Private Paradise

by Jami Alden

  The crowd gave a collective gasp as Sam struggled to get to the door, to get to her. He looked out over the railing. The ferry had picked up significant speed once it hit the end of the dock, and in the few seconds since she'd fallen, the boat had already traveled several hundred feet. He could just make out Carla's dark head moving through the water. Sam squinted into the wind, his knees going watery with relief as he watched Carla swim the short distance back to the dock and pull herself onto the wooden platform.

  “Oh my God, we have to go back,” someone called.

  “We can't stop,” someone else said. “The storm's getting worse. If we turn around we risk getting stuck at sea in the middle of a hurricane.”

  As cold as it sounded, he was right, and Sam knew it. Bryce, white-faced, froze with his hand on the door of the wheelhouse. “Tell Ron to keep going. I'll take care of Carla.”

  He kicked off his shoes and dove off the stern, felt the warm waters of the Caribbean close over his head. As his body sliced through the water he could hear the sound of the ferry's engine fading as it continued on its course.

  Within a few minutes he was hauling himself onto the dock next to Carla, who sat huddled against the wind, still looking slightly dazed.

  “You idiot,” she said, with a weak punch to his shoulder as he sat to catch his breath. “You saw me get on the dock. You should have kept going.”

  Sam had always been careful to control his temper. Twenty-one years sharing the same space with an alcoholic on a hair trigger taught Sam countless hard lessons on the kind of damage a man could do if he didn't keep a lid on his rage. But the idea that she thought he was capable of ditching her to wait out the storm by herself, combined with the gut twisting fear he'd experienced when he watched her fly over the side of the boat, tangled together with the unrelenting sexual frustration of the last week had brought fury roaring to the surface.

  He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a shake and got his face right up close to hers. “Goddamn it, Carla, I know I was shitty to you, but do you really think I'm such a selfish asshole that I'd leave you alone with a fucking hurricane barreling down on you?”

  “It would have been the smarter thing to do,” she said with a belligerent tilt to her chin, her eyes narrowed in a glare.

  His fingers tightened on her shoulders. “I think we established a long time ago which one of us is the brain trust around here. I don't give a shit about being smart. I care about making sure you stay safe.”

  “In that case,” she said, her jaw softening, “thanks for coming back for me.” Her eyes lost their defiant glimmer and in that instant, her guard disappeared and Sam saw exactly how scared she was under her toug- as-nails I-can-handle-anything-you-throw-my-way-exterior.

  The anger drained out of him and he pulled her to him, resting his forehead against hers. “I think my heart actually stopped when I saw you go over the rail.”

  She let out a muffled chuckle. “I think mine stopped when that door nailed me.”

  “Oh, shit, how bad are you hurt?” Sam asked, feeling like even more of an asshole for manhandling her. He pressed his palm against her sternum, frowning at the way she winced.

  “I got the wind knocked out of me, but I think I'll just have a big bruise.” She looked pointedly at his hand where it rested between her breasts. In spite of everything, he felt the blood surge in his groin at the feel of full curves against his hand.

  The wind kicked up another notch, and the rain started to fall harder. Sam pulled his hand away and helped Carla to her feet. She looked out over the sea, churning with whitecaps. “They're not going to have time to come back for us.”

  Sam put his hand on her shoulder, felt the tension quivering under her skin. “No.”

  They had no choice but to wait out the storm.

  ###

  Carla took Sam's hand and let him lead her up back up to the main building. Soaked, her chest aching where the door had slammed into her, she tried to put her fear aside as they prepared for the coming storm. Panic wouldn't help either of them.

  Instead, she stayed close to Sam, following his lead as he gathered supplies to help them through the storm. If he shared any of her panic, it didn't show as he moved calmly, purposefully through the main lodge, putting together everything they might need.

  It surprised her how calming his presence was. The way he faced the challenge, did what needed to be done with no unnecessary drama or emotion. Carla had never thought of Sam as someone who could make her feel safe, but right now she couldn't think of anyone more capable of helping her see the storm through safely.

