Then Lizzie grabbed a bunch of his shirt in either fist and drew herself close, toe to toe. She tilted her chin, but only a fraction because the woman was built like a warrior princess, and stared into his eyes. “No strings?”
“None at all.” And in that moment, he almost believed he was speaking the absolute truth. One more day. Some sun, some fun, some playing it by ear.
He breathed in the scent of her. Salt, something floral like one of the island’s famous tropical blooms, and a whisper of an aromatic spice like cinnamon or cloves. Setting his hands on her waist, he tugged her closer still until her hips bumped against his.
“Need more convincing?”
She affected a thinking about it expression but didn’t release his shirt. “Sell it to me.”
A warm breeze swept a flyaway strand of her hair across her face, catching on her lower lip that had distracted him all throughout their main course and even more so watching her suck papaya sorbet off a spoon. He hooked the strand with his finger, drawing it away from her mouth. It spiraled around his finger almost as if it, too, were drawing him closer to her. To be fair, he didn’t need any encouragement.
The curl led him down to a spot just above her ear, and he trailed his fingertip along her jaw, ending at the small indent of her chin. He brushed over her temptingly full mouth and her lips parted on a soft inhale. Damp, silken skin grazed the pad of his finger, followed by the nip of her small white teeth on his skin.
Like an electrical storm breaking with the first lightning bolt, that one small motion sparked the heat sizzling between them to life.
He lowered his mouth to hers, the jolt of skin-on-skin contact punching into him low and hard. Softer than he’d imagined, sweeter than he’d dare dream, Lizzie’s mouth fit his as if they were two halves of a whole.
Symmetry. Perfect symmetry.
Cupping both sides of her smooth jaw, he deepened the kiss, flicking his tongue against that sinful lower lip until a soft moan rose from her throat and she opened to him.
His ears picked up a single murmur of a word as he spared a moment to change the angle of his mouth.
“More.”
Said with a hitch in her voice as her hands snaked up his chest and twined around his neck, Kyle wasn’t inclined to deny her. He gripped her waist and she rose on tiptoe, then launched herself upward, hooking her legs around his hips.
Breasts to chest, stomach to stomach, soft flesh to uncomfortable rigidity, Kyle could’ve practically documented every inch of her body, but his brain had stopped functioning the moment she’d jumped into his arms.
He stepped off the manicured resort path and pressed Lizzie to the first available wall. Kissed her again. Found even less available oxygen in the atmosphere than he had beneath the lagoon’s surface. His head spun with the taste of her, his body aching with the need to grind against her to discover just how amazing the friction between them would feel.
“Bloody hell, mate—get a room.”
He jerked his mouth from Lizzie’s at the sound of a loud, slightly slurred male voice. Her head whipped around in the direction of the man—a middle-aged guy in a tropical shirt, beer can in his hand—and she squirmed down to her feet. Along with tropical-shirt guy were two other couples, the men leering, the women looking a little wistful.
“Aw, now look what you’ve done, Rod,” one of the women said. “Spoiling it for the honeymooners.”
Rod of the tropical shirt held up his hands, a foam of beer sloshing out of his can. “Sorry, sorry. The missus is right. Carry on. Don’t mind us.”
The group shuffled past them while Lizzie kept her forehead pressed to Kyle’s shoulder, little trembles rippling through her body. He rubbed her back in soothing circles.
“You want me to ravish ya up against the wall, babes?” he heard Rod ask, his voice bugling through the evening air. “Here, hold my beer, Kev.”
Raucous laughter followed, and now Lizzie really began to shake.
Hell. “It’s okay, Liz—”
A muffled but still audible series of snorts came from his shoulder region, then she leaned back against the wall, the resort’s security lighting catching the sparkle of tears on her face.
Tears from laughing.
“Oh God. Hold my beer.” She clutched both his biceps, her nails scraping his skin and sending a ripple of awareness through him that was anything but funny.
And yet he found himself laughing with her. Their shared chuckle soon turned into bona fide belly laughs, the two of them slumped side by side against the wall, clutching their stomachs.
