Compromised in Paradise

by Samanthe Beck

  “Uh-uh. Yesterday, I let you set the pace for yourself. Today, it’s my turn. We do this at my pace.” He angled his fingers up and in, searching for the spot along her interior wall he doubted anyone, including her, had properly exploited. The one designed to give her a deeper, more powerful climax. To ease the intensity of his intrusion, he swept his thumb over her clit. She arched back, which had the torturous side effect of pushing her hips into the cradle of his lap and grinding her ass against his cock. His balls throbbed in warning. The pink-and-gold sky went blurry.

  Timing, he reminded himself, and fought his way out of the fog of need so he could focus on her. He pressed two fingertips to her tongue, swept two a little higher along her inner channel, and reaped the benefits of another full-body tremble. Her respiration turned fast and shallow—a little faster and shallower than his. A third, deeper pass and he found the button. Her tremble extended, nearly triggered a full-blown shudder. Like starting an engine with a hard choke, he kept the pressure on, doling out the next stroke, and then the next. She alternated between trying to jerk away and struggling to push him deeper. Finally, with a helpless moan, she buried her face against the side of his neck.

  Jesus, it felt too good, holding her like this. Heavy, inevitable pressure flowed south from his gut and landed in his balls like a brutal weight. They tightened, ratcheting tension into his already-pounding dick.

  Determined not to blow any aspect of the timing, he guided her head around so she faced front. On the horizon, the sun floated in an ocean of clouds like an island of fire. “Eyes open, Czarina. I don’t want you to miss the best motherfucking sunrise of your life.”

  Chapter Seven

  Arden blinked her watering eyes open. Dazzling as it was, she couldn’t blame the dawn lighting up the sky in a blaze of orange, pink, and lavender for the sting of tears. She couldn’t blame the cool air, or the ten-thousand-foot elevation. No, responsibility rested squarely on the daunting shoulders of the man holding her, surrounding her, tapping some undiscovered susceptible spot inside her while attending to her clit with a steady strum.

  She struggled for breath. For control…or surrender—anything to alleviate this agonizing state of anticipation he’d worked her into. Another wave of sensation rippled out from that magic place where his fingers rubbed, and a corresponding wave of trembles rattled through her. The strength of them left her thankful for the anchor of his fingers subduing her tongue and his hard body supporting hers, but also intensified her awareness of her deprivation—every thick inch of the cock he wasn’t giving her. Then he pressed the spot—longer and harder than before—and all notions of deprivation flew from her mind. Breath backed up in her lungs. The pleasure building inside her twisted agonizingly tight. Too tight for her to withstand. Something had to give. Had to.

  He groaned and withdrew his fingers from her mouth so fast the sudden void left her dazed. A second later he bent her forward so he could fist his shaft. A couple quick pumps and a muffled curse were all she registered because the new position twisted that coiling pleasure to a breaking point. Something did indeed have to give…and it was going to be her.

  And then it did. She did. Her cry of relief rebounded against the still, heavy air around them as her internal muscles dissolved into a thousand frantic spasms. She gave, and gave, and gave, with such uncontrolled intensity it felt as if her pleasure spilled directly into his waiting palm.

  God only knew how much time passed before she slowly resurfaced. The sun had broken through the clouds to gild everything in an amber glow by the time her vision cleared. As the overwhelming chaos of her orgasm subsided, her nervous system picked up new details. A warm mouth cruised along the ticklish curve of her neck, bestowing the occasional kiss. One generous hand covered her breast, the protective weight making it hard for her to draw a deep breath. Another lingered between her legs, stroking her still-quivering center so gently she almost whimpered. In that moment she felt utterly taken care of. Cherished.

  Holy shit, Arden. This is sex, plain and simple. She unwound her arms from around his neck, but the move shifted her breast against his palm, and he chose that moment to knead the vulnerable flesh in a particularly devastating caress. Her arms flopped to her sides. She couldn’t find the strength to lift her head off his shoulder. Okay, correction. The sex wasn’t plain or simple. It qualified as some of the most inventive of her life. But still, it was just sex—a short-term diversion to help her de-stress and recover her mojo, not lose her mind. Or her heart.

