The kettle clicked off and she poured the hot water into her cup. While she stirred it, she reminded herself that she wasn't in the market for a relationship. Was she? She frowned furiously. No, of course she wasn't, she had well and truly learned her lesson. Ted was all the teaching she needed in that department, thank you. She stirred a spoonful of sugar into her cup. Leaving it to cool, she headed back to the bedroom. She liked the way the sun filtered through the windows, golden and shiny across the laminate floor. While she brushed out her long hair, she did her best not to look at the rumpled bed. She'd have to get one of the bellboys to strip the sheets, because there was no way she was going to get a wink of sleep come evening knowing that Guy had been in there all night long with her.
Practically grinding her teeth, she pulled on a pair of cheek-hugging denim cutoffs, and tied the shirt around her waist. On the way back through the sun-drenched living room, she fiddled with the radio and found a rock station that suited.
Maybe the blaring music would pound the thought of Guy and his sexy body from her head. She collected her cup from the kitchen and strolled out onto the terrace. Despite the blaring music, her thoughts were still very much on Guy. What's gotten into me? she wondered, as she sipped at her coffee. Shouldn't her thoughts be focused on Ted, the man she'd spent the last nine years with and just walked out on, rather than Guy, a stranger she hardly knew?
She tipped her chair back and stretched her pale, well-defined legs across the table. She took another sip of coffee and wiped at her damp forehead. She could feel a trickle of sweat between her breasts. A look at the little thermometer by the door showed that it was already over ninety degrees and it wasn't yet nine o'clock.
Shelly drew a ragged breath. Closing her eyes, she tried to sort out her jumbled thoughts. She was still surprised to find that she wasn't missing Ted overly much. She was downright shocked she didn't feel the empty ache she thought she would have. She'd even started to contemplate if Ted had done her a favor. No! The old anger in the still-bleeding wound surfaced again. If she hadn't caught him screwing her bridesmaid, hell, her supposed friend, he would have married her twenty minutes later and she would have been none the wiser. He would have continued to lie and cheat on her. She had been lucky by catching him, and had done herself a favor by having the balls to come on holiday alone.
For the first time, Shelly contemplated what she'd never had the courage to ask herself before. Perhaps she'd had a lucky escape by not getting married. If she felt that way, did she really love Ted?
The sun tingled warm against her skin. She would have to put on some sun cream after she finished her coffee. She would burn soon, if she hadn't already. She sipped at it, wishing it were cool, but then a cold drink wouldn't cure her hangover, so she sipped some more of the dark, rich liquid. Her toenails caught the light and she toyed with the idea of painting them. Suddenly, she fought the blinding pain, which the thought of it, the crystal clear memories of it, brought flooding back. Crimson nails digging into Ted's flesh, his ass cheeks clenching between thick, milky white thighs. It would be a while before Shelly could use nail polish again without seeing that sight.
She squinted against the sun. The sky overhead was a blistering blue and when she peeped over the terrace, the sand glistened in shimmering ribs. It was so pale it looked almost white beneath the clear, waist-deep water. A school of blue-and-yellow-striped fish swam around one of the wooden legs that supported her small, water bungalow. She watched them for a while, until they swam away. Her mother's cat, Molly, would have had a fair old time of it. She smiled affectionately. The old tabby could spend hours sitting before the round fish bowl she'd kept Gordon, the goldfish in as a child.
Suddenly, she wished she could be a child again. Life was so much easier then, without any men to worry about. Men sucked. No, she thought, her lips curving up in a naughty little smile. They had their uses. There was no denying that. Her thighs clamped and throbbed. Another wash of wetness soaked her already-damp panties, just thinking about some of those uses.
Her attention returned to the crystal clear water below. She decided she had made the right decision in coming to the island alone. She didn't regret her sexual experience with the young airplane steward, or with Guy. The problem was, after tasting the second, she doubted that another man would do. Guy was a fine specimen of male testosterone-infused flesh and somehow she just knew that other men would pale in comparison. How could he have gotten under her skin in such a short time? He was cocky, egotistic, chauvinistic, and she had to admit, handsome.