  Maybe he really has changed. Maybe he really has become someone you could depend on.

  She shoved the thought aside and went to help Sam gather the last of the supplies. In addition to the already packed emergency kits complete with flashlights, shortwave radios, emergency food, and bottled water, Sam gathered up extra batteries and several more bottles of drinking water.

  “We should go start the generators in case the power goes―”

  Sam cut her off. “We don't have time,” he said as he shoved everything into a duffel bag. “We need to move to the other side of the island where we'll be less exposed.”

  Carla nodded. Though she dreaded going back out into the wind and driving rain, she knew they would be safer on the leeward side of the island when the main thrust of the storm hit.

  Once again, Sam reached for her hand, and she didn't hesitate to thread her fingers through his as they stepped out into the storm.

  Carla ran, clutching Sam's hand like a lifeline as the rain came down in heavy, blinding sheets. The wind blew so fiercely it snatched the air from her lungs, picking up anything and everything that wasn't nailed down. A lounge chair someone forgot to secure went flying by her head as they sprinted around past the pool deck, down to the path that ran along the beach around the island.

  There was a crack of a tree branch falling. Sam grunted as it clipped him on the shoulder, but it didn't slow him a bit, his pace sure and steady, his fingers tightly laced with hers as they hurried down the hill that led to the beachfront villas on the leeward side of the island.

  Though the rain was still pouring down, here, partially sheltered by the hills in the center of the island, the wind wasn't nearly as fierce. Carla followed Sam up the steps to the closest villa. She brushed her hair out of her face and caught her breath as she dug in her pockets for the key card.

  The door swung open and they hurried inside. Sam put their bag of supplies on the table in the villa's front room. After a brief foray outside to make sure all the storm shutters were secured, he came back inside and disappeared down a short hallway. He returned seconds later, an armload of towels and two bathrobes draped over his arms. “We need to get out of this wet stuff,” he said, already pulling his shirt over his head.

  Carla caught the towel he threw at her, momentarily mesmerized by the sight of his bare chest, all tanned skin stretched over thick muscle. Her eyes followed the flex and ripple as he brought a towel up to his head and dried his hair and face. Then down his arms over his torso before he dropped the towel to the floor and brought his hands to his waistband.

  “Carla?”

  His voice snapped her out of her stupor.

  “You really need to go change.” His blue eyes met hers, the heat in them bringing an answering rush to her cheeks.

  “Right,” she mumbled, took the robe he offered in a shaky hand and went to the bedroom to change. She peeled off her sodden shirt and shorts but left her bra and underwear on underneath the thick terrycloth robe.

  As she reached for the doorknob of the bedroom, she noticed her hand was shaking. Scolding herself to pull herself together, she walked down the short hallway from the bedroom to the main room. The villa's teak floors were smooth under her bare feet, the air in the closed up cottage warm and still. Yet as she reached the living room she found herself shuddering with a bone deep cold.

  “You okay?” Sam asked. Like he
r, he'd wrapped himself in a robe. Because he was so much bigger, his barely reached past his knees and his shoulders strained at the seams.

  Carla opened her mouth to answer, but couldn't speak past the violent chattering of her teeth. She wrapped her arms around herself and tried futilely to stop the shudders rippling through her body.

  Sam hurried to her side and led her over to the plush cream sofa that dominated the villa's living room. “It's okay, you're just crashing after the adrenaline rush,” he explained. He wrapped his arm around her and Carla instinctively burrowed against him as she sought to absorb the warmth radiating from his skin.

  “Wh-why c-can't I s-s-stop shaking?” She stuttered against the bare skin of his chest.

  Sam's hands ran soothingly up and down her back. “It's totally normal. You had a big scare falling off the boat and then ran through a hurricane. It's just your body's way of dealing now that the rush has worn off.”

  “Y-you don't seem to be having any problems,” she said peevishly, annoyed at her weakness in the face of his strength. She was the boss. She was supposed to take charge, be calm through the storm. Instead all she could do was burrow against Sam, greedily absorbing his heat as she struggled to stop shaking.

