*****
Armand cursed. Why the hell had he lifted Kayla from the dock and pressed her body to his? He'd been sporting an erection ever since he spied her long, silky-smooth legs clad in short denim. Actually, he questioned why he'd invited her on this excursion but he knew the answer. She was beautiful, sexy and vulnerable and he was a fucking prick who wanted to get laid. For some godforsaken reason guilt ate at him, but he shoved it down. When her body touched his it was like ice sliding along hot steel and he wanted her coolness pressed against his naked, hot flesh. He also wanted the curse broken and if there was even the slightest chance she was the key, he'd take it.
He maneuvered the boat to his favorite spot and let the motor idle while he tossed the anchor off the back to hold the craft in place. “We're here.” He turned off the engine and began gathering the cooler and plastic tote to lower them into the water.
“Can I help?”
“We're going to wade in and float these”— he pointed to their cargo—”to shore. The water's only about waist deep here, but if you have your suit on you might want to leave your clothes here.” Dear God, did he ever want her to leave her clothes on the boat. Every last stitch.
She nodded and reached for the hem on her shirt, pulled it over her head and tossed it onto the seat. Mounds of golden flesh spilled out of a red bikini top and tempted him. Holy mother of all that is sacred. His fingers actually itched with the need to trace a line where flesh met fabric, and his lips wanted to taste every inch of skin then wrap around her sweet nipple and suckle until she moaned his name.
Kayla didn't stop. Next, she unbuttoned her shorts and lowered the zipper. He suppressed a groan as she slid the material past her hips and down her thighs. If that wasn't enough, she kicked them aside and now stood before him in two pieces of red material. Scanty material at best.
“I'm ready,” she announced.
Right. So was he. Ready, willing and fucking able and the erection pressing ever so painfully against his shorts was a clear reminder.
Armand lifted his shirt and pulled it over his head, laying it on the back of his seat. Two could play the game of tease. He was a fucking Jinn after all and seduction part of his DNA. Even without any power, no woman had ever been able to resist his body or his charm. He watched her eyes roam down his chest and to the top of his jeans. She drew her lip through her teeth as her gaze lingered. Was she waiting for him to undo the button? Before he could oblige her, she looked up.
“Nice tattoo.” She moved to the ladder and proceeded to climb down into the water. “If you want to hand me something, I'll take it to shore.”
“Thanks.” He grabbed the cooler and plopped it in the water. “I'll be along in a moment. Got some things to finish up first.” Like adjusting his throbbing erection. She may have thought she appeared nonchalant, but he could smell her arousal. He'd be willing to bet her bathing suit was wet long before she hit the water.
He fiddled around and tried to look busy while he watched her move to shore from behind his mirrored glasses. She walked up the beach, her bottom half soaked and droplets of water ran down her thighs. He let a moan escape. She had moved too far away to hear him anyway.
“This is going to be a long, fucking day,” he growled under his breath then jumped in the water pulling the tote with the rest of their stuff behind him. At least the coolness of the lake assisted in deflating his dick. For the moment.
He detached the two beach chairs he'd brought from the top of the tote and unfolded them. Kayla sidled up next to him, so close he could feel her coolness slide across his skin. Shit. He gritted his teeth, needing something to keep himself in check, or he was going to lose all control.
“What can I do?”
He handed her the towels. “You can take these and I'll set up the table.”
“Okay.” She spun and walked away from him with a little more swing in her hips then she had before.
Son of a bitch! The vixen wants to play does she?
He took the table from the tote, pulled it from its bag and unrolled it. He screwed the legs on and flipped it over.
“Wow, that's cool. I've never seen one of those before.” She stood over him. He slipped the glasses off and let his gaze roam up her legs to her stomach and finally to her face.
“I must say, querida, that bikini suits you well. You are, eh, most pleasant to look at.” He flashed a wide smile and watched her take two steps back.
“Um, thanks.”
Was she having second thoughts? Too late, he'd already determined seduction was in the air tonight. He would have her. Not tonight, however. He decided he would make her beg him. When she came to him, she would be unable to stand it any longer and only then would he give her what she needed.
Chapter Six
Had he called her darling? Kayla was pretty sure she understood him with what little Spanish she'd learned. Then there was the look in his eyes—as if he wanted to devour her. No woman would mistake it and it had been the confirmation she needed.
He was taking the bait.
She worried slightly though. It had been a long time since she'd had sex. Would he think her inadequate? She had to remind herself this was going to be only a brief encounter. It would end when she went home if not before.
Sex. This was strictly for the sex.
With that in mind, she seated herself in one of the chairs and watched Armand pull a bottle of white wine from the cooler and two glasses from a wicker basket he'd taken out of the tote.
“Would you care for some wine?”
“I'd love some.” A little liquid courage certainly couldn't hurt. “So does the tattoo mean anything? “ She stared at the thick black bands that wrapped around his right bicep and wanted to trace the markings with her fingers. Instead, she watched him pour the glass to half full with white wine then procure a bottle of water from the cooler. He placed them on the table next to her.