Chapter 6
That afternoon, Guy sat behind his desk, scowling at his telephone. He hadn't gone on his coffee break with Mark, and he had turned down lunch with Sue, a curvaceous, big-bosomed redhead.
He hadn't left his desk all day. He was starving and his stomach was growling. He was wound up, on edge, and beginning to get angry. It was all Shelly's fault. She had a face like an angel but a smart-arse mouth. Why am I even wasting my time thinking about her? he wondered. The woman well and truly wasn't worth it. Maybe he should call Sue after all; at least she was always willing to be nice to him. The problem was, the attractive redhead was easy. She was always making eyes at him, sticking her tits in his direction, her nipples hard and prominent. She'd definitely be a willing roll in the hay.
Guy sighed and stabbed his fingers through his hair. Trouble was, he had no interest in women who were that obvious. A little chase was more interesting; it heated the blood.
Mark, the other diving instructor at the hotel's school stuck his shaggy-brown head inside the small air-conditioned office. “I'm heading out now. Lunch at the Golden Pineapple? My treat."
"No thanks, Mark, I'll pass,” Guy said, pretending to be interested in a pile of diving supplies that was about as exciting as a snail race.
"You sure? You haven't eaten anything all day, except for that stale sandwich you stole from me, and I wouldn't have called that edible."
Guy growled. “Who died and made you my mother? Haven't you got any work to do?"
"Nope, but I can find some,” Mark said, holding up his hands. “Jeez, you're awfully touchy today."
Yeah, he was and the fact that he couldn't seem to help it, disturbed Guy more than he would ever admit.
Mark left and Guy knew, from the slump off his shoulders beneath his “Save the Dolphins” T-shirt that his friend was still cheesed off. He looked around the disorganized, cluttered office and decided to go home. The little diving business would keep turning without him for another day. He flicked off the computer screen he'd been staring at for the last hour and stripped off his shirt. He pulled a fresh T-shirt from his desk drawer, adjusted the waistband of his shorts and shoved his bare feet into a pair of Nikes.
Once outside, Guy turned right and began to jog along the beach. Perhaps a good run would help clear his mind of Shelly, all the long, blonde hair and five-feet-two inches of her. And afterwards, if the run didn't help, he would order himself a lunch fit for a king. Then, if that didn't help, he would call Sue. Closing his eyes, he tried to picture her curly red hair and breasts jiggling as he fucked her, but the image in his mind kept blurring. It was replaced time and time again with a blonde woman, with pale green eyes and the cutest little button nose he'd ever seen.
Christ! What was wrong with him?
Heartsick, Guy picked up his pace, until all he could feel was the thudding jolts through his body, as his feet contacted with the compact sand by the shoreline.
* * * *
Shelly sat at a table in the air-conditioned dining room of the hotel, gripping her fork and knife, trying to compose herself. She still had one raging hangover and the exotic lunch of sweet cooked meats wasn't helping to calm her stomach. She hoped it wasn't turtle. Claire had said they ate turtles on the Maldives. Knowing her friend as she did, Shelly knew she was probably just pulling her leg, but still, her stomach lurched. She didn't like the idea; turtles were just too cute.
She focused on the long line
of light blue surf, visible through the large floor-to-ceiling windows. Her thoughts were once again on Guy. She wondered if it was the alcohol still in her bloodstream giving her the headache or the annoying man. Last night she'd been thankful that he hadn't tried to push things further between them. Now she was only left with the sad longing, wishing that she had allowed him to make love to her into the small hours of dawn.
If she were to see him again, would he talk to her in that unbelievably, sexy voice of his, the one that said she was the only woman that he desired? Would he touch her with those warm, sure hands? Or better yet, would he lean in and put that incredible mouth back on hers?
Oh boy, there it went again, her vivid imagination. Shelly didn't want this inexplicable attraction. No sirree. She didn't need anyone or anything, but herself and her nursing job. No matter how much her aroused nipples told her otherwise. She wasn't going to let herself get involved with him, or anyone else with a dick, for that matter.