“Yes,” she said between slowly ebbing giggles.
He rolled his head toward her. “Yes, you want me to ravish ya up against the wall again?”
She elbowed him in the ribs with a familiarity which, instead of feeling brotherly or friend-zone-ish, gave him a little zap of heat. A shared intimacy.
“Nah. I’m good.” But she softened any perceived rejection by weaving her fingers through his. “I meant, yes, you’ve sold me on the idea of scootering around the island tomorrow.”
Her words had him grinning at the carpet of diamond-studded sky above. “I can be pretty convincing. I was the captain of the debating team in high school.”
“Figures.” She straightened, smoothing down her cover-up that had risen dangerously high on her thighs. “Now I’m going to head back to my room before someone calls security.”
“Walk you to your door?” And maybe talk you through it and onto a convenient horizontal surface to finish what we started?
Though he’d been a better-than-average debater as a teenager, acting had never been a strong suit, and he’d obviously not improved with age if the knowing smile on Lizzie’s face was any indication.
She shook her head. Though a cool pebble of disappointment dropped into his stomach, she was probably right. “Meet you in the lobby at eight?”
“It’s a date.”
She blew him a kiss and strolled away.
Tomorrow couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 3
Tui had been to the Punanga Nui Market multiple times during her Rarotongan vacations, but this was the first time with a man who wasn’t a relative or family friend. Being in Kyle’s company didn’t have the same ease as it did with one of her extended family members working in Raro, with whom she could eat ika mata without worrying about coconut milk spilling onto her chin or a sliver of raw tuna dropping onto her lap. Both of which had happened since they’d stopped for lunch at one of the many picnic tables in the crowded market.
Kyle passed her a paper napkin mid-bite of his mahi-mahi fish burger. His eyes danced with amusement as he skimmed her face. “Missed a spot,” he teased, using his thumb to swipe the corner of her mouth.
Her lips tingled, heart racing faster than the traditional Cook Islands drumming starting up on the market’s main stage. Lord knew her pulse had slammed through her body like hardwood sticks pounding on a log drum when she’d seen him waiting for her that morning.
She’d felt like a rookie rider as they’d set out from the small hire shop across the road from her resort. Fortunately, he’d taken the lead so he hadn’t witnessed her shaky legs or hands fumbling on the throttle. It’d been hard to concentrate on navigating the moped along the road that looped around the island’s lush and mountainous interior on the way to the town of Avarua, where the Saturday market was held. It was hard to be distracted from Kyle’s hand linked with hers by the stalls of colorful pāreu and neck garlands of ’ei for sale, the rows of coconut soaps and lotions, the stalls selling everything from tropical fruit to woven coconut-frond fans. And hard to focus on the beautiful little girls in traditional grass skirts and hip hei dancing their hearts out on stage with Kyle’s thigh brushing against hers on the wooden bench seat.
The girls were sent out into the audience to find partners to bring onto the stage to dance for the crowd, and of course, the smallest—and cutest—made a beeline for her and Kyle.
“’Ura?” she asked hi
m with a wide gap-toothed smile.
How could anyone resist that invitation to dance? Kyle took her hand and stood. The girl switched her big brown eyes to Tui. “You, too,” she said. “Come and dance with your tane.”
With her man—or husband. The word could mean either.
A blush hotter than the sun battering her SPF 50 sunblock rose on her cheekbones, but rather than arguing, Tui stood and followed Kyle and the girl onto the low stage. Dancing she could do. Explaining her reaction to the man at her side, that she couldn’t.
It was like the more she got to know him, the more off her game she became. Outnumbered by males in her family, Tui was used to relying on sharp wit and bravado to hold her own among them. Men didn’t intimidate her; she intimidated them.
But not Kyle.
She slanted him a glance under her lashes as he copied the girl’s demonstration of how a male should dance—scissoring motions with his knees in time to the drum beat. He was doing a terrible job of mimicking the girl’s actions and was laughing, completely unselfconscious at his lack of rhythm.
