Tempt (Take It Off)

by Hebert, Cambria

“Was that yours?”

  He nodded. “It’s useless.”

  “I haven’t even found mine.”

  “I didn’t find another either.”

  The odds of one of our cells even getting any service here, if they worked, was slim to none anyway, so I tried not to take it too hard.

  “I found the protein bars,” I said, holding up the box, trying to lighten the mood.

  “God, I’m starving.”

  He took the box out of my hands and looked at it. Then he looked back at me and lifted an eyebrow. “Nutrition for women?” he read off the front.

  I grinned. “Don’t worry. If you start to grow boobs, I’ll lend you a bra.”

  He gave me a wolfish smile. “Does that mean you wouldn’t be wearing one?”

  Desire swirled low in my belly and for a few long moments, I stared at him, unable to say a word. Then I snapped out of it. “I found my suitcase,” I said dumbly. “I have extra.”

  “Too bad,” he drawled, looking back at the box. “So why are these for women?”

  I shrugged. “I think it’s because they’re high in folic acid and vitamin D. Those are vitamins that are especially good for women.”

  “Chocolate chip cookie dough flavored,” he said. “I’ll eat anything flavored like a cookie, even if I start to grow boobs.”

  I laughed. “They’re my favorite.”

  “What do you say we take our dinner and only meal today out on the beach?”

  I nodded. He opened the box and pulled out two bars with brown and blue wrappers and the words Luna Protein scrawled across the front. “These are tiny,” he grumped.

  “They fill me up.” I defended my snacks.

  He snorted. “You’re tiny too.”

  “I’m almost five-foot-seven!”

  “I’m six-three.”

  “Take two,” I lamented, realizing a single bar definitely wasn’t going to be enough for him.

  He shook his head. “No way. We have to conserve this stuff.”

  I nodded. He grabbed up a can of Coke and motioned for me to follow him. We made our way down to the sand in no time. The sun was still pretty high in the sky so I knew we had hours of daylight left.

  We sat down side by side, facing the ocean, and he handed me a bar. I tore open the wrapper, relieved to see only a little bit of the chocolate coating had melted onto the inside of the wrapper. I groaned when the chocolate hit my tongue. “So good,” I moaned.

  “If you could eat anything in the world right now, what would it be?” Nash asked me as he took a big bite of his bar.

  “Hmmm. Veggie pizza with the pan crust from Pizza Hut. That’s the thickest. And a chocolate milkshake.”

  “A girl that knows what she wants.”

  “What about you?”

  “A huge cheeseburger piled high with all the fixings, onion rings, and a chocolate Coke.”

  “A chocolate Coke?”

  “Please tell me you’ve had it,” he said, stuffing the final bite of his dinner in his mouth.

  “Never even heard of it.”

  He fell back on the sand like he’d been shot.

  I giggled. “What is it?”

  “It’s basically a fountain Coke with chocolate syrup swirled in it.”

  “That doesn’t sound like it goes together,” I said, wrinkling my nose.

  “Silence, woman!” he commanded. Then he gave me an ornery smile.

  I rolled my eyes and took another bite of my bar and suddenly felt guilty for eating it. His was gone and I knew he had to be starving.

  “Open your mouth and close your eyes, and you will get a big surprise,” I repeated the rhyme from my childhood.

  “Do you have a dead bug in your pocket or something?”

  I wagged my eyebrows. “Are you scared?”

  Challenge flared in his eyes and then he closed them and opened his mouth. I popped the rest of my uneaten bar into his waiting mouth. When his lips closed around it his eyes shot open and he sat up. He didn’t chew, just stared at me. “What the hell did you do that for?” he said around the mouthful of food.

  “You shouldn’t talk with food in your mouth,” I informed him.

  He gave me a dark look.

  “You need it more than I do. I’m fine.” In truth, I was starving too, but I was smaller and didn’t need as much as him.

  He acted like he was going to spit it out into his hand. I grabbed his very impressive bicep. “Don’t you dare,” I warned. “That’s a waste of perfectly good food.”

