She slipped the silky robe off her shoulders, and his murmured appreciation sent a jolt of need through her. Then she wiggled out of her thong, lay down and gestured for him to join her, patting the bed.
Though she could tell he wanted to pounce, he crawled up slowly and lay beside her.
She climbed on top of him, straddling his hips, with his thick, standing cock primed for her. But she didn’t touch it yet. Instead, she pushed his arms above his head. Mmm, that position stretched his torso and lifted his rib cage. It rose and fell as he took a deep breath. He licked his lips and she wanted to lick them, too. Lick everywhere. She leaned forward and kissed him, licking and nipping at his lips at first before taking his mouth in hers and plunging her tongue deep.
He moaned and moved beneath her, but she was careful to keep her stomach from rubbing his cock. So many places to kiss, so little time. Her lips traveled down his jaw to his collarbone and lower until she reached a flat brown nipple. Taking it between her teeth, she teased it and licked it, and enjoyed the sounds coming from deep in his throat.
Her hands had been busy caressing his muscular shoulders and biceps, and now she ran her palms down his chest, relishing the firmness, the hills and valleys of every muscle down his abdomen, and finally coming to his dark, hard cock.
She swiped the bead of moisture at the tip with a finger and trailed it down his length. He inhaled and twitched. She lifted her gaze to Kekoa’s eyes. He stared at her with a mixture of awe and pleading.
“Amy, E Ku’u Aloha.” The pitch of his voice had deepened and he sounded a bit strangled.
“You said that the other day. What does it mean?”
His expression softened and he gave her a small smile. “My love.”
Her throat tightened, but she shoved the emotion down. It was just a saying. “Say something else in Hawaiian. It’s a beautiful language.”
He full-out grinned. “Honi ko’u ule.”
She raised a brow. “I know honi means kiss.”
“Kiss my cock.”
She crossed her arms. “That sounds very controlling.”
He lost his grin and growled. “Please?”
“Well, since you asked nicely.” She lowered her head and took him into her mouth slowly, enjoying how he groaned and writhed his hips. When she looked up at him he was gritting his teeth. “I’m just getting started, Kekoa.” She smirked.
His expression became impassive and his gaze went to the ceiling. She couldn’t have that, so she sucked him deep and fast, pumping him with her lips.
He grunted and groaned and, finally, he shifted his hips away from her. “Please. I don’t want to come that way.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t want you to either.” She brought his arms down to his sides.
“Yes, thank the gods.” He sounded truly tortured. His hands clenched and unclenched. “I want to touch you.”
With a secret smile, she leaned over to the bedside-table drawer, opened it and grabbed a handful of condoms. Her breasts brushed his chest and he arched his back to push up against them.
While she was leaning down anyway, she kissed him, lips moving over his, deeper this time, telling him she was done teasing. She curled her arms around his head and moaned, herself, as he took control of the kiss, raising his head and exploring her tongue with his. This is what she wanted. This is what turned her on.
She didn’t need complete control to feel safe with Kekoa. She needed the respect and the freedom to choose. And if she had her choice, what really turned her on was Kekoa’s inner strength, his moral code.
“Amy?”
Her thoughts returned to the moment. She’d stopped kissing him as she acknowledged the truth. “I do trust you, Kekoa. I think I’ve known since we met that you were…an honorable man.”
Emotion seized his expression. “Amy.” He reached up to stroke a long strand of her hair, and then lifted his head to gently kiss her lips, her cheek, just below her ear.
Sighing, she shifted onto her back, her arms circling her head. “Make love to me, Kekoa.”
With a strangled groan, he rolled to his side and trailed a hand down her throat to her collarbone, between her breasts to her stomach, then returned by the same path with the back of his fingers. His palm found one breast and cupped her tenderly, lifting the nipple to his mouth. His tongue teased, his lips suckled, and when he had her writhing and whimpering, he moved to the next one, leaving a trail of kisses in his wake.
