Private Paradise

by Jami Alden

  And then he kissed her.

  Chapter 4

  Even now, years later, the memory sent a shock of heat blazing through her. Carla closed her eyes, remembering every sensation with such clarity it was almost as though it was happening right here, right now.

  She remembered his lips, so full and firm, surprisingly gentle against hers. The way he licked at the seam of her lips, his tongue hot and slick. She parted her lips and braced herself for the onslaught of wet thrusting that had been the hallmark of her limited experience.

  Carla had only hooked up with a handful of guys in her eighteen years, and while most of the make out and heavy petting sessions had started out pleasantly enough, most teenage boys seemed to think girls wanted a tongue thrusting down their throats, clumsy hands squeezing at anything round, and fingers sneaking into panties at the first opportunity.

  But Sam... Carla gave a shaky sigh as Sam's kiss sent a jolt of heat through her. Sam might have only been a few years older, but he kissed like a man. A man who knew exactly what he was doing.

  And why wouldn't he, given all the experience he had. You heard all the whispers of the girls saying how amazing he was. Looks like they weren't lying.

  The thought jolted her a bit, reminding her that she needed to be cautious with Sam. If she didn't want to be used up and cast aside like all the others she was going to have to be careful.

  It was almost impossible to keep that in mind though as Sam sucked her tongue into his mouth, slid it against his, then gave her bottom lip a little nip. She threaded her fingers through his thick, dark hair, reveling in the groan he gave at her touch. She might be inexperienced, she thought, but at least she could make him feel good.

  She kissed him back with everything she had, making up with enthusiasm what she lacked in skill. Soon they were both panting, and a throbbing ache had started between her legs. Sam's hand slid from her waist and covered her breast with his big, long fingered hand.

  Instead of groping and squeezing like every other guy who'd had a personal encounter with her D cups, Sam found her nipple, straining against the fabric of her tank top. He circled it with his thumb, back and forth in a gentle rhythm that had her making little sounds of pleasure in her throat as she squirmed to get closer.

  He let out a groan against the skin of her throat. “Do you have any idea how long I've wanted to do this?”

  Even though she knew it was probably just a line, Sam's words sent a shudder of delight through every nerve. Sam settled more of his weight against her and slid his knee between hers. As he pressed against her she could feel him, hard and hot against her hip.

  She gasped, and a snippet of gossip she'd heard from another girl popped into her head. Oh, my God, the girl had said, Sam O'Connell and I did it last weekend and I swear to God, his dick is so big I didn't even think it would fit.

  At the time, Carla didn't think that sounded so great, but the other girls had seemed to think it was pretty awesome. Now, the feel of his long, thick, erection against her hip sent a rush of moisture between her legs, soaking her panties as she wondered what it would be like to strip Sam naked and see for herself what the girls were talking about.

  Not going to happen, her common sense made one last gasp. You are not getting naked, you are not having sex, and you need to let him know right now what not to expect so there is no misunderstanding.

  Carla had always been up front with the guys she fooled around with that she wasn't going to have sex. She didn't care if it made her uptight, or it meant people call her a prude. And it wasn't like she was committed to virginity until marriage either. She just wanted it to mean something, to be with someone she cared deeply for and who cared deeply for her.

  So far, she hadn't been with anyone who was worth putting herself through what, as far as she could tell, would be a somewhat painful and not so pleasant―for her at least―experience.

  Sam pinched her nipple and took her mouth in another one of those delicious kisses. Oh God, she could give it up to him so easily, and she knew instinctively that there wouldn't be anything unpleasant about it.

  But it wouldn't mean anything. Not to him anyway.

  Carla realized if she didn't act soon Sam and his magic mouth and hands were going to blow all of her rules to hell.

  “I'm not having sex with you,” she blurted out shakily.

  Sam's hand froze on her breast. “Uh, okay.”