  Just the thought that it might actually be at risk was enough to get her moving. She unwound her feet from his legs. “Wow. You’re really—”

  “Not done yet.” He licked the rim of her ear.

  Not done? “Um, what else is there to do?”

  “Savor the moment. After burning that hot, we’re entitled to bask in the afterglow,” he teased, lips close to her ear. His heartbeat drummed strong and steady against her back while his hands roamed over her in easy, unhurried caresses. Not the kind of touch meant to drive her up again. No, this was something else. Something full of intimacy and comfort. He touched her like he cared.

  A new urge gripped her—unfamiliar and not especially welcome, given their circumstances—to turn into him and cuddle. Dock in the safe harbor of his arms. Absorb his body heat, his strength.

  The sun crept higher in the sky, reminding her they were here at this hour because of his schedule. Some unbreakable commitment she didn’t have standing to ask about no matter how badly she wanted the details.

  Assurances. She craved assurances that she was…what? The only woman in his life right now? His, exclusively, for this week?

  That’s exactly what you want.

  Not good. Sex and safe harbors were two different things, and she wasn’t the kind of girl who confused the two. But sitting there soaking up his casual affection only encouraged her overactive emotions. She scooted forward, preparing to stand up, get her clothes in order, and put some distance between them.

  His arms banded around her. “Hold on.”

  She didn’t have much choice, but she managed to keep her back straight instead of returning to the shelter of his body. “It’s getting late. I don’t want to interfere with your commitment.” Jesus. Could she be any more obvious?

  “Don’t worry.” As he spoke, he reached under her arms and took hold of her bunched-up shirt. “I know my schedule.” In that same unhurried way, he tugged her shirt and bra down until they covered her, and then smoothed his hands from her chest to her waist. “I also know my responsibilities as a guest of the National Park Service. Enjoy the visit, but leave everything exactly as you found it.”

  With that explanation, he swept something soft over the small of her back. It took a moment for her to realize he was using the edge of the blanket to wipe away the evidence of how much he’d enjoyed his visit. Apparently the “leave everything exactly as you found it” rule applied to her as well, but she suddenly feared that despite his best intentions, he wasn’t going to succeed. She wouldn’t be the same. Being on the receiving end of all this patience, and humor, and inborn self-confidence was going to leave his imprint on her in some fundamental way she couldn’t prevent. It had nothing to do with breathtaking sexual skills, and everything to do with him.

  “There.” He clapped her thigh. “Done.”

  The words served more as a warning than an instruction to stand, because he proceeded to lift her to her feet. Brisk air stung skin suddenly deprived of the heat from his body. She reached for her pants.

  His quick hands intercepted hers. “Let me.”

  Goose bumps rose on her skin even as her cheeks heated. Okay, yes, she was standing there with her pants around her knees, but the self-consciousness seemed a little misplaced considering a second ago she’d come on his lap. Misplaced or not, the tension existed, stretching her nerves taut as she willed herself to stand there as he asked.

  He pulled her panties up first, sliding them along her legs and easing
them over her hips. She drew in an unsteady breath as he ran his thumb along the flare of nude silk now framing her butt. Lips brushed one unprotected cheek, and then he turned her around and placed another kiss directly on the triangle of silk covering her sex. Her jaw went slack. Her knees wobbled, and just like that, he had her wanting again. Frightening.

  He rested his forehead against her abdomen and inhaled deeply.

  “Rider…” She sank her fingers into his hair and tipped his head back. Frightening, indeed.

  Brilliant brown eyes looked up at her, full of amusement, awareness, and something more she couldn’t pin down. “Thanks for watching the sunrise with me, Czarina.”

  Sincerity. Oh God. She could deal with cocksure Rider. She could hold her own—sort of—with teasing Rider, but sincere Rider damaged her defenses and left her scrambling. “My pleasure. Literally. As I think you know.”

