“I know this’ll shock you, but I had a 4.0 when I dropped out of college.”
“Get out.”
“Already accepted to vet school at Cornell.”
“Seriously? I mean, wow. Huh.”
“Gee, thanks.” Dry as dust.
“Listen, I’m sorry. But it’s not like you advertise your IQ. Your films—”
“Gross hundreds of millions, of which I get a fat percentage.”
“Okay, but—”
He cut in, clearly pissed. “I’m filthy fucking rich. I couldn’t spend it in three lifetimes.”
“But—”
He exploded. “What part don’t you get? Money, fame, women. Cars, a jet, a fucking island all my own. It’s the American dream, baby. Whatever I want, I can have.” He caught her chin and took her lips in a fierce kiss that had nothing to do with desire and everything to do with control.
She didn’t try to resist; she simply reached behind her back and grabbed a handful of nuts.
He froze.
She pulled her head away. “Say you’re sorry,” she gritted past clenched teeth.
Tension vibrated through his huge frame. Sugar stopped walking. The herd gathered round.
Then, like steam through a pressure valve, he blew out a breath. His body deflated. “I’m sorry. I’m a dick.”
“You are. You are such a dick.” She resisted the urge to give a hard squeeze before she unhanded him. “What the hell got into you?”
He shook his head like he couldn’t explain it.
“You upset everyone,” she said.
“I know. My bad.” He stroked Tri till he stopped quivering. The horses went back to their business; Cy resumed his patrol.
But Chris wasn’t letting him off that easy. He hadn’t hurt her, but he’d startled the hell out of her. “You’re too big to pull that shit. It’s scary.”
His whole body telegraphed remorse. “It won’t happen again. I promise.”
“I’d feel better if I knew why you did it the first time.”
Sugar topped out on a bluff, and for a moment they simply sat and took in the view, the sea stretching to the horizon, glittering and empty and vast.
Then he nudged Sugar down the path toward the beach below. When her hooves sank into the sand, he stopped her with a word and slid from her back.
He lifted Chris down, holding onto her waist even after her feet touched the ground.
“I can’t explain,” he said, “without sounding like an ungrateful asshole. I am rich and famous. I do have everything money can buy. There’s not a handful of men in the world who wouldn’t trade places with me.”
Looking up at him, she saw past the movie star to the troubled man inside. “Except you,” she said. “You wouldn’t trade places with you.”
“Ungrateful asshole that I am.”
She touched his cheek, and he smiled. The shadows melted from his eyes. Kota couldn’t seem to hold onto a bad mood—another thing she liked about him. The list kept growing.
“Don’t get me wrong,” he said, “there’s a lot to love about my life, and I make the most of it.” He turned her around to face the water. “This right here is one of the highlights. And it’s all ours, so strip down and let’s get wet.”
It was too good to resist, but she fought it anyway. “I don’t think—”
“Good idea, don’t think. Just swim.” He pulled off his boots, unbuttoned his Levi’s. Her eyes followed his zipper.
He paused, jeans still hooked on his hips. “Sweetheart, that water’s warm and wet, and once we’re in it we’ll both feel a whole lot better. So strip down to your skivvies and I promise I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”
But that was the problem, wasn’t it? She couldn’t think of anything she didn’t want him to do.
WADING IN, KOTA tried to focus on the waves breaking against his thighs instead of Christy’s hot pink panties and bra.
Hot. Pink.
The color was burned into his retinas. He dove through a chest-high wave and swam out past the breakers. Treading water, he tried not to stare, but damn it, she took her time wading in, foam spraying her skin as the waves licked at her legs.
Then she knifed through a wave, surfacing to breaststroke toward him, sleek as a seal.
She stopped at arm’s length to tread water, squinting in the sunlight. “Are there sharks out here?”
“I don’t know. Let me check.” Ducking under, he got a shark’s-eye view of flashing silver legs and pink-wrapped cheeks.
Circling her thighs, he skimmed fingertips over slippery skin, snapped elastic with one finger, caught her big toe and released it.
Then he peeled away and popped up where he started. “Only one, but he’s big.”
She smirked, then dove. Silver and pink flickered around his thighs as she circled, more mermaid than shark. He waited, heart racing, for the stroke of her hand on bare skin—
And she pinched him.
“Ow!”
She broke the surface, laughing.
He closed in until they were just inches apart, close enough to see the gold ring around her irises. Their legs brushed as they treaded water, neither giving ground.
“First you tickle me,” he said, “then you strangle my nuts, and now you pinch me. You’re such a girl.” He made it a taunt.
“First you crush me to the wall, then you throw me over your shoulder, then you abduct me on your horse. You’re such a caveman.” She made it a sneer.
He went nose to nose. “Me Tarzan, you Jane.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Cavemen don’t talk much. We drag women around by their hair.” He took a handful of hers.
“You wouldn’t dare.”
“There’s not much I wouldn’t dare.” He released her hair and gripped her hips with both hands. She was built for him, her curves a perfect fit in his palms.
He tugged her to him, and her breasts swelled against his chest, ballooning up from her pretty pink bra.
Until he unhooked it with two fingers.
