by Jianne Carlo
Did he feel the crazy pull she did? The urge to call him on it boomed like Notre Dame’s church bells echoing in its tower. Her recklessness proved the edge necessary for victory in many an equestrian competition. Making a spontaneous decision based solely on instincts had never proved the wrong way to go during a jump meet.
Today, today. Tee gritted her teeth, no more avoiding the hard choices. Time to become a woman or find out she had no more sexuality than a discarded horseshoe.
“It’s a rip current called the Remous. Every morning around this time, it comes into the bay, starting from the right and moving to the left. Anything in its path not strong enough to resist ends up somewhere off the coast of Brazil. My father’s good friend vanished with it a long time ago. My mother was so paranoid about it that I wasn’t allowed in the water before noon.”
Her flesh rippled under his heated gaze, but she continued, determined to give him ample warning. “Of course, wayward child that I was, I never listened and climbed the hill to the other side of the island the minute the sun poked over the horizon, or even while it was still dark. I was in the water from dawn to just before mid-day. Then, I’d sneak back into the house and pretend I’d been a good girl. Tricia never suspected, but Dad knew. Sometimes, I wonder . . .”
Threatening mists at the corners of her eyes dampened the clarity of her vision for mere seconds, but it was enough to throw the vessel off course.
“Damn. Jake, nab the boat hook and grab the rings at the end of the jetty.”
She whirled the wheel around and pointed.
“Sorry, I misjudged the angle.”
Tee maneuvered the sea craft into position, hopped off the deck, and secured it to the pier. Disheveled and disoriented, she managed a weak smile and offered, “We’re here. Two choices, either we can take our time and swim a little and then head up to Port of Spain, or I can grab what Tricia wants, and we can leave right away.”
She followed his lithe, athletic leap off the boat, admiring his tanned, muscular thighs. Tee made a vain attempt to stem the tide of poignant need weakening her limbs and capitulated to the odd fever he ignited somewhere deep in her soul.
Five months ago she’d met him, on the eve of her wedding, and she knew, knew in the instant their eyes met. Knew she invited disaster by going ahead and marrying Tony. Knew she was damned to eternity by her lies and secrets.
For the last four long, hope-filled months, Jake had visited Trinidad. A part of her she refused to acknowledge hoped and prayed he came for her. Too superstitious to say the words aloud, instead she yearned and fantasized and dreamed. His earlier words haunted and tempted, but inside she froze, too scared to take the brass ring, as the Americans called it.
Have some courage, Tallulah Inglefield—dream the dream.
Without allowing her brain to interfere, Tee did the impossible. She shucked off her shoes and slipped the cotton halter dress off her shoulders.
“Or you can have me,” she whispered, shrugging the textile off her body.
Naked, standing in front of a jaw-dropped Jake and under an approaching noon sun, which highlighted every flaw in the exotic landscape, she raised her arms over her head and dove off the end of the pier.
Salty ocean flowed across her shoulders, molding cool water down her nude body. Joy wrought from mingling hysteria and frenetic hope erupted and translated energy into powerful breaststrokes. Instinct and buried memories sent her in the direction of the triangle-shaped raft anchored in the middle of the bay.
Seagulls swooped and danced with every gasped inhale, and their cries emphasized the primitive despair she endured daily. Tony’s last accusing refrain hammered away each time she neared acceptance, some semblance of serenity. “You’re a freak, nothing but a circus freak.”
Hard plastic impacted on her downstroke. Tee grasped the raft’s edge and leveraged upwards. Panting, she flopped onto her back and refused to think about the implications of her invitation, refused to look in his direction, refused to contemplate the impact of his disdain. She flung an elbow over her eyes as if shutting out vision would prevent misery if he rejected her blatant offering. Her ears rang with the effort of her furious swim, drowning all sound.
“I’ll have you.”
Her eyes flew open, and she jerked up onto her forearms to meet Jake’s strong, harsh charcoal gaze mere inches away from hers.
His hot, wet palm cupped her breast, and one thumb strolled over the taut tip, brushing it in a slow, hypnotic motion, which went straight to her center.