  Straight white teeth flashed for an instant before he leaned in and kissed her again. “Mine, too.” Then he dragged her sweats up and snapped them into place. “As I think you know.”

  While she watched, he used a corner of the blanket to clean himself off. The sight had her swallowing hard. “I’d be happy to do that for you, you know. Return the favor?”

  His smile flashed again as he tucked himself into his shorts and tied the drawstring. “Then I really would be late.”

  The mere mention of his time constraint chased her playful mood away. “Right. Can’t have that. We should go.” Aware that didn’t come out anywhere near as breezy as she’d aimed, she scanned the rocks for the best way to climb up to level ground.

  “If you’re curious about my plans, ask. You know my price.”

  A price she couldn’t afford to pay. It wasn’t just that she didn’t want to know. She didn’t want to want to know. She didn’t want details or messy emotions. She wanted a stress-relieving vacation hookup. “I’m not the least bit curious. I hope you have a fabulous time doing whatever.” To prove it, she planted her right foot on a little outcrop of rock and shifted her weight to take a big, decisive step up and out of their love nest. No, scratch that. Sex nest.

  The big, decisive step felt good—powerful even—until her foothold crumbled and an even more powerful force known as gravity took control.

  …

  The skid of rubber against rock jerked Nick’s attention away from rolling the blanket in time to see the czarina lose her footing. He dropped the blanket and reached for her even before her involuntary cry of alarm flew from her throat, but his one-handed grab didn’t stop her from bashing her knee on the rock.

  “Ow. Dammit. Ow.”

  He guided her down until she could sit on the ground. She immediately clamped both hands over her knee and winced. “Ow.”

  He crouched in front of her and took hold of her calf to immobilize the knee. “I’ll bet,” he sympathized. “Let me see.”

  “No, no. Just give me a minute.” She closed her eyes and leaned forward to increase the pressure of her hands on her knee. “I’m okay.”

  Maybe, but she’d gone pale under her tan, and guilt as hard and sharp as the stones cascading down the rocky wall pelted him. Responsibility for her fall rested squarely with him. He’d pushed her. Not physically, no, but baiting her like he’d done amounted to the same thing. She’d been scrambling to put distance between them because he’d been acting like a dick. Now she didn’t even want to trust him with her injury, when, ironically, he actually had skills to offer. Dr. Nick Bancroft did, at any rate, but he’d never meant for her to find out the hard way.

  Contrition made for a heavy crown. “Let me see, Czarina. I’m not going to hurt you. I promise.” Keeping his eyes locked with hers, he lifted her hands away. A quick glance down revealed the torn, bloody knee of her sweatpants.

  “Yep. That’s officially an ‘ow.’” He couldn’t see much through the hole in her sweats, other than she had a scrape that would need to be cleaned and bandaged. Determining the extent of any bruising or more serious injury would have to wait until he could take a closer look. “I have a first-aid kit in the Jeep, but for now—” he peeled his shirts over his head and separated the T-shirt from the fleece pullover—“this will work as a field dressing.”

  “Oh, hey, that’s not…um…never mind…”

  His ego appreciated how easily she lost focus on what she’d been about to say when his naked chest came into view. He wrapped the T-shirt around her knee and tied it in place.

  “Up for a piggyback ride?” He tugged his pullover on and looked over in time to see her wide eyes turn wary.

  “Don’t be crazy. You can’t carry me all the way to the car. I’ll walk.” As if to prove it, she planted her good leg and used handholds in the rock to pull herself to a standing position. Even holding the wall, it took a moment of hobbling to find her balance.

  Oh, where was the faith? Working in the ER required well-developed persuasive skills—compassion, logic, and on occasion, a hard-assed show of authority. “Czarina, if I needed to, I could carry you all the way down this mountain. As far as how you end up at the car, you have two choices. Climb on my back, or I haul you over my shoulder.” He handed her the rolled blanket. “Entirely your call.”

