locked around his neck. “Even the nudist colony frowns on it. That’s where we’ll end up if we keep walking that way.”

  Jennifer gasped a quiet laugh. “There’s a nudist colony?”

  “They have their own private area on that end of the island.”

  Now that he wasn’t kissing her and his hands had returned to her hips, she was able to think again. They couldn’t go back to her room at the resort. Not with Lexie sleeping in one of the double beds. That only left…

  “Where are you staying?”

  He tipped his chin toward the row of small houses. “See that second cottage?”

  She could just make out the outline of it in the distance and guessed it would take them no more than a few minutes to get to it. “It’s way too soon for this.”

  She shouldn’t follow him there. Every lucid, always-the-good-girl part of her was screaming for her to go straight to her room at the resort where she would be safe. Safe and unsatisfied. Her body wanted him, as did the irrational, let-me-be-a-bad-girl just once part. Anticipation curled, tight and low in her belly, contrasting with the fear of doing something so crazy.

  “Probably.” He slid his tongue over her lower lip before he nipped the tender flesh and licked away the sting. “But time is irrelevant, remember?”

  Jennifer’s mental gymnastics melted away, right along with what little resistance she’d been managing to build. “Then we should continue this in your cottage.”

  * * * *

  Jennifer had been the one to make the first move. By default, Alec figured that meant he was the one who was supposed to put on the brakes. Except, he didn’t want to. He liked that she’d made the first move. That alone told him McIntyre was in control of him tonight because Veansa would’ve never allowed such a thing.

  Not that he’d developed some kind of multiple personality disorder or anything. The shrinks at the bureau had assured him of that, even if it did feel that way now and then. He’d merely spent so long pretending to be Veansa, had McIntyre literally tortured out of him, and then continued on as Veansa until he’d been captured. But as he pushed open the front door of the cottage he’d rented and let Jennifer take the lead inside, he felt confident he was the closest thing to McIntyre tonight then he’d been since he’d accepted the undercover assignment that had taken it all away.