by Anne Marsh
“Harder,” he agreed, and then began a rough, satisfying rhythm that made her entire body hum with the pleasure of him. He drove in and she rose up to meet him, digging her fingernails into his shoulders as they pressed together. He pounded into her in a primal beat and the orgasm surprised her, coiling through her body in a burst of electric white. She wrapped arms and legs around him, burying her face in his collarbone as he pumped once more, twice, and then followed her over that glorious edge.
* * *
“WOW,” SHE SAID, flopping back on her pillow. “That was amazing. You’re amazing.”
“You stole my line.” He tucked an errant strand of hair behind her ear. He’d mussed her up good.
She grinned, a big, happy, wow-we-really-just-did-that smile that he wanted to see again today, tomorrow and fifty years from now. Hell.
“I’ll wait while you come up with something,” she murmured.
She’d be waiting awhile. It seemed she’d knocked all the words right out of his head. What they’d shared had been fantastic, mind-blowing and slightly kinky sex. If it had been any better, he’d be dead. He could handle whatever she threw at him sexually. The adjectives? Not so much.
So instead, he draped an arm over her waist, just in case she had any thoughts of hopping out of bed and making a run for it. He never quite knew where he stood with Maddie. Maybe she’d change her mind about their vacation hookup.
About them.
Not that there was really a them since he was dating her under false pretenses, but the fantasy was an awesome one.
Running his fingers over the tattoo on her hip, he thought about the words she’d chosen to ink into her flesh. More than a catbird. He’d seen plenty of tattoos. It was practically obligatory to get one after a tour of duty, and this must have taken hours. It was a serious commitment. Since the last time he’d gotten her naked, reading hadn’t been number one on his to-do list. He’d settled for admiring the delicate flowers swirling over her hip bone and around the ornate line of text. Nothing simple for her.
“You ever going to tell me the story behind your tattoo?”
She patted him sleepily on his chest. “You distract me when I’m naked.”
He traced the words with his finger. “Spill.”
“You’re so sure there’s a story?” she scoffed.
Yeah, he was, so he stayed silent. Sure enough, she sighed and kept on talking.
“It’s part of an Ogden Nash poem,” she said.
“I guess I should ask you who you were thinking of when you got your ink.” Not that he really wanted to know. He’d rather run his fingers over her ink—over her bare skin—instead of thinking about the other men who had undoubtedly shared her life.
“Myself,” she said, surprising him. “There’s no guy out there with a matching poem, if that’s what you’re asking.”
He wanted to crush her against him, to give her another kiss. Hell, he was seconds away from volunteering to get ink with her, despite his dislike of needles.
“Why this poem?” He brushed his fingers over the words. They meant something to Maddie.
“The poem’s about love,” she said softly. “About loving more than other people hate. Ogden Nash was all in when it came to loving. I like that.”
He should back off, should let go of his Maddie fantasies—because, whether she admitted it or not, that poem announced in indelible ink that she was holding out for love and forever, and he simply wasn’t the man she thought he was. Hell, he wasn’t even a real chef.
“Do you have to go?” Her fingers twisted in his dog tags.
“Not yet,” he said, gazing down at her and tenderly stroking his thumb along her cheek. “But soon. I have an early-morning work call.”
He knew he had to let go of her, no matter how impossible it seemed at the moment. One more kiss, one more night, he decided.
He’d never had a lover like Maddie, so willing to try anything. Possibly everything. There was shit you didn’t do, didn’t ask for. Shit you sure as hell didn’t expect.
“Okay,” she mumbled drowsily, already drifting off. Too much champagne, too much sex.
“Good night, sweetheart,” he whispered, feathering kisses against her hair. It was stupid, since she was already out, but he wanted to do it even if he had no idea why. She’d wanted sex and he’d given it to her. Emotions weren’t supposed to be part of their date night, particularly when he hadn’t been up-front with her. And it wasn’t as if he was some big feelings expert. He’d only had the one lover, when he was just a kid, and she’d been his wife. He’d screwed that up.