  Carla scooted up on her elbows. “I mean, I just don't want there to be any misunderstandings or disappointment on your part. I know you fool around with girls all the time, and you're used to getting...” She trailed off, embarrassment flooding through her as she realized how stupid she sounded.

  Sam rolled away, sat up, and raked a hand through his hair. “Right. I'm a total man slut.”

  If the shoe fits... “That's not what I meant,” Carla snapped, her body feeling the chill of the night air more acutely without the heat of Sam's skin keeping her warm. “I thought you should know that's not in the cards for us.”

  “You're a virgin, aren't you?” he said in the same tone as someone who's encountered a particularly rare and reclusive species.

  Carla felt her face heat as tears of humiliation stung her eyes. “Yeah, I am.” She stood on shaky legs and started across the plateau. “So now you know and you can go find someone else to give you what you want and stop wasting your time with me.”

  Sam caught her before she'd taken three steps and pulled her back against him. When she wouldn't look at him he caught her chin in his fingers and tipped it up. Without saying a word he kissed her again, his hand sliding from her chin to cradle the back of her head.

  “I'm not wasting my time Carla. I don't want sex with some other girl. I want to be with you.”

  Even knowing his reputation, knowing what a player Sam was, any question Carla might have formed melted away at his words.

  That night they'd stayed on that blanket under the stars well into the night, but Sam, shockingly respectful of her wishes, didn't push Carla to go farther than drugging and kisses and touches that left them both aching and unsatisfied. She'd snuck back into her dorm room flushed and vibrating with energy, every nerve pulled so tight with frustrated desire she could barely sleep that night.

  Still, Carla had always been a smart girl and pragmatic too. Sam might have been willing to put up with her prudishness for a night but he would no doubt move on to better, or at least more satisfying prospects. She'd felt a pinch in her chest at the thought but had shoved it away. She knew better than to get all moony and hopeful over someone like Sam.

  Now, as Carla stood looking sightlessly over the balcony at the Caribbean shimmering darkly in the moonlight, she wished, not for the first time, that she had kept that in mind as the next six weeks unfolded.

  To her shock and no small measure of delight, the morning after their night under the stars, Sam found her after her breakfast shift, snuck a kiss, gave her a smoldering look, and said, “See you later,” in a way that left no room for argument. That night, and every night after they snuck off to their special spot under the stars. Soon, kisses and above the waist touches weren't enough.

  Sam, though, was still okay with Carla's decision not to have sex.

  Well, not intercourse anyway. In the weeks that followed he taught her that there were a lot of ways for them to make each other come without actually inserting tab A into slot B.

  Heat shimmered through her at the memory of his skillful hands and mouth, sucking, kissing his way down her body to bury his head between her legs. His fingers sliding into her as his tongue licked and stroking her clit until she didn't care that they were out in the open where anyone could find them if they just walked up the hill. Until all she cared about was Sam and the way he was making her feel.

  It wasn't all one sided – Carla wasn't cruel. She was an eager student as Sam coached her on how to stroke, lick, and suck him to satisfaction.

  At least, she thought with a stab of hurt that was still razo
r sharp even so many years after, she thought she had satisfied him.

  But it hadn't been all about the sex, for Carla at least. A lot of those nights, they did a lot of talking along with fooling around. She'd gotten to know Sam beyond the bad boy he showed the world and discovered someone who was surprisingly thoughtful and as she'd suspected, wickedly smart despite his lack of academic prowess.

  In those whispered conversations under the star-soaked sky, they shared their plans and dreams for the future. She told Sam about her scholarship to University of Arizona and her dream of running her own resort one day, somewhere quiet and serene, the polar opposite of the flash and noise of Vegas where they grew up.

  She opened up about her mother and how after her father had left them, her mother had fallen into a deep depression, leaving Carla to fend for herself and her younger brother. How, after years of therapy and medication, her mother had finally pulled herself back together to the point where Carla could feel comfortable spending the summer away without worrying that everything was going to fall to shit without her there. “At least my dad sends child support every month,” Carla had told him, “or else we would have been totally screwed.”

