"I like it down," he said, drawing her closer.
His rough cheek grazed hers and she stifled a gasp. She tried to focus on the music, but all she could hear was his steady heartbeat. As the heat of their bodies melded, her pulse raced.
"Relax," he whispered. "I don't bite."
"Right."
He chuckled. "Not unless you want me to."
The thought of Jonathan's teeth nipping at her flesh nearly made Rhianna moan out loud.
What was he doing to her?
With a ragged sigh, Rhianna curled into Jonathan, her head tucked under his chin. He smelled of sandalwood, vanilla and paint, a heady combination that was soothing, yet stimulating.
His breath breezed across her hair.
She shivered.
How long could she fight these feelings?
Don't fight them.
Jonathan's hand caressed her lower back. The fabric between them seemed nonexistent, as though they danced naked, her feverish flesh on his. His slow, sensual moves sent tiny flutters throughout her body.
Did he feel her treacherous response?
She didn't know how long they danced. Or how long he held her. She only knew that she wanted it to go on forever.
"I could do this all night," he said, reading her mind.
His admission caught her off guard.
"Why would you want to do that?"
"Because you feel good in my arms."
"Oh."
"I want to kiss you, Rhianna."
She took a deep breath. "Kiss me then."
Without hesitation, Jonathan bent his head and captured her lips. She gasped and he took full advantage, his tongue entwining with hers. A powerful longing grew deep within her. She wanted more.
So did Jonathan.
When he swept her up in his arms and carried her upstairs, Rhianna didn't fight him.
She trembled, aware of her own mounting need. There was only one way to fight her inner demon, and that was to conquer her fear of the past.
"Your room or mine?" he asked.
If she'd been thinking clearly, Rhianna would have laughed. But she wasn't thinking clearly. All she knew for sure was that she had to quell the desperate throbbing that pounded through her body.
"I don't care," she murmured.
The décor in his room was dark, with warm, masculine tones and rich cherry furniture. A king-sized bed waited at the far end of the room.
That was all Rhianna had time to notice because Jonathan slowly slid her down his body until her feet reached the ground. His fingers drifted to the buttons on her blouse. In seconds, it was on the floor. The rest of her clothes followed as he bared her, body and soul, his hands caressing every inch of her until she couldn't stand it.
He backed her against the door and his hands clasped hers, pinning them just above her head. A flicker of panic gripped her, but when his tongue found her nipple and teased it to attention, all fear was erased. She trembled when his lips coaxed a response. Then she gave in to the sizzling thrill of his mouth.
"Do you want me to stop?" he breathed into her ear.
"No."
"Are you sure? Because I will if you want me to."
She sighed. "Just shut up and kiss me."
~ * ~
Jonathan kissed Rhianna fiercely, ravishing her until she clung to him, breathless, her skin burning.
He craved her touch.
Carrying her to the bed, he swiftly undressed and stretched out beside her. He was rigid and pulsating with need. There was only one way to satisfy his lust.
Lust?
No, what he felt was much more than that. But he had to be gentle. He didn't want to hurt her. He was pretty sure she'd been hurt enough in the past.
Although the shadows hid her, he found Rhianna's lips. Only their mouths touched.
Lightly…persuasively.
Then, reaching for the lamp, he turned it on low. The golden glow illuminated Rhianna's curves as she lay on the bed, one arm draped across her breasts. Her eyes shone, expectant and nervous.
"Trust me," he said, lifting her arm to her side.
"I do."
He swallowed hard at her admission. She'd just handed him a precious treasure to guard. His throbbing desire intensified at the thought.
Leaning over her, he cradled her face in his hands. "I want to see all of you."
He felt her hesitation.
Kissing each eyelid, he said, "You're so beautiful."
"No, I'm not."
He placed a finger against her mouth. "Yes, you are."
Jonathan brushed her face with his fingertips and trailed them down her neck to the valley between her breasts.
She arched toward him. "Jonathan…"
Hearing his name on her lips, made him shiver.
~ * ~
Rhianna knew she was heading for trouble with Jonathan, but all that mattered was finding release from the agonizing desire that consumed her. She'd never felt this way before, so physical, so sexual…
So out of control.
God, how she ached for him.
Their lips met in a tender kiss and Jonathan's calloused fingers skimmed all over her. Stroking her, squeezing her, until her entire body tightened. When his mouth touched her breast, she let out a moan. His lips brushed a nipple and she thought she'd crawl out of her own flesh.
Finally, he reached lower, in search of the one place she needed him to touch. She sucked in a breath when he found it. Hands entwined around his neck, she drew him back to her mouth as he straddled her.
There'll be no going back after tonight.
She didn't care. Jonathan had opened the floodgates. Only he could close them.
"What do you want, Rhianna?"
"I don't know."
"Yes, you do," he said, nipping at her bottom lip.
"I want…I want you inside―"
Jonathan entered her swiftly. There was no pain, only a quivering that left her breathless. When he pulled back, she bucked against him.
"Don't stop," she hissed.
"I wasn't planning on it."
As Jonathan moved between her thighs, Rhianna felt more disconnected from her past and more in tune with a wondrous soaring sensation. Every synapse fired, every nerve quivered as she climbed higher. And higher.
A searing tremor of pleasure shot through her. Hot tears formed in her eyes and her raspy breath mingled with Jonathan's. She dug her nails into his shoulders and clung to him, half-sobbing, while delicious, mind-numbing spasms wracked her body and shook her to the core.
~ * ~
Rhianna awoke hours later, at first startled by the unfamiliar room draped in shadows.
Then she remembered.
Jonathan.
He had made love to her, and she'd enjoyed every minute of it.
Rolling slowly to her side, she reached for him, but the other side of the bed was empty.
"Jonathan?"
There was no reply.
"Where are you?" she whispered in the dark.
She recalled his kiss and touched her lips. She thought of his hands on her, every moment leading up to a culmination that rocked her world.
Now he had vanished.
Swallowing hard, she sat up and turned on the lamp.
His clothes were gone too.
Rhianna moved from the bed, ignoring the dull throbbing of her body. Dressing hastily, she ran to her room and closed the door.
Seeds of doubt sprouted.
Did Jonathan regret what they'd done?
Tears sprang to her eyes. "Of course he does." She moaned. "What have I done?"
Sitting on the bed, she released a pent up breath. There was still a couple of weeks left of her stay here. How was she supposed to face him now?
She fell back. "Way to go. Your first real experience and you've scared him away."
Glancing at the clock, she saw it was just after three in the morning. The sun hadn't even struggled to make an appearance yet.
There was no way
she could sleep now.
Not with Jonathan out there some―
She sat up. "I know exactly where you are."
Moving to the window, she peered through the glass.
There was a light on in Jonathan's studio.
He's painting.
"Great job, Rhianna. You've driven him to work."
Her breath fogged up the glass. With one finger she drew four vertical lines.
"Prison bars," she muttered, though she suspected she wasn't the only one feeling imprisoned.
She had to get away. Think about things. She needed someplace quiet. Peaceful.
Where could she find that?
She smiled. The pool.
Grabbing a towel from the bathroom, she slipped quietly downstairs and out the door. She followed the path instinctively, her desire for calm leading her.
She heard the falls before she saw them. Without pausing, she peeled off her clothes, leaving a trail behind her. She stepped into the water and waded toward the center of the pool. Cupping her hands, she poured water down her neck. She sighed and closed her eyes.
Then her calm was interrupted.
She didn't hear him approach as much as she sensed it. When she opened her eyes and turned, Jonathan stood on the shore, watching her.
"I thought you'd be sleeping still," he said.
She shrugged. "I woke up."
"I can see that. Sorry, I felt an urge to paint."
"I guess you have to give in when it hits you," she said dryly.
"I have another urge now," he said in a low tone.
She blinked. "I thought, maybe, you didn't―"
Jonathan stripped in the dark and waded out to her. "But I do."
She trembled when he reached for her. He tasted her skin, tracing feathery kisses along the side of her neck.
"I want you, my little castaway." He kissed her hard. "I want to take you behind the falls."
And he did.
Chapter 21
The following day passed by quickly. In the morning and afternoon, Rhianna taught Misty new signs and tested the girl's conversation skills. That night, Jonathan taught a willing Rhianna a few things―about the ancient art of lovemaking.
Now, stretched out on her stomach in Jonathan's bed, she was fulfilled like never before. It was like someone had climbed inside her head and swept away the cobwebs, then moved to her heart and flipped a switch.
Something had changed. Everything had changed.
Rhianna studied the man beside her. Jonathan was lying on his side, facing her, eyes closed.
Did he feel the change too?
She sighed and hugged the pillow.
Jonathan had never mentioned a future together and she had no idea what to expect from him―or if she had the right to expect anything. For all she knew, this was a summer fling, a simple distraction. He'd forget all about her once she was gone.
Of course, he's not looking for anything permanent, she berated herself. He lives on a blasted island in the middle of nowhere and you have a job and life back in Miami.
Now she was pissed.
She caught Jonathan staring at her.
"What are you thinking?" he asked.
"Nothing."
He propped his head up on one hand. "Liar."
"I'm just wondering where this is leading."
"By this you mean…this," he said, trailing his hand across her back.
"That tickles. Stop it."
His eyes narrowed. "What if I don't want to?"
"Then we'll never get any sleep."
He kissed the back of her neck. "Sounds like a plan."
"I'm starting to wonder if this is all you want," she blurted.
Jonathan froze. "You think all I'm after is sex? You should know me better than that."
Rhianna rolled to one side, pulling the sheet up to her chest. "Why would you think that? I don't see you until after supper, then we're with Misty, and then after that we're…here. We never just…talk."
"We can talk anytime you want," he said.
For some reason, this angered her even more.
"What part of you aren't around to talk to don't you get?"
She knew she sounded like a disgruntled wife.
"I've been a bit busy," Jonathan said. He smiled. "I finally had an idea for a new painting. I think it'll be one of my best."
Rhianna let out a huff. "Great. I'm happy for you."
