by L. L. James
“You’ve seen me shake my booty plenty lately, sweetheart. Just to a different kind of dancing. The kind where we were naked. Personally, I prefer that type of dancing.” He drawled in reply.
The woman was tying him in knots. Her smile heated a few degrees at his comment and her long, slim fingers reached across the table to play with the oyster shell band on his ring finger. Rotating it slowly, she fiddled with it as she murmured, “You’re a mighty fine mattress dancer, Marek. No doubt about it, but I want to see how you move with your clothes on.”
His eyes watched her fingers manipulate the little band and felt his equilibrium shift, felt her drawing him in. The woman was seductive as hell when she wanted to be. And he was powerless to stop her.
Everything faded into the background, the jarring noise became a distant buzz. The vivid pink, purple, and teal walls, the smell of fried plantains, the florescent glare from the overhead lights, and the room crowded with bodies crammed together—all of it shrunk away. Everything disappeared but for the bright blue of Carmen’s eyes, the scent of vanilla and coconut spice on her skin, and the feel of her slender hand warm on his.
He was a goner.
In that one moment—with the sound of Soja rolling live off the stage, the bar humming with a jumbled voices, and the rattan fans whirling overhead—Marek fell. Right over the cliff, down the long, terrifying drop into the crystal blue waters of love.
It flowed over him, cool and refreshing. Renewing him, energizing him in that split second. His heart stopped beating, lodged hard in his chest, and then burst to life again as love rushed through his veins with the force of a tidal wave.
Marek lurched out of his chair and grabbed her hand. Her protests followed him as he led her out the door into the breezy, salty night air. Gulping air like a fish out of water, his heart hammering, he pulled Carm around the outside of the building. His head reeled from the fall.
Love.
Carm finally gained his attention by digging in her heels and pulling hard against him. Words snapped hot off her tongue. “What the hell has gotten into you? Take me back in there now. If you don’t want to dance with me, fine. I’ll find someone who will. But you don’t need to take me out of the bar.”
“No, you won’t find another, cheri. I’m the only man you’ll be dancing with.” Marek snarled as he spun toward her and pinned her against the cool stone exterior of the bar. Plastering his body to hers, he gripped her hands and yanked them over her head. “Do you get that, Carm? Or do I need to write that down for you? You dance with me and only me from here on out, wife. Oui?” Hot possessiveness darted through him, making him reckless. He’d never acted this way before. Never felt this way.
Carm’s eyes went round in the dim light and she worried her lower lip with her teeth. Instead of cowering and consenting to his demand, however, the woman fueled his fire by snapping, “You don’t own me, Marek. I can dance with anyone I choose. I don’t know what’s gotten in you tonight to make you act so barbaric, but I’m not digging it. Let go of my hands now so I can return inside.”
For a hard, tense moment Marek stared into her indignant gaze while sucking air lungs that had gone tight and pinched. She tilted her chin at a stubborn angle and waited defiantly for him to release hold of her hands. Admiration and respect for her battled against this new instinct to cart her off over his shoulder. Every fiber in his being screamed for him to take her home and fuck her until she begged for him to end the sweet torture. But as he glared into her hot eyes full of passion and fire, and felt the determination in her, his admiration and respect for her won out.
Carmen was a strong woman who wouldn’t be bullied or walked on. She stood up for herself and didn’t take crap from anyone. Even from him.
And fuck if he didn’t love her all the more for it.
Dropping her hands, Marek lifted his to his hair and linked his fingers on his head. Taking a step back and giving them both some space, he swore quietly under his breath. No doubt about it, loving her was going to make him insane.
She huffed out a breath and asked softly, “What has gotten into you tonight?”
He gazed at her with love and admiration and replied on a shaky breath, “You. You’re what’s gotten into me.”
Her head jerked up and her blue eyes searched his in the low outside light. Music pounded through cracks in the wall, muffled and heavy with base. As he waited for her reaction, his lungs seized up and he couldn’t breath.