His hand drifted lazily down to find her sensitive clit and worked in tandem with his mouth to bring her to the brink.
So lost in sensation was she that she barely registered a tearing noise and looked up to see he’d opened one of the condom wrappers. Kekoa slipped between her thighs. Then he stilled.
“What?” She cradled his cheek in her palm.
“You’re still in control. Tell me you want this as much as I do.” His jaw tightened as he stared hard into her eyes.
Feeling so gloriously happy made her mischievous. “Hmm. Maybe.”
“Amy! Don’t torment me anymore.” His features softened. “Please.”
Smiling, she wrapped her legs around his waist, hooked her ankles and pushed her hips up to rub against him. “Yes. I want you. Now.”
Before she’d finished speaking he reared back and pushed inside her to the hilt. She gasped and moaned and he brought his mouth to hers and kissed her passionately, possessively. His mouth, his hands, his cock all built an exquisite pressure until she cried out and they climaxed together. She’d never felt so sated, so at peace.
Powerful emotions overcame her and she squeezed her eyes to stop the tears. She’d never been able to tease, to play, to be herself during lovemaking. Peace and acceptance filled her and she tightened her arms around Kekoa. She’d never felt this kind of intimacy with a man.
“Amy,” Kekoa murmured into her neck as he tried to catch his breath. He lifted his head to look into her eyes. “I’m not expecting anything. But I want us to see where this might go.”
Fear and joy battled for supremacy inside her. She wasn’t ready for a commitment. But she wanted to be with Kekoa. “As long as we can take it slow.”
His arms tightened around her and he kissed her, fiercely, as if he had to pour everything he felt into the kiss before she changed her mind. But she wouldn’t.
Afterward, they refilled the bathtub and climbed in together, soaping and pleasuring each other’s bodies. She lay back against his chest and he had to raise his knees to fit.
“Amy?” He paused, a hand resting on her stomach. “Your ex. He hit you?”
Amy stilled, her fingers frozen where she’d been stroking Kekoa’s thigh. “Yes.”
His hand curled into a fist. “More than once?”
She swallowed. “Yes.”
“How long were you with him?”
“Kekoa. It’s over now. I’m free.”
“How long?”
“Six years. But—”
“Kanapapiki! I’d like to kill that son of a bitch!” He wrapped his arms around her and buried his nose in her neck. “I wish I’d been there to protect you.”
“It’s okay that you weren’t. I’m not helpless. I don’t need a big he-man to come in and save me. I got myself in it, and I got myself out of it.”
“Is he in jail?”
“Are you kidding? He got worse than jail. Before I left Mississippi, I made sure his mamma, his daddy, his grandmamma, his boss and his new girlfriend all received photos of me the last time he laid into me.”
“You recorded something like that?”
“I had to. It would’ve just been my word against his in court. And even after I moved out, he stalked me, so I knew he wasn’t going to go peacefully.”
She felt him shake his head behind her. “You’re amazing.” He kissed her from her neck to her shoulder.
“Speaking of mammas. Did you tell your parents about breaking off your engagement?”
He grunted into her shoulder. “I couldn’t b
elieve it. I sat them down and made my announcement…and they just looked at each other and shrugged. They told me Mahina had told her parents she refused to marry me and had left for the mainland back in September to go to Harvard.”
Amy laughed. “Go, Mahina.”
“Yes, but could it have killed someone to inform me?”
Amy giggled at his disgruntled tone but he caught her mouth in his. Kissing turned into caressing and soon Kekoa lifted her into his strong arms and carried her back to bed.
A long while later, they lay in each other’s arms. Amy was almost asleep when she thought about Kristen. She was worried about her friend. Visiting her the last couple of days, Amy had noticed Kristen becoming more and more withdrawn. The quiet sadness was so unlike her outgoing, optimistic friend. But when Amy asked her about it, Kristen only mumbled something about the contest being over for her.