“Not really. It's called a tribal tattoo and I simply liked it. Be sure to drink plenty of water while we're out here so you don't get dehydrated.”
Kayla hid a smile behind her hand. “Okay.”
He arched a brow. “What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing,” she giggled.
“Really? People usually don't laugh at nothing.”
She couldn't contain herself any longer and burst into a fit of laughter. “Oh my god. You sound like my dad.” She held a hand to her side, unsure of why she'd found it so funny. Must be nerves. Armand looked at her with a gleam in his eye, but his face remained stoic. Oh dear, had she upset him? She opened her mouth to apologize when he let out his own hearty laugh.
“I guess that did sound rather fatherly.” He moved his chair from the other side of the table up next to hers. “Let me find a subject that is less … parental.” He sipped his wine. “So, tell me about your books. I'm curious to know how you come up with those steamy sex scenes.” He leaned in closer. “Do you take lots of cold showers?”
At that moment, she wanted to run for the lake and take a dunk. His naked chest stirred things in her that had long been dead. She cleared her throat. “What makes you think I write steamy sex?”
His lips curled into a grin that would melt any woman's panties. “I took the liberty of searching for your work on Amazon and read your first book last night.”
All kinds of replies ran through her mind. Discussing the topic with her friends or even her fans was something she did all the time, but to talk about the burning sex she wrote with this hot Spaniard? Her stomach clenched tight at the thought of it so she reached for her wine and took a gulp. He had opened the door, and now she either walked through or slammed it shut and ran the other way.
“Yes. Writing those required lots of freezing showers. Later though, I met my husband and, well, that helped.” Not really. If she looked back on her relationship with Eric, he never satisfied her. She always had an empty spot; something was missing, but she never knew what.
He leaned back as if satisfied with her answer and s
tared at the sky. After a long pause, he looked at her. “You mentioned before not being able to write since your divorce.” He ran his finger down her arm and stopped at her wrist, taking it in his grip. “Tell me querida, when was the last time a man caressed you?”
Her chest tightened and her breath hitched. A trail of heat still burned where his fingers had slid across her skin. “Ah … ” She stared into her lap, unable to look at him. His hand moved away from her wrist and touched her chin. He turned her head to face him, his thumb stroking her cheek.
“Don't hide, Kayla. You're a beautiful woman and there is no reason for you to be alone.”
She quivered. God knew she was tired of being by herself and his touch ignited so many things deep inside her. Many of which scared the hell out of her. “Not since my divorce. Two years.”
His eyes deepened to the color of midnight. “You deserve better than that, querida.” He released her and stood. “How about a swim?”
Good god, yes! Anything to kill the burning currently consuming her. She wasn't used to heat and every time he called her darling in his thick accent she melted. His touch had her heart nearly stopping and she wanted to beg him to continue. Hell, she'd let him take her here in the chair. Her body was strung so tight she feared it might snap at any moment. Had she been surer of herself, she would have pushed him back in his seat, straddled his lap and kissed her way up every hard muscle on his chest until she reached his lips. Those thick, heavy lips. Oh, she would…
“Kayla?”
She blinked. “Huh?” Armand stood beside her his hand held out waiting. Shit! She slipped her hand in his and allowed him to help her to her feet. “Sorry.”
A mischievous grin formed on his lips. “Quite alright. I'm just curious where you went.”
“No place.” She'd be damned if she would ever admit what had been running through her mind. For the time being, she'd follow him to the water and douse herself.
*****
Armand led Kayla into the water then swam away. He sensed her distress. She wanted him, the evidence clear, but she feared him at the same time. He blamed it on her lack of sexual activity along with the fact that her bastard husband had cheated on her. That would leave any woman's ego in tatters. The female begged for tenderness. He would give it to her a little at a time until he had tamed the skittish fox and had her eating out of his hand.
He had to admit, though, he admired her. Coming to a foreign country, flirting with a stranger, took courage. It was obvious by her long stint of celibacy, she wasn't the type who slept around and he found that comforting. He'd also been impressed by her writing. While romance wasn't something that lined his bookshelf, he had found her work enjoyable. There was a part of him that wanted to help her get back on her feet. He was certain if she could once again experience the joy of two bodies being together, she'd find her muse. For a moment, sadness filled him. Love was something he'd kept at arm’s length and for good reason. He'd watched a few of his elders fall for a human and it always ended in disaster. She would die and they would be left heartbroken, spending eternity watching their offspring perish as well. The gene that made them Jinn never carried on to a human child. It was for the better of their race.
Armand swam for shore and exited the water. “Are you hungry? We should eat since we only have a couple of hours before dark.”
He was already in the cooler pulling out the bocata he'd lined with grilled chicken, provolone, arugula and tomato. He laid them on the table then dug for the container of pasta salad.
“I'm starving. What can I do to help?”
Kayla had come up beside him, still drying herself off. He tried to ignore the fact she was running a towel along her wet skin. He wanted to offer his help but fought the urge. He feared moving too fast would scare her off.
“In the basket there are some plates and forks.”
“On it.” She moved away and dug through the basket producing the items needed and placed them on the table. “Wow, this looks delicious.”
