10 Days in Paradise (Tropical Nights)

by Haymore, J.

  Fuck, this was harder than I’d imagined it would be.

  She gestured toward the dresser. “I folded them and put them in the second drawer.”

  As I moved to the dresser, she said, “So you’re going?”

  “I have to get home. Feed my dog. Kimo feeds her when I’m in Kona, but he expects me back today. I have work to do.”

  “Okay.” She stayed put and crossed her arms over her chest, a frown turning her lips down, the color high on her cheeks. “Will you call me?”

  “Yeah,” I lied. I turned away from her and opened the drawer. Shit, just looking at her, frowning or not, made me hard. And it made something in my chest twist and burn.

  “You’re lying.”

  I stilled. What should I say? I dragged my gaze back to her face, and we stared at each other.

  After a long, frozen moment, she dropped her arms and balled her fists at her sides. The first signs of anger darkened her green eyes to a deep mossy color. “I’m sorry I didn’t sound more interested in your profession and where you live. That sucked of me, and I should have asked. I’m interested in everything about you, Kanoe. I really am. It…” She looked confused for a second. “It actually hurts that you didn’t tell me until now.”

  I stared at her steadily, a tiny fissure forming on the surface of my resistance. Because even I knew by now that Celeste admitting to anything hurting her was huge.

  “But this is about more than that, I think,” she said quietly.

  Leaving the drawer open with my shorts still inside it, I took a step toward her. Why not tell her the truth?

  “You think I’m not good enough for you,” I said between clenched teeth.

  She went still, then blew out a harsh breath. “You’re wrong.”

  “You think because I don’t drive a fancy Mercedes or wear a suit every day that I’m an ignorant fucking barbarian.”

  “That’s not true!” she growled.

  I closed the remaining distance between us. “I’m done being your exotic fuck toy.”

  “I’m not like that, Kanoe.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Do you really think I’d think about you like that?” Her throat worked as she swallowed. I wanted to reach out and stroke my fingertips over it, feel her pulse beneath the delicate skin of her neck.

  “What else can it be? What do you plan to do when you go? Ask me to come to the mainland with you?”

  “So you plan on leaving here just like that? Just like that, after—”

  “After what?”

  “After the weekend we had together.”

  Crossing my arms, I narrowed my eyes. Did she realize her words proved my point? Sex was all she wanted. Even so, my cock stirred again, remembering the way she’d felt beneath me on the hotel sheets, all soft and smooth, wrapped around me, tugging at me, pulsing as she’d cried my name.

  I hardened my expression into a sneer. “You want more of that? Then go find another dark dick to fill your pūnani.”

  Energy bristled behind her flushed skin. Shit, I’d never seen her pissed off before. She was fucking beautiful. “Why are you being such a jerk? I don’t want another dark dick,” she grated out. “I want yours.”

  At her words, a red-hot sensation flowed through me, and my cock hardened even more. She wanted me for sex, and my damned weak body was more than willing to comply.

  I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her toward me, capturing her mouth with mine, swiping my tongue along her lower lip, then diving inside. She kissed me with equal violence, matching me like she always did, punctuating each attack with a little moan. Together, we stumbled to the bed, but before she could lie down, I pinned her against me so she’d feel the solid bulge of my erection through my shorts.

  “That’s what you want?” I growled.

  Her chest heaved. A sheen of moisture glistened on her lips. She pressed them together and narrowed her eyes in challenge. “Yes.”

  Then she would have it.

  But some voice deep within me shouted an alarm. Get out while you still can! it yelled. I gritted my teeth and moved backward. Inches from her body—way too far. It physically hurt to be this far away from her. My skin crawled, demanding to touch her again.

  We stared at each other. My heart banged against my ribs. I couldn’t get enough oxygen. Sweat prickled my forehead. A strange vibration pulsed in the heavy air between us.

  I should stop. I should leave.

  She gave a small jerk of her head and whispered, “What are you afraid of?”

  Her words pierced me to the core, and a part of me knew she had me wired.