  He made a frustrated sound and then gave in and chewed it up. “Why did you do that!” he demanded when he was done.

  I tilted my head to the side. “Because you saved my life.”

  He snorted. “Honey, I crashed the plane.”

  I shook my head. “I’m pretty sure you’re the only reason it landed here instead of diving straight into the ocean and killing us both.”

  “I didn’t do enough. I didn’t keep it up in the air.”

  I reached out and covered my hand with his. He looked at our hands and then back at me. “When you realized we were going down, that it couldn’t be stopped, do you remember what you did?”

  “Tried not to shit my pants?” he guessed.

  I smiled. “Well, thank goodness you didn’t. Then I’d be stuck smelling you.”

  He snorted.

  I turned serious again. “You covered my body with yours.” For some reason, that replayed over and over in my head—the weight of him pressing me down. The sound of his foreign tongue whispering to me softly… Maybe it hadn’t meant anything. Maybe it was just a kneejerk reaction on his part, but to me… to me it meant more than he would ever know. That moment was branded into my brain and my heart forever.

  “It was the only thing I could think of,” he said, not brushing off what I said. Something in my chest swelled just a little when those green eyes met mine. “I didn’t know any other way to keep you alive.”

  “Even if it meant you getting hurt,” I whispered.

  How had we gotten so close? Our noses were almost touching. I could feel his warm, chocolate-scented breath across my face. In that moment, I forgot we were stranded. I forgot I was filthy. That my head hurt and that we might never make it home. In that second when his gaze touched mine, we were just two people who were irrevocably drawn to each other. Two people sitting in a tropical paradise with the sound of the waves echoing around us and the hum of chemistry between us.

  He swallowed; I heard his saliva slide down his throat. “I didn’t do a very good job,” he said low.

  The huskiness in his voice almost overshadowed his words. Almost.

  “What do you mean?”

  He reached out tentatively and touched around the tender area where my stitches were. “You’re still the one that got hurt the most.”

  “But you fixed me up.”

  The corner of his mouth turned up.

  He was going to kiss me.

  I felt the pull between us so strongly that it took my breath.

  He trailed his fingers down from my head, across my cheek, and then traced the line beneath my bottom lip. Then he cleared his throat and pulled away.

  I blinked rapidly, shocked that he hadn’t followed through. My body screamed for him to come back.

  “You need to drink this,” he said, his voice still husky. I knew he had to be as affected by me as I was by him. Or was that only wishful thinking? “The sugar will do you good.”

  “Only if you drink some too.”

  He nodded and popped the top on the can.

  Brown, fizzy liquid sprayed up, making me squeal and lurch away. I looked back at Nash, who was still holding the can out away from him, with droplets of the sugary soda all over his arms and face.

  I pressed a hand over my lips, trying to stop the giggle.

  He glanced at me. A drop of soda dripped off his nose and he caught it with his tongue. I lost it. I laughed so hard I fell over in the sand.

  “You think that’s fu
nny, huh?” he said, not amused at all.

  He turned away and my giggles died away. “I’m sorry,” I said, sitting up, reaching out for his shoulder.

  He pounced on me. Literally turned and tackled me into the sand. Pinning me to the ground, he shook his head, his dark curls flinging droplets of soda onto my face. I squealed.

  “Not so funny now, is it?” he said, rubbing his damp cheek across mine.

  His lips brushed the corner of my mouth.

  I froze, no longer able to laugh.

  My stomach dropped and then started to dance around. He was literally on top of me, his body pressed along mine. Just the mere tease of his lips was enough to make my hands tremble and my knees weak.

  He pulled back just a fraction of an inch, turned his head, and stared down at me. I could barely read his expression because of the way the sun shone around his body like a halo, making him look like he was in the shadows.

  But I didn’t need to see his expression.

  Because something was pressing against my stomach. Something hard and urgent. Something that I had to make an effort not to wiggle against.