Everything since then had been sex, but he hadn’t been shooting for any kind of world record—or any kind of relationship. Sometimes, if he got a little too lonely or the woman was a little too pretty, he started to wonder what-if. He didn’t have to wonder with Maddie. She was downright beautiful inside and out, and it was that inside part that made him regret not having met her under better circumstances, in a time and place where he wasn’t shipping out and wedded to Uncle Sam.
Not that he minded his current circumstances, since he was curled around her naked body, right after she’d served up the orgasm of the century. Hell, part of him wanted to grab his cell phone, text the guys and ask if they could believe what had just happened. Which probably meant he should surrender his man card on the spot, but Maddie had been amazing. They’d been amazing together. Which would just make getting up and leaving her alone in bed that much harder.
Yeah. He was pretty much screwed, and not in the good way, either.
10
MADDIE OVERSLEPT, WHICH was Mason’s fault. First he’d done all those crazy things with the Popsicle, then he’d loved her until she’d fallen asleep. She probably should have been embarrassed that he’d worn her out but, hey, it had been in the best possible way. She looked forward to doing it again.
Unfortunately, the man in question had slipped out at some ungodly hour. If she’d been back home, she’d have been just going to bed, and instead he was getting up. When she’d protested—and, admittedly, she hadn’t been all that coherent because dark o’clock was her conversational nadir—he’d brushed a kiss over her forehead and said the magic incantation. Work.
So what if she already felt a gnawing ache at his absence and missed the feel of his warm, strong arms around her? Don’t be ridiculous. You have plenty of work yourself. With her time on the island winding down, she needed to wrap up the rest of her blog entries. She’d covered the villas, the food and the romantic cocktails. Today was wedding day, except, when she finally woke up early in the afternoon, she had a message from reception telling her that the Guzman party had canceled and wouldn’t be getting married after all. Unfortunately, no other nuptials were scheduled for today or even for the rest of the week. Which meant she was SOL unless she could find some faux stand-ins.
The island was quiet and nearly deserted when she stepped outside. There was plenty of sun, though, so her shots would come out. Julieta had wanted a sunset ceremony and the day was perfect for that. She’d shot the other woman a quick sympathetic email. She didn’t know what was up, but she hoped Julieta was okay and that Mr. Guzman hadn’t broken up with her right before the wedding. Or maybe the bride-to-be had gotten cold feet, their private plane had broken down or any one of a dozen other reasons that still left Maddie in the lurch, looking for a replacement couple.
Unfortunately, she kept mentally casting Mason as the groom, which wasn’t a good thing. He was like the fish she didn’t get to keep and had to throw back. Sex with Mason had been out-of-this-world perfect. Who knew Fantasy Island could live up to its name? Or that her stoic chef would be so very, very good at role-playing? He made her feel like the center of his universe—that elusive, intangible something she’d craved watching other people’s weddings. She’d never met a guy who would do an
ything for her, up to and including Mr. I’ll-Buy-You-Lobster-And-Break-Up-With-You.
Things seemed different with Mason. She was different. Sure, the sex was awesome, but that wasn’t all. He listened to her. And, underneath his tough-guy exterior, he was one big sweeter-than-candy marshmallow.
She trudged over to Ashley’s villa and banged on the door. She needed a model, and Ashley was a pretty single girl. When her friend didn’t answer right away, she banged again.
“Is there a fire?” Ashley pulled open the door, looking slightly disheveled. She wore a gray tank top and cotton shorts that revealed how seriously toned the woman was. She was also barefoot, her nails pink with white polka dots.
“Not yet. I need your help.”
Ashley didn’t hesitate. “Hit me.”
“I need photographs of a beach wedding and my bride canceled on me.”
Asking for favors sucked, but she needed these photos.
“You can say no,” she rushed to say. “Participating is completely, one hundred percent optional.”
Ashley nodded, and relief swept over Maddie. Her wedding would be a go. “Got it. What am I doing?”
“Getting hitched.”
