by Annie O'Neil
Her brother was there. Of course. And a handful of other teams.
“Hey, Mini!” her brother shouted, throwing her a bottle of water. “We were about to send out the search parties.”
“Ha-ha,” she deadpanned.
He looked at her. Really looked at her. He dropped the attitude. “You okay?”
For the first time she felt as if he was going to listen to her answer and take it at face value. “Yeah,” she said, throwing a smile at Zach. “I’m good.”
Mak glanced at the body on the stretcher, then asked, “How long did you guys attempt resuscitation?”
“Over an hour.”
He made a whooping noise and whistled. “Mini? You are a legend.”
She and Zach threw one another questioning glances. “Why? We didn’t resuscitate him.”
“Maybe not, but you’ve always believed in trying your hardest. Respect.” He held up a fist for her to bump. He looked over his shoulder at the pack of competitors, each throwing back deep slugs of water or kneading sore muscles. “None of us did over twenty minutes.”
She and Zach shared another smile, this one shot through with a fresh, energizing sense of achievement—and then, because it was Zach, the look intensified into something far more intimate.
Mak didn’t miss the exchange.
She braced herself, prepared for him to thwack one of his tree trunk arms over Zach’s shoulders and take him on a little walk and talk to explain how things worked in the Kahale family.
Instead, he gave her a light punch on the arm and said, “I’m guessing you two probably need a long hot shower before the luau?”
Lulu practically choked on her surprise. Was her brother telling her he approved?
Mak gave a double shaka sign and congratulated them on a job well done, then left the pair of them standing there, temporarily speechless.
The only thing remaining between them now was a question she was too nervous to ask.
Do you want me?
Zach broke the silence first.
“I’m guessing this isn’t the best way to show up to a luau.” He looked down at his filthy outdoor gear, caked in red, iron-rich island mud.
Lulu instantly pictured herself peeling that top off him and scrubbing him clean. Heat darted into areas of her body she hadn’t realized could light up with lust.
Shakily, she said, “The luau’s not for a couple of hours.”
“Maybe you could help me pick out the best shirt to wear?”
Lulu’s eyes shot to Zach’s. “I—I could do that. If you trust me.”
Zach’s eyes dropped to her mouth as she spoke. It felt tactile, his gaze...
She swallowed and reflexively licked her lips.
“I trust you.”
Those three words... He knew how much they meant to her.
She became aware of her breasts growing heavy—not under the weight of the wet, muddy top, but under the weight of his eyes, which were noticing—yup—her nipples standing to attention.
“I should probably change, too,” she managed.
“Mmm... And I’d better call Harry. A quick check-in.”
“Yeah.” She felt herself brighten. “Harry would be proud of you.”
“Of us,” Zach corrected.
And just like that they became an “us.” She’d never been an “us” before. Sure, she’d dated. Had boyfriends. But none she’d ever really admitted to. It was like trying on a dress she’d never thought she’d look good in and realizing it made her look absolutely beautiful.
Us.
The word was catapulted to the top of her list of Most Wonderful Words in the World.
Us.
It even tasted good.
Zach shifted his weight, his eyes pinging to the hotel and back. He was making a decision. A big one. A single dad with a disabled kid wasn’t going to let just anyone into his heart space, let alone his bed.
She held her breath.
His eyes met hers, decision made. “Apparently there’s a really good club sandwich on the room service menu. I know the luau’s coming up, but I’m a bit hungry now. We could call Harry... Go over tomorrow’s schedule... Line our stomachs a bit before we try another one of those mai tais.”
We.
Us.
“Good idea,” Lulu said. Or maybe she didn’t.
They were so busy staring at one another, trying to figure out what this new world order was, she didn’t really have a clue what was happening.
Maybