Rebound (Tryst Island Series)

by Sabrina York

  “So…it’s you and Kristi?”

  “Yep.”

  “Oh.” Her expression cleared. “Well. That’s okay then.” She shot him a perky grin and plopped back down in her lounger and picked up her book.

  But they weren’t done. Not by a long shot. He shifted her legs over and sat at her side. She frowned.

  “So I have your blessing?”

  “My what?”

  “Your blessing. To date your sister. Because it’s important to her. And Bella, I really care—I mean, I really, really care.”

  “Mercy.” She sighed and patted his cheek. “You are kind of adorable, I suppose. Yes. You have my blessing.” But then her smile morphed into another fierce glower. The tiny diamond in her nose winked. “But I swear unto God in heaven above, if you so much as breathe a hint about my feelings for Holt to anyone—anyone—I’ll have your guts for garters. Do you hear me?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Well, okay then. Get off my chair.”

  He did. He sat on the end of his lounger with his elbows on his knees and his fingers linked, and stared out at the tiny kayaks bobbing in the water in the distance trying to tame the elation rioting in his gut.

  The road was clear. Kristi was his. Tonight, he’d have her again. And the night after that. And, hopefully, all the nights after that.

  Little did she know it, but Bella was going to be his sister-in-law some day. Hopefully someday soon.

  “So,” he said as a gentle breeze lifted his hair. He closed his eyes and turned his face up to the sun. “What’s the deal with you and Holt?”

  He chuckled when her book hit his back.

  The kayak scraped the shore and Kristi sighed. “That was great.”

  “It was.” Holt’s voice rumbled behind her. Something in the timbre of his voice snagged her attention and she glanced back. He was glaring at the dock. She swung around to follow his gaze and saw Cam and Bella hugging. It was a quick hug, nothing that should cause those shards of jealousy to stab her belly. But then he kissed her. Only her cheek. But still…

  Fury snarled in her breast.

  “What the hell is that all about?” Holt grumbled. He hopped out of the boat into the water with no care for his expensive boots. Kristi stood, but plopped down again when he yanked the boat further onto the shore, his attention trained on the dock.

  “She has a thing for him, I guess.”

  His head whipped around. “She does?”

  “I guess.”

  Belatedly, he thrust out his hand and helped her from the boat. “I thought you and he…”

  “So did I.” She collected their life vests and paddles. “I’m going to put these away and then have a chat with him. Can you and Drew get the boats?”

  But Holt wasn’t paying attention. He was staring at the dock, scrubbing his chin with his palm.

  Cam found her in the boathouse hanging up the life vests. “Hey you. How was your trip?”

  She didn’t look at him. “Fine.”

  “See any whales?”

  “Not today.”

  “Bummer.” Silence crackled. He broke it. “I, uh, had a chat with Bella.”

  “I noticed.”

  “Did you?” Why was there amusement threading through his tone? She turned to glare at him. Yup. A big old smile plastered on his handsome face.

  “I saw you hugging her.”

  “Why wouldn’t I hug her? She’s my friend. Your sister and…we worked everything out.” Clearly he was pleased with himself.

  “You worked it all out?”

  “Yep. Apparently it was just a misunderstanding. I’m not the dude she has a thing for.”

  Her brow rumpled. “You’re not? Who is?”

  “I can’t say.”

  “Can’t, or won’t?”

  “Both. Your sister is a little scary when she’s adamant.”

  “Hmm.” She crossed her arms over her chest.

  “Point is, no more problem with Bella. We’re home free.”

  “Home free?”

  “To continue…this.”

  “This rebound thing?” She didn’t mean to snarl, it just came out that way.

  “Kristi, honey, why are you angry?”

  “I don’t know.” She didn’t. Was it because he’d hugged Bella? Honestly, it hadn’t been much of a hug. And the kiss had been a peck. Maybe she was upset because of the feelings the scene had engendered—a roaring tide of jealousy and hunger and pain. That, and the fact they’d agreed to only rebound sex.

  And maybe she wanted more.

  And maybe she wasn’t really sure what he wanted.

  A weekend of torrid sex? Or more?

  Or not?

  She was too afraid of what the answer might be to simply ask.

  She shivered. “Let’s go up to the house. I’m cold.”

  He put his arm around her and she let him. Only because she was cold and he was warm. And it was comforting.

  Chapter Eight

  It was a long walk up to the house, but only because Kristi’s mind was in a whirl.

  On the one hand, she was over the moon to know Cam wasn’t Bella’s secret crush. She had a strong suspicion who was. Obviously her sister had witnessed Holt’s doomed attempt at seduction and assumed they were having an affair. Bella and Holt would be great together and Kristi would give anything to see her sister happy.

  The other thought clogging her consciousness was this blooming relationship with Cam. He’d obviously cared enough to confront Bella to clear things up. Could it be that he, like she, wanted more?

  Without coming right out and asking him—which she didn’t have the nerve to do—she couldn’t know.

  But she could tip the scales in her favor.

  And try something she’d been aching to do since she’d caught sight of his beautiful cock last night.

  So she paused when they reached the steps to the deck on the main floor, not following the others as they made their way up. He stopped too, perforce, as she was holding his hand.

  He turned and quirked a brow. “Kristi?”

  “I think we need to have a chat.”

  He swallowed. Paled. “Oookay.”

  She steered him to the stone patio in the shadow of the overhang of the deck with the basement windows to their backs and the vista of the deserted beach before them. It was hardly a private spot for what she had in mind, but the naughty minx dancing in her soul didn’t care. It was private enough.

  And she had a powerful hunger to taste him.

  When she pushed him into one of the metal chairs, he didn’t resist.

  “What’s up?”

  She glanced at his crotch. “Nothing.”

  Oh, but it rose when she kneeled before him. When she kneeled before him and insinuated herself between his knees and ran her palms up his hard thighs.

  “K-Kristi?”

  “Shut up. There’s something I need to do.”

  “N-need?” She loved that he stuttered—because she was unsnapping his jeans.

  “Did I ever mention how much I dig a manly man?”

  “Um, no?”

  “That plaid shirt is a definite turn on.”

  He licked his lips as she eased his zipper down. “I’ll, um, never take it off.” He shifted as she splayed the opening she’d created and toyed with the band of his briefs. “Kristi?”

  “Hmm?”

  “What-what are you doing?”

  She eased his underwear down, just a bit. Just until the head of his cock was visible. “What do you think?” A hoarse whisper. Damn, but he was beautiful. She wanted to see all of him. And now.

  She tugged his briefs lower.

  He grabbed her wrist. “Kristi! Christ. Here? On the patio?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  He probably would have protested a little more, but she dipped her head and drew in his essence. His scent curled through her, musky and male. Her mouth watered. She blew a hot breath along the length of his encased cock and he hissed. Then she dab
bed her tongue into the little eye, just a tiny flick, lapping up a beading tear. That slightly salty, eminently sweet flavor infused her soul, sending swirls of desire dancing through her.

  He made a harsh sound. “Jesus. Anyone could see.”

  “They’re all upstairs. Besides,” she raised her head to smirk. “This won’t take long.”

  Without further ado, she pulled his briefs all the way down and fisted his cock, measuring the weight of it, his girth, in her palm. So firm. So bold. So damned insistent.

  She couldn’t wait. Not a moment longer.

  She engulfed him. Sucked him in a slow rhythmic cadence. He wriggled. Urged his hips forward. Clung to the arm of the chair, his knuckles white.

  “Jesus. Jesus.” As though he couldn’t manage any other word, any utterance, any thought.

  “Hush. I don’t like to be interrupted.”

  “Kristi—” His growl morphed into a little warble as she nestled deeper and licked the base of his cock, tickling the balls still trapped in denim. He pushed her away—but before she had time to pout, he stood, yanked down his jeans and his briefs and sat back down, threaded his fingers into her hair and guided her back. “More. More. Jesus. More.”

  She glanced up at him with a smile.

  Oh, she’d give him more. More than he could bear, if she had her way.

  Strap in, Cam Jackson, she thought. You’re in for the ride of your life.

  He couldn’t believe it.

  He couldn’t fucking believe it.

  Kristi Cross on her knees before him, stroking his cock, sucking, nibbling, drawing the most delicious torture upon him he’d ever been lucky enough to endure. Her mouth was incredible. Velvety soft and wet and warm. And she knew what she was doing. He couldn’t bear to think on how she’d gained such expertise, so he didn’t. He just luxuriated in wave after wave of exquisite pleasure.

  When she changed her position and sheathed him in her clutching throat, all the way to the hilt, his entire body clenched. His grip tightened in her hair. He loved the way she responded to his every cue. Moving just the way he needed, stroking with just the right amount of pressure, lightening up and then constricting with flawless instinct.

  They were perfect together. A perfect match.

  And then he discovered an awful truth.

  Kristi Cross was a tease.

  He should have known. Should have seen that evil light in her eye when she peeped up at him, his cock nested in her mouth, her cheeks plump, her lips—even wrapped around him—canted in a wicked grin.

  He should have foreseen what was coming.

  She hummed around him. A moan, a murmur. The vibration sent agonizing skewers through his bowels. He thrust into her. Couldn’t help it. It was pure, unbridled impulse. Raw, ragged need.

  To his horror, she released him and shook a finger at him. “Ah ah ah. Hold still.”

  “I can’t.” A harsh whisper.

  “Hold still and let me work. You are a canvas, and I’m painting on you.”

  He recognized his own words from the night before and his heart stopped—then set up a manic tattoo. Hell no. She wasn’t going to torment him. Not like he’d tormented her.

  But she was.

  Instead of taking him back in her mouth, she kissed his cock, kissed it and stroked it with a feather-light touch that about drove him insane. Then she veered off course and started nuzzling his belly, the curve of his hip, the top of his thigh. He squirmed a little, trying to guide her exploration back where he wanted it.

  She chuckled. “I told you to hold still.”

  “Jesus, Kristi. You’re driving me wild.”

  “You drove me wild last night. Turnabout is fair play.”

  Aw, shit. She was. She was getting him back for teasing her. “Let’s go inside. To my room and…finish this conversation there.” He’d fucking tie her down—as Holt suggested. Tie her down and dominate her with his cock…

  “I want to finish it here.”

  He opened his mouth to protest, but then flinched as he heard the slider open overhead, then footsteps and the chatter of conversation as Bella and Cassie floated onto the deck. He could see their shadows flitting through the cracks of the boards. And then the dreaded slide of chairs as they seated themselves at the table. Right over his head. His lips parted. He stared at Kristi and madly shook his head, reaching for his jeans.

  She didn’t allow it.

  She grabbed his cock again and squeezed it tight, stroking with a slow, excruciating caress. Her lips curved. She edged closer and whispered, “Be sure to be quiet. We don’t want them to hear. Do we?” And then she drew him into heaven once more, in a determined manner, one that made clear her intentions.

  She wanted to make him come, with her sister and friend—chatting about classical music and kinky boutiques—mere feet away.

  He should have stopped her. He should have put his foot down and stopped her and dragged her somewhere private and fucked her ‘til she howled. But he couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t even think.

  She’d started some kind of double action thing, milking his hard cock with her hand as she sucked on the tip, drawing him deeper and deeper with each pass until he was buried in her throat once more.

  And she started to hum.

  Hum.

  She played with his balls, stroking them and teasing them. He shifted restlessly, and her agonizing touch slipped farther back, teasing that sensitive spot between his cock and his ass.

  Need curled at the base of his spine. Scorching excitement lashed him.

  They could be discovered any second. One wrong move, one escaped groan, and Cassie and Bella would come hurtling downstairs and see them. Find them. Catch them.