He pulled back just enough to let it float out of the way. Then he slid a hand up to cup her. Her nipple hardened as he felt her up.
“Yep, you’re definitely a girl.”
“And you’re definitely a caveman.” Husky, like she liked cavemen a lot. “But—”
“Okay.” He grabbed a handful of butt too.
“Not that kind of but.”
But . . . she didn’t dislodge his hand. Their legs undulated in tandem. Her lips glistened with seawater. He licked it off with a slow stroke of his tongue.
She let out a little moan. Slid her palms up his arms and got a grip on his shoulders. Her breasts slipped and slid over his pecs. “We have to stop,” she murmured.
“No we don’t.” His splayed hand crushed her against his hard-on. She resisted by wriggling, making both of them hotter.
He licked her lips again. “Baby, let me in.”
She shook her head, but weakly. She was folding like paper.
Then he pushed his fingers inside those hot pink panties, and damned if her eyes didn’t glaze with pure lust. It unchained his own, and he reached for the heat, finding it with his fingertips, wetter than water.
Christy quit resisting. She let him in, all right, between her legs, between her lips, kissing like she sang, with her whole body and soul. She tasted like salt and surrender, and he wanted to eat her alive.
They fought the swells, thrashing their legs, dragging each other under. On land he’d be inside her by now. But strong and motivated as he was, in choppy ten-foot water, they were drowning.
He broke away at last. “The beach,” he got out. And they swam like Jaws was chasing them.
CHRIS STAGGERED THROUGH the shallows to dry land, hands on her
knees, sucking wind.
Kota charged up behind her, catching her waist, turning her, lifting her so her legs naturally hooked over his hips.
One huge hand cupped the back of her head, bracing it as he took her mouth, her tongue. His other hand supported her ass, fingers inside her panties, inside her.
Her conscience squawked. She ignored it, scraping nails over bunched shoulders, along straining triceps. Kissing him, soaking up his heat, his awesome strength.
He released her lips to drag kisses down her throat. “Baby.” His breath was a rasp. “It’s a long shot, but you got any condoms on you?”
She huffed out a laugh; frustration and dismay. “Yeah, right here in my pocket.”
He dropped his forehead on her shoulder and shuddered out a breath. When he lifted his head, his jaw was tight, but his eyes were hot. “I’m not coming till I’m inside you, but there’s no reason you have to wait.”
He pressed deeper, and her head lolled back. Oh God, if he could do that with only two fingers . . .
“How long to get home?” she asked. If it was more than ten minutes . . .
“Ten minutes at a gallop.”
She unlocked her ankles and let her legs slide down his thighs, sopping pink silk dragging over bulging white cotton.
The man was big everywhere. Every. Where.
Then he split her eardrums with a whistle. Sugar came at a run.
“You’ll want your pants,” he said, releasing her to snatch up his own.
She worked wet legs into capris that seemed two sizes too small, then looked around for her T-shirt. She spotted it hanging from the back of the jeans he hadn’t bothered to button.
“Hey.” She reached for it.
He swiveled away. “You don’t need a shirt to ride.” His smile had plans in it.
“What about sunburn?”
“I’ll cover you.”
She made another grab. He danced away, then circled back, catching her waist and boosting her up on Sugar.
In a finger snap he’d plopped Tri on her lap and leaped up behind her. “Sugar baby,” he called out in his powerful drawl. “Run like the wind!”
He was as good as his word, keeping the sun off her back with his big body, and off her front with his free hand. His palm fit her breast like a glove, and watching him handle her while they streaked through the meadow was the hottest thing she’d ever seen.
They pulled up on a dime at the shed, and Kota had all three of them on the ground in a heartbeat, hurrying Chris down the path toward the house.
“I could carry you,” he offered, as if she was dawdling.
“I’m not a sack of potatoes.” Flopping over his shoulder was no fun.
“How about this?” He scooped her up with one arm under her knees, the other under her back.
Not bad.
Then, “Nope, I can’t do it. I can’t look at your tits without touching ’em.”
He dropped her legs and backed her up to a tree, one big hand behind her so the bark wouldn’t scrape her, the other taking the weight of one breast.
“Beautiful.” He dipped his head and licked her nipple with the flat of his tongue, then pulled back to blow on it. She hardened to a point.
“My breasts”—her breath caught as he went in for another taste—“don’t usually do much for me.” They simply weren’t that sensitive.
“Baby, they’re doing plenty for me.” He moved her hand from his waist to his erection, stroking himself with the flat of her palm.
The last shreds of her reason fell in tatters to the ground.
Shaking off his hand, she shoved hers down his pants, palming him, velvet over steel.
He sucked air through his teeth, bracing a hand on the tree. “Just for a second,” he whispered as she stroked. “Just a second.”
Leaning in, he let out a low moan, swelling in her hand. Throbbing against her palm.
Then he straightened and yanked her hand out. She tried to get back in, to grab hold of what she wanted, but he cuffed her wrist. Squeezed his eyes shut, held his breath.
Seconds ticked. Then he hissed it out slowly and opened glazed eyes. “That was close.”
She smiled. Oh, she’d liked having all that power in her hands. All that everything in her hands.
