Second Chance Honeymoon

by Ally Blake

  “Okay,” she breathed, her legs dropping wider in invitation.

  With a grin he got to it, using his big hands to keep her right where he wanted her. Until she came with the kind of abandon that made itself felt right deep in his gut.

  Then her hands were in his hair, tugging, and with a grin he climbed over her.

  “Now?” he asked, reaching into his bedside table for protection.

  “Now,” she demanded, taking over, snuggling into the bed while he knelt over the top of her.

  Which was when she saw his leg. His mangled, damaged thigh the only part of his body he hadn’t been able to keep in A-grade shape.

  While he wasn’t precious about it—to him it was a talisman, a reminder of who he was, where he’d been, and the work it had taken to get there—he found himself holding his breath as he watched the myriad expressions playing over her face.

  “What did you do to yourself?”

  His thumb rubbed the outside of the scar. “Cave diving with some sea cowboys in Florida. I was barely experienced enough to snorkel much less what they let me do after flashing a wad of cash. It got hairy. I got hurt.”

  JJ nodded, though he knew she was only half paying attention as her fingers hovered half an inch over the worst of the damage. Then with a twitch of her forehead, she ran light fingers over the bumps and ridges, some scarring so numbed he hadn’t felt anything there since. Yet somehow a ghost of sensation trailed behind her touch, like dust motes falling from the sky.

  He must have made a noise as huge whiskey-colored eyes lifted to his. “Am I hurting you?”

  He shook his head. She made him ache, but it was a good pain. The kind that meant a wound was healing. He leaned over her and kissed her long and slow. She tasted sweet and fresh, like spring water. Like the lease of new life she’d unleashed in him.

  And then her hands found him and it was all he could do to keep himself steady as she cupped him, her thumb tracing the vein ridged along the top before she slowly, achingly slowly, slid the rubber into place. Then, after a soft kiss of the tip, she reached up, her hand diving into his hair as she pulled him down.

  Her touch was like velvet as her fingers traced his back, kneaded his backside. When she arched into him, her legs curling around his to welcome him, her heat was pure temptation.

  When he slid inside of her it was like she’d been waiting for him all her life; taking him with a sigh of relief and pleasure and need.

  Then everything was lost in the eddy of sweat and burning skin. Of her lush mouth, her nipping teeth, her sweet heat contracting around him, drawing him to the very heart of her. Until life contracted to the size of the bed, the world a red haze beyond its borders.

  And as broken as he’d ever felt in his life it was nothing compared to this. For he was undone.

  Chapter 21

  JJ found a seat on the cramped white boat that would spend the day tendering grateful groups to and from the ship’s anchor point near the island of Lifou.

  The boat was only half full. Most of the passengers had probably been up with the birds and as soon as they’d seen the sun was shining had rushed to be first in line to get off the ship.

  It had taken JJ longer to rouse herself unto the day, as she’d barely slept a wink. Only this time it had had nothing to do with her energetic neighbors—and their nighttime antics—and everything to do with hers.

  She’d gone to Kane, semi-convinced she was looking to scratch an itch. That the wild and wonderful she felt around him was part of her self-diagnosed need for sun, rum, and harmless fun.

  Only she hadn’t left his room in the wee hours of the night feeling harmless. She’d left him feeling delicate; his last lingering kiss at the door leaving her literally breathless and lit with such a deep well of longing, of wanting more, more than she could even understand, so that every step away from him had been on feet of lead.

  And the thing was, she knew want. Had known it all her life.

  From her first moments she’d wanted to escape the oppressive desperation that cloaked her family. Had managed it too; from sneaking out of the house at all hours of night looking for cheap thrills to marrying the guy with the best chance at getting the hell out of town.

  But even once she’d gotten out—hitchhiking her way out of town no less—she’d still wanted more. A flat mate she actually liked (yay for Erica!). A job that she loved waking up for every day (and she’d thought she’d found one until the famous Day of the Groping Boss). A guy who liked her and treated her with respect but who didn’t expect the world (she’d proven she couldn’t be trusted with more).

