Take It Down

by Kira Sinclair

  At one point, she reached for him, trying to pull him up her body so that she could touch him, feel him, drive his erection into her and end her misery.

  He wouldn’t let her.

  Instead, he distracted her, anchoring his mouth back over her clit and driving a finger deep inside her. It was too much and she was too close. Her body did exactly what he wanted it to, exploding around him as the band of arousal he’d wound so expertly finally snapped.

  The world faded away, even the bright sunlight behind her closed eyelids going black. She couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t think. All she could do was feel the pleasure as wave after wave of it washed over her.

  Seconds, minutes, hours. She didn’t know how long it took for her brain to begin working again. Probably not as long as she thought, though, since both of them lay on the ground, their chests heaving in unison.

  “Holy shit.”

  He chuckled, a sound that had strain running all through it.

  Rolling onto her side, Elle propped her head on her hand and watched him. His eyes were closed, his jaw tight with the effort of just lying there. His hands were fisted at his sides, handfuls of earth oozing through his fingers.

  And his erection strained against the damp cloth of the shorts he still wore.

  Her mouth watered.

  She wanted to see him, feel him, know him.

  Leaning down, Elle brushed her mouth across the side of his neck, enjoying the way his pulse leaped beneath her lips. When she was close to his ear, she whispered, “My turn.”

  His body pulsed beneath her. Really, that was the only word she could think of to describe it. She could feel the desire he was holding back surfing just beneath his skin. It was a living, breathing thing. And they were both slaves to it.

  Brushing her palms down his chest, she went to work on his waistband. The button popped easily, but the waterlogged zipper didn’t want to move. She was about to give up when he said, “Get it down or I’m going to rip it apart. That’ll be hard to explain when we get back.” His words were guttural, telling her just how close to the edge he really was. She had no doubt at all that he meant what he said. Having her touch him was more important at that moment than anything else—including having to explain an embarrassing situation.

  Power surged through her. He wanted her that much. With renewed conviction, she wrestled the stubborn zipper open, tugging the teeth apart.

  He wore nothing beneath. Elle wondered if that was standard operating procedure for this man and then thought it probably was. If he’d been thinking of sex, he would have had a condom.

  His erection sprang free, the throbbing length slippery with his desire.

  “I’m sorry, it won’t take much,” he pushed out between clenched teeth as he watched her watching him.

  She ran a single finger down the length of him, relishing the way he jumped into her touch, wanting more.

  “Damn, Zane, who asked you to be Superman? I didn’t. Do you think it bothers me that you drove me insane and managed to barely hold it together yourself? You just gave me the best orgasm of my life. I really don’t care if it takes you three seconds or three hours, as long as you enjoy what I’m about to do to you.”

  She dipped toward him. Her hair fell around her face. The ends feathered across his skin, making his stomach muscles contract.

  She ran the flat edge of her tongue along the entire length of his erection, enjoying the way he breathed out “sweet lor—” before his voice dropped off into an incoherent gurgle when she opened her mouth and took him deep inside.

  He was big, filling her mouth in a way that made her internal muscles clench. What she’d give to feel him moving inside her. Later. Soon.

  For now, she contented herself with the texture of him beneath her tongue. He tasted of salt and man. Smelled of musk and sex. He was hard and soft all at once, silk-covered steel.

  She sucked. He writhed beneath her, grasping the back of her head and urging her nearer.

  She teased him, using the wet heat of her mouth to get him close, before backing away and leaving him restless. His eyes promised retribution, a payment in kind that she would relish.

  “Witch,” he breathed as he reached for her, pulling her up and crushing her mouth with his own. His large palm engulfed her smaller hand, guiding her until her fingers were wrapped tight around his shaft. “Finish me,” he said. The words were supposed to be an order from the calm, capable, unflappable Officer Edwards. But Elle heard the desperation beneath them. Remembered begging him for her own release minutes before.