“Let’s go.” Taking her elbow, he barreled down the path, hustling her along in front of him.
They’d reached the edge of the woods, the home stretch, with the house in sight, when they heard knock knock knock.
“Kota?” Sasha’s voice. “Are you home?”
They slammed on the brakes, then backtracked into the trees while the dogs charged ahead, giving them away.
“Goddamn it.” Kota kicked a stump. “For a desert island, it’s pretty fucking crowded.”
“Give me my shirt.”
He whipped it out of his jeans and held it over his head.
“Seriously?” She put a hand on her hip.
He eyed her pose. “Keep that up and you’ll never get it back.”
She dropped her arm. “Is this how you want your new sister-in-law to find you? Acting like a caveman?”
He grinned like an idiot. She made a grab for her shirt. He let her catch hold, then used it to pull her close and wrap an arm around her waist.
“You can have it,” he said, nuzzling her ear, “if you promise to take it off again as soon as she goes.”
That was easy. “I promise.”
“Cross your heart?”
She drew an X on her breast. He dropped a kiss on top of it, turned it into a bite. The scrape of his teeth shouldn’t be so arousing—
“Kota?” Sasha sounded concerned now, striding toward the path, the dogs racing ahead.
Chris shrugged on her shirt, then casually, as if she hadn’t just had a hand down Kota’s pants, she stepped out of the trees with him at her heels.
“Hey, there you are.” Sasha looked relieved. “I got worried when the dogs showed up without you.”
“Just lollygagging, enjoying the day.” Kota’s smile was genuine.
Sasha’s gaze zeroed on Chris’s pink T-shirt just long enough to remind Chris that it was wrinkled and wet, and probably transparent.
Chris’s face heated, and embarrassment gave conscience a foothold. It reared up, reminding her she had no business getting naked with Dakota Rain. She was a spy, hiding out on his island to pen an article about his brother and this very nice woman who’d never done her any harm.
Suddenly, Kota’s hand on her waist felt all wrong. She stepped away, scooping up Tri, keeping her distance from Kota.
“I guess you were riding,” Sasha said. “And swimming. And stuff.”
“Yep,” Kota said. “Surprised to see you up at this hour, being on your honeymoon and all.”
Sasha smiled, a sparkle in her eye. “We went to bed early. Besides, I’m usually up before dawn. Which makes this a late start for me, especially since we’re a couple of time zones over.”
Kota caught Chris’s eye. He rubbed his chest with the flat of his hand, a riveting move. She gulped, then forced herself to look at Sasha, who was still chattering away cluelessly.
“— so I thought I’d stop by and invite you to dinner. Tana’s dying to try out your new grill.” Sasha flashed a friendly smile at Chris. “Wait’ll you see it. It’s so Kota. As big as a bus. You herd the cow in one end and steaks come out medium rare on the other.”
Chris’s half-assed smile was less than Sasha deserved but all Chris could manage.
“Sure, dinner sounds good.” Kota shuffled his feet, practically herding Sasha along.
She got the hint at last. “Okay then, come on over when you get hungry.”
She’d scarcely disappeared around the corner when Kota caught Chris’s hand.
“Come on, babe
. I need you under me now.”
Chapter Thirteen
KOTA PRACTICALLY DRAGGED Christy to the house. She balked when they got to the steps.
“Listen—” she said.
“Later,” he cut in. No sentence that started with “Listen” ever went anywhere good. “You can talk my ear off later and I’ll memorize every word. But right now, my balls are turning fifty shades of blue.”
He started up the steps, tugging at her hand. She held her ground.
“I can’t do this,” she said.
“Sweetheart, we’ve been doing it for an hour. We’re just getting to the good part.”
She looked down at her toes.
Jesus, he was losing her. Swallowing exasperation, he fell back on proven methods.
“Okay. It’s your call.” He made it sound like gracious surrender. When she lifted her head, he raised his arms and slicked back his hair with both hands, then locked them behind his head in his billboard pose.
He pretended to study the sea while she looked her fill. Then he dropped his hands to his hips. Rolled his shoulders like he was shaking it off. Rubbed a palm across his abs, slowly, like he was thinking about something else . . .
And she bolted past him, up the stairs, and down the hall toward her room. A door slammed in the distance.
“Well, fuck,” he muttered.
Tri hopped up the steps and went after her, the traitor.
Kota glared at Cy. “Go ahead, why don’t you? You know you want to.” Cy tucked his tail, guilty as sin.
“Whatever.” Kota stomped down the other hall and slammed his own bedroom door.
A cold shower helped for about five minutes, until he flopped facedown on the bed. The bed where Christy should’ve been spread underneath him.
What the fuck?
Everything had been going according to plan. Even better, in fact, what with the hot-buttered abs opening the show with a bang.
Then there was the foreplay in the shed, in the water, on the sand. If he’d just remembered a goddamn rubber, they’d have gotten it done right there.
He rolled over on his back and stared at the fan going round and round. His cock pulsed with each heartbeat. Why hadn’t he let her get him off in the woods? He’d had to channel a fucking Jedi to keep from coming. And for what? Sasha showed up and that was that.
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