  His mouth claimed mine. He literally stole every feeling I was experiencing and replaced them with only him. His kiss was so utterly consuming, so all-encompassing, that I could do nothing but allow him to ravage my mouth, again and again.

  Oh my God, it was the single most devastating experience of my life. He was truly delicious. He tasted like chocolate and salt. His body was hard and lean. Our toes twirled around together in the sand, the grittiness teasing my skin as his tongue tantalized my mouth.

  “Open for me,” he murmured against my lips.

  I obeyed without thinking and his tongue swept inside my mouth, caressing over my teeth and fondling the roof of my mouth. He sucked my lower lip into his mouth and moved against me. I cried out because the sensation of his body and his mouth at the same time was almost more than I could bear.

  There was a gnawing hunger inside me, and it wasn’t for food. It was for something else, something I didn’t quite understand. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff about to tumble over and there was no parachute or net to catch me.

  His jean-clad leg pushed between mine and he brought it up, the firmness of his knee right at my core. I moaned again, his body affecting mine in ways I truly didn’t know was possible.

  He tore his mouth from mine but kept kissing, down my neck and across my collarbone, where he nipped at the bones and made me shiver. He lifted his head, dark curls falling near his heavy-lidded eyes, and his tongue jutted out between two swollen lips, licking at the remains of our kiss.

  “You taste good.”

  My thighs involuntarily tightened around his knee. I watched as his eyes darkened to a deep leafy green.

  He brought his hands up and brushed away my hair. Some of the hair was stuck in dried blood and pulled, making me wince.

  He frowned. “I should have cleaned you up.”

  “I’ll do it.”

  He stood swiftly, the sea breeze brushing over my passion-fevered skin and making me wince. He reached down and grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. I stumbled a little, feeling dizzy, and I knew it was because of that kiss.

  He kept hold of my hand and retrieved the Coke that started it all and handed it to me. “Drink.”

  I reached up to take it, but he shook his head and held the can to my lips. I watched him as he tilted it up and the warm soda traveled across my tongue. I drank. Then I drank some more. He was rather pushy about it, but I didn’t argue. I was still drunk from that kiss.

  My goodness, was he going to kiss me like that every day? If he did, I would never want to leave.

  After a couple minutes, he relented, pulling the can up to his mouth. I watched his lips wrap around the aluminum as he drank. He drained the rest in seconds flat. And then we were walking back to the plane—our makeshift camp.

  When we made it to the door, I glanced back over my shoulder, not remembering a single thing about the walk here.

  Oh crap.

  I was in trouble.

  6

  Inside, I went right for my suitcase, pulling out another pair of shorts and T-shirt. Instead of panties and a bra, I opted for my bikini to wear beneath my clothes. Then I fished out my little kit containing my shampoo and soap. I bundled all the items into my arms and turned.

  Nash was standing in the entrance of the cockpit, watching me. In his hand he gripped a small duffle bag.

  “What’s that?”

  “A bag that I usually keep on the plane. It has a spare change of clothes and some toiletries.”

  I felt my brow wrinkle. “Did you stay in Miami?”

  “Not this trip, but sometimes I make stops or have layovers and it’s nice to have some stuff in case I need it.”

  “I’m glad you found it.”

  He nodded. “Ready?”

  We went back toward the beach. Bathing in salty ocean water wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it was better than being coated in dried blood and sweat.

  I stopped at the shore, looking around for a little bit of privacy. There really wasn’t much. “You stay here. I’ll go a little farther down,” he offered.

  I laid my stuff on the sand, getting out the soap and shampoo I needed as he walked away. I waited until he was still visible but far enough down and unpacking his own stuff before I started removing my clothes. I stayed in my bra and panties and waded into the water to my knees. I washed as best as I could with the lavender-scented soap while trying not to use too much. Even though it was the ocean, it still felt good to be clean. Once I felt fresher, I returned the soap to shore and grabbed up my T-shirt, which was stained with blood, and the shampoo.