Ashley grinned. “I think you should give me a ring if you’re going to pop the question. Since I doubt you’re asking me, who am I marrying?” She looked down at her pajamas. “And do I get to change first?”
“Thank you.” She babbled more words, shoving a plastic bag of clothing at Ashley. “The groom is TBD, but I’ll have one for you. I promise.
Ashley peeked inside and grinned. “You owe me a drink. A good one.”
Maddie figured the white string bikini with BRIDE sequined over the butt was worth an entire magnum of champagne, and Ashley hadn’t even spotted the lacy pareo yet. Plus, Maddie had a crown of flowers in a box and a Home Shopping Network wedding-band set.
“Meet me on the beach in fifteen minutes.”
“Roger that.” Ashley flashed her another grin and then disappeared back inside her bungalow, the bikini clutched in her fist. Now all she needed was a groom. She found her victim at the pool. The pool guy was stacking another one of his never-ending piles of towels. He’d do. She marched over and tapped him on the shoulder.
He swung around, an easy grin on his lips as she scanned his name tag. “Morning, darling.”
He was big and buff, if slightly tired looking, and absolutely perfect. “I need to borrow you, Levi.”
He grinned and ran a hand down his front. “Do I pass inspection?”
She gave him another assessing stare. “You’d be even better if you were blond, but otherwise you’re perfect.”
“First time I’ve heard that today,” he muttered, the grin fading.
She’d empathize about the bad day later—when she wasn’t losing the light. “So that’s a yes on the borrow?”
He jammed the rest of the towels onto the shelf and turned around. “All yours. Lead on.”
Maddie wasn’t sure what he’d expected, but when she directed him onto the beach where Ashley was waiting, he cursed beneath his breath. Since Ashley was absolutely stunning, Maddie wasn’t sure what the problem was. Ashley didn’t seem particularly thrilled to see her faux groom, either.
“Hey, Maddie?”
“What’s up?” If they didn’t get started soon, she’d miss the sunset.
“What exactly am I doing here?”
“Getting married.” She beamed at him and handed him a beach bag. “Your clothes are in there. Go change.”
For a minute, it appeared Levi might drop his pants right there on the beach. Possibly, Maddie decided, because Ashley was glaring at him. Then, with a muttered curse, he disappeared into a grove of palm trees. Nice. She had a groom with a potty mouth. Thank God for fantasies—and Photoshop.
“You’re cranky. Tell me why.” She positioned Ashley on the sand and eyed the horizon. Ten minutes until sunset. She hoped Levi would hurry up, or she’d have to go drag him out here herself.
Ashley made a face. “Did you have to pick him?”
“I assure you, I had purely superficial reasons. He’s hunky. He’s tall. He’s also the only single guy I could scare up who was bachelor-aged.”
Ashley snorted. “His ego’s even bigger than he is. I wouldn’t marry him if he was the last man on earth.”
“Right back at you, sunshine,” Levi drawled, striding over to join them. He wore the pair of white swim trunks with GROOM embroidered on the butt that she’d picked out for the shoot from the hotel gift shop. The shorts rode low on his hips, the black band of his underwear peeking out. His steel-toes flopped untied around his ankles. How anyone wore those in the sand was beyond Maddie.
“I’m demanding hazard pay for this particular job,” he grumbled, hiking up the shorts.
Ashley leaned over and smacked his butt. “Toe the line, buddy. And lose the boots. You look ridiculous.”
While the two of them bickered over Levi’s choice in footwear, Maddie waved over the male employee the resort had sent to stand in as the minister. Their minister was a dignified middle-aged man in a cream linen suit.
“Okay, guys. Let’s get started.”
While the minister began the ceremony, Maddie got busy with her camera. At some point, Ashley must have won the footwear war, because Levi was barefoot. At the minister’s prompting, the two joined hands and Maddie clicked away. The shots would look gorgeous and her blog followers would eat it up.
“Maybe we should have discussed exclusivity,” a deep voice growled in her ear. Hard arms snaked around her waist, pulling her back against a warm, familiar body. “What are you doing with poor Levi?”