She moved from the bed and began collecting her clothing.
"What are you doing, Rhianna?"
"Going back to my room."
"Don't. Come back to bed and we'll talk."
She eyed him suspiciously. "Talk."
"I can do that you know. I'm not just a sexy guy after your body, you know."
She arched a brow. "So you're sexy now, are you?"
"That's what you told me an hour ago," he said, grinning.
"Maybe I should've kept that to myself. Wouldn't want it to go to your head."
He patted the bed. "Come on. I promise I'll behave. We'll talk and I'll keep my hands to myself. I won't even kiss you."
Rhianna felt a twinge of disappointment.
~ * ~
Jonathan watched as Rhianna slipped into her bra and panties. Don't touch, the action warned him. His fingers itched to do just that.
"Fine, we'll talk," Rhianna said with a sigh.
When she slid beneath the sheet and pulled it up to her neck, he almost laughed.
"So," he drawled. "Where do we begin?"
"Tell me about your childhood. Where were you born? Do you have any siblings?"
"I'm an only child, born in New York, in the Big Apple."
"And your parents? Where are they?"
"My mother died almost five years ago."
She touched his hand. "Sorry. Maybe we shouldn't―"
"Hey, you wanted to know more about me," he said. "My mother is dead and my father's an asshole." He tried to keep the bitterness from his voice. "It's been years since I last saw him."
Rhianna's eyes widened. "You mean he's never seen Misty?"
"Nope. And it's better that way."
"But she's his granddaughter. His only grandchild."
"Let me tell you about the man that is Misty's grandfather," he said, seething. "He's a rich, powerful man who doesn't care one bit about family. When I was about seven, I overheard my parents arguing about a woman's photograph my mother had found in one of his jacket pockets."
"Your father was having an affair?"
"He always denied it, but yeah. He was messing around on my mother."
"That's awful."
"My old man would yell at my mother, stay out all night doing God knows what, then creep into the house the next morning." Jonathan flicked a look at the window, his voice softening. "I couldn't wait to leave. I moved out the day after I turned eighteen. He called me after I went into art school. When he found out what I was doing with my life, he nearly had a heart attack. Said I was wasting my potential."
Jonathan remembered that call so clearly. His father had yelled at him, called him crazy and irresponsible. Jonathan had hung up on him.
"And you haven't been back?" Rhianna asked, her eyes luminous.
He shook his head. "I kept in touch with my mother. But I never went to see him."
"Did your mother ever see Misty?"
"When they moved south after my mother's diagnosis, Misty and I would go visit her every couple of months. We'd meet at a restaurant. My father never knew."
"It's been a long time, Jonathan. Maybe he's changed."
"I doubt it. The last time I saw him was the day I married Sirena. He walked into the back room where I was getting ready and told me my marriage was doomed from the start. Called Sirena a gold-digging wannabe movie star with no talent." Jonathan smiled. "He was right about that."
"I still can't believe she'd walk out on Misty. Just give her up like that."
"Sirena only cares about her career. Everything else just got in the way. Includin
g me and Misty." He stared at Rhianna. "I don't know why it took me so long to realize Sirena wasn't the one."
"Sometimes it's hard to face reality," she said in a quiet voice.
~ * ~
Rhianna wanted to comfort Jonathan, but she sensed now wasn't the time. He was too angry, too hurt by his past. If there was one thing she knew well, it was that past hurts don't heal overnight. Fixing what was broken took time―and a lot of soul searching and persistence.
"My reality was that the three of us didn't work," Jonathan told her. "We used to come to Angelina's Isle to get away from winter. Misty and I fell in love with it, but Sirena hated it from the start. I built the pool for her, thinking it would make her happy."
"But it didn't."
"No. Sirena can't cope without her weekly spa days and her morning Starbucks cappuccino." He chuckled. "And she would've hated having you stranded here."
Rhianna shot him a scornful smile. "Gee, thanks."
"She hated other women. Everyone was competition to her."
"But you loved her."
He shrugged. "I thought I did. But hell, what did I know about love?"
Rhianna didn't want to contemplate the topic of love, so she changed the subject. "Did your parents get a divorce?"
"No. My mother forgave him and stuck by him to the bitter end."
Unable to stand the pain in his voice, she wiggled closer and eased one arm across his chest. "She loved your father very much."
Jonathan said nothing.
She took a deep breath. "If she could forgive him, why can't you?"
He glared at her. "Because he always carried around his lover's photo. I caught him staring at it every time he thought he was alone."
She didn't know what to say.
"It was as though he just couldn't live without this woman," he continued. "He'd storm out of the house and into a bar nearly every night. One time he was so intoxicated the bartender took away his keys and called the house. My mother was out somewhere, so I had to get him." He let out a huff. "My old man bawled like a baby all the way home."
"That must've been very difficult," Rhianna said, picturing a young man looking out for his father. "He was lucky to have you."
They drifted into silence and listened to the sounds of the night birds.
"What about you?" Jonathan asked finally. "Where's your family?"
Rhianna rested her chin on his chest. "My parents died in a car crash."
"How old were you?"
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