  She was nicer. She wouldn’t make him beg.

  Watching as ecstasy suffused his face was almost as amazing as feeling him pulse and explode beneath her fingers. His body strained against the whipcord of pleasure as it pounded through him. His fingers clenched against her body, one hand buried deep in her hair, the other anchored securely on her hip. His hold might have hurt, if she’d noticed. But she was focused solely on him, on the moment his guard was completely down, and she could see behind the mask to the man beneath.

  He collapsed to the ground, dragging her with him.

  Sunlight streamed across her body. Lazy warmth stole through her. And her limbs suddenly seemed weighted down, too heavy to move. Her eyelids, too.

  She let it all go, falling asleep in his arms. Something she hadn’t let herself do in a very long time.

  “YOUR SKIN’S GOING TO burn.” Zane’s deep voice called her back to the land of the living. His fingers played across her skin, making random patterns.

  Without opening her eyes, she smiled and said, “I don’t burn. My Nana was Italian. I have Mediterranean blood running through my veins.”

  His fingertips brushed over the ends of her hair, “So where did the red come from?”

  “Nice ’n Easy?”

  His other hand strayed to the curls at the juncture of her thighs, calling her a liar without saying a word.

  The smile on her face spread. “My Irish grandpa.” She cracked her eyes open, twisting her head so she could look up into his face. “Lucky it wasn’t reversed, huh? Pasty skin and curly black hair probably wouldn’t have been so pretty.”

  “Pretty? Yes. You? No. Somehow that kind of ice-princess beauty just wouldn’t have suited you. You’re…”

  “A pain in the ass?”

  “Explosive was what I was actually thinking, but yeah, pain in the ass works, too.”

  She reached behind her and grabbed the first thing her hand landed on, her discarded bra, and lobbed it at him.

  Scrambling away, he scooped up his damp shorts and put them back on. Snapping them up as he walked away.

  But he didn’t get far. He stopped next to the bag that held all of her stuff.

  He stared down at her unfinished painting and Elle tried desperately not to squirm. She wanted to bolt up and snatch it away, but something inside stopped her.

  “Now, this is beautiful,” he said, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

  “It isn’t finished.”

  “Looks perfect to me,” he said, reaching down as if to follow the lines with his fingertip.

  “What do you know?” Pushing to her feet in one motion, she walked toward him, swatting his hand away from the still-wet canvas before he could smudge it. “No touching.”

  His arm snaked around her waist, pulling her tight into his body. “I hope you don’t really mean that,” he growled against her neck. The rumble of his words echoed through her body, igniting the embers of the fire their love play hadn’t truly extinguished.

  She’d come. Rather forcefully, if she was honest. Satisfaction should be rolling through her right now, along with the need for a longer nap.

  Instead, her blood hummed just beneath her skin. She wanted him again. Right now. In the sand, on the rocks, in the grass. Wet, dry, she didn’t care. Elle hadn’t had enough of Zane Edwards.

  And that scared the shit out of her.

  He was the kind of man she always stayed away from. Alwa
ys with a capital A. He was controlling, overbearing and demanding. Honorable, beautiful, the type who put everyone else’s safety way before his own. He was guilt ridden—about what, she didn’t know, but she recognized the signs well enough. She’d lived with men who blamed themselves for so many things beyond their control.

  She’d lived all of her life beneath the thumb of that kind of man—men. And while her father and brothers loved her, it hadn’t been easy. The experience had taken a toll on all of them, and she had no desire to set herself up for a relationship that would drain her the same way.

  Not that Officer Edwards was offering her anything other than a vacation fling. She was jumping way ahead of the situation. But the problem was that she knew herself well enough to recognize the signs. Bad signs.

  In a few short days, he’d worked his way under her skin, like a splinter. She didn’t want to, but she cared about him. Bad, bad idea. They were wrong for each other. She was here only for a little while and he distrusted her every move.

  Yeah, not a great foundation for anything.