“Look at me, Tee.”
It took considerable effort to move her eyes from his delicious, calloused thumb to those blazing obsidian orbs. Breathing reflexes once internalized, evaporated, and her lungs strained.
“I’ll have you.”
He lay on his side, one palm cradling his head, and his focus never wavered. His finger never stopped its languid caressing, thumbing her nipple, wreaking havoc, vanquishing all thought, and spurring desire and need so intent it focused on him, only him, only this epitome of man.
“You’ve no idea, do you?”
His tongue traced the line of her ear, and she leaned into his soft nip of her lobe, gasping.
“You’ve no idea of what you do to me. I lie awake at night and dream about touching you, like this.”
He drew in the whole tip of her breast, and Tee followed his mouth, levering up to accommodate his every action. He laved the point, and she thumped onto the raft, boneless erotic pleasure rolling over every inch of exposed flesh.
“Oh my,” she whispered, and the seagulls snatched her moan away with their cries.
“Jesus, Tee. You’re so beautiful, so perfect. I can’t think.”
Wonderful moaning words rumbled against her neck, his groaned phrases and praises arching her spine, blasting off primordial reactions. Tee pressed her hand on the back of Jake’s head, urging more pressure, and he complied, sawing her nipple between his teeth, the slight pressure a heightened pain-pleasure.
“Oh, my,” she breathed, and pure feminine instinct controlled her legs. She wrapped one across his lean, bare hip and drove up, grinding over large, long throbbing flesh. “Oh my.”
“Jesus, babe. Oh God, don’t. Oh hell.”
He bent down and slanted his mouth over hers, and his tongue swept inside her mouth, the sensation unbearable, inflaming, touching off a roaring inferno.
Tee sunk her fingers into his silken black curls and returned his fervor, driven by a yearning so potent it threatened explosion, implosion. She touched her tongue to his, and the contact made her dizzy, giddy with focused licentiousness.
The sun beat down on them.
Hot.
Intense rays of tropic hunger, pulsing, skittering sweat, and frenetic, frantic need.
Birds called, water cuffed the raft’s edges, skin slapped against damp skin. Jake’s hands and his mouth reached everywhere all at once. Tee’s craving surged with every suck, every lick, every nip. Every female instinct plugged in, and she ground her pelvis across his, rubbing slick folds up and down, her very writhing a begging plea for penetration, possession.
“Jesus, Tee. Babe, slow down. I want to make it good for you.”
“Now,” she exhorted, squirming and angling until she felt his hot flesh where she wept, aching, needy.
“Jesus.”
His moan and the feel of him there, hard and exciting, supplanted every defensive civilized barrier ever raised. Her hips rose of their own volition, and the apex of his cock sank inside. Her muscles contracted and spasmed, and Tee screamed, mindless as rationality exploded into oceanic, hedonistic delight. Wave after wave took her, and so wrapped up was she in her first experience of sexuality, that it took long moments for the pain to register.
When it did, she bucked, which intensified the burning, and she wriggled, trying to find a better angle.
“Tee?”
Jake’s shocked question stilled all movement, and panic froze her brain.
“Jesus.” H
e breathed, and his lips rumbled across her temple, the faint contact sending shivers down her spine. “I’m sorry, babe.”
He grasped her hips with both hands and exerted pressure. “Don’t move. Don’t move.”
All at once, insecurity and her shaky self-confidence reared, and Tee blinked away the moisture in the corners of her eyes. She shifted, trying to edge away from him.
“Do I stop, Tee?” He touched his mouth to her temple. “Tell me now. I can’t hang on any longer.”
“No, no. Don’t stop, don’t,” she growled and wriggled her hips, arching up, cupping his buttocks, pressing him closer.
“Thank God. I’ll make it up, I promise,” he groaned and eased out, a millimeter at a time.
All at once bereft, she urged him back and moaned at the sweetness, the tightness, the awareness of every inch of him. “Oh my. Oh, more, please, more.”
“Jesus, babe, I can’t hold back. Tell me if it hurts. Tell me.”