  She’d never in her wildest dreams imagined the likes of Kane.

  But suddenly there he was, and she wanted him with a kind of vehemence she’d never felt before. For a girl who was world-class at wanting, it was quite the kick. For a girl who’d never quite managed to get what she wanted, it was scary as hell.

  In the past, the only thing that numbed the want was running. When the pounding of her feet against pavement turned her muscles to mush and loosened all her thoughts ’til they no longer clogged her head.

  But since running might mean banging into the very desire she needed to shake loose, she had to get the hell out of Dodge. And the place to run on a cruise ship was toward land.

  JJ sniffed deep the warm salty air, tucking her hands under her bare thighs. Others onboard the tightly crammed island hopper sat close as it skimmed over the slight waves, talking to their partners in quiet excited voices. Some held hands, other touched without even knowing it.

  Ignoring their public displays of affection as best she could, JJ focused on the island rising out of the Pacific; the tropical honeymoon destination she’d never had. Whether it was a lesser of two evils would remain to be seen.

  The boat dropped everyone off at the end of a long jetty jutting out into the blindingly blue water. The crowd bundled slowly off, stretching out creaky legs and breathing fresh air into their wobbly bellies. JJ hitched her beige canvas beach bag over her shoulder and edged her way past them all.

  It might have felt like an invasion—the hordes of sarong-bedecked Australians with their zinc-covered noses and oversized cameras—if not for the fact that the locals lined the beach in wait, a wave of movement and chatter, smiles covering their cheerful faces as they took the passengers by the hand and led them into the big open hut to the left where markets stalls and tours information and food awaited.

  JJ grabbed an imperfect handful of warm squat bananas, a rustic straw cowboy hat, and a handmade doll for Erica that smiled on one side and frowned on the other. Erica would be keeping it on her work desk, thank-you very much, as a reminder of the disaster she was lucky to inflict on her best friend and not a real customer.

  Thus satisfied, she headed out of the hut, hat low over her eyes as she took it all in. The sun on her neck, the moisture in the air. The lush green blanketing the craggy landscape. The pure white sand leading into the crystalline waters. The shore dotted here and there with thatched huts and palm trees laden with coconuts.

  It was surreal, like something out of a postcard.

  And it was calling her name.

  Juuuuliaaaaana . . .

  “Juliana.”

  The rumble of an engine broke through her reverie, and she looked up to find a battered jalopy with its top missing. And behind the wheel . . .

  Kane. The peak of a well-worn baseball cap shading his eyes, his sunglasses perched atop. Navy polo shirt making the most of his brawn; cut-off khakis hiding his scars. Sunshine slashed across his lower jaw and the dark shadow prickling his cheeks. His wrist lay on the steering wheel, his long fingers draping over the edge.

  The man was relaxation personified. Until beneath the shade of his cap his eyes did that wicked fast once over he was so good at, his heated gaze burning a path over her faded-brown tank top, her ancient denim short shorts, her flat bronze sandals, and back to the haphazard ponytail slung over one shoulder.

  While JJ’s
heart lumbered about inside her chest like it was dazed and confused.

  “Morning,” said Kane, a slow smile making her wonder if he knew exactly how much he discombobulated. “Or should I say mid-morning. Slept in?”

  After the couples-only-bar-her boat ride, JJ felt gritty and tight, like her face hadn’t quite caught up with the fact that she was awake, while he looked . . . edible.

  She gripped the strap of her beach bag in both hands, and looked away. “What are you doing here? I thought you’d have to stay behind and, you know, do stuff with anyone still on board.”

  “Only skeleton classes today since it’s a layover. Zara’s handling them.” He leaned back against the cracked leather seat, and stretched his long legs under the dash. “That why you decided to go to land after all?”

  JJ opened her mouth, then snapped it shut. Because yeah, it was.