  Not that they had anything.

  Zane’s hands wandered down her body, a welcome distraction from the thoughts racing around her brain. He molded her against him, arching her spine. His mouth found the now-speeding pulse at the curve of her neck and sucked, making it leap higher. Heavy heat pooled in the center of her belly.

  And suddenly her concerns didn’t seem so important. Besides, this was a fling. In a few days, she’d be gone—hopefully with her grandmother’s painting—and Zane and his guilt-inducing demons would be left behind on this tropical paradise. Nothing but a pleasant memory....

  What harm was there in taking a few more helpings of what she’d already had? The milk had already been spilt, after all. Might as well enjoy the milkshake—with whipped topping and sprinkles—while she had it. She could worry about the consequences later.

  Besides, her body responded to him, whether her brain wanted her to or not. She wasn’t about to start something again that neither of them had the supplies to finish, however. The next time they got down and dirty, she wanted the whole damn deal. She wanted to feel him inside her, long, hot and hard. Nothing else would fulfill the need already building within her.

  “Oh, no, you don’t.” As difficult as it was, Elle wedge a hand between them and pushed him away. “Unless you know how to fashion a condom out of palm fronds—and if you do, I’m going to kill you for not doing it sooner—we’re going to hit Pause until we get back to the resort.”

  His lips frowned at her but his eyes smoldered, heavy with promise and passion.

  “I do need to get back,” he grumbled. “I’m cooling off first, though. Wanna join me?”

  The corners of his mouth twitched. If she hadn’t been looking at it longingly, she probably would have missed the microscopic tell. And wouldn’t have paired it with the twinkle of mischief that had entered those heavy-lidded eyes.

  “No way, mister.” She took two steps away. If she got in that water with him, it would be another hour before they went anywhere.

  “Suit yourself.” Not looking back, he waded out into the softly churning water.

  Elle watched for several seconds as he skimmed beneath the surface, toward the waterfall. He broke free directly beside it and stepped into the tumbling sheet of water, letting it wash over his body. His eyes were closed, his head thrown back—it was the first time she’d seen him without the usual intensity slightly pinching his face.

  He looked relaxed. Blissful.

  Without thought, Elle sank onto the sand, reached for her canvas and began painting.

  It took her barely any time at all to add Zane to the picture. His features were blurry, making it look as if you were viewing him through the curtain of water. No one would be able to tell that the man in the picture was Zane.

  But she’d know.

  Looking down at it, tightness began to gather in the center of her chest.

  He was what had been missing.

  9

  ZANE WATCHED ELLE WALK away. The farther she got, the more anxious he felt.

  The woman was a ticking time bomb. She was impulsive and reckless. Trouble followed her wherever she went.

  But that wasn’t the only reason his skin suddenly seemed too tight for his body.

  He was fighting dueling urges—to haul her back to him and to run as fast and hard as he could in the opposite direction.

  He didn’t know which one to follow.

  Oh, he knew which one was intelligent. Elle Monroe was trouble. He didn’t trust her…unless he could see her, at least. But therein lay the problem. She was like the sun. The closer he got, the stronger the pull of her orbit became.

  He didn’t want to get sucked in. Couldn’t afford to get sucked in, to care. But he also couldn’t seem to rid himself of this crazy urge to protect her—from everyone and everything, but mostly from herself.

  And sleeping with her hadn’t made it any easier. In fact, it had only made the problem worse. It was like giving a starving man bread and then throwing him back into the desert before he could finish the loaf. He hadn’t realized what he’d been missing until it was dangled in front of his face.

  To ask him to turn away from Elle now that he’d had a taste…that was just torture.

  If he was smart, he’d avoid her for the rest of her vacation. He wouldn’t compound one mistake with another.

  But then, he’d never claimed to be smart. Arousal still buzzed through his system, skimming just beneath the surface. Despite the fact that they’d both climaxed, neither one of them had been fulfilled.