Amy mentioned it to Kekoa. He confirmed that she’d canceled her rental of his boat and his services. But he didn’t know how to help Kristen any more than she did.
12
“GET UP, LAZY HEAD.” Luke yanked open the blinds in her bedroom.
Kristen groaned and pulled the pillow over her face. “Go away.”
“Come on, Kristen, You’ve spent three days in this bed. You’re supposed to rest, but this is extreme. And it’s not like you.”
Irritation bubbled into anger. She sat up and slammed the pillow on the mattress. “How do you know what I’m like?”
The dog whined.
“God, you’re beautiful when you’re mad.” He stood in front of the window, even in silhouette, as handsome as ever, holding a large store-bought coffee cup.
She brought the pillow back up to cover her face. “I’m disgusting.” She had bed hair and morning breath, hairy legs and a small, shaved bump on her head. But even on a good day she wouldn’t call herself beautiful.
He came around and sat on the bed beside her, offering the coffee. The rich aroma tantalized her senses as she took the cup. “You couldn’t be if you tried.”
She scowled, and set the coffee on the table. “Don’t be nice. Then I’ll have to be nice and I don’t want to.”
“You don’t have to be nice.” He reached up and softly brushed away a tangle of hair.
“Oh, Luke.”
He got to his feet, wrenched the covers off her and grabbed her around the waist. “But you do have to get out of bed.” He hauled her up and carried her—as she screamed and fought him—to the bathroom. Ooh! He would not get away with this!
“Now.” He set her down in front of the vanity. “You can either shower on your own or—” he reached around her and swiped back the shower curtain “—I can assist you.”
She folded her arms and glared at him. “Fine. May I have some privacy, please?” she ground out between gritted teeth.
“Promise you’ll shower?”
“What do you care, anyway?”
“We have someplace to be by noon.” He glanced at the watch on his wrist. “So, get a move on.”
“Someplace to be? Where—”
He reached for her again.
“Okay, okay. Geez.”
He grinned, turned and left her to her privacy.
After showering and shaving and brushing her teeth, she felt more like a human again and padded out to the living room. The empty living room. Wow, the depression she thought she’d left in the shower came back full force as she realized Luke was gone.
The lock rattled, the door opened and Luke strolled in with Blackbeard on a leash. The dog bounced until Luke removed his leash, and then trotted into the kitchen for water.
Kristen’s mood improved. She smiled. “I thought you’d left.”
“I did leave.” He hung the leash on the doorknob. “But I came back.” He smiled.
He had the best smile. All the more beautiful because it was so rare. “So, where are we going?”
“It’s a surprise. First, tell me what’s wrong.”
The depression, never really gone, popped back up to the surface. “I can’t dive for two weeks. At least, not deep diving. And the contest deadline is a week from today and I’ve got nothing.”
It was silly to cry over something like this after what she’d been through. But she’d put a lot of things on the line for this chance to make her dream come true. And the worst of it was she’d brought it on herself all because of some deep need to prove the threat of dying—of her cancer recurring—wouldn’t stop her from living her life. But prove it to whom? Seems she hadn’t made peace with her brush with death like she thought she had.
“Maybe you have it and don’t know it. Can I see your photos again?”
She blinked, unaccustomed to this optimistic Luke. Was he just feeling guilty? He’d been wonderful ever since her accident. Which made it even harder to keep her guard up around him. Who was she kidding? She’d never been good at separating herself and her emotions.
Rubbing her wet eyes, she sniffed. “Okay.” She headed for the kitchen table and he followed, sitting beside her while she opened her laptop. Just like last time, she brought up her contest photos and passed the laptop to him. “There you go.”
Several minutes of silence went by while Luke scrolled through her photos. She took the occasion to study him, as fascinated by him as the night they’d met.
He’d shaved, and he smelled divine. That fresh masculine scent she’d always associate with him. His cargo shorts and T-shirt were neat and clean. Today he wore a gray U.S. Army Medical Corps T-shirt that clung to the slopes and planes of his hard chest. While he studied the photos, he rubbed his jaw, or raised his brows quickly, but mostly he was silent.