And he filled her again, a smooth sliding, yet an exquisite friction, another slow withdrawal, a quicker reentry. And her panting and gasps intensified as his pace escalated.
Soreness succumbed to the fierce, savage pleasure of his rhythmic plundering, the wonderful thrusts, in, out, the measured slapping of flesh. Every sensual aspect contributed: the whipping wind, the seagulls squawking, the aroma of musk and brine, the damp sheen on their skin, the sweet friction everywhere.
Her hips grappled and met his pounding flesh, returning pressure with slick invitation, intensity with frenzied greed, seeking absolution, eternal gratification, and finding it when he shouted, “Yes!”
His hands forced her to him, the joining so intimate, so engaged, so rapt, they both collapsed, unaware of their surroundings. Every sense magnified beneath her closed lids, the sun’s blazing rays sizzling over sensitive skin, the raft’s gentle rocking creating a saccharine chafing of flesh against flesh, fine-tuned to the exquisite joined juncture between her thighs. A bead of Jake’s sweat plopped onto her shoulder, his hard chest grazed hers, the fine hairs there tickling a sultry caress.
The low hum of an engine penetrated Tee’s delicious trance. She didn’t want to open her eyes, so she took a deep breath, and he smelled so wonderful, all male and sweaty with a faint hint of civilization, some musky aftershave. Temptation proved irresistible, and she licked his chest, tasting salt and sea and man, succumbing to his me-caveman-you-woman seduction.
“I can’t believe how much you turn me on,” he muttered and rose on his elbows, leveraging his weight off her.
Tee couldn’t believe how much disappointment the slight move caused. She reveled in his heaviness and relished the limpness in his body she’d spurred. She did that to him. A silly grin chased her mouth, and she touched her lips to his muscled chest, noticing the faint dusting of dark hairs, the way they swirled in the direction of his nipple.
Curiosity spiked, she tongued the hard point and marveled when he stiffened and moaned.
“Babe, don’t do that. We have to talk.”
She did not like the sound of that.
Jake cradled her face in warm, large palms that hinted of, she sniffed, cigars.
“I didn’t know you smoked.”
“Huh?”
She tried for distraction, anything to prevent his inevitable questions. “Your fingers smell of smoke.”
He kissed the tip of her nose.
“Don’t try to distract me.”
Damn. She pursed her mouth.
“This was your first time.”
He touched a finger to her chin.
“Look at me, Tee.”
Taking a deep inhale, she lifted her lids and dived into eyes so dark, so mysterious, they reminded her of the black water of Amazonian rivers in Guyana, fathomless pools, chasms teeming with microscopic life. Hypnotic and hooded, she couldn’t get a clue from them as to what he thought, how she should react.
It all felt so peculiar, him inside of her, large, and stretching her to the point of soreness. Aware of the slight shift of his hips as his weight slid to the left, she wriggled a little, trying to ease her discomfort.
Jake raked her face, searching, and a bleakness stole over his features. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I’m not sure,” she answered, the harshness in his voice making her wary and sponging away the very real necessity of deception. “I guess I was afraid you wouldn’t have done it if you’d known.”
“I’ve been coming to Trinidad once a week for the last four months. For you, Tee. Only you. I’ve wanted this,” he said and shot a rueful grimace down their joined bodies. “From the moment I met you. I just wished you’d told me. I could’ve made it better for you.”
Embarrassment flamed her cheeks, and she whispered, “I, um.” She took a deep breath and said, rushing the words, “Any better and I would have expired on the spot.”
He chuckled and brushed their lips together.
“You do wonders for my ego, Tallulah Inglefield.”
Everything seemed to come together, and she blurted, “You’ve never called me by his name.”
“And you avoid saying his name if it’s at all possible.” His dark eyes ran a cautious scrutiny. “That plus our kiss last week had me hoping for this.”
The humming of an engine intensified, and Tee snaked her eyes around Jake’s muscular chest.
“A fishing boat’s coming into the bay.”
“We’d better get decent pronto, then.” He kissed her, a hard, fast contact. “This is by no means finished, simply on hold.”
