Tempting Escape

by Heather McVey

  Shelly sighed again, although not as lustily as before. The dampness between her legs was a strong reminder of just how much she desired Guy. Her nipples beaded when she ran her hand over the soft cotton of her T-shirt. Her pussy softened and she sipped at her coffee. He was going to make her life difficult, she knew it.

  * * * *

  It was almost three o'clock when Shelly felt fit enough to try out the water. Her hangover gone, she quickly dressed, packed a few towels and something to drink in her bag. She glanced at herself in the bedroom mirror. Her eyes traveled from her white sandals to her white shorts and sleeveless blouse. She swept a quick glance at her hair, neat as always. The bright blonde tresses had been pulled back tightly and knotted into a sophisticated chignon at the back of her neck. It was tidy, convenient, didn't get in the way, and certainly never hinted at the fact that when the pins came out, it brushed below her buttocks.

  No one ever saw Shelly's hair loose except Ted. Or hadn't since ... since a long time ago.

  One of these days, she was going to chop it all off, but something always held her back. Only at night, just before bedtime, would she release the shining golden mantle and let it tumble down over her shoulders, brushing it sternly and sometimes plaiting it to keep it tidy overnight. Her sister always nagged her about it, saying that it was old-fashioned, that long hair had gone out along with the swinging sixties and that she should do something with it. But that was Kate's problem, not hers. This was the way she wore it, end of conversation.

  She picked up her sunglasses from the bed and bounded down the front steps of her bungalow, only to come into contact with what felt like a brick wall. Stunned, it was a moment before she realized that she was lying flat on her back.

  "Are you okay?"

  Shelly flushed. Hell, she would recognize that voice anywhere. She didn't know where to put herself. She wished the sand would open up and swallow her.

  Guy repeated, “Are you hurt?"

  Despite her aching butt, she knew she had to give him an answer. She didn't want Mr. Adonis to have an opportunity to come to her rescue. But when she looked up at him, it was as if she'd never ever learned the ins and outs of speech. A white T-shirt stretched over his massive chest, across his flat belly, and into a pair of faded denim cut-offs. One bulging, tanned arm hung at his side as the hand of the other clutched a faded blue Adidas sports bag. But it was his eyes, so impossibly bright even from twenty paces that stunned her once again. They were as blue as the cloudless sky above, twinkling below brows that were neither too bushy nor too sparse, but as black as night. Shelly's heart began to hammer in her chest.

  What the hell, is she deaf? Or did she really knock herself silly? Guy tried again. “Are you hurt, woman?"

  Shelly forced her eyes up when they began to wander towards his zipper. “I don't know. Truth is, I feel like someone just kicked me in the ass with a good pair of size twelve's.” She looked up at him, her eyes glittering with challenge. “You could at least apologize."

  Guy's sapphire gaze locked with hers. Now the same sparkling blue as the tropical sea, they issued their own challenge. “You should be the one apologizing,” he said mildly. “You ran into me, after all."

  Shelly stood quickly to her feet. “I didn't see you lying down there on your backside!"

  "Well.” He grinned. “I'm a lot bigger than you."

  Shelly wanted to wipe that cocky grin off his face but since he was indeed a damn sight bigger, she didn't risk it. Instead, she snapped, “What were you doing, just standing about out here?"

  "I wasn't standing, I was walking, you were the one doing the Olympic sprinter act, lady. Where were you off to, anyway?"

  Shelly began to retrieve the contents of her scattered bag. She paused, as his large sun-browned hand, clutching her sun cream, appeared in front of her face.

  "Thanks.” She straightened up and looked at him, feeling an even bigger fool for having lost it. “If you must know, I was going to the beach for a swim."

  "I was just going for a swim myself.” He winked at her. “And as it happens, I know a better place."

  Picturing him in a skimpy pair of swimming trunks, she creamed her thighs, Shelly began to back up. “I'm sure the beach will be just fine."

  "Coward,” he whispered.

  "I am not,” she protested.

  "Oh, yes, you are.” He drifted his gaze slowly, leisurely, over her body, stopping at her breasts, which grew tight at his prolonged stare.