  It was probably the panic, the tension, the exhilaration that sent him over the edge. The knowledge that others were so very near. That he shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not now.

  But he was. And she was. And it was thrilling.

  It was either all the churning emotion and thrashing pleasure—or her finger, worming into his ass.

  He couldn’t hold back the muffled growl as his cum, boiling and roiling and snarling to escape, shot from him in a torrent, flooding her mouth. She took it all. Swallowing it in great silent gulps.

  Even when he was done, she continued to torment him, tiny, gentle sips that elicited shudder after shudder, along with every drop of his seed.

  She was still milking him dry, sucking the sanity right out of him, when one of the chairs on the upper deck scraped against the wood with a screech. “Did you hear something?” Bella asked.

  “Hmm? Hear what?”

  Footsteps. Heading toward the rail.

  Cam and Kristi both froze.

  “I dunno. A howl? Sounded like a coyote or a wolf or something.”

  “I don’t think there are any wild animals on the island.”

  “No? I could have sworn I heard something.”

  Cassie grunted. “Probably the wind.” Silence trickled. “Hey. Do you want a margarita?”

  “You making?”

  “Sure.”

  “Absolutely.”

  To Cam’s relief, they both headed into the house. He didn’t relax his muscles until he heard the slider close. “Shit.”

  Kristi leaned back on her heels and grinned, licking her lips.

  He couldn’t help it. He bent down and kissed her, long and hard. He tasted himself on her tongue.

  She didn’t draw back. Rather, she murmured against his lips, “Did you enjoy that?”

  “It was hell. Every minute of it.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “When can we do it again?” He swallowed her laugh.

  “Maybe tonight.”

  He put out a lip. “I have to wait that long?”

  She tipped her head and smiled at him. Just smiled. The promise in her eyes left him speechless.

  Because he knew. Just knew. Beyond a shadow of a doubt.

  He was in love with her. Loved her incontrovertibly. With everyth
ing in him.

  And he would never let her go.

  Also, she’d pay for this.

  Oh, she’d pay.

  The thought of how she’d pay made him want to chortle. Instead, he just grinned right back.

  “You’d better get dressed,” she said, tugging his pants up his legs.

  “Sure, now you’re all modesty and propriety. Where was that a few minutes ago?”

  “A few minutes ago I was…hungry.”

  He stood and fastened his jeans and pulled her close to his side, where she belonged. “And now you’re sated?”

  “Not quite.”

  He frowned at her. “Not quite?”

  “Nope.” She shot him a impish look. “Now I want a margarita.” They headed toward the stairs together, arms linked. “Later,” she said. “Later you can sate me.”

  Yeah. He would. And then some.

  Chapter Nine

  When they came through the slider, Cassie already had the blender going. She had a secret recipe for knock-you-naked margaritas, which were absolutely divine. Bella and Kristi joined her in the kitchen to whip up some nachos while the guys all clomped down to the basement to watch the Mariners. As far as Kristi could tell, Lane was still in his room.

  “Maybe we should check on him.” She glanced at his door.

  Cassie shook her head. “I’m sure he’s fine. No doubt he’ll come out when he smells the food.” But he didn’t. The guys surfaced from the basement, though. Apparently the game had been lame. They all swarmed around the table and sucked down margaritas and inhaled nachos, laughing and joking and brutally teasing Drew about his new tattoo.

  Bella started it all when he pulled up his shirtsleeve to show it—and his bulging biceps—off. She snorted.

  Drew frowned at her. “What?”

  Bella shrugged. “I didn’t think firemen were allowed to get tattoos.”

  Drew made a face. “We’re firemen. Not slaves.”

  “Civil servants,” Holt muttered. “Close enough.”

  “I can’t believe you got a puppy.” Bella grinned. “Of all the tattoos in all the world. You got a puppy.”

  “I like dogs.”

  Bella ignored him. “Not a bulldog or a Rottweiler or a pit bull. A puppy.”