He caught her staring and lifted a challenging eyebrow. She lifted one right back and started to swing her hips, swaying to the thunder of log drums. Years of kapa haka—Māori performing arts—at school finally paying off, Tui let the music sweep her away. The crowd whooped encouragement as the eight guests on stage shook their booties, then bowed and exited to thunderous applause.
“You’re a natural,” Kyle said as they made their way back to their seats.
“Nah.” Tui swooped on her nū, sipping the husked coconut’s sweet water through her straw, hoping that it would cool the heat from her cheeks. “You just made me look good.”
He chuckled. “You don’t pull any punches, do you, Lizzie?”
“You pull punches, someone will knock you on your butt when you’re least expecting it.” Her wobbly legs, sweaty palms, and inability to catch her breath certainly indicated he’d knocked her off balance.
“Can’t argue with that logic.” Frown lines slashed across his forehead, and something about his tone sent prickles scurrying down her spine.
She was almost afraid to ask, but she had to. “Personal experience? Maybe the reason you’re on an island in the middle of the South Pacific?”
He sent her a wry grin that was more of a grimace. “Something like that. A couple of weeks ago it was a year since my divorce was finalized. I impulsively decided to spend a few nights in Raro to get away from it all.”
“So here you are on your inaugural divorce-a-versary vacation.”
“Here I am.” He toasted her with his coconut shell and wriggled his eyebrows. “A single guy ready to put the smooth moves on the beautiful woman next to him.”
“Divorced for a year, huh?” She shook her head. “Couldn’t have guessed that from your smooth moves.”
“Not so smooth?” He grinned and then chuckled at her dour expression. “I’m a little out of practice.”
She sipped her drink, knowing that they’d agreed to keep things impersonal, but still…
“Was it a messy breakup?” she asked, when what she really wanted to know was how badly were you hurt and should I steer clear? Though she suspected it was already too late to jump clear of the path their lives had taken. One way or another, she was going to crash and burn—either into his arms or alone in her bed under the never-ending whirr of the ceiling fan.
“Aren’t all breakups messy?”
“Not if you avoid anything that’ll cause a mess after it’s run its natural course.” Never want a man more than he wanted you. Never need a man more than he needed you. Never love a man unless you were prepared to endure him tearing out your heart with a rusty hook, stomping it into a bloody pulp, then torching it with a flamethrower.
“Not a fan of monogamous relationships, then?”
“I’m a big fan. Total flag-waving, chanting with the team, rooting for a happily ever after.” She slid the empty coconut, balanced on a small stand, away from her, and folded her arms. “From the sidelines.”
He cocked his head to study her. “A safe distance away.”
“Yep. You want to take a risk on the rose-tinted glasses staying in place for the next forty years, have at it. Not me, though.”
A slow smile spread across his mouth, sending tiny fire darts through her blood where they converged low in her belly. “Figures that a sea witch wouldn’t let anyone cast a binding spell on her.”
She shivered and pressed her thighs together beneath the light fabric of her summery dress. This conversation was headed toward a minefield she didn’t want to cross. Flirty chitchat was today’s starter; she didn’t have the stomach for a full meal. Sexy and superficial was the name of the game, and she intended to keep it that way. So she forced her lips to curve into a smile she didn’t feel, hid the pearl of loneliness continuing to form in a little-used corner of her heart, and rose to her feet.
“Speaking of spells,” she said, “you can’t leave Raro without trying the rūkau. It’s magic. I know a place on the other side of the island where we can buy some.”
“What’s rūkau?” he asked, but he stood also, offering her a hand to help her step over the picnic table’s bench seat.
“It’s the leaves of the young taro. After all those carbs”—she dipped her chin at the remaining fries on his paper plate—“you need some green in your diet.”
A group of mamas with frangipani tucked behind their right ears giggled at the table beside them. One of them, the eldest mama judging by the depth of wrinkles creasing her round face, leaned over and patted Kyle familiarly on the arm. “Your lady’s not telling you the whole story about our rūkau.”