  He grinned, like he knew her that well, and her heart stuttered. Danger, danger, the bells inside her head warned. And for the first time she wondered if instead of using Kane as self-medication, she needed professional help.

  Then he leaned over and wrestled open the passenger door, the veins in his arms tightening beneath the skin.

  “Coming?” he asked, the intimation clear that if she wasn’t then she was a total chicken.

  What’s wrong with chickens? She liked chickens. Okay, so she liked roast chickens.

  Feeling a kinship with the bird nevertheless, she could have said she’d booked a tour. Or was meeting up with someone. Or that the night before had been fun but it would be smart for them both to quit while he had a job . . . and while she still held onto a thread of reason.

  But that smile, the way he just sat there so patiently, happy to wait while she battled inside her head, and the glorious tropical backdrop—it was too heady a combination to resist.

  She hauled herself into the old car and when she couldn’t shut the door Kane leaned over and yanked it closed for her; his arm brushing against her belly, his neck close enough to lick. She closed her eyes as she breathed in the scent of him, so warm, so male, so him.

  When her eyes fluttered open he was watching her, a small questioning smile on his face. She covered with a fake yawn, pressed as far back into the lumpy old seat as humanly practicable, and said, “So where to?”

  His smile became a grin. “Several options. North to the cliffs of Jokin—rugged, dangerous, spectacular views of the tropical reef. A cliff walk, 200 steps to the bottom where heavy sea swells make it impossible to swim . . . nearly. A wild girl paradise,” he added with a tempting grin.

  Okay, she thought, anticipation lighting a fire in her belly that had nothing to do with cliffs or swells or . . . whatever else he’d just said. “And the other option?”

  “East is Luecila Beach. No shops. No homes. It’s untouched. Pristine. With a private lagoon shaded by palms and not a soul to be seen for miles.”

  If she’d ever harbored hopes that her screwier moments were the exploits of a truly wild girl, rather than the consequence of a soul starved for simple delight, they were dashed in that moment as her heart went crazy for option number two.

  “Want to hear more?”

  “You decide,” she said, peeling a banana and eating it so she didn’t have to talk.

  She thought she heard a quiet buck, buck, buck, but maybe that was the grind of the gears as Kane got the jalopy going and the thing ground away, bouncing over the rough path to who knew where.

  Around the bend Kane beeped the clunkety old horn, and a group of cruise-goers shuffled further from the path as the jalopy rattled by. JJ glanced back to find them pointing and gesticulating as raising cameras as they got a scoop in the betting pool.

  She looked back at Kane who was grinning from ear to ear. This the man whose job would be on the line if the wrong people found out they’d been spending time together. While she was sitting pretty. Nothing to lose. Nothing at all . . .

  She hugged herself tight and tried to believe it.

  Thankfully the engine began to sound like it was grinding nuts and bolts. Add the whip of the wind through the topless runabout and it was too noisy to talk much less think. Meaning the only words said were by Kane when he slowed long enough to point out locals shimmying up trees to collect coconuts or a glimpse through the trees of the cruise liner anchored majestically in the distance.

  At last they pulled up at the bottom of a path. The jalopy crunched to a halt. Kane vaulted over his door, not even bothering to open it. Jogging around to her side—only someone who knew him would notice the slight favoring of one leg—he left her door well enough alone and with an arm under her thighs and another under her arms he hefted her free.

  With a whoop her hands went around his neck and she clung on tight.

  He held her there a beat. Several in fact. Hitching her ’til she settled into his arms, tucked into his chest. Long enough she could feel the less than steady beat of his heart through her side as she drowned in the clouds whipping across his clear blue eyes.

  He dropped her slowly to the ground, so that her body slunk along his. Her hands remained around his neck a fraction longer than necessary, curling into the springy waves. They made their way down, over the hard undulations of his chest, her nails curling into the soft cotton when he sucked in a sharp breath.

  He pressed her forward then, bending her back, before he came up with her beach bag. He slung it over his head, the long straps diagonally dissecting his breadth. Then muttering beneath his breath about public places and private spaces he held out a hand.