He was a quiet man. A man who took action when it was needed, like saving that tourist in Tradewinds, or getting her discharged when she wanted to leave the hospital. But he also had an inherent stillness in him, maybe calmness was a good word. A quality that would come in handy in a frantic setting like an E.R., or a military hospital during a bombing.
He sat back in the chair. “I pulled out a few I thought were contenders. You’ve got some amazing shots, Kristen.” His gaze landed on her and though his normal expression rarely changed, she sensed he wanted to ask her something.
“What?”
“Can I see them now? The ones you didn’t want me to see before?”
She rolled her bottom lip in and bit it. They’d made love. And yet, letting him see her personal pictures seemed an extreme act of intimacy. If they upset him, he might reject her again. Which sounded ridiculous with the carnage he had to have witnessed in Afghanistan. And what did she have to lose? In a week’s time, they’d both go their separate ways and never see each other again.
With a deep breath, she leaned over to open her personal photos folder and then sat back, arms folded.
He didn’t move for a second, and then he ran the back of his hand down her cheek. “Thank you.”
At her quick nod he turned his attention to the laptop and the photos no one else had seen except her mom.
The collection was a photographic diary of her life during her fight with cancer. From the day of the biopsy, to the disturbingly graphic post-op photos of her mastectomy, all were incredibly personal. She looked over at Luke, wincing ahead of time at his reaction.
His eyes were filled with tears, but every once in a while his mouth would curve in a tiny smile. She glanced over. Ah, the day she’d shaved her head and went to try on wigs—from long dreadlocks to a flaming-red afro, she’d had fun being silly with her mom that day.
Kristen noticed he hadn’t moved his fingers over the touchpad, or clicked to the next picture in a while. She leaned in to see what he was staring at. Oh, God. One of the worst. Not because it was graphic, it wasn’t. But it represented probably her worst day, emotionally. The only time suicide had ever been a viable option, even if only for a few minutes.
It was, like a lot of them, a self-portrait. But it was a close-up of mostly her face looking directly into the mirror. He
r hair was long gone in that photo, and she’d been puking for days. Reconstruction seemed a lifetime away and in the meantime she’d felt like a lopsided freak.
And tired. So tired. Of fighting. Of feeling like a burden to her family. Her eyes were sunken, and bloodshot, and her lips were cracked and bleeding, and she’d been so weak she could barely hold the camera up. But she’d wanted to remember the day, so she could look back for the rest of her life and be reminded not to sweat the small stuff.
Luke raised an arm and wiped his eyes on his sleeve. He cleared his throat. “The contest has different categories, right?”
“Yes, three. People, places and nature.”
He looked over at her.
“No. I didn’t even want you to see that.”
“It’s the one, Kristen. You said it yourself, the winner has to be unique. There’s no other photo like that on earth.”
Maybe so, but there was no way. She shook her head, feeling panicky all of a sudden. “Luke. I can’t. I appreciate your input, but…” She gulped in air.
Luke gently shut the laptop, took her shoulders and turned her toward him. “It’s okay. You don’t have to.” He scooped her up and set her on his lap, holding her against him. “You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do, okay?”
She let out a deep breath and nodded, and he cupped the back of her head while he pressed a soft kiss to her temple.
With a whimper, Kristen wrapped her arms around his neck, turned and straddled his legs and kissed him on the mouth, hungry, starving for that indefinable thing human contact provides. That feeling of being alive, and in the moment, and being a part of something bigger than oneself.
His arms tightened around her and he returned her kiss, just as deep, just as desperate. “Kristen.” He angled his head, took control of the kiss, long and lingering. His hands ran over her body, squeezing her bottom, cupping her breast, cradling her face as he pulled away, breathing hard. “Let’s continue this once we get there.” He grasped her waist, lifted her and set her on her feet, and then stood.
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