by Jami Alden
That wasn't what tonight was about. Tonight was about sex. Pure, simple, and uncomplicated and even if she wanted anything approaching tenderness she would be an idiot to try to find it with someone like Drew.
She'd known going into this exactly what she was going to—and not going to—get from Drew. No way in hell was she going to let herself get carried away as she had in the past, mistaking great sex as a potential for something deeper.
She didn't have time for deeper, she reminded herself harshly. Hadn't her experience with a supposedly nice guy like Alan proved that?
But it was impossible to move with Drew's fingers tangling in her hair, his heavy, hair-roughened thigh rubbing deliciously against her own.
Just a few more seconds, she told herself, letting her eyes drift closed as she savored these last few moments of closeness before she forced herself to leave.
Minutes or hours later, Wendy jerked away when she felt Drew pull his arm out from under her as he silently got out of bed. This was her chance, she thought as she heard the bathroom door click shut and the sound of water running in the sink.
She climbed reluctantly from the bed and made it down the hall to the front room by sheer force of will, her limbs heavy with exhaustion, feeling all the tender places inside and out as they protested her movement. She found her shorts and tank top on the floor and quickly pulled them on, her breath hissing through her teeth as even the soft cotton of her tank top felt like sand paper on the sensitive skin of her breasts.
The thought of which immediately made her shiver at the memory of his mouth on her nipples, sucking and licking. Just like that, she was wet and ready again, at the mere thought of having him touch her.
As she smoothed her shirt over her stomach, she saw the faint pink marks the restraints had left on her wrists. She had a fleeting regret that she'd begged to be untied. If he'd kept her bound, she'd have had an excuse to stay in his bed.
Wendy shook off the thought. This was a one night stand, and in true one night stand fashion, she was going to be out of here before the sheets got cold. That was probably how Drew wanted it anyway.
"What the fuck?"
Or no. Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall, and Wendy debated the wisdom of making a run for it before he got to her. She thought better of if, reasoning that running like a scared rabbit made her look silly, not to mention scared. Hardly the impression of the confident, sexually liberated woman that she wanted to leave him with.
Better to play it casual.
But Drew looked anything but casual as he stormed into the main room, his casual nudity somehow making him even more intimidating with his brow furrowed tight above gray eyes gone dark and stormy. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"
"Back to my room," Wendy said, patting herself on the back for keeping the tremor of nervousness out of her voice, hoping Drew couldn't see her pulse pounding furiously in her throat as she tried to look anywhere but at his powerful, naked body.
"Why?" he asked bluntly, his hands resting on his hips.
Wendy kept her gaze pinned to his chest. "To sleep," she forced a flippant sounding laugh. "That was fun and all, but a girl's gotta get her beauty rest."
"You can sleep here."
Involuntarily, Wendy's gaze drifted down his chest, past the chiseled abs, down the stripe of dark down that trailed down his stomach…. As though it felt her gaze, his cock twitched and thickened, stretching to full hardness before her eyes.
She swallowed hard. "It doesn't look like you're planning to sleep anytime soon." This time there was no keeping the quiver of anticipation out of her tone.
And the slow, sexy smile that replaced his frown was enough to make her knees turn to water.
Wordlessly he stepped closer, and though she tried to get her feet to move, it was like she was frozen in place, unable to take a step as he closed the distance between them.
He stopped just short of touching her, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating off of him, smell the sharp scent of his arousal on his skin. Between them she could see his cock, straining up from between his thighs, the plump head smooth and dark as it seemed to yearn toward her body.
"Aren't you um, supposed to take some time to recover? You can't possibly be... ready again." Wendy asked, trying again for a flip tone and failing miserably.
Drew's grin widened, and the naughty glint in his eyes sent a ticklish feeling through her core. "I don't know, I feel pretty ready for another round."
She didn't bother to resist as he took her hand in his and pulled it to him
His lids lowered to half mast, and he let out a heavy sigh as her fingers instinctively wrapped around him, stroking the hot shaft with her fist, feeling him jump and pulse in her hand. No question about it, he was ready.