“Good.” She said, all prim and satisfied. “Now, can we go back inside?”
What the—? That was all she had to say to his confession?Air rushed out of his lungs as he released the breath he’d been holding. Merde, the woman was tangling him up inside.
With his gut churning, Marek took another step back and swept his hand toward the front of the building. “After you, cheri.”
No way was he going to let Carm see how she affected him. If she wanted to play it cool, well then, so would he. Even if his world had just collapsed at his feet.
Love.
Her sweet, round ass came into his line of vision, and a territorial growl crawled up his throat. He battled it back with a hard swallow. The giant red hibiscus flowers on her skirt seemed to come alive as she shimmied past him, the fabric riding and whispering across her lush behind.
Desire lodged like a hot ball in the pit of Marek’s stomach. Sweeping his eyes over the splashy fabric to the indent of her waist, he roamed upward and settled where the thin material ended below her shoulder blades. The upper portion of her back and shoulders were exposed and bare in the silvery shimmer of light.
Landon had said it perfectly the other day. Love was a real bitch. Damned if his best friend wasn’t right. He knew firsthand now that once it got ahold of a man there was no controlling it. It was like handing the steering wheel over to the person in the passenger seat of the car. While still technically driving, there was no control over the destination or detours.
Marek was always in control.
At least he had been until a blond haired, blue-eyed bombshell had come strutting into his life. Everything had blown all to hell then. Every damned thing he enjoyed doing before Carm came along paled in comparison to being with her, holding her. His easygoing, relaxed life had been picked up and dumped upside down on its head.
Darting a strong arm over her shoulder from behind, Marek gripped the handle of the scarred wooden bar door and pulled it open for her. His blood boiled at the naughty grin she shot him over her shoulder as she sauntered on back into the club.
Fate had better have a bloody good reason for tormenting him.
The woman didn’t give him a chance to sit down. No, she marched right out to the dance floor and spun around, waited for him to catch up. He had no problems dancing. Probably enjoyed it more than most guys. But not when he wanted to take Carm home and do a different kind of dancing.
She lifted a slender arm and crooked a finger at him, that sultry goddess look back in her eyes. How a woman could look like that, act like that, when she’d barely given up her virginity and was new to the ways of sex was beyond him. But then again, she was no ordinary woman.
Muttering absent hellos to the locals he passed, Marek kept his eyes focused on the vision before him in the sexy halter dress. She beckoned him like a siren, weaving her mystical female spell around him. And just like the thousands of men lured in by those enchanting creatures, he came, let her reel him in.
Then Carm was in his arms, the heat of her lush body burning into him. With a feline turn of her lips she draped her arms over his shoulders and tangled her fingers in the back of his hair. Leaning close to his ear she whispered, her breath scalding his skin. “Looks like Landon found a new woman. Who’s this one?”
Huh? So wrapped up in her he’d been, he’d had no idea Landon had slipped in. Gripping her hips to hold her close, Marek lifted his head and scanned the room. He quickly found the pilot on the dance floor with a short, curvy woman of Puerto Rican decent. Her long b
lack hair fell in a mass of waves down her back to the small of her tiny waist.
The couple stood near the bamboo stage, next to the gigantic fern that hid the old, beat up speaker. One of those ferns had been placed on each end of the stage to camouflage the unsightly things. When Landon spun the tiny woman in the lavender sundress, Marek recognized her side profile.
“That’s Esmeralda Sanchez. Her family runs and owns a restaurant here in town. Awesome chimichangas. Like I said before, the guy has a woman or two on every damned island.” Marek used to envy his friend that. But as he held Carm in his arms and rocked to the rhythm of the music, he didn’t envy him one bit. It scared and humbled him to realize he had all the woman he needed right there in his arms.
With her heeled sandals, she was almost eye level with his own height of six three. She barely had to lift her gaze to meet his when he shifted his attention back to her. He liked that, liked the way she fit against him. He’d always had a weakness for tall, curvy women. And this one in his arms was all that and more.