  Indignantly, she crossed her arms over her chest and waited until he met her gaze.

  Guy almost laughed. Almost.

  "You know,” he breathed. “If you're not a coward, then prove it."

  Shelly knew she was lost; she never could turn down a dare.

  "Where exactly are we going?” she asked, five minutes later, still cursing her pigheadedness, as they squeezed into a little boat that couldn't have taken more than four people.

  "A little island, Taj-Tear Island—so called because of the shape. It's fabulous-unpopulated except for a few lizards. The coral reefs surrounding the island are amazing, a real hotspot for the divers here, the downside is that the jellyfish can sting a bit, but they're mostly further out. Just keep your eyes open, okay."

  She did, looking over the side of the boat into the sparkling clear water as they sliced through it on their way out to the island. She could see multicolored fish, and stingrays just yards from the launch. She thought of the freezing fog and grey drizzle of England, Ted being stuck there and everything suddenly looked ten times more beautiful. “I can hardly wait to get in the water, I haven't been swimming in the ocean for years.” She bit her lip and looked at him. “Are there sharks in the water?"

  Guy nodded. “Yep, but the bigger ones are further out at sea, so don't worry, you'll be perfectly safe."

  More nervous than her calm exterior belayed, Shelly asked, “How big are the smaller sharks?"

  Guy tilted his Stetson back as he considered the question. “Oh, about one maybe two meters, I guess."

  "That's all?” It was hard to pack the appropriate degree of sarcasm into a near shout. “Thanks, now I feel a whole lot better. In fact, I think I might just sun myself on the beach all day."

  The captain, steering the small craft chortled; and Guy, a wide grin upon his handsome face, turned to Shelly. “Don't worry, the sharks are not interested in you, they've got enough fish from the reefs to eat."

  Shelly smirked and said dryly, “I really hope you're right. I happen to like all my limbs where they are, thank you."

  Then Guy laughed and said, “Look, I think a change of subject is in order so why don't I tell you about the island?"

  Shelly, who really felt like hitting him, interrupted, “That depends if it's got snakes or not. If it has, then save your breath."

  "It hasn't. The island's snake free.” He took his Stetson off and sat it on his knee. “It has lots of palm trees though, which offer plenty of shade. There are banana trees and coconuts on the island. If any have fallen, we can eat them. Have you ever tried them fresh?"

  Shelly shook her head.

  "Then you're in for a treat. They taste much better than the ones sold in supermarkets.” He grinned, his white teeth dazzling against his tan.

  Shelly wished he wouldn't, because every time he did, her groin throbbed.

  Damn!

  Apparently he hadn't noticed, for he pointed ahead of them. “Look, there it is."

  Shelly saw a little green dot, circled in gold, growing steadily on the horizon, and then, within minutes, they were there. The boat's only other passenger, a student studying marine biology in his early twenties, dressed in beige khakis, jumped aside and waded through the waist-deep water.

  "We have to wade the last few yards,” Guy told her, while the sun-weathered captain anchored the boat to an orange buoy that floated in the water.

  Shelly cast one last glance at the island; it looked like a picture taken straight from the Robinson Crusoe story. Suddenly ea
ger to explore, she climbed over the side, only to find herself in Guy's warm, firm grip. “Its okay, I've got you."

  He certainly had; she could feel his muscled arms, warm against the back of her legs, sure and strong beneath her back. The problem was, she didn't know if she wanted him to put her back down, ever! What was it about the man that made her skin tingle, yet turned her blood to melting, hot lava? She shook her head slightly and watched the approaching shoreline. She couldn't wait to have him set her down on solid ground. He didn't affect her nearly so much when he wasn't touching her.

  When he put her down, she murmured a shaky “thanks,” and walked on legs that were just as shaky, up the sandy slope where a cluster of palm trees provided adequate shade. All the while, she wondered how she could get through the day without making a fool of herself in front of him. Maybe she could just ignore him, pretend to be asleep or something?

  She wasn't that lucky. He appeared at her side, dressed in skimpy red swimming trunks, which did little to hide his well-endowed bulge, with a bottle of SPF-thirty-sunscreen and ordered her to undress.