And so was she, tilting her head back to receive his kiss as she felt a hot, wet rush between her legs, soaking her already slick flesh, soaking the fabric of her panties as he rubbed his tongue along hers.
"Come back to bed," Drew commanded, closing his hand over her wrist to pull her hand gently from his erection. Taking her hands in his, he looped her arms around his neck and kept his mouth on hers for more of those slow, deep, drugging kisses. "Come back to bed," he said again, and even though her common sense screamed at her to leave, what was common sense in the face of Drew's pure sexual magnetism?
One more time, she thought as she let him pull her into the bedroom. One more time, and then she'd get her ass out of there.
After all, she rationalized as she let Drew peel off her tank top and run his tongue in tantalizing circles around her nipples, this was the one and only night they would ever share. Might as well make it last.
###
Drew opened his eyes, squinting against the bright ray of sun shining into his face. He sat up, a little disoriented as he registered that it was after ten in the morning. That he was naked. And that he was alone.
Wendy had ditched him sometime in the night. A fact that filled him with an irrational level of irritation. And something else he might have called hurt if he were actually capable of being hurt by a woman. Annoyed.. That's all he felt. Wendy might have posed a bigger challenge than he was used to, Drew was still used to calling the shots, deciding the terms.
He stretched, frowning as his outstretched legs and arms hit the empty expanse next to him.
He pushed himself off the bed, feeling oddly cold despite the tropical temperatures as he padded to the bathroom. There was no reason to be pissed, he told himself as he drank down a glass of water. After all, it wasn't like he was into sleepovers in the first place.
Call him cold, but once he was finished fucking a woman, he was usually more than happy to bid her good night and head back to his own empty bed for a good night's sleep.
Alone.
But last night, after he'd gotten Wendy back to bed, fucking her long and slow and lazy this time, as he'd dozed off he was already entertaining fantasies of waking up next to her. Kissing her sleep-warm skin and sliding inside her hot, willing body before they were even fully awake.
Then lingering over breakfast, maybe a walk on the beach....
He shook his head to dislodge the thoughts. What the hell was this, an episode of The Bachelor?
Even so, just the thought of Wendy, the way she'd been last night, spread across his bed like a feast, then clinging to him, taking everything he had to give and demanding more, was enough to make his usual morning erection stretch to painful hardness.
No way he was making it through his workout with this thing. He turned on the shower, adjusted the temperature to as close to icy as you could get in the tropics, and dove in.
He stayed under the spray until he was shaking and every inch of him was covered with goosebumps, but his dick wouldn't go down past half mast. Finally he gave up, toweled himself off , pulled on his workout gear and headed for the gym.
An hour and a half later, the blood in his body redistributed thanks to a punishing workout, Drew emerged from
his villa freshly showered and headed down to the main beach to see what the rest of the crew was up to.
There was a brunch buffet laid out on the pool deck next to the main restaurant, and Drew helped himself to a bagel and a cup of coffee as he did a quick scan of the tables. Though he told himself he wasn't looking for her, he couldn't quite stifle the pang of disappointment when he didn't see Wendy among any of the groups gathered around the tables.
He exchanged hellos with several of the other guests and took a moment to tell Chris's cousin, Carla, who was now the general manager of Holley Cay, how much he was enjoying his stay here.
"Thanks," she said with a dazzling smile and a slight flush. "I have an amazing staff who helps me." As she said it, her gaze wandered past his shoulder and her smile widened.
Drew turned to look, not surprised to see Sam O'Connell, who was not only Holley Cay's director of security but also Carla's fiancé.
Seeing the look they exchanged, Drew felt an unfamiliar sensation in the pit of his stomach. When was the last time a woman had looked at him like that? Had one ever?
He shook it off and excused himself to get another cup of coffee. Christ, what was wrong with him? Must be something in the water. Or the air. All the lovesick romantic pheromones blowing around on the salty breeze.