That decided, she screwed up her face and shoveled a spoonful of meat into her mouth. Reminding herself, that even on an island as small as Male, she probably wouldn't meet Guy again. And that was just as well, wasn't it? What did you say to a man who had suckled your breasts and whose finger had explored your pussy over lunch? Hi, beautiful weather we're having today, Shelly spluttered into her third cup of coffee of the day at the absurdity of it all.
She looked at the tantalizing surf again and decided if her headache cleared up, she would go for a swim. The water looked magnificent, like an advert straight from a Bounty commercial. She could see a lone parasailer in the distance, being pulled behind a speedboat. The red parachute was like a beacon in the endless blue sky. She should try some of the sports the hotel offered, she supposed. She was terrified of heights, so the parasailing was out. But there was nothing stopping her from trying something in the water, windsurfing or diving, perhaps?
She returned her attention to her plate and gaped, fork poised before her mouth. No, it couldn't be? But then hell, it must be him. She didn't suspect that another man on the island had such a magnificent physique. Blindfolded in a crowd, she could still have picked him out. Mortified, Shelly watched, as Guy, dressed in a T-shirt that seemed two sizes too small judging by the way it was straining over his muscled biceps, waved and made his way towards her.
"Hi."
Damn it, there was that sexy voice again. Her toes were already curling.
"Mind if I join you?"
"Take a seat,” Shelly told him. “It's a free country."
His grin was endearingly boyish. “Nope, it's a free island.” He sat and took a sip of water from the glass the waiter had placed on the table. “Aren't you hungry? Your plate is full,” he added, when Shelly looked puzzled.
"Oh,” she pushed her plate away. “I overindulged a bit last night."
Guy sipped his water before he spoke. “And you're still paying the consequences. Right?"
"Right.” Shelly creamed her panties just looking at him—tall, dark, handsome and just a little bit dangerous. Claire would have had a field day just ogling him; she liked the dangerous type.
Shelly ordered another coffee and Guy said. “Let me order something a little lighter. I promise you will like it."
"It's on your head if I don't,” she warned. He looked delectable himself. She wouldn't mind nibbling a bit on him.
"Trust me, you will,” he said with that easy, confident grin of his.
"Are you always so sure of yourself?"
Guy shrugged. He would have spilled his water had he been holding it. Instead, he breathed slowly, trying to calm himself as she flipped open the sugar container and licked her teaspoon before sticking it into the white substance. He sat on the edge of his seat as he watched her insert the spoon between her full, pink lips. Jaw clenched, he wondered how it would feel to insert something else there; wondered if she'd like his cock to cream her mouth. His body reacted to the thought, and his jeans tightened.
"Do you like it here?” he half choked.
"Yes, the island's beautiful. I've always dreamed of coming to such a place,” she said, steering the conversation anywhere other than what had taken place that morning on her breakfast bar, as flashing bananas suddenly danced provocatively before her eyes.
"Why?” Guy asked, doing his very best to ignore his throbbing erection.
Shelly glanced at him, just in time to see him run his enticing fingers through his disheveled and dangerously sexy hair.
"Come on, answer the question,” he prompted.
"Well, when I was younger, I used to be hot for pirates."
"You mean the idea of being dominated, completely at your captor's mercy, aroused you?"
Shelly stared at him over the rim of her coffee cup. He was definitely handsome and roguish. Put him in a pirate's suit and she might even be in trouble.
"Come on, admit it, the idea got you wet. Didn't it?"
Shelly could feel heat begin to creep into her cheeks and it had nothing to do with the raunchy topic of conversation.
"Could we maybe change the subject?"
Guy sat back and waited, as the waiter put huge bowls of salad in front of them. Shelly tried not to look at his bulging, tanned arms resting on the tabletop. Instead, she admired the salad, with its mixture of greens and tomatoes, yellow peppers, avocados, kiwis and even sliced black olives. She didn't have to lean forward to sniff the honey smell that rose from the bowl, along with oregano and other spices.
