Panting, we stayed on the blanket, tangled in each other’s arms, the wind whispering around us. “You’ve given me a new reason to love campfires by a lake.”
“Did I?” He seemed awfully pleased with himself.
Hell, he should be. He’d helped me achieve the Big O, and he’d barely broken a sweat. “You have a gift with your hands, Ryder. I mean it.” I kissed his fingers, which smelled of my musk.
“Does that mean we continue to see each other?” he asked hopefully.
The question I’d hoped to avoid, because there were so many possible ramifications. “Common sense dictates we shouldn’t. What if Gemma finds out? Or Lorena? But….” I paused, thinking as I stroked his hair. “We’re good together.”
“We’re good?” He kissed my fingers.
“We’re good,” I said. “But remember what I said about a secret?”
“Yes. We’ll be discreet.”
“You make it sound simple.”
“It is.” He shrugged.
Men, so blissfully unaware of life’s everyday complications. In some ways, I envied them. Only in some ways. “We weren’t careful today.”
“It was only bungee-jumping. Did you see anybody you knew?”
“No.”
“Neither did I.” He kissed my forehead. His tone lightened. “If it makes you feel any better, all our secret visits can take place at night. You can swing by my place in your car, stuff me in the trunk and take me to a secret rendezvous in an abandoned cabin in the woods. How’s that?”
I giggled. “You know what’s going to happen, don’t you?”
“We’re going to have lots more great sex?”
I laughed. “In addition to having fantastic sex.”
“No idea. Tell me.”
I hated saying it, but it was the truth. “One of these days, a sweet girl is going to walk into your lingerie shop, and you’ll fall madly in love with her.”
“And one of these days you’re going to find a man who can give you what Maddox gave you. What you and I have is temporary. I know. But I’m not going to spend time thinking about it. Let’s live in the present.”
“Wise words.” I traced the line of his jaw.
“There’s no point in talking about how short our fling might be,” he said. “Or how long. Maybe this sweet girl you mentioned won’t show up until next year.”
“Maybe.” Hopefully. I wanted lots more time with Ryder.
“Carpe diem.” He kissed my cheek. “How about some roasted marshmallows before we leave? I got distracted and kinda burned the last one to a crisp.”
Still in the nude, we skewered marshmallows on sticks and heated them to a lovely golden brown. By the time we finished feeding them to each other, pausing for a few make-out sessions in between, long shadows danced across the ground. A sudden chill gust of air made me shiver, and Ryder took another appreciative look at my breasts. My nipples were standing at attention.
“Enough ogling,” I said. “Time to get dressed.” Reluctantly, I put my clothes back on.
Pulling on his T-shirt, Ryder said, “Sunset’s not far away. We should head out of here before dark.”
I helped him pack up and put out the fire. When we’d cleaned up our picnic area to my satisfaction, I grabbed my helmet off the handlebars and waited for Ryder to climb on the bike.
“There’s one more thing I think you should do today,” he said.
“What?” He dangled the key in front of me. He wanted me to drive? Was he nuts? My heart pounded and my skin turned cold. “No.”
“You can do it,” he said encouragingly. “Drive slow. It’s not far.”
“No,” I said sharply.
“Just sit on the bike, then. Get a feel for it. I’ll sit behind you. You don’t even have to start the engine.”
Something told me if I didn’t give in, we’d be here way past dark. Okay. Fine. I’d humor him. I tossed Ryder my helmet, and he returned it to its place on the handlebars. I swung my leg over the seat, palms glued to my thighs. I refused to touch the key. Or anything at all. I was just going to sit there.
Ryder got on behind me. He slid his hands over mine, gripped them, and placed them both on the handlebars. Resisting was pointless.
“You don’t give up, do you?” I said, feeling trapped. At the same time, I realized he was doing this for my own good. Or what he thought was my own good.
“I’m persistent. And stubborn.” He kissed my neck, and I shivered.
So far, the memories hadn’t resurfaced, but I was getting a bad case of nerves. A queasy sensation filled my stomach, bordering on full-blown nausea.
“Keep your hands right where they are,” Ryder instructed.
Easier said than done. My fingers twitched. I battled the urge to let go. Closing my eyes, I inhaled slowly. One breath. Two. Three. Relax. Get yourself under control. The breathing exercise didn’t work.
Memories lurched from their resting place on the ocean floor, rising through the murky depths and cresting to the surface. Deep inside my mind, I heard the whine of the Cruiser’s engine, the resounding thud as the bike hit the road—
Stop! Stop! Stop!
When I opened my eyes, I saw my white-knuckled grip on the handlebars. Ryder wrapped his arms soothingly around me.