  But no, I wasn’t afraid. She was wrong—she had to be wrong. She wanted me to fuck her. I could do that. Easily.

  I reached for the top button of her shirt, but all of a sudden, I had ten thumbs. I didn’t have time for this shit. I ripped it open. Buttons flew everywhere.

  As the shirt slid to the floor, I quelled the shaking of my hands and unzipped her shorts, yanking them down with her underwear. I kicked them away.

  Drawing her forward by her nape, I slanted my mouth over hers again and swiped my tongue inside.

  I’d do this, one last time, then I’d leave. This was it.

  She wrapped her arms around my torso and opened to me, allowed me to take what I wanted—needed—from her.

  With a flick of my fingers, I unclasped her bra from behind, then pulled it down over her shoulders and arms.

  She was naked. I was still fully dressed.

  Sucking and nipping at the perfect, pale flesh of her jaw, I glimpsed a flash of yellow. My surfboard, standing in the corner, nose down and topside to the wall.

  “Turn around,” I bit out against her skin.

  Before she had a chance to react, I covered her shoulders with my hands, turned her toward the wall, and pushed her to the corner.

  I held her against my surfboard. She grabbed the edges and bent forward, resting her cheek against the board as if she were making love to it. Her head fit perfectly between the three fins—one jutted just over her head and the other two encased it on either side.

  “Good.” I smoothed my palms over her back, the outsides of her thighs. I loved the feel of her skin under my hands.

  I pressed my body to hers, sandwiching her between me and the board. My cock pushed against her lower back through the material of my shorts. She panted beneath me, hot, flushed, her body slicked with sweat.

  She liked it rough. She liked me to be in charge during sex—I’d gotten to know her well enough in the past few days to learn that. I wanted to be in control. We were compatible that way.

  Running my fingers across the smooth undersides of her arms, I covered her hands with mine, drawing them up over her head, over the top fin. I clasped her hands together, then reached around to the front of the board for my leash. Catching it in my fingers, I looped it over her wrists. At the first contact of rubber with her skin, she tensed and squirmed, but my body held her captive. She let out a little moan.

  “This is what you want, isn’t it?” I growled into her ear, holding her against my board, squeezing her wrists together, leaving the loop of rubber around them. Her body quivered.

  “Is this my punishment?” she breathed.

  “You want me, so you’re getting me,” I said bluntly. On my terms.

  She sent me a scathing look over her shoulder, her green eyes narrow and so fucking hot. “Then what are you waiting for?”

  Pressing her even harder to the board, I wrapped the band around her wrists until it went taut, securing it with the Velcro strap.

  There. She was bound to my board, bound to me. Until I decided to let her go.

  I slipped my hand between her thighs to cup her from behind—so wet—and pushed my thumb inside. She gasped, grinding against the surfboard.

  “Good. Fuck my board.” I pushed in as deep as I could go. She shoved her hips forward, thrusting my knuckles into the fiberglass, trying to drive me deeper inside.

  “That’
s right, ipo, that’s right.”

  I murmured encouraging words, working her until she clenched around me, her back arched.

  “I don’t think so,” I whispered, and pulled away, swiping my drenched hand over her ass.

  “No!” she cried, and her hips jerked once, recovering from the denied orgasm. “Don’t… How could you…? No!”

  Breathing hard, I stepped back, and again my rebellious body screamed at the loss of contact. My cock ached, throbbed, pulsed inside my shorts.

  I turned her to face me. With her arms bound overhead, her teeth gritted, her chest heaving and her cheeks pink, she looked pissed off and innocent and too damned beautiful for words, like some kind of virgin sacrifice.

  I dropped my hands to my sides and stared. She stared back at me, a mottled flush rising up her neck and spreading across her jaw. Above the subtle ridges of her ribs, raspberry-colored nipples crowned her round, full breasts. The amber curls between her legs were damp, and moisture glistened on the insides of her slightly parted thighs.