Guy picked up his fork, stabbing a black olive. “So tell me, if I put on a pirate's suit, would you get wet for me?” he asked, taking the conversation back to the previous subject.
"No."
"I wouldn't get you as hot as the real thing?"
She nodded, her face flushed and her lovely green eyes looking downward.
"Okay, let's put it another way. If I was to dress just as me, say in a pair of Levi's and a T-shirt, would you come to dinner then?"
Shelly blinked “No,” she said at last. “I can't."
"You can't or you won't?"
She chewed and swallowed another mouthful of salad. “A bit of both, really."
"More of these issues ... right?” he asked, putting down his fork.
She nodded; her eyes focused on the tabletop.
"I want to make love to you."
Her gaze snapped up and Guy's cock throbbed. She looked like a startled deer caught in the glare of headlights, unable to move, yet itching in every muscle to bolt. It brought out the animal in him.
"I want to make love to you,” he repeated and pushed the hair off his forehead. When she made to protest, he placed a finger over her lips. They were full and wet, reminding him of her pussy. “I want to love you slowly, all night long. Right now, I'm thinking about pulling your tight skirt up and bending you over this table. Flicking my tongue a couple times along your cute, little cheeks before torturing your clit with long, slow licks.” He took her hand in his. Her pulse was beating frantically. It reminded him of an injured dove he had once cradled. “Would you like that, Shelly?"
His smile was so carnal that Shelly's heart almost gave out. And those blue eyes—God, the way he was looking at her, made her feel like he was making love to her right on the spot. She pulled her fingers away; her erect nipples and shallow breathing were answer enough.
"I'd do all that before I grab your hips and drive myself deeply into you. Can you imagine it now, my body slamming hard against those cheeks of yours? My big cock pounding into your pussy; your cream dripping all over my dick, my bouncing balls, and down your thighs?"
Shelly shut her legs; her panties were drenched just listening to the husky timbre of his voice. Her skin was heated from the desire she could plainly read in his eyes. He took his foot and rubbed it along her leg, then pushed her bare thighs apart with it, beneath the table. He leaned it against her damp mound and pressed in gently. Shelly gasped as her pussy muscles clenched and throbbed in response to his closeness. Her breasts tingled and
a thousand chills went through her. It was incredible!
"Shelly, I think if you gave me a chance, I could get you wet without the pirate's suit,” he whispered, his eyes dark with hunger.
Shelly squirmed and blushed as the waiter cleared away the salad plates, replacing them with large bowls of ice cream, crowned with miniature umbrellas.
Guy removed his foot from between her legs, and asked playfully, “Did you like my special massage?"
She couldn't resist smiling. “You are incorrigible."
"I endeavor to be, anyway."
"And you succeed admirably."
Before he could respond, she stood to leave.
"It's commitment that frightens you, isn't it?” he whispered.
Her green eyes burst open, pinning him with a stricken look.
"I'm sorry, I'm always startling you.” It unnerved him when her eyes held him like that. Yet he wanted it again. He didn't want to break the connection, not yet. He felt strangely uncomfortable. Since he had first clapped eyes on her, the woman was constantly on his mind. It unsettled him. He frowned when he glanced at his Rolex. “Heck! Look, sorry, I've got to go. I've got a one o'clock."
As Guy walked quickly away through the crowded dining room, he couldn't figure out if he was relieved or sorry to be going.
Shelly sat back down and watched him, momentarily absorbed in the way his T-shirt so nicely outlined his wide shoulders and strong back. Then there were those jeans, lovingly cupping his long, muscular legs, not to mention the best looking butt she'd ever seen. She sighed lustily and then shrugged it off. She had given up on men, or at least she was in the process of trying to do so. Sex was allowed, she supposed, but only if it was with a man who, after she'd fucked him, wouldn't be coming back again for second helpings. She feared that if she were to sleep with Guy, he would become an addiction and unfortunately, that ruled him out, since she didn't plan on getting emotionally involved with her lovers ever again. It was a shame really, because he definitely had a body designed to tempt women. Naughty, but nice; all packed into one very fuckable unit.
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