He slid out of her, and a strange emptiness sucked their intimacy away. In an instant, she went from a comfortable coziness to a cold unease tempting doom. Anxious to avoid his prolonged perusal of her naked body, she slipped into the water and swam a furious pace, lunging onto the pier as soon as she made contact with the structure. He remained in the sea, treading water, as she dressed with hasty, jerky movements, aware of her every flaw.
“I wish I could keep you naked forever. You’re perfect.”
She’d never been naked in front of a man before, had been afraid he’d find flaws, scared he’d reject her. His words, the huskiness in his voice, the way his black eyes raked her, as if he’d devour every inch of flesh, flamed heat everywhere, and in that instant, she wanted to preen like a mare in heat.
He climbed the metal rungs, one unembarrassed nude vision of male perfection. Water clung to his bronzed flesh, and a steady river streamed from the tip of his engorged penis. Mute fascination focused her gaze, and she wondered what he tasted like. She touched the tip of her tongue to the corner of her mouth.
Jake swooped, gathered her close, and lapped the spot.
“You do that several times a day, and every time that pink tongue appears, I want to taste you.”
“Oh my,” she whispered and leaned to the side so his lips could maneuver more easily up her neck. “Jake, I hate to interrupt, but I think that boat is going to dock. Maybe we should go inside?”
They made it into the house just as the wooden fishing trawler docked at their jetty. Dressed, but damp, Jake surveyed the exiting passenger from the great room’s front wall of ceiling-to-floor windows.
“Do you know him?”
“Yes, that’s the caretaker. He lives here permanently in a cottage behind Eight Bells.”
“Eight Bells?” One of his dark eyebrows did an uphill run.
“We English have a most annoying tendency to name our residences. Eight Bells is the name of this house, and Greenbriar is the name of the guest cottage in town.”
He grinned. “What’s the name of the main town house, then?”
She ducked her chin, and an impish grin played with her mouth as she shot him a gleeful dart. “The Main House.”
They both chuckled, and the tension in the air settled into the cozy companionship of individuals at ease with each other.
“It looks like he’s headed in this direction.” Jake threw her a peculiar glance, all hooded and broody.
“He’s very young to have a position like a caretaker on a lonely islet.”
“I never thought about it. I’ll have a quick word with him. Make yourself comfortable. There’s always beer and juice in there.” She pointed to the built-in industrial refrigerated wine cooler. “I’ll be back in a flash.”
Tee discovered the caretaker’s schedule included a visit to her parents’ house that afternoon, and she pressed him into delivering the damned crystal set to her mother. She jogged back into the house and explained her intentions to Jake while searching for the set.
“Here it is.” She pulled a long red Macy’s box out of a cabinet. “I have no idea why Tricia carted it down here and buried it in a storage cupboard.”
At his puzzled expression, she crinkled her nose and explained. “Cabinets, I keep forgetting. The English say cupboards and the Americans cabinets. Hard to believe sometimes we speak the same language. Hang on a minute. I’ll be right back.”
She waited until the caretaker’s fishing boat reached the middle of the bay and retraced her steps to the house, wondering what the correct protocol for after sex included.
“I found a bottle of red wine. Want a glass?”
The cork popped out of the bottle with a loud sucking sound, and she nodded, studying him while attempting an air of nonchalance.
“Does the caretaker have access to this house?”
His long, brown fingers twisted the stopper out of the metallic helix corkscrew.
“No,” she replied, following the hypnotic motion of that strong hand, the image of it cupping her breast imprinted on her pupils. She blinked and frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“There’s a tray of still-warm cupcakes on the table over there. I had a couple. Delicious. Fact is, though, since the house was empty when we got here, where the heck did they come from?”
Blood pooled in her cheeks and drained from her extremities. Cupcakes. Damn, she hadn’t conjured cupcakes in years. A strange sensation took control of her body, freezing every limb into a dazed slow motion, while her mind went into rocket-ship overdrive. Tottering on the edge of full-blown panic, Tee scrambled for a suitable explanation.