by Jami Alden
“Would it really be the end of the world if people knew we were involved?” Sam said back, not bothering to soften his voice.
“Shut up!” she whispered harshly. She looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was listening. Satisfied they were alone for the moment, she locked on him with a calm, steady stare. “Listen, I didn't want to be so harsh about this, but since you're not taking a hint I guess I have to be. There is nothing between us Sam. We are not involved. We are not lovers. We are not anything but coworkers.”
Even though Sam had been fully expecting something like this from her, it didn't mean the words didn't sting. Hell, they would have been devastating if he thought they were true. Still he couldn't resist firing his own salvo. “It sure as hell didn't feel like nothing when you were coming so hard around my cock it felt like it was trapped in a vice.”
“Will you please keep your voice down?” she said with another thump to his chest. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, gathering her composure. She opened her eyes, and this time they held no anger, no heat, nothing but pure determination. “I won't deny there's a certain... attraction between us. And I won't deny that what happened between us satisfied my curiosity once and for all about what it might be like to have actual intercourse with you.”
Sam couldn't hold back a chuckle at the clinical way she described the bed shaking, gut wrenching screaming pleasure they'd shared.
“And it was, good, great even,” she said in a rush. “But bottom line, we were two people stuck in a storm, with nothing better to do than each other. As meaningless as scratching an itch.” She tilted her chin up and drew herself to her full height, her gaze all business as it met his. “And now that the itch has been scratched, it's over. Are we clear?”
“Crystal,” Sam bit out, and moved aside so she could pass.
He shook his head, his gaze narrowing on the swing of her world class ass covered by her khaki shorts as she stalked away. Inside he felt the familiar burn he used to get when he was gearing up for a mission. The adrenaline rush accompanied by a sense of almost otherworldly calm as his plan of attack came together in his head.
Carla didn't know it, but she'd just laid down a gauntlet in front of a man who never walked away from a dare. From a man determined to win this, the battle for her heart. The battle of his life.
He didn't even realize he was grinning in anticipation until he heard Chris say, “I don't know what the fuck you're smiling about. We've got at least a million in repairs and we’ll lose half that in revenue while we're closed. I hope to hell Carla's up to dealing with it.”
“She's up to it,” Sam assured him. When it came to managing the business, getting the repairs completed on time for the high season and on or under budget, there was no doubt Carla would get it done.
But when it came to denying what she had with Sam? The poor woman had no idea who she was messing with.
Chapter 12
By the time Carla returned to her place she was exhausted. Physically from the hours spent poring over the damage to Holley Cay. But mostly emotionally, some from having to face the reality of the damage the storm had inflicted, but mostly from that conversation with Sam.
It had taken every bit of resolve to look him in the eye and tell him that what they had, what they had shared was nothing. That he was nothing. To not give into temptation and throw herself into his arms, knowing he would welcome her there.
But for how long? How long before he gets bored and wants to move on? He might be a little gentler about it this time around but it’s guaranteed to hurt even more. It was that thought alone that forced the words from her mouth that would tell him in no uncertain terms that there was no way what had started during the storm could continue.
The confrontation had left her drained, feeling like a deflated balloon, and she'd wandered through the rest of the day in a haze of anxiety as she and Chris prioritized which repairs to attack first.
Chris had gone back to the other resort about an hour ago. Even though it was just after 8 pm, all Carla wanted was a hot shower and to collapse into bed and sleep. The flashlight in her right hand illuminated her way down the hallway to her bedroom. She kicked off her shoes and started over to the bookshelf to grab a hurricane lamp and matches when the edge of her flashlight beam caught on a dark, hulking form in the armchair across from her bed.
Carla jumped and fumbled with the flashlight at the sound of a match striking. Then the room was lit by the mellow glow of another hurricane lamp, revealing the presence waiting for her in the corner.
Though her heart was beating about a thousand miles an hour, she wasn't completely surprised to see Sam sitting in the chair, one foot resting on the opposite knee as he sat back in the chair as though he didn't have a care in the world.
As though he hadn't been waiting in the dark for God knew how long to ambush her.
Fear quickly morphed to anger. “What the hell do you think you're doing? You scared the hell out of me.”
“After our little conversation I figured if I wanted to see you I'd have to take matters into my own hands.”
The lamplight illuminated Sam's face and she saw that it was in complete juxtaposition to his body's relaxed posture. His brows were pulled low over his eyes, his jaw granite hard. And now that she got a closer look at his shoulders bunched under the fabric of his dark t-shirt, she could almost see the waves of anger emanating off of him.
He pushed out of the chair, took a menacing step forward, the hurricane lamp in one hand.
Carla reflexively took a step back. “What do you want Sam?”
“You know exactly what I want. You think you can convince me what we did didn't mean a damn thing, that you don't want to do this anymore, but we both know that's not true, don't we?
She backed up another step. A few more and her knees would hit the back of her four poster bed.
Right where he wanted her.
She swallowed hard as he set the lamp on her dresser, felt a rush of blood to her cheeks as his eyes skimmed over her with a predatory heat.