  "It's a good idea to always wear sunscreen out here,” he told her. “The sun can get you, even through your clothing.” He ran a hand sexily through his hair and handed her the bottle of sunscreen.

  Shelly refused. “Thanks, but I have my own."

  "Factor twelve. You'll burn in no time with that.” He pulled the bottle from her hand and tossed it on the sand.

  "Hey, my sunscreen!” she protested.

  "It's crap,” he told her matter-of-factly. “Turn around."

  Had Shelly known that he was going to stand there waiting, while she stripped off her clothes, she would have definitely chosen to wear a more modest swimming costume. It was too late now. As it was, she was dressed in a canary yellow, figure-hugging bikini that barely concealed anything it was supposed to. Guy turned her around and spread a dollop of cream over her neck and shoulders, smoothing it down her arms and back.

  Butterflies danced jigs in her stomach. She focused her gaze on the blue-green sea behind his shoulder to avoid meeting his eyes, lest he discover how much his touch was affecting her. After a wonderfully erotic minute spent rubbing the sunscreen all over her belly, he did her face and throat, down to her chest, until she pushed his hands away.

  "I can manage now,” she told him firmly and finished off the low neckline herself. Not for all the money in the world was he getting his fingers down the neck of her costume!

  Why? You would have enjoyed it! A little voice whispered in her head.

  When she had done her legs, he handed her the bottle. “Return the favor?” he asked.

  If it hadn't been bad enough to have him touching her, it looked like she'd now have to run her hands over his bronzed biceps. Her bikini briefs were becoming wet between the legs and she hadn't even felt a splash of water yet. “Do I have to?” she whined.

  He glowered at her. “Yes. Look, lady, I don't see anyone else standing around out here and since I don't much fancy looking like a lobster, you'd better."

  Their eyes clashed. Eventually giving in, Shelly sighed. “Okay, you win, I'll do your back.” Muttering, she went around behind him. “And only your back, mind."

  "Christ,” Guy scowled at her over his shoulder. “Stop acting like a virgin, okay? I didn't ask you to rub factor thirty on my nuts or anything.” He expelled a breath slowly. “And just for your information, if I could do my back myself, I would, woman."

  "Don't call me ‘woman'."

  A brow climbed into his hairline, and those full, firm, well-shaped lips quirked at the corners. “Yes, sir,” he said with a grin.

  Shelly stuck her tongue out at him and uncapped the sunscreen. As soon as she touched his perspiration-soaked skin, her nipples stiffened. Rolling her eyes, she finished off his back with one last defiant swipe, squirted enough into her hand to do her buttocks and handed the bottle back to him.

  "Thanks,” he said, and she could have sworn that his voice was a little gruff. Him too, eh? He was feeling this charged sexual energy between them. That was bad news, too bad. She wasn't into holiday romances, especially now when she wasn't looking for anything more than a one night stand. Guy wasn't looking for a commitment either, she was certain of it, he was a love ‘em and leave ‘em type of man if ever she'd met one. In her eyes, the handsome ones always were. It had something to do with their genetic makeup, she supposed.

  There was no way he was loving and leaving her. She would be the only one doing the loving and leaving in the future, yes sirree. She straightened her shoulders, she wasn't foolish enough to dally with Guy and get her fingers burned. He was more man than a woman with her bruised heart could take and if she were to sleep with him for the duration of her holiday, it was only asking for trouble because she wasn't sure if she could just walk away.

  Certain she was adequately protected from the sun and not so certain she wouldn't embarrass herself and jump his bones if she stayed one minute longer in his mouth-watering company, Shelly went to explore the sea. She was just about to splash into the tempting blue surf when a hand clamped on her shoulder making her jump. “Lookout, gorgeous, there's a jellyfish where you're about to step."

  Shelly, supposing it could have been worse, that the chauvinistic pig with the pea-sized brain standing next to her could have called her one of the more derogatory terms such as baby, or sugar, looked down to where Guy pointed and saw a tiny, transparent, parachute, undulating gently in the water. Almost invisible, it was beautiful to watch.