“Nothing too permanent.” She flashed a grin up at Mason. “I’m marrying him.”
He bent his head and nipped her ear. “That was fast.”
“To Ashley.”
He grinned. “Even faster.”
“Now that you’re here, you can help,” she said happily. Mason always made everything easier. “You can give the bride away. Just lose your shirt. We’re going for the bare-chested-man edition.”
“You just want to see me without my shirt.”
“Added bonus and not part of my original plan. Scout’s honor.” She held up two fingers. “Chop, chop, because we’re losing the light.”
She started directing the pair, having Ashley walk down the rose-petal-strewn “aisle” that was a pretty stretch of white sand. Having obediently stripped off his shirt, Mason took her arm. He handed her over to Levi with an audible “Behave.” Honestly, Maddie wasn’t sure which one he was talking to. There was a glint in Levi’s eyes that promised mischief. She didn’t know the man, but she recognized trouble when she saw it.
As the minister spoke, she moved around the trio, shooting.
“Good thing they’re not doing this for real,” Mason muttered as Ashley elbowed Levi in the ribs when he didn’t add his “I do” fast enough. “Most of us aren’t marriage material.”
He could add her to that number. She could feel the heat of him behind her as he followed her easily, steadying her with his hands on her hips when she leaned in to capture a particularly tantalizing moment. At least Ashley and Levi had chemistry, even if they didn’t have happily-ever-after in their future. She and Mason had that kind of spark, too, although without the animosity.
“You ever think about getting married?” she blurted, the words flying out of her mouth before she could take them back. Darn it. Now she probably sounded as if she was ring hungry. And it wasn’t that. Not really. It was just that sometimes she was lonely and it would be nice to have someone around. Nicer still to wake up with that someone in the morning and go to bed with him at night after sharing the day’s highs and lows. It was all too easy to imagine Mason being that guy.
On the other ha
nd, she was pretty good at being on her own. Not having a permanent guy in her life meant she didn’t have a chance to get lazy. She took care of herself.
“Are you proposing?” Dark eyes glinting, Mason wrapped his hands around her waist. “Because I’m definitely flattered. Hold on.”
Before she could protest, he lifted her onto his shoulders so she could get some overhead shots. And holy wow...he didn’t even have to strain to lift her over his head, and that was damned sexy because she wasn’t tiny or small boned by any means. It took her a couple of moments to catch her breath. One minute, she had her feet on the ground and the next, her thighs were draped over his shoulders, his large, warm hands wrapped around her thighs as he steadied her. Her new position had other parts of her pressing against his neck as her dress billowed around her.
“Are you crazy?” she hissed at him. Damn it, he didn’t even have enough hair to grab on to. She settled for digging her heels into his chest. The man was insane.
Are you proposing? His words echoed in her head, like some kind of crazy subliminal suggestion. Except it wasn’t subliminal, was it? Not if she was thinking about it deliberately. He tucked her dress beneath her knee and patted it.
“You’re good,” he said, turning to point her toward the beach action. He did that a lot, made sure she had what she needed. He was such a sweet guy, and...just maybe he could be something else. Mason would take care of her, if she let him. It was a strangely seductive thought. He was big and safe, and clearly she could lean on him. Or sit on him. She patted his shoulder and snorted. He was strong enough to handle the pressure.
“I won’t let you fall. Take your pictures,” he said calmly. Ashley looked over and winked at her, and of course it was the perfect shot.
11
HE WAS 100 percent crazy. Watching his fellow SEAL fake marry Ashley Dixon made Mason fantasize. It was embarrassing but, since the daydreams were all in his head, he didn’t have to admit the truth to anyone else. What if it was him and Maddie standing there, hand in hand on the beach, getting ready to tackle life together? Whoa. Stand down, sailor. Their relationship wasn’t real—it was an illusion he was selling so he could play bodyguard on the down low. Their relationship wasn’t any realer than the “marriage” happening in front of them.