“It's okay,” he said. He tossed something on the bed behind her and yanked her to him. Though her body was tense, she didn't try to push him away. “You don't have to say it out loud if you don't want to.” He bent his head but instead of covering her mouth with his, he opened his mouth over the spot where her pulse was thrumming double time, flicking it with his tongue, softly nipping it with his teeth.
Though every shred of common sense screamed at her to shove him away, she was frozen in his hold, helpless against her body's swift, intense response to his touch. The light scrape of his teeth sent a rush of wet heat between her legs, pulled her nipples so tight and sensitive her satin bra might as well have been made of sandpaper.
“Your heart is beating so fast,” he whispered against her throat as he covered her left breast with his hand so he could feel the steady throb. “Your nipples are already hard.” He stroked one with his thumb through the fabric of her dress and she whimpered as the touch went straight to her core.
He slid his hand down between her legs. Her legs trembled as he cupped her sex, pressing against her with the heel of his hand.
He groaned when her wetness soaked through the double layers of fabric covering her. “You're so wet already and I've barely even touched you. How can you try to act like you don't want this?”
She didn't say anything, but a shudder rippled through her as he ground the heel of his hand against her. Once, twice. Carla moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulder for balance as her muscles went taut, on the verge of coming against his hand.
“Oh no, not yet,” Sam muttered and withdrew his hand. Before she could react he'd whisked her shirt over her head and popped the button on her shorts before shoving them to her ankles. He took a moment to admire her, and she felt her breasts swell against the the satin cups of her bra.
“Take them off.”
She felt a spurt of defiance at his domineering tone. She narrowed her eyes a
nd threw her shoulders back. “You want me naked you can do it yourself.”
“My pleasure.” Sam stepped closer. Carla kept her eyes locked on the center of his chest as he reached around to unhook her bra, her breath frozen in her chest, her heart hammering against her ribs as every cell sizzled with anticipation.
One strap, then two, slid down her shoulders and caught on her elbows. She knew she should try to stop him, but something inside her, something wild, knew she'd pushed him.
And God help her but she wanted to see how far he would go. As much as she knew she was treading in dangerous waters, she wanted to experience this. Wanted to see him pushed to the brink and know it was because of her. Wanted to experience this side of Sam before she let him go.
He brought his hands up to cover her, and their groans mingled as her warm, heavy breasts filled his hands. He bent his head to lick and tease her nipples, making her sigh and moan as the deep pulls sent sharp pleasure straight to her core. He sank to his knees as his mouth traveled down, hot and open against her belly, stopping when it hit the waistband of her panties.
Carla's fingers threaded through his hair as he hooked his thumbs in the elastic over her hips and slid the panties down her legs. His hands slid around to cup her ass and pull her close, but instead of burying his tongue in the lush folds of her pussy, like she wanted, he pressed a hard kiss right above the little patch of black curls at the top of her mound.
“Lay back,” he said as he stood, pushing her back as he did until her knees hit the back of the bed.
She licked her lips and felt a nervous tightening in her stomach. Was she really going to let him do this?
Then the nervousness was gone, chased away by another charge of defiance. If Sam thought he could charge in here and take over, he had another think coming. He might be ready to hit her with everything he had, but Carla was going to give as good as she got, and no way was she admitting defeat.
Her common sense tried to make one last stand, screaming at her that she was crazy, that she should get off this bed immediately, get dressed and kick Sam's ass out of here.
But one look at Sam, looming over the foot of her bed like some kind of beast about to claim his mate, chased it away.
Part of her―the part that wasn't soaking wet with need and aching have him bury his cock inside her―was a little scared. Okay, a lot scared. Sam was angry, maybe even a little hurt by what she’d said and now he wanted to exact his revenge.
But instinctively, she knew Sam wasn't capable of hurting her―not physically anyway. As for the other...she'd managed to keep her heart locked away from him up until now, hadn't she?
Hadn't she?
Even if the answer was no, her body had taken over, and right now it was telling her in no uncertain terms that whatever Sam had planned for her, it was worth the risk.
Carla pushed herself to the middle of the bed and propped herself up on her elbows. She planted one foot flat on the bedspread and bent her knee slightly. His eyes moved over her like a blue flame, leaving prickles of heat in their wake.
He toed off his shoes but didn't take off any other clothing. He crawled up over her, the fabric of his shirt abrading the hard tips of her breasts, his pants making a rustling sound as they blushed over her legs.
There was something a little dirty about being naked while he still had his clothes on, she thought as he slid his hand up the underside of her arm, flattening it to the mattress as he twined his fingers with hers. One muscled thigh parted her knees and she couldn't stop herself from rolling her hips to rub her pussy against the hardness. But it was a poor substitute for what she really wanted, which was throbbing insistently against her belly, straining against the fly of his pants.
His breath caught as she leaned up to kiss the hollow of his throat, bared by the open collar of his shirt. “This can only be for tonight,” she whispered, as much to herself as to him. “After tonight, we have to be over.”