  I couldn’t get the top of my head wet because of the stitches so I just dunked the ends of my hair and the back of my head in the water and then lathered up the bottom portion with suds. While that soaked in, I used my T-shirt as a washcloth and gingerly cleaned my face, trying to get all the dried blood and grime off my skin.

  Once I was finished, I waded in a little farther and took off my panties, using a little of the shampoo to wash them in the water.

  I couldn’t help but be distracted by the way the water felt brushing between my legs. It was like that part of me was extra sensitive and every caress of the water made my muscles quiver with desire.

  I glanced back down the beach toward Nash. He was coming up out of the ocean, water raining from his sun-kissed skin. It slid over his body like a lover, and I watched it travel down over his hips…

  He was naked.

  Stark ass naked.

  The water brushed against me again and I groaned, the sensation making me squirm. Without thinking, I reached between my thighs, almost like my touch could stop my body from wanting something. My fingers met with moisture. Moisture that was not ocean water. This moisture was silkier and a little thicker.

  I yanked my hand away.

  What was wrong with me?

  I couldn’t possibly be wanting him. Not that way. After all, my body didn’t work the way other women’s bodies did.

  I glanced back at him again, catching the side of his bare backside. Okay, so I looked longer than just a glance. But then I looked away (because he bent to pick up some clothes) and finished washing.

  When he was almost dressed, I hurried out of the water, using my shirt as sort of a wrap, and dashed to my clothes. I realized I hadn’t thought things through because my shirt would have made a really good towel—only now it was wet.

  I pulled on my bathing suit, thankful it would dry quickly, and then I used the jean shorts I’d been wearing and hastily dried off most of my body. I used my hands to ring out what I could of my hair and then threw the wet shirt and shorts onto the sand. I would rinse those out in a minute.

  Noting that Nash was getting closer, I pulled on the black linen shorts with a drawstring waistband and tied them loosely around my hips. I wasn’t ready to put on my shirt yet because I w
anted to let my hair dry a bit first.

  Scooping up my comb, I got to work, tugging the tangles out of my thick blond hair. Here in this climate, I was likely a frizz ball waiting to happen. It certainly wasn’t going to be straight like I usually styled it.

  Nash arrived and I slid a glance at him. He wasn’t wearing a shirt either. He was well defined and not quite as thin as I was expecting. He was definitely lean, but there was some bulk there too, mostly from muscle. His skin was bronzed and darkly tanned, smooth and hairless… except for a little trail of dark curly hair that started just below his navel and traveled into the tan cargo shorts that hung loosely on his hips.

  It made me think of the yellow brick road—follow the yellow brick road—except this wasn’t yellow. It was dark and led somewhere naughty and delightfully sinful.

  I shivered.

  “Are you cold?” Nash asked, concern lacing his tone.

  “Me?” I said dumbly.

  “Well… since there’s no one else here,” he said like it was obvious.

  “No, I’m fine.” I averted my gaze, embarrassed. I returned to combing my hair, thinking it was a good distraction from his body.

  “Here, let me,” he said, his voice suddenly much closer than just seconds ago. And then the heat that radiated off his skin touched me, wrapped around me, drew me closer. He took the comb from my slack fingers and started combing my hair.

  How much of an onslaught was my body was supposed to take before I literally melted and slid into the sea?

  Did he not know the effect he had over me? First he covered me with his body like he was a bodyguard and I was some royal princess, he held me all night after a nightmare, and then he kissed me… he freaking devoured half my soul with a single kiss… and now this. Now he was sliding his fingertips through my hair and massaging the base of my neck with a powerful hand.

  “Bella,” he murmured. He spoke so low and with such an accent I didn’t understand what he said.

  “What?” I asked, turning my head slightly toward him.

  He leaned up into my ear and repeated the word again. “Bella. It means I think you’re beautiful.”

  He thinks I’m beautiful.

  I shivered again.

  The comb paused. “I will build a fire.”