He didn't want any of that shit. In fact, as he surveyed the tables, for as many couples who were holding hands and giving each other goofy looks across the table, twice as many had folded arms and clenched jaws, their body language indicating tension and unhappiness, only to be quickly hidden by too bright smiles when someone approached their table.
Drew had seen enough to know the fun, moony times didn't last, and he didn't have the time or patience to try to decipher the mysteries of a woman's mind to find out what would make her happy.
He was only interested in one thing, especially here. Especially now.
His gaze drifted over to the main building where Wendy was staying, locking on the shuttered window he was pretty sure was hers. Was she still sleeping? He'd kept her up late, he thought with a little smile.
Late enough that he'd fallen into such a deep, exhausted sleep he hadn't even heard her leave. His smile faded.
He sipped his coffee, his mouth pulling tight as he thought of her, alone up there in her room when she could have stayed, could have woken up next to him....
He hadn't even realized he was walking toward the building until the sound of someone calling his name startled him out of his haze. What was he going to do, storm up to her room and demand entry?
She wanted to be alone, Drew would leave her alone. He'd been happy to play the pursuer the night before, but he wasn't going to spend the rest of the weekend chasing Wendy down.
He raised his hand and went to join the man who'd summoned him. Jeff Tracer had been a year ahead of Drew and Chris at Berkeley and was now the president of a successful medical device company. Jeff and his wife Amelia lived in Northern California. He'd only met Amelia a few times, but he often ran into Jeff at work-related events.
"Good to see you Drew," Amelia said, and Drew leaned down to give her a buss on the cheek.
"Didn't have a chance to catch up last night at the party," Jeff said as Drew sat down.
"I feel like it's been ages since we saw you," Amelia said. "Not since Alan's wedding," she added. "God that was a beautiful ceremony—"
"Yeah, but I still feel bad for his fiancée," Jeff broke in. "What was her name? We went to the engagement party—"
"Wendy," Drew replied in a clipped voice. "Wendy Carmichael."
Like something out of a movie, she appeared. If she heard Drew say her name, she gave no indication as she strode across the pool deck. Though half of her face was hidden by her oversize sunglasses and oversize straw sun hat, there was no mistaking the long, pale legs left bare by the filmy cover up she wore. The fabric was some kind of translucent, gauzy stuff, hinting at bare skin at her stomach and chest.
In a heartbeat, Drew's body sprang to full attention, his gaze locked on her like a laser beam.
"That's her, isn't it?" Amelia, said, thankfully clueless to the fact that Drew was tenting out the front of his shorts under the table.
All Drew could manage was a strangled grunt of confirmation.
"I didn't realize she knew Chris," Jeff said idly, but Drew didn't miss the flare of appreciation in his eyes as he tracked Wendy's progress to the steps that led to the beach.
"She's Julie's best friend," Drew said in a sharp, clipped voice, resisting the urge to smack the faint leer of Jeff's face. He clenched his fist under the table. What the hell was wrong with him?
You're a jealous bastard, just like you were the first time she showed up on Alan's arm. He tried to shove the feeling away. Sure, he'd resented the bastard, but now that he'd finally had Weny in his bed, that should be out of his system.
Right?
Instead, he was finding, to his frustration, that having finally had a taste he found himself even more reluctant to have a man even look at her, even a happily married guy like Jeff.
"Ha, small world," Amelia said, not noticing or not caring that her husband was staring at another woman's near perfect ass. "Was she at the party last night?" she asked, turning to Jeff, who had the decency to wipe the wolfish look off his face as he looked at his wife.
"I didn't see her, but then again it was kind of dark and pretty crowded."
"I think she left early," Drew said, as though he hadn't tracked her every move from the moment she set foot on the island yesterday morning.
"She's a lot cuter than Alan's wife," Amelia said, turning her attention back to Wendy's retreating form, analyzing her in the way women measure each other. One thin brow arched above the frame of her sunglasses. "Must not have a great personality."