“Your heart’s beating so fast,” he said.
His grip tightened, and the screech of twisting metal vanished. I lost myself in his arms, in the warmth of his breath against my neck, the roughness of his cheek against mine. The memories sank to their final resting place.
Back to reality. Get a feel for the bike. It was smaller than Maddox’s Cruiser. Less powerful. Easier to control. In the past, I’d driven dirt bikes.
I was so deep in thought, I jumped when Ryder slipped his cool hands up my T-shirt and under my bra.
“Ryder!” I squealed. “What are you doing?”
“What?” he said innocently. “I’m lightening the mood. You’re too busy thinking about the bike and how dangerous it might be to drive it out of here. This strategy is designed to get your mind off the bike and on to other things.”
“Like more sex?” I asked in exasperation.
“See?” He sounded pleased. “It’s working already.”
“I’m scared and nauseous and shaking and all you can think of is sex?” I said in mock anger. In his own way, he was trying to help.
“I’m a guy. We’re like that. Totally hopeless.” He squeezed my breasts. “I’m thinking of buying you a bra, so I’m checking your size. Hmmm, C cup? Or is it a D? Thirty-six? No, feels more like a thirty-eight.”
“Stop!” I giggled. In whose dreams was I a thirty-eight?
“There’s only one thing you can do to get me to stop.”
I already knew, but I waited for him to say it.
“Drive off.” He leaned over me and inserted the key in the ignition. “I mean if we’re moving, I’ll just have to wrap my hands around your waist to keep my balance. The fondling will stop.”
“You’re impossible!” The shaking in my limbs died down.
“Unless you prefer the fondling. A lot of girls do, you know. Apparently I’m quite skilled with my hands.”
“Totally, totally impossible!”
“I can be difficult sometimes,” he said, pinching my ass. “Admit it. You like it.”
Yeah, I did.
“Here.” He placed the helmet on my head and put his on as well.
All right. Time to test myself. Taking another breath, I turned the key in the ignition. The engine uttered a throaty roar. The bike vibrated between my legs. Easy on the throttle. Just a nudge. The dirt bike obeyed me, and off we went up a winding path that cut through long weeds and wildflowers. Ryder clung to me one-handed. With the other, he made the thumbs-up sign.
The nausea disappeared, replaced by a faint twinge of excitement. I was doing it. I was driving us out of here. Everything would be okay. I’d always remember the accident, always blame myself for what happened, but not in the debili
tating way I had over the past year, because I’d found the strength to forgive, to let go. Thanks to Ryder.
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Helena Harker is a teacher by day, writer by night, a daydreamer who loves to escape to other worlds. Her fiction is populated by strong men, passionate women, and lots of paranormal creatures. In her free time, she enjoys photography and curling up with a good book.
You can visit Helena at:
www.helenaharker.com
Once Upon a Stormy Night by Zee Monodee
British billionaire Lars Rutherford came to the tiny island of Mauritius to take over directorship of his best friend’s shipping company. He’s not here for anything but the job, or—to the chagrin of the many matchmaking society mamas in the country—to find the ‘right woman’ for him.
Corporate legal affairs specialist Simmi Moyer is rich, beautiful, successful, and climbing the executive ladder with tremendous speed. She’s got it all—or does she? Mauritian society shuns her for being single and childless, and nothing she accomplishes will ever be enough.
Lars isn’t looking for a woman; Simmi isn’t looking for a man. Both just want one night to forget their precarious position in this traditional, culture-driven society.
The tempest, brewed by uncalled-for yearning in their hearts and the desire for something more substantial than one night of pleasure, builds between them, while outside, a real-life cyclone storms the island and ensconces them in a world where only the two of them exist.
They can walk out the next morning alone, or if they can put themselves on the line to step out together.
Darkest Kiss, Darkest Bliss by Azura Ice
Shoved into a situation that tears Deirdre apart, she prays her suspicions about her husband are wrong. Glimpses of a powerful, handsome black man tantalize her, and his deep voice comes to her at unexpected times. Who is this stranger and how does he seem to always know when she needs him? The more Malachi follows his wandering heart, the more Deirdre finds herself drawn to her ghostly companion.
Soon it’s clear her husband has no intention of rectifying his playboy ways, so Deirdre turns her grandmother’s book of Voodoo and faerie magic for help. Can she summon the power to keep Malachi with her...or will true love and magic from long ago release a new and powerful love?
Table of Contents
Title page
Chapter One
Chapter Two
~ABOUT THE AUTHOR~
Taboo Kisses Page 4