Armand parked his chair on the other side of the table. “I hope you like chicken.” He unwrapped a sandwich then ladled some pasta salad on a plate and handed it to her. He watched her eyes widen as she accepted it. Had it really been that long since anyone had done something nice for her?
“Thanks.” She sat in her chair and took a bite of the sandwich. She moaned. “Oh, my god, this is so good.” Next she took a fork full of pasta salad. “Did you make this? I love the olives.”
“I picked up the bread from the little bakery we passed on our walk. The rest I made myself. You looked surprised.”
“I guess I didn't take you for a cook,” she exclaimed.
Armand sat back and watched her eat. “Let me guess. Your husband never cooked for you.”
She stopped midway through her pasta salad. “Why would you think that?”
Something told him she wasn't going to admit the guy had treated her badly. He wouldn't push it either. It would only hurt her. He wanted to win her over not scare her away. He shrugged. “In all fairness, being a bachelor has forced me to learn to cook.” He smiled at her. “It was either that or rely on the old ladies who took pity on me.”
She nodded and continued eating. Her lack of an answer only confirmed his suspicion. He finished his lunch in silence and allowed her to clean up, sensing she needed to busy herself. He wandered off to the water's edge and watched a school of fish jump through the waves. Moments later she stood beside him, her coolness brushed his fire and the urge to pull her to his side had him clenching his fists.
“Thank you for bringing me here. I can see why you love this place. It's so peaceful.”
He was taken by surprise when she placed her lips on his cheek and kissed him. He grabbed her by the waist and pressed her to him, unable to resist any longer having her softness pressed against him. “You are so trusting, querida. We have only just met and yet you come out to the middle of nowhere with me. How do you know I'm not an animal?” He watched her brown eyes darken and her tongue flick out to wet her lips, her arousal evident by the heavy scent of musk that hung in the air.
“I don't know how to explain it. Something tells me you're not.”
If she ever learned what he had once been capable of. He'd killed his enemies and burned their villages. Granted, it had been either his life or theirs, but he'd left many children orphaned. He doubted she would still be so trusting if she knew the truth. No, she would run far away from him and he would be helpless to stop her.
He released her. “We should return home. I'll grab the things and load the boat.”
Chapter Seven
Makayla had been positive Armand was going to kiss her. Instead he'd set her aside and almost seemed angry that she had trusted him. Their ride back to the mainland had been quiet and almost tense. What had caused the sudden change? The kiss on the cheek? Everything had certainly gone to hell after that, but she could have sworn he wanted her.
She brushed the hair from her face. What did she know about men anyway? It had been two years since her last relationship and it had failed. She had failed. The entire idea was a mistake and she should just chalk it up to a lesson learned and move on. Tears stung her eyes. She thought she saw something good and decent in Armand. Even if only for a one-night stand, she thought he would have catered to her every need, giving her something her past relationships always lacked. Maybe she should just hire the deed done. Women did it all the time now and why not? Their sexual urges were the same as a man's, only the rules were different.
Half an hour later, they were back at the dock and Armand helped her off the boat.
“I'll escort you home.”
Really? She pursed her lips. “I'm sure you have lots to do. I can see myself home. Thank you again for a nice day.” She spun and started to walk away, but he was on her heels.
“I wasn't asking.” He moved in beside her.
Kayla kept her gaze ahead. She could feel the heat rising up her neck. “Suit yourself.”
If he wanted to walk with her then fine, but she refused to converse with him. The mixed signals he kept sending were making her dizzy. He went from seductive to demanding to angry with god-knows-what. The confusion running through her brain gave her a headache.
Ten silent minutes later, she finally reached her front door. She slipped the key into the lock and turned the handle. The door opened to reveal a darkened room and she could hardly wait to escape back into it. She wondered if the entire trip was a waste. Good manners had her turning around to face the sexy man who'd towered beside her all day.
“Thank you again. It was lovely.”
His hands gripped her upper arms and his body pinned her against the doorjamb. His lips crashed down on hers. Bruising. Demanding. His tongue pushed passed and swept into her mouth. He tasted of danger and sin and she wanted to swallow him whole. Every lean hard muscle of his chest pushed into her breasts causing them to ache. Her nipples pebbled against her bathing suit and begged to have his hot tongue glide across them. His erection, thick and hard, pressed into her belly. She wanted to touch him, but with her arms pinned at her side she could do nothing except remind herself to breathe.
He consumed her.
Armand nipped her bottom lip then pulled away causing her to moan. Even in the dusk of the evening, she could see the desire in his eyes. It burned her soul.
“Querida, never trust a strange man again. I will be your one exception,” he whispered. “Do you understand?”
She swallowed. Her throat parched from the inferno brewing inside her like a wicked storm. “Y—Yes.”
“Good.” He released her then backed away. “Go inside now. I'll pick you up tomorrow evening for dinner.”
“O—Okay.”
Kayla stepped past the entry and closed the door behind her. She leaned against the cool wood both to quench the fire that raged within and for support. She brought her fingers to her swollen lips and could almost feel him still pressing against her.
“What the hell just happened?”
Spanish Nights Page 4