Suddenly the air sparked with chemistry around them as the music transitioned into a bluesy number with sax and a heavy, pulsing beat. She melted against him in response to the seductive number, and ran her teeth over her ripe bottom lip. Secrets glittered in her eyes as she leaned forward and pressed her lips to the thick pulse at the base of his throat.
White hot need shot straight to his groan, instantly making him hard and ready. The moist tip of her tongue slipped between her lips and scorched his skin as she tasted him. “Mmm, you taste good. Good enough to eat.” She whispered intimately for only him to hear, tossing his earlier words back at him. The memory of her down between his legs, her mouth hot around him, tasting him, flashed through his mind and nearly buckled his knees.
Locking them hard against the heady rush of desire, Marek gripped the fabric low on her hips with fists and pulled her hard against him. As the beat throbbed around them, heavy and slow, she pushed against his erection and murmured, “I want you. Right here, right now.” The heat of it poured headlong over him and straight down his straining cock. Merde, the woman was a seductress.
Marek squeezed his eyes shut tight and took deep breaths. His chest expanded on the intake of oxygen as he tried to control his need for her. They were in a club, for crying out loud. And he wanted nothing more than to pull her to the ground, climb on top of her, and bury himself between her sweet thighs.
Carm thought Marek looked like he wanted to throw her down and climb on top of her. Hitching several degrees, her blood heated at the thought. Wouldn’t it be wild and barbaric? To be wanted so passionately?
A question had been burning in the back of her mind, begging to be answered. Leaning in close enough to whisper hotly against his ear and nibble along his delicious lobe, Carm asked, “Why are you still wearing your ring? Why haven’t you taken it off?”
His hands gripped her hips tighter and she saw his jaw tick and flex. Tension seemed to coil so tight in him that she thought with one well-placed touch, Marek was going to unravel and snap like a bullwhip. And how wonderful was that?
As she was about to pry further when he inhaled deep and said on a shaky sigh, “Maybe I forgot about the ring. Or maybe I kind of like it there, cheri. Why do you still wear yours?”
Oh, she’d been waiting for him to ask her this.
Carm rubbed against his bulging erection and pulled back to look him directly in his beautiful pale green eyes. “I still wear it, sugar, because you’re in love with me. It’d be a shame to throw that away. I’m enjoying being called Mrs. Stokes. Has a nice sound to it, don’t you think?”
He snapped like a rubber band pulled too tight, and groaned. Then he swore rapidly in French. Making out no more than the occasional merde, she grinned to herself and let her head turn to rest on Marek’s shoulder. Better he know what her intentions were now so that he could get used to them.
She wasn’t going anywhere.
Marek shocked her with his next words. Warm lips kissed the top of her head, and then she heard though her hair a muffled, “I like the way it sounds too, Mrs. Stokes. Glad we’re in agreement on that. Maybe we should forget this whole divorce deal altogether.”
A stampede of wild horses had nothing on the furious race of her heartbeat. Carm swore it pounded louder than the heavy base rolling off the stage. What was Marek getting at? Did he want to stay married too?
Oh God.
Her yoga instructor always talked about the power of positive thinking. Had it finally paid off? Was Marek saying what she thought he was saying?
Landon must really practice the fine art of piss poor timing. Before she could respond to Marek, the chopper pilot swung his date over to them, interrupting the heated conversation. With that lazy sensuality of his, Landon kissed her on the cheek in greeting. He grinned quick and lethal at the warning growl that snapped from Marek.
Oh, Landon had the worst timing in the world, not doubt about it. But how could any woman hold a grudge against a man with such a twinkle in his eye and that devastating smile? His dimples were to die for—and for all his lazy charm trying to prove the contrary, intelligence glimmered in his eyes. Landon wasn’t fooling her. He’d interrupted on purpose.
Trying to work up a good mad, Carm failed miserably and laughed at the blatantly fake innocent expression on his face. The guy was a ladykiller for sure.