“She’s not?” Kyle’s gaze flicked to hers and smoldered there for a moment until even the soles of Tui’s feet felt like they were on fire.
“Ah, Moana,” another woman scolded. “Maybe she’s shy.”
Moana squinted up at Tui and fanned herself. “Don’t think so. She knows what she wants with this one, ’āe?” Her subtle nod encompassed Kyle.
’Āe. She knew what she wanted with Kyle. She elbowed him gently. “They’re talking about the so-called magical benefits of rūkau…for men.”
“Oh?”
“It’ll put lead in your pencil,” Moana said, and her friends burst into gales of laughter. “But don’t eat it if you’ve got no one to write to.”
Tui had been hearing this island joke for years, but it was the first time the punchline actually caused her to blush, the fire in her cheeks singing a trail down her body to sizzle between her legs.
“I’m hoping to find a pen pal while I’m here. Any offers?” Kyle grinned at the old ladies, making them laugh even harder.
Tui dragged him from the picnic table to more good-natured catcalls from his newest fan club. She rolled her eyes at his faux proud smile, then found herself grinning like an imbecile with him. With or without rūkau, she wondered if she’d ever forget a night spent with him.
Guess there was only one way to find out.
By the time they’d returned the mopeds, the light quality had changed, signaling dusk was on its way. She wasn’t ready for this day to end, and from Kyle’s heated gaze on hers as they left the hire place, neither was he.
“Want to grab something to eat?” he asked.
“Sure. I could eat.” Just about anything including boiled liver if I could slurp it off your naked abs. “We should probably get changed first. There’s Raro casual dress, and then there’s us. Sweaty and hot from being out in the sun all day.”
“Yeah.” Since their hands were entwined like they had been for most of the day, when he stopped, she jolted to a halt beside him. “A quick shower and fresh clothes sound good.”
And she’d volunteer to dry the shower droplets off him. With her tongue.
Bad idea looking at the strong columns of his throat rising from his shirt. Now she really wanted to lick him. She forced her mind away from wondering what his day-old stubble would
feel like on her skin by glancing down at her bag of market goodies. “Or a bath, soaking in the coconut oil I bought at the market.”
“Does your room have a tub?”
“Ah. No. Slight problem, then.”
“Not if you used mine.”
Used his tub? Or used him? Blood beat with feathered wings around her chest. Were they talking in analogies now? Maybe he was passing her the reins, giving her an out to shut him down while preserving both their prides. But this wasn’t about pride, or control, or bathroom fixtures. It was about want, desire, and need.
“Let’s go.”
Hand in hand, they speed-walked down the dusty road past the South Pacific Breeze to Kyle’s aptly named accommodations, Hibiscus Lodge. The lodge’s privacy was ensured by a high surrounding hedge of gorgeous hibiscus blooms, and a much smaller decorous Lobby sign pointed down a an impeccably swept driveway. No other guests were around as they followed a lit path through grounds to his bungalow almost right on the white sandy beach. Palm trees lined up like sentinels either side of the bungalow, while low-growing ferns provided even more privacy from a guest’s neighbors. This was no budget accommodation but a luxury retreat from the world.
He opened the glass doors that led into a large, airy living space. Fresh tropical flowers greeted them from a coffee table vase, and through an open doorway loomed a huge bed with a white coverlet, folded towels, and more hibiscus flowers in a decadently rich shade of coral.
Kyle led her inside, and while he shut the door to keep the air-conditioning inside where it was needed, Tui gawked at her surroundings. For a count of three. Then strong arms scooped her up Officer and a Gentleman style and turned her toward the open doorway.
“Want to see the bathroom?” he asked. “It’s pretty impressive.”
“That’s what I came for, right?” she teased.
He chuckled, carrying her across beautifully polished hardwood floors to the foot of the bed. In a partition behind the bed were his-and-her vanities, a glass shower cubicle with so many fancy sprayers she couldn’t name them all, and as promised, a giant bathtub.
Tame Your Heart: A Small Town Romance (Bounty Bay Book 6) Page 3