  She measured him with a look, correctly concluded he’d follow through on the threat, and opted for the piggyback ride. He hitched her onto his back, taking extra care with her injured knee, and made his way to the parking area. The trip didn’t take long, and under other circumstances he would have enjoyed the feel of her thighs clamped around his waist and her tits pressed against his back, but right now he was too aware of her quick inhale when he climbed off the rocks, or her ragged exhale when he took them over a rough patch of ground, to concentrate on anything else.

  Back at the car, he deposited her in the passenger seat and fetched the first-aid kit and a couple bottled waters from the back of the Jeep. Across the parking lot, a group of about fifteen tourists stood beside a couple of vans while tour guides unloaded mountain bikes. Ideally they’d be on their way down the mountain before the group took off. He didn’t want to get stuck behind a bunch of cyclists if the czarina needed stitches or an X-ray. When he walked back to her, she had his T-shirt untied. While he watched, she held it up. A red stain bloomed across the cotton. She turned as white as the shirt and slurred, “I don’t feel so good…” Then she swayed in the seat.

  Shit. He dropped the kit and waters on the floor of the Jeep and took hold of her arm. “Hey, Czarina. Look at me.” He snapped his fingers in front of her face, waited until her eyes rolled his way, and then he pointed at his face. “Right here.”

  She locked onto him. Good. Without letting go of her arm, he reached down and snagged one of the waters. He stuck the cap between his teeth, twisted it off, and held the bottle to her lips. “Hydrate.”

  She managed a sip. Then another. Her fingers curled around the bottle. He handed it to her. “Keep drinking.” While she obeyed, he knelt and opened the first-aid kit. For half a second he debated taking her sweats down to avoid aggravating the wound, but the Jeep didn’t offer much privacy and they weren’t the only ones in the parking lot, so he worked the leg up as gently as he could.

  “Sorry,” she murmured between sips. “I don’t know what happened.”

  “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He glanced up at her before using the other bottle of water to clean his hands, and then scrubbing them off with an antiseptic wipe. “It’s easy to get light-headed at ten thousand feet, on an empty stomach.” He used the T-shirt to apply direct pressure to the cut. Wanting to distract her while he cleaned and examined her knee, he set the first-aid kit on her lap. “There should be a multipack of Band-Aids in there. Can you pull out a large?”

  She tucked the water bottle beside her and started digging through the kit. “Of course.”

  “Thanks. So, actually, Czarina, it’s me who owes you the apology.” He took the shirt away and looked at the scrape—about an inch long, superficial, and not too ragge
d, like maybe a single sharp rock edge did the deed. No stitches required, nor did he see a lot of bruising around the site. Cleaning and disinfecting the cut before adding a Band-Aid ought to do the trick. As long as she had full range of motion, he was willing to let it go at that.

  “Hardly,” she said without looking up from her rummaging. “It’s not your fault I chose a bad foothold and skinned my knee like a kindergartner. Here…” She lined up two sealed Band-Aids on her good knee. “Will these work?”

  He refolded his T-shirt clean side up and then pulled the water bottle from where she’d wedged it between her body and the seat. “There should be some that are about the size of those two put together. Find me one of those,” he instructed, determined to keep her busy while he cleaned the cut so she didn’t fixate on the blood. “It’s my fault you were in a hurry to leave.”

  She shrugged. “You’re on a timetable this morning. You don’t want to be late for—oh!” She grabbed the seat and hissed out a breath as he poured water over her cut.

  “Sorry.” He pressed the shirt to the wound he’d just flushed, and then glanced at her. The pink in her cheeks reassured him she wasn’t about to pass out. “You okay?”

  “I’m a big baby. That took me by surprise.”

  “Almost done,” he told her, and took a tube of antibacterial cream from the kit. “Anyway, back to my apology.” He dabbed the antibacterial on the scrape. “I don’t usually piss a woman off to the point she’ll scale rocks just to get away from me.”

  “I wasn’t pissed off. Look, you’re free to accept as many”—she broke off and cleared her throat—“commitments as you see fit. I didn’t ask for any promises, and I don’t expect any.”