“We'll see,” he said, his voice strained.
Carla felt him tug on her arm and a strange ripping sound. Her eyes flew open and she realized Sam had secured her right wrist to the top right post of her four poster bed. Before she had time to react, Sam had her left wrist in his grip.
Her gaze locked on the set of bindings dangling from his free hand.
“What are those?” she asked stupidly, unable to keep the nervous tremor out of her voice as her eyes met his. In his eyes she could see the calculated glint under the blunt desire.
She tugged at her wrist, but the cuff held tight on both ends.
“You know damned well what they are.”
Her stomach did a little flip as she wondered when Sam had come across the array of “pleasure packs” Holley Cay provided, upon request, to the more adventurous guests.
Considering everything else that was available, Carla thought with a little shiver, she wondered if the restraints were the only thing Sam had availed himself of.
“And you know exactly what I thought when I saw them.”
Her nostrils flared and she tried to yank her free wrist from his grip as he pulled it up toward the opposite bed post. As fit as she was, it was pathetically easy for him to pin her wrist to secure the other cuff.
“Oh really? What's that?” she snapped and tried to summon a withering look as she rocked her hips up, hard this time as she tried to buck him off.
“I was thinking about how fun it would be for me to tie you to the bed and fuck you all night. Just like you're thinking now.”
“I've never wanted to be tied up.” she said, her voice breathless.
“Liar.” He breathed hard as he struggled to get her legs secure. She flailed her legs, felt a burst of satisfaction when she heard him grunt in pain after her foot connected with his stomach. Still, within seconds, she was securely bound, spread-eagled and naked on the bed.
Helpless.
Sam pushed off the bed, ignoring her demands to be set free. “If you don't let me go I'll scream so loud someone will hear me.”
“Go ahead,” Sam said with a smirk as he yanked off his shirt and shoved his pants and boxers down his legs. “Whoever comes will find you tied naked to the bed with your director of security. I know Holley Cay has a reputation for hedonism but that might even be too much for the board of directors if it gets back to them.”
He was right, damn it, but even as furious as the knowledge made her it couldn't distract her from the sheer masculine beauty of his body. The rippling chest and abs, the scars that saved him from being too perfect and reminded her, in spite of herself, that he was no longer the charming bad boy of her youth, but a mature, brave man, a warrior capable of protecting those who mattered.
As he'd protected her, during the storm and after.
She shoved the thought away. This was about sex, pure and simple, getting it out of their systems once and for all. If he needed to have his little power play to do it, she'd play along.
And, as she watched him take the thick length of his cock in his hand, stroking up and down as his greedy gaze drank her in, she was going to have a damn good time doing it.
“What are you going to do now?” she asked, trying to sound coy, trying to keep it light.
Sam's blue eyes narrowing on her face and the faint air of menace as he rested one knee on the bed told her he wasn't in any mood for light.
She dragged her eyes from his, only to have them snag on the sight of his huge hand wrapped around his equally huge cock, the veins throbbing along their length, the plump, plum shaped head that swelled with every stroke up and down.
“I'm going to fuck you Carla. I'm going to fuck you so good you won't even know your own name. I'm going to fuck you until you scream with pleasure, until you're ready to admit how good it is between us. Until you admit we deserve another chance.”
“It will never happen,” she said, even as unease rippled through her and she wondered if she'd have the strength to resist.
“We’ll see.”
“We'll
see,” she said, her mouth dry as she echoed his response. She relaxed her limbs against the pull of the restraints as he stayed where he was, kneeling between her legs, stroking his cock, up, down, in a hypnotic rhythm that created an echoing pulse between her thighs. “What are you waiting for? Fuck me already.”
Sam released his cock, an evil smile pulled at his lips as he came down over her, his hands resting on either side of his head. He bent his head close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her cheek. “Oh, no, sweetheart. Not until you're good and ready for me.”
She shifted on the sheets, wanted to tell him that she was plenty ready, and had been practically since the second she realized he'd been waiting for her. But she'd rather die than admit that.
He kissed her, and to her shock it didn't betray any of the aggression she could feel simmering under his surface. Instead his mouth took hers in soft sucks of his lips, sweet, slow thrusts of his tongue. Making her chase his tongue with her own, making her crave more with every caress.
Oh, God, he was good. He kissed her for what seemed like hours, until she was arching off the bed, trying to rub her nipples against his chest, her legs and arms pulling against the restraints in their need to wrap around him, pull him close so she could find some relief in the feel of his skin against hers.
Yet he kept his body bent so it was just out of reach, his hands seemingly glued to the mattress as he touched her only with his mouth on hers. Driving her insane until she could feel her pulse beat everywhere, the tips of her fingers, her toes, in the tight peaks of her nipples. And most of all, her pussy which was throbbing with a need so sharp it verged on pain as she ran hot and wet in anticipation.
Finally, he moved his hands to cover her breasts, his cupping and caressing. As his mouth trailed down her neck and chest, his thumbs traced her nipples in ever shrinking circles. She held her breath as he got closer, closer...