Something was different about him. Realizing what it was, she blurted out just as Marek started snarling, “Your beads are gone! You cut your facial hair.” He certainly had. Landon had shaved it all off and now sported a smooth-as-a-baby’s-bottom shave. It looked good on him.
“Thanks for noticing, darlin’. I had the need for a change. Glad you like it. Wanna feel?” Landon leaned in closer, his eyes twinkling with mischief. Laughing despite herself, and well, charmed, Carm began to shake her head. When Marek shot out a hand and plastered it against Landon’s chest and shoved him back with a crude suggestion, her laugh turned into a snort. Why, he was acting positively possessive. Wasn’t that sweet?
“Go away, Landon. Hi, Esmeralda. Como estas?” At her quiet reply, Marek responded, “Muey bien. Great. Wonderful. Now get the hell out of here, Landon, before I forget you’re my best friend and beat you to a bloody pulp.”
Instantly all playfulness and laziness dropped from the pilot’s face like a curtain and his voice turned serious. “Dude, I have some news we need to discuss. This evening I ran into one of the detectives we spoke earlier, and he had a few things to say. Why don’t we go outside?”
Carm knew the moment between her and Marek was lost. She felt him slip away before he’d even moved an inch. His mind had shifted gears and his eyes went cold and shrewd. Giving a terse nod, he let go of her hips, grabbed her hand, and started to pull her from the dance floor.
Here we go again. Dragging me out of the bar like I can’t manage on my own. Not this time.
With a firm yank, Carm pulled her hand from his and squared her shoulders. At his glare of warning, she smiled sweetly and drawled as he tried to grip her hand again, “I’ve been walking for quite some time now, sugar. I think I can manage all by myself.”
Marek shifted his grip and placed a large palm against the small of her back instead.
Stepping outside into the salty breeze, they watched as Landon came out of the bar alone. He saw the question on their faces and shrugged, “She wanted to stay. I left her in the very capable hands of the bartender. She’ll be fine. So long as her padre doesn’t find out she’s three sheets to the wind and making out with tourists on the stool seat next to her. I don’t think her padre would be too keen on that.”
Carm held up a hand. “Wait a minute. You mean to tell us that she came here tonight with you, but she’s in there right now making out with some yahoo she’s never met before?”
Landon personified the shit-eatin’ grin and rubbed a hand across his smooth chin. “She’s a social creature, darlin’. A real people person.”
“Appar
ently.” Carm’s reply was dry as toast.
Marek cut in, “I hate to break up your little social tea party, but you need to tell me what you heard.” He looked to Carm and stated, “We’ll finish our conversation later. You and I have got some things to talk over, cheri.”
Landon rolled his broad shoulders inside his tie-dyed t-shirt and motioned toward the parking lot. “I’m going to head on home after this.”
Curious about what they needed to talk about and unaware Marek had even spoken to a detective, Carm asked, “Does this have something to do with the break-in? Did you find who stole my passport?”
Rounding the side of the flat-topped, green building, they came up short when Marek’s jeep came into view. For a moment they all stared open-mouthed with shock. A sick, sinking feeling poured into the pit of her stomach as she stared at the sight before her.
The break-in obviously wasn’t a singular anomaly. Marek’s jeep window had been shattered and his headlights smashed and beaten in. A few good dents waffled the hood and side doors.
While they’d been inside dancing someone had been out there vandalizing Marek’s property.
She looked from Marek to Landon, and then back to Marek. Anger began to burn bright inside her at being left in the dark about what was going on. Those men knew something and they weren’t telling her.
It was time they received a lesson in sharing from the teacher.
“All right, boys, I think there’s something you need to tell me. I’m going to give you until the count of five and if you don’t start sharing information I’m going to kick you both square in the balls. Is that understood?” Both men glanced at her warily and reluctantly nodded. The sincerity in her voice must have gotten through.
“Good. Now share.”
Twenty-One
Carm was still mulling over the information as she sat curled up on the large leather sofa with Sunny warm and snuggly on her lap. Landon had left after the recap, and Marek stood staring out the front windows at the inky black expanse of night.