  Sam had grunted and said, “At least your dad has money to spend. Mine hasn't held down a job for more than a month since my mom died.”

  Carla had heard from Chris that Sam's mom had died when he was just thirteen, but she'd never heard anything about his dad. Though Sam didn't elaborate, now their run down house in the worst neighborhood in their school district made sense. “He sounds like my mom. She pretty much collapsed when my dad took off. Your dad is probably depressed too―”

  “He's a worthless asshole,” Sam had snapped, every muscle tensing against her. “And he's not worth talking about.” With that he'd pressed her back against the blanket, covered her mouth with his, and slid his hand up the front of her tank top. Carla had laid back and eagerly wrapped her arms around him, letting any questions about his father or anything else drift away on the night breeze.

  Sam told her other things though. Like how his struggles in school started after his mom died. “I didn't really care, and there was no one around to tell me why I should care.”

  Carla understood how that could happen. Though there were definitely smart kids in her high school - her cousin Chris had been at the top of his class when he'd graduated with Sam three years before Carla―the public schools in their neighborhood were among the worst in the state. Schools were crowded, the teachers overworked and unmotivated to chase down a kid who wasn't interested, regardless of the cause.

  Instead they focused on kids like Chris, whose wealthy father wasn't about to let him fail, and Carla. Smart and self motivated, she was a rundown high school teacher's dream student. Academic achievement wasn't her only goal. Unlike Chris's dad, her father was not a multimillionaire who would be able to send Carla wherever she wanted to go to college. She knew the only way she was going anywhere in life was on the power of her own intelligence and hard work.

  She could see how Sam, without anyone to push him would fall through the cracks and learn to rely on his looks and charm to get by. But that summer it seemed he realized he needed to buckle down and get to work if he wanted any real future. “I don't want to end up some forty-year-old loser, drifting around, trying to pick up women half my age like….” He trailed off, but Carla knew he was talking about his dad. “That's why after this summer, I'm enlisting in the army.”

  The decision had shocked Carla. “Really? The army?” she asked, the disbelief evident in her voice.

  She felt the muscles of his chest tense against the hand she rested on him. “What? You don't think I can do it?”

  “It's just,” she'd started, her hand making small, soothing circles on his chest as she tried to form a tactful way to make her point, “isn't the army all about rules? You're not exactly the most by the book guy I know.”

  He let out a soft chuckle and she felt him relax. “I can't really argue with that.”

  “Especially not after they found it was you who took Mr. Ramsey's car joyriding and stuffed it full of packing peanuts.”

  Sam let out another soft laugh and ran his hand up and down Carla's spine as she snuggled even closer. “That wasn't even the half of it. And the only reason I got caught was because Natalie Cushman ratted me out after I told her I wasn't going to take her to prom.”

  At the time, Carla had felt a little pinch in her chest as she remembered the details of that story. Even as a freshman and a nerdy one at that, Carla would have had to be dead not to hear about what went down between those two. Natalie Cushman, who had been hooking up with Sam on and off all spring, had been so heartbroken when Sam had declared, in front of all five hundred students who had first period lunch, that he wasn't her boyfriend and he didn't do “stupid ass shit” like prom, that she'd immediately gone to Mr. Ramsey, the shop teacher, and told him that Sam was the one who had stolen his car back in February.

  The reason she knew? Natalie had been with him.

  “I always thought it was unfair that Natalie got off free and clear and you got suspended and had to do four weeks of summer school.”

  Sam's strong pecs rippled against her cheek as he shrugged. “I was the one who did it. She was just along for the ride. Besides, I was such a dick to her about the prom I feel like I deserved it.”

  He was silent for a few seconds. “Want to know something? I kind of wanted to go to prom. But I didn't have the fifty bucks to buy one ticket, much less a couple hundred for the limo, the dinner, and all that other bullshit.”