  She was foreign, not of my world. A pale goddess sent from some celestial body to drive me fucking crazy.

  The hot flesh of her breast seared my palm. Brushing her nipple under my thumb, I watched in fascination as it hardened to a tight, round nub.

  Her eyes locked on to me, and her gaze looked almost tender. Closing my expression, I reached around and grabbed my board. Using the leash, I dragged her to her knees, pulling the surfboard down so her bound hands were in front of her like a handcuffed criminal.

  Setting the surfboard on the floor, I went behind her and pressed her shoulders so that her elbows were on the floor. She faced my surfboard, and her ass faced me.

  “Don’t move,” I ordered.

  Her body heaved with each breath. Keeping one hand on the small of her back, I took a condom from my pocket, ripped it open with my teeth, pulled down my shorts, and rolled the latex on.

  I slid the head of my cock down to her sex—so wet and ready for me. I found her opening and hovered there, brushing my head against her clit. The slick heat sent shards of sensation through me.

  “Is this what you want, Celeste?”

  “Yes,” she moaned, trying to force herself back onto me. I held her firm.

  “Say it.”

  “I want you, Kanoe. I need you,” she whispered.

  “I don’t believe you.”

  She pushed toward me again, but I dug my fingers into her hip, holding her steady. Panic edged her tone. “Only you. It’s all I want—all I’ve ever wanted.”

  “Say please.”

  “Please,” she begged. “Please…”

  I drove home.

  She cried out. I gripped her hips and thrust into her, forcing her to meet me. She tossed her head back and forth as I hammered in and out, driving as deeply as she would take me.

  I reached around her and strummed her clit. Celeste shuddered and moaned. My cock tightened, expanded. I was going to come, but it was too soon—I needed to last longer than this. One more thrust and I was finished. I ground my teeth and froze.

  She shoved herself against me, opening wide, her back bowed, her body quivering, every muscle tense. I gently pinched her clit between my fingers. Spasms rolled over my cock, squeezing me tighter than I’d thought possible, sucking me in.

  I rammed forward, pushing deeper inside, impaling her on my cock. The orgasm ripped through me like a wildfire. She shouted, or maybe it was me. Hard to tell with the roaring sounds of release exploding through my body.

  I collapsed over her. Moments later, when I had enough strength, I tore the Velcro to release her wrists. Then I turned away to deal with the condom and put my shorts back on. She sat back on her haunches, her forearms resting on the floor, her face hidden in the crook of her elbow.

  Shit. I frowned at myself. How could I lose control like that? Not fifteen minutes ago, I was determined to walk away from her. And now…and now she looked so damn gorgeous and vulnerable, all I wanted to do was hold her close.

  “Come here.” I wrapped my arms around her, tugging her toward me as I sat on the floor and leaned my back against the wall.

  She buried her head into my shoulder, sliding her hands around me beneath my shirt. We sat there, locked in each other’s arms, for a long time. Her body relaxed, and I thought she might have dozed off.

  I watched the ocean through the window on the far side of the room. The surf was smallish today, but clean. Perfect for beginners.

  When I looked back down at her, she was staring at me. I caught her wrist in my hand and turned it over. The leash had chafed it, marking her skin with a line of pink. I brushed my lips over the marks, hoping to soothe them. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

  “Maybe I did make assumptions about you,” she whispered. “I was wrong. But you should have told me more about yourself.”

  “Ah…ipo.” I didn’t know what else to say. She was right. It was all crystal clear now. I should have told her more about myself. I could make excuses for myself all day long—it had never come up, she’d never seemed interested, our relationship was temporary so why give even more of myself to her…

  In the end, though, I was wrong. I should have volunteered more. I’d kept that part of myself hidden so I’d have an excuse to be pissed off at her when I did reveal it. But I hadn’t been open with her, so of course she was surprised when she learned the truth. I’d played games with her like a stupid-ass twelve-year-old.

  “Why did you wait so long to tell me all those things? I feel like…like you didn’t want me to know who you really are. Why?”