Drew watched the floppy green brim of Wendy's hat disappear down the steps. "No, more like Alan wasn't even close to man enough for her." He mentally kicked himself. Since when was it his business to defend Wendy's reputation, especially since up until last night she'd treated him with all the warmth of an ice sculpture.
Amelia held up her hands. "Oh, no offense, I don't even know her—"
Drew held up a hand. "None taken. We're friends, that's all," Friends? his inner skeptic scoffed. Not exactly, he conceded , but it sounded better than fuck buddy. Either way she didn't deserve to have her personality trashed by someone who barely remembered her. "And I know Alan pretty well. He's a tool."
Jeff's brow drew into a frown and he looked like he was about to defend their mutual acquaintance. Drew saw Chris and Julie emerge from the restaurant, hands linked as they smiled and stopped to say hello to their guests on their way down to the beach.
"I need to go talk to Chris," Drew said, cutting Jeff off as he seized the opportunity to exit.
He started to follow them down to the beach, his lips curling in a smile as he watched a slim, pale figure in a bright orange bikini wave them over. Julie gave a little wave and picked up her pace.
Drew hurried too as he realized they were going to join up with Wendy.
How convenient.
Chapter 5
Wendy settled back into her lounge chair and went about making sure every patch of skin exposed to the sun was covered in SPF 50. She'd learned the hard way at Julie's wedding five years ago that her fair skin and British Isles ancestry was no match for the strong Caribbean sun.
Still, she adored the sensation of basking in the sun, feeling the warmth on her skin, and she was determined to soak up at least a couple of hours before she retreated to a shady spot to go over the legal briefs she needed to review before she flew home tomorrow.
"Hey!"
Wendy looked up, grinning as Julie plopped herself onto the lounge chair next to her. She shed an aqua blue cover up the exact color of her eyes to reveal a body that was petite and enviably tight despite having given birth to an eight pound baby within the last two years.
Julie held out her hand, and Wendy automatica
lly handed her the sunscreen so she could give herself a protective coat.
"We missed you last night!" Julie said.
Wendy shrugged, hoping Julie couldn't see the blush creeping up her cheeks. "I told you, I was a little wasted from the flight."
"Since when do you let something like jet lag get in the way of a party?"
Since I decided to see what it would be like to let Drew Walker fuck me five ways to Sunday. "Work's been a bitch," Wendy said with a shrug.
"What else is new?" Julie said, and even though her eyes were hidden by the lenses of her aviators, Wendy knew they were rolling back in her head. "Are you seeing anyone?"
Before she could answer, she caught a glimpse of him coming down the stairs that led to the beach. Talking with Chris as they jogged the last few steps, Drew was dressed in a pair of dark blue board shorts and a faded grey t-shirt. High fashion it wasn't, but with the soft cotton of the shirt clinging to the muscles of his chest, reminding her of the masculine perfection that lay underneath, he looked good enough to eat.
He saw her in that exact moment, his step hitching in the soft white sand. Though like hers, his eyes were hidden behind sunglasses, she felt their silver heat hit her bare skin, raising the temperature of the air around her.
He started to take a step in their direction, but Chris caught his arm, gesturing to the volleyball game being played down the beach.
"I don't get how he does it," Julie said, stifling a little yawn behind her hand. "He already got up and swam like a hundred laps, now he's playing volleyball. I'm wiped out, and I've only been up for an hour and a half."
"Yeah, but you've been getting up in the middle of the night every night for a year," Wendy said absently, her eyes still locked on the broad lines of Drew's retreating back.
Julie must have noticed the direction of her gaze and the tension in her mouth. "You don't like him, do you?"
"Of course I do! I love Chris!”. Wendy said, playing dumb.
"Not Chris, Drew," Julie said. "You didn't like him from the beginning and now...." Her voice trailed off. "I know he works with Alan, and I'm sorry if having you makes you uncomfortable."