  The admission had made Carla's chest tight and brought the sting of tears to her eyes. It was one thing to realize someone was poor, but it was another to realize how that translated into normal everyday things like prom.

  “I didn't go to prom either,” she whispered. “No one asked me.”

  Sam rolled her to her back and propped himself up with his elbows on either side of her head. “I can't believe what a bunch of dumbasses the guys in your class are, not seeing how hot and smart you are.”

  Carla smiled into the darkness and pulled him down to her, her heart exploding in her chest at his words. Sure, he'd left a string of broken hearts including Natalie Cushman's in his wake, but Carla was different. She had to be. There was no way Sam had said things to them like he'd said to her. No way he had shared his secrets and his hopes for the future. And there was Chris, one of Sam's best friends. No way would he screw over his best friend's cousin.

  And, she was convinced, no one had really loved Sam. Not like she did.

  She cringed now, her fingers tightening around the cold wrought iron of her balcony railing, remembering just how stupid and naïve she'd been. How convinced she'd been that she and Sam were destined to be together, especially after Sam's father had shown up unexpectedly the first week in August, drunk and demanding to see his son.

  Carla and Sam had been on their lunch break and were flirting over burgers and fries when Frank O'Connell had burst into the employee dining room. His eyes had locked first on Sam, then Carla. The grin he gave them both was a little blurry around the edges, but it couldn't hide the light of pure nastiness in a pair of blue eyes that were a bloodshot, watery version of his son's intense gaze.

  Conversation stopped as everyone turned to watch the commotion.

  Sam had frozen, his face a grim mask.

  “Come on kid, I haven't seen you in weeks. Aren't you happy to see me?”

  Only Carla knew Sam well enough to see the flush of embarrassment creeping across his tanned cheeks. She stood up and offered her hand. “Hi, Mr. O'Connell, I'm Carla DeLuca, a friend of Sam's.”

  Frank had focused his gaze on her and Carla fought the urge to squirm as he eyed her up and down, his dark brow cocked and his mouth quirked in a creepier version of his son's cocky grin. “Well, Sam, I can see with this little thing to occupy you, you wouldn't be missing me too much.” He'd continued to hold her hand as his gaze narrowed on her fa
ce. “Why do I know you? Wait a minute, you were in the paper. Valedictorian of your class this year?”

  Carla had nodded, surprised Sam's dad read the paper, much less retained any of the information in a brain that was obviously pickled. “That's me,” she said, snatching her hand away and surreptitiously wiping it on her uniform skirt.

  Frank's smile had taken on a cruel cast. “I'd think a smart girl like you would know better than to mix it up with a loser like Sam here.” He chuckled and turned his attention back to Sam. “I guess it just proves, you show a girl a good enough time in the sack and even the smartest ones will be panting after you like a bitch―”

  Sam had exploded from the table, grabbed his father by the wrist, and twisted his arm up his back. He started pushing his father, who was struggling and shouting obscenities, toward the door. “Stay out of this, Carla,” Sam had shouted when she would have followed.

  More than the words, it was the look on his face that froze her where she stood. His mouth pulled into a snarl, his eyes bright with fury like she'd never seen. She watched, helplessly, as Sam dragged his father outside.

  Later, when Carla tried to bring up the incident, Sam snapped at her to forget it. “He hit me up for cash. He does it all the time.” He'd shaken his head and stared off into the distance, a look of sadness in his eyes so profound that, even now, remembering how he'd treated her, Carla still felt a pinch in her chest.

  That was the moment she'd fallen completely, utterly under Sam's spell. When she came up with her plan.

  Eleven years later, the memory of how stupidly eager she'd been, the way she'd thrown herself at his feet, made her cringe.

  It was mid August, a week before Sam was set to head off to Fort Jackson in South Carolina for basic training. Three days after that, Carla was heading to the University of Arizona. Though they spent nearly every free minute together, they hadn't had a single discussion about what would happen after they left the resort. Whether they'd stay together, seeing each other as much as they could. Whether they'd stay in touch at all.