  “That’s not exactly right,” I said thickly. “Those things aren’t crucial to who I am. My ’iwi, my bones, define me.”

  She smiled up at me and cupped my cheek. “Yes. You’re right. And that’s why I like you. I like your ’iwi. I don’t care—I don’t give a shit—whether you’re an unemployed trash collector or the richest man in Hawaii. I don’t care about the color of your skin or what you do. I care about who you are. And I like who you are. A lot.”

  I spoke after a long pause. “When you’re Hawaiian, people make stereotypes about what you’re capable of doing. I think—well, I think I almost wanted you to be that way, because you’re leaving so soon.” And by dismissing her as prejudiced, it’d be so much easier to let her go. In my subconscious, I’d been protecting myself, trying to find a way to make our inevitable separation less painful.

  “I don’t know what stereotypes people tend to make. I don’t know anything about the culture here, Kanoe, but I want to learn, I really do.”

  I held her closer. “I know that. I was the one making the stereotypes. I’m sorry, ipo, I was wrong.”

  “I don’t think I’ve ever been so angry at anyone in my life,” she murmured, then met my eyes. “I don’t get angry often.”

  “I know.” I grinned. “So I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

  “It is a compliment. I think.”

  Her lips came closer to mine, tickled my mouth as she spoke. Her voice quavered. “I have four days left, and one of those days is ruined with the Honolulu trip. Please don’t go. I want to be with you.”

  While she was here, she wanted me. And behind that wanting was something deeper, more than physical desire. I could see it in her eyes. Was she even aware of it? She still intended to have sex with me for a few more days and then leave without looking back.

  Yet if I thought rationally about it, what would be a better scenario? A part of me never wanted to let her go, but a greater part knew that was impossible. I couldn’t ask her to stay, to abandon her life in L.A. and the career she loved. She wouldn’t stay. And if she did agree to stay with me, once she discovered what life was really like here, then what would she do? Living here was a very different experience from visiting here. Real life wasn’t always easy in Hawaii. Not in my Hawaii, anyway.

  “We’ve got four more days,” I said. “Don’t think past that.”

  Was I talking to her
or to myself?

  She squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her lips to mine. I gathered her in my arms and returned the kiss.

  But something was still bothering me. I pulled back slightly. “I have a question. Why were you laughing at me in the helicopter?”

  She stared at me blankly, then the corner of her mouth quirked up in a smile. “You saw that?”

  “Yeah.” I frowned. Her laughter in the helicopter had eaten away at me all afternoon.

  “I was having a ridiculous thought. I was wondering what it would be like to join the Mile High Club.”

  Relief flooded through me, and I grinned. So she hadn’t been mocking me after all. “We were too low, I think.”

  She sighed wistfully. “I know.”

  “But maybe we could try it sometime. At the right altitude.”

  “I think—I don’t know. Wouldn’t we crash?”

  “Nah. You’d have to do a lot of the work, though.”

  Warm, silken flesh pressed against my body. Her lips settled onto mine. “I think I could manage that.”

  Celeste

  We went surfing at twilight. Abandoning my sequined suit for a plain seafoam-green bikini, I stayed outside the line of breaking waves, watching Kanoe catch a few. When he was younger, he’d been amateur state champion for a couple of years, and it didn’t surprise me. Sheer grace and strength on a surfboard, he controlled the board with ease—like it was an extension of his body. He was amazing to watch.

  I sat up, straddling Bertha. Kanoe rode a wave in front of me, but I could only see his shoulders and head from behind. The wave closed out, and he spun out of the white water, dropped onto his board, and began to paddle back to me.

  Aftershocks of this afternoon still shuddered through me, and I was having trouble focusing on catching a wave. As someone who lived such a tightly controlled existence, I never would have believed that relinquishing control could be the biggest turn-on of all.

  “Hey,” Kanoe said, paddling up. Droplets of water rolled down his tattooed shoulder, sparkling in the waning sunlight. “It’s getting dark. You haven’t caught a wave yet.”