  “Care for a walk?”

  “Where to?”

  “Again with the questions. How about you trust me, take my damn hand, and walk?”

  He turned his big calloused hand palm up. His blue eyes patient, his dimple hidden out of sight as he simply waited. Waited for her to make up her mind.

  Sweat prickled over her skin, and not from the heat of the day. And yet when she put her hand in his, his rough fingers closing over hers, every muscle in her body sighed with relief.

  *

  A half hour later she regretted the decision massively.

  “Are we there yet?” she managed between huge in gulps of breath.

  “Not far,” Kane called from a few meters ahead of JJ on the track—if you could call pressing one’s way up a hill through rough scrub a track.

  A sheen of sweat dusted his face and neck, his cheeks were pink with health, he lifted his cap to run a hand through his sweaty hair before tucking it back into place. Then grinned as she glared at him.

  “Ah-ha!” he said, quickening the pace, this man with an injured leg. While her undamaged legs wobbled and itched as lactic acid put in an appearance. Clearly running in circles on nice clean pathways hadn’t given her the stamina for the hard stuff she’d thought she had.

  “Come on,” Kane called, and through the scrub she labored a few final steps to find herself at the top of the bluff at the far corner of the island. Heaving breaths into her scratchy lungs, JJ pressed her hands into her lower back and took in the view. Wow. Glorious, for all three-sixty degrees. And Kane, in front of a tiny church.

  The building was simple, all mud and brick, painted white, with a pointed roof. The arched windows were empty holes cut into the sides. A statue perched at the apex. With the stunning expanse of clear sky above and the patchy dirt below it was quite something.

  JJ retied her hair in a messy bun at her nape, and followed Kane around the outside of the building. There was no front door, merely a rough-hewn hole in the wall with a little stained glass pressed into the top of the arch.

  Inside the air was a good five degrees cooler without the beat of the sun and a breeze sliding through the open spaces. The ground was dirt, no altar, no chairs. Just a small cool quiet white room.

  JJ leaned her elbows on a window ledge and looked out through the scrub and up into the sky. And as her breaths slowed and the heat prickling her skin faded, a kind of peace crept over her. Leaving her feeling
strangely empty, but in a good way. Not lonely, as she had back on the shuttle boat. Or wanting, which she felt pretty much all of the time. But clear. Fresh. Like she could do anything.

  “What is this place?” she asked, knowing her quiet words would carry to Kane who was somewhere behind her.

  “It used to be a functioning chapel,” he said, his deep voice a rumble in the odd acoustics of the small building. “Built by French missionaries in the 1850s. I try to make it up here as often as I can.”

  He moved in beside her. She shuffled along so his forearms could rest in the windowsill alongside hers.

  “Makes the hard stuff feel—”

  “Insignificant,” she finished on a sigh.

  Glancing left she caught his eye, and once caught was hooked. The sadness she’d seen there once now gone. Filled instead with possibility.

  She had to clear her throat before asking, “None of the others on our cruise planned to hike up here today?”

  “A small group came with a leader this morning. The rest can’t without a cardiologist in tow.”

  “Aah.”

  Understanding the real reason behind her question, Kane leaned in, took away her cowboy hat and kissed her. His lips warm, gentle, coaxing. While liquid warmth coasted through her veins, her eyes fluttered closed. Sunlight fluttered against her eyelids as all kinds of emotions did the same everywhere else.

  No other part of them touched but their lips, and the sultry slide of their tongues, but the tenderness, the sweetness, the intoxication of the kiss touched her so deeply she ached.

  When she began to feel faint, she pulled back, leaning her forehead on Kane’s big shoulder. He cradled her head with the hand holding her hat, cocooning her in his protection, his shade, and dropped a long gentle kiss on top of her hair.

  And JJ couldn’t remember a time when she felt so full. So nourished. Like there was nothing she wanted in the whole wide world. All it had taken was a little fresh air, a little exercise, a gorgeous man schlepping her about a tropical island.