  He knew it wasn’t a good idea, but he wanted more. For the first time in a very long time, he realized he was going to step over the line into the gray areas. Before Felicity’s death, those gray areas had been his familiar hunting grounds. He’d been more than willing to bend the rules, manipulate them to get the result he wanted—bad guys off the streets. Her death had changed everything.

  But apparently he hadn’t changed enough.

  Two days ago, he would have bet his entire salary that Elle Monroe was a thief just waiting for the perfect opportunity to rob them blind.

  Part of him didn’t want to believe what his brain was telling him. He’d seen her with his own eyes, breaking and entering. But she hadn’t actually stolen anything. At least, not that night.

  He knew for a fact that she was currently in possession of his key card, but so far, she hadn’t gone anywhere with it.

  She didn’t have a record. Not one that mattered. Was that because she wasn’t a criminal or because she just hadn’t gotten caught? That, he had a hard time believing… He’d caught her twice and he was rusty as hell.

  Something didn’t add up. Whatever was going on, he couldn’t trust her.

  But somehow, his dick wasn’t getting the memo.

  Zane stepped into the air-conditioned lobby of the main building, sighing in relief from the tropical heat. His forward momentum stopped dead though when his boss’s slow Southern drawl melted across the lobby. “There you are. Everyone’s been looking for you. For hours… Apparently, you were stupid enough to storm into the jungle alone and not answer your cell phone when Marcy called repeatedly.”

  Shit. Simon might be lounging against the front desk, his back pressed into the wood and his arms draped over the top, but the relaxed pose was a complete lie. The hard glitter in his eyes showed his true feelings.

  “I told Tom where I was going.”

  “Yes, but apparently when you didn’t return immediately with the troublemaking redhead in tow, he got concerned that she’d murdered you and was burying the body.”

  “Elle is a lot of things, but murderer isn’t one of them.”

  Simon’s gold-blond eyebrow arched, “Well, isn’t that an about-face from two days ago, when you thought she could possibly be the devil incarnate.”

  Zane scrunched his forehead into a frown. “I don’t think I ever said that.”

  “Not in
so many words, but the handcuffs said it for you.”

  Zane kept his mouth shut. There was nothing he could say. At least, nothing that might help. Simon might appear to be a lazy playboy, but behind that easygoing facade was a brain that worked at lightning speed.

  “Why don’t we go upstairs and talk?”

  That was the last thing Zane wanted right now. “I need to relieve Tom. Besides, I’d hate to interrupt your work.”

  “Oh, don’t worry, you’ve already done that. And Tom is fine. Don’t think I don’t know he owes you for that little fling of his a couple of weeks ago.”

  Damn, the man was observant. Simon noticed everything. Even Zane often forgot just how deep those skills went.

  “Fine. Lead the way.”

  The men traveled through the resort, to the back elevators. Simon’s quarters could be reached only through the private employee sections. In fact, the main elevators didn’t even have a button for the fifth floor. Most of the guests didn’t realize it existed.

  They rode up in a charged silence. Whatever their “meeting” was about, Zane knew he wasn’t going to like it.

  As they entered into his private domain, Simon didn’t even stop at the living area out front. It was usually where Simon held his conversations with employees. Despite the fact that they were friends, Zane had seen the back rooms only a handful of times. Simon just preferred to keep them off-limits. Which was how Zane knew he’d really stepped in it this time. Simon strode straight on through to the office at the back. And closed the door behind them.

  The view out the windows was amazing. Bright blue sky stretching into clear turquoise water. Golden sand, lush green trees. He could just glimpse the pool complex, but the angle of the windows and the landscaping blocked most of the activity. From Simon’s office, he could almost believe the island was deserted except for the two of them.

  He was certain it was one reason Simon spent so much time up here. Well, that and he was busy.

  Simon plopped into a huge black executive chair. The mechanism squeaked gently as he leaned back into the worn leather.