  Sam's chest rumbled in a laugh that cut through the cold and sent a ripple of warmth low in Carla's belly. “I've been through my own share of scary shit. You get used to it after a while.”

  Without thinking, Carla brought her hand up to Sam's chest and brushed it over the starburst shaped scar exposed by the wide vee of his robe. She traced the raised knot of flesh, thinking how it changed the landscape of the body she remembered.

  Thinking of how close he must have come to dying.

  She would probably never know what crazed impulse compelled her to lean forward and press her lips to the spot, but before she was even aware of what she was doing her mouth had replaced her hand. A kiss of thanks for seeing her through the storm, of gratitude that he'd made it through the last eleven years alive, all rolled into one.

  She heard Sam's swift inhale, felt his body tense against hers as an electric current seemed to surround them. Face burning, she lifted her mouth from his chest and met his eyes, and any lingering chill in her body fled at what she saw in their depths.

  Need, raw and naked, burned in his gaze as he reached for her.

  Alarm bells sounded in her head, trying to remind her of why giving in to Sam would be a colossal mistake, resulting in nothing but hurt feelings at best and a broken heart at worst. As he pressed her back against the cushions, his mouth so close she could feel the warmth of his breath tease her lips, she said, her voice still shaking but no longer with cold, “We can't do this Sam. This will only cause trouble.”

  “I like trouble,” he whispered as he closed the distance.

  Any protest she might have formed disappeared at the first contact. She didn't know if it was the stress of the last several months, compounded in the last week of working so close to Sam, or the primal fear the storm evoked, but she felt the last fragile thread of her control snap at the feel of Sam's tongue flicking against the seam of her lips.

  She parted hers, sucked his tongue inside, his spicy taste flooding her senses and making her forget all the reasons why she needed to stop this before it went any farther. She felt a tug at her waist and her robe fell open. She settled back against the cushions as Sam pushed his own robe off his shoulders.

  Unlike her, Sam hadn't kept his underwear on. Her breath caught at the sight of his naked body, sending a rush of warmth to the pulsing flesh at the juncture of her thighs. His cock jutted hugely from between his legs, straining up his abdomen until it nearly touched his navel. Hair roughened, heavily muscled thighs parted hers as he settled over her.

  She gasped at the first brush of his cock against the smooth skin of her stomach. He took her mouth with a groan, kissing her slow and deep until she was arching her hips and rubbing herself against him like a cat in heat.

  “Do you have any idea,” Sam said as he nipped and sucked his way down her throat, “how bad I've wanted to do this from the first second I saw you again?”

  Carla's breath caught on a moan as he tugged a satin cup of her bra aside to reveal a breast. He circled her nipple with his tongue, took it between his lips to suck her hard. “All week,” he muttered against the soft fullness, “with you prancing around in your little dresses,” he yanked the other side of her bra down and gave her other breast a firm squeeze. “Your perfect tits spilling over the top,” he groaned.

  He sucked and tongued at her nipples as her hands coursed up and down the smooth hard lines of his back. She could feel his cock, hard and pulsing against her inner thigh, and felt an answering pulse as another rush of moisture drenched the thin silk of her panties.

  “Teasing me with your short skirts,” he whispered. She shivered as his big, callused palm slid up and down the outside of her thigh. He leaned up again to deliver another one of those soul shattering kisses. “All I could think about was sliding my hand up to see if you feel as good as I remember.”

  His hand slid between her thighs to cup her through the thin silk of her panties. He slipped his fingers inside, delving into folds gone slick with desire. “Oh, Jesus, you're so wet,” he murmured against her lips. “I always loved how wet you got.”

  Carla felt something tug at her heart at the memory of what they'd once shared...and how it had ended. She shoved it aside. What was happening here had nothing to do with the past. It was all about scratching an itch, releasing the tension, and moving on with no regrets.