  "Are they dangerous?” she asked, spellbound by its strange, unearthly, slow movement.

  "No, not those, but they sting like hell.” He drew her to the side, as he ran into the water with a boy's enthusiasm, he called over his shoulder. “Here, I've checked this part. It's wonderful and jellyfish-free, so come on in."

  "Oh, it's glorious.” Shelly slowly stepped into the sea. A small sigh escaped her as she waded deeper, relishing the feel of the refreshing water on her fevered skin. The island was stifling hot and having come straight from the cool, climate of England, she was having trouble adjusting to the tropical heat.

  She splashed forward, deeper into the refreshing water, immersing her entire body. She swam out a little further and then back again, blissfully happy, totally engrossed in the feeling of relief the water provided. She floated on her back, her lustrous blonde hair flowing around her head like a silken halo. Her light green eyes held a look of rapture. When she looked towards Guy, he was looking at her thoughtfully, his blue eyes a clearer, brighter blue than the blistering sky overhead, and his dark hair glinting like black onyx beneath the sunshine.

  "What?” she stammered.

  "Come here."

  Shelly thinking that he meant to show her an unusual fish or coral beneath the water, swam back towards him. She stopped before him and pushed the hair from her forehead.

  Guy smiled, his head floating above the water, just inches from hers. “Would you like to kiss me?"

  "No.” The sun glinted in his eyes, and for a second they flashed electric blue. The sight made a shiver run down Shelly's spine, a shiver she hated to label as arousal.

  He nodded slowly, his eyes darkening almost imperceptibly. Shelly gulped. She hadn't known that blue eyes could turn so dark. He reached out and took her hand, brought it to his lips and brushed a kiss over her knuckles. She blinked in surprise. His palm was warm and soft, and the fleeting touch of his lips against her skin had her drawing a sharp breath.

  Think. She mentally knocked herself on the head, trying to get her brain to function. He was a man, worse, a man that she desired. Despite what her body was demanding, it would be a very bad idea to let him kiss her.

  With that firmly decided, Shelly chucked a handful of water in his face and swam away from him, laughing. She thought she'd gotten away with it, until she felt long, strong, vice-like fingers close around her ankle and jerk her backwards. She shot through the water like a World War Two torpedo and cannoned
into him. The sudden contrast of coarse hair against her back, her legs, not to mention her buttocks, did nothing for her composure.

  Guy stood up, drawing her easily to her feet, and turned her into his arms. “I think payback is in order,” he said softly. Before she could move, his lips were on hers. Worse still, her mouth was opening to him. With a little moan as heat flooded every part of her body, she leaned into him, only to feel the unmistakably solid pressure of his erection, pulsating and hard, undeniably male, resting against the sensitive skin of her thigh. The thick, swollen head peeping over the top of his trunks pushed against her belly. His tongue made a deep foray into her mouth, caressing her back lightly; he ran his other hand along her smooth thigh and pushed her bikini briefs aside. He slipped his index finger between the soft lips of her pussy, into her milky warm centre.

  That nearly finished her. She deliberately reminded herself that she had plenty of men to experiment with on the island, but that the handsome one before her was strictly off limits. Shelly pushed him away with a little cry, turned and swam back in the opposite direction as fast as her untrained strokes could take her. His laughter haunted her when all she got for her effort was a mouthful of salty water.

  The student who had come along with them was sitting beneath the palm trees trying to crack open a coconut. She went and joined him. Guy, she noticed out of the corner of her eye, went up the beach to his bag, took out a towel and began to dry himself. Shelly tried to keep her eyes off him, but she couldn't help stealing little glances every so often. Her eyes simply didn't want to leave the sight of his magnificent body alone. Pretending to be interested in something the man she later learned was called Jason said, she watched the moisture clinging in tiny beads all over Guy's bronzed skin. The bulging, hairy arms stroked the towel over hard biceps and a six-pack that made a fresh rush of sticky cream cling to her briefs. His hair was tousled; the dark black locks glinting like a raven's wing beneath the sunlight. His hairless, muscled butt didn't bear thinking about, and the huge bulge that showed he was still aroused was almost more than she could take.