  ###

  Sam pressed his fingers into the slick folds of Carla's pussy, silently marveling at the feeling of touching, tasting her, being with her again after all these years. He sucked her tongue into his mouth as he stroked her clit. Oh, God, he'd forgotten how much he loved the little sounds she made in the back of her throat when she got turned on. They sent a spark of heat straight to his dick and he felt his skin stretch even tighter over his already engorged flesh.

  He wanted to rip off her panties, spread her legs wide and shove himself deep and hard inside her, but he held a tight rein on the need pounding through him. He needed to go slow, take his time to remind her of all the pleasure he could give her, how good he could make her feel.

  Do whatever he could to chase away the memory of how he'd lashed out at her in a rush of fear and self doubt, even when she was the last person on earth he'd ever meant to hurt.

  He knew he was catching her in a moment of weakness, her guard eroded by her fear and the storm.

  He didn't care. A crack had finally appeared in her armor, and he wasn't above taking advantage of the situation to get her to break through the wall she'd built to keep him out. He would use the undeniable chemistry between them to chip away at her defenses until she broke down and gave him a chance to prove that he'd grown into a man who was actually worthy of her love.

  A brilliant plan, but only if he kept his own raging desire under control. He bit back a groan as his dick stroked against the smooth skin of her stomach, he backed away, kissing his way down her neck, down her chest, pausing to suck and lick her nipples. He groaned as he took her into his mouth again, the sweet taste, the scent of her skin flooding his senses.

  He continued down, wet, sucking kisses down her stomach, sliding off the couch until he was kneeling in front of it. He took her legs and scooted her until she sat upright against the cushions. “Take off your bra,” he said, and as she obeyed with trembling hands, he hooked his own shaking fingers in the waistband of her panties.

  He kept his eyes glued on her face as he dragged the scrap of silk and lace down her smooth thighs and calves. She was so damn beautiful, he thought, feeling that familiar tightness in his throat he got every time he looked at her.

  Her cheeks were flushed, her dark eyes burning with need, her mouth plump and red from his kisses. With her dark hair spilling in damp waves over her tanned shoulders and full breasts she was like sex incarna
te, a luscious fruit, ripe and ready for the taking.

  “God you are so fucking beautiful you make my chest hurt,” he murmured as he hooked first one, then her other knee over his shoulders.

  Talk about luscious... with her legs spread to accommodate the span of his chest, she was totally exposed to his gaze. He'd felt her, tasted her, dozens of times in the past, but in all the times they'd messed around it had always been under the cover of darkness.

  Now, he felt his mouth water as he gazed at the hot sweetness between Carla's thighs. Completely smooth except for a neat patch of curls at the top of her slit. Pink, perfect, glistening with the evidence of her need. Sam felt his balls pull tight against his body as another surge of lust coursed through him, and he suddenly felt like he might actually die if he went another second without tasting her.

  He parted her with a sweep of his thumbs and took her into his mouth, the sweet, salty taste of her made the blood roar in his brain as her soft, “ooh” of satisfaction went straight to his core. “God, you taste even better than I remember,” he murmured as he circled her clit with his tongue. Slow, firm strokes, mixed in with soft sucks to get her going.

  Sam remembered everything Carla liked.

  He moved lower to dip his tongue inside, groaning at the surge of moisture that bathed his tongue. “Remember how embarrassed you were the first time I ever did this?” He'd worked her three nights in a row, pleading, persuading, convincing her that while getting her off with his fingers while he sucked her tits got the job done, she wouldn't know the meaning of pleasure until she let him go down on her.

  He sucked her clit into his mouth, felt her hips arch up to urge him deeper. “You were so nervous I could feel your heartbeat against my tongue.” Another firm slide of his tongue and Carla threaded her fingers through his hair.

  He slid a finger inside, groaning at the way the tight muscles clenched him hard. He slid another finger in, feeling her stretch around him, felt a bead of precome bathe his cock when he imagined how it was going to feel to have her stretch around his thick length. He was dying to get inside her, but for now he needed to focus on her, her pleasure, drive her out of her mind and drive away all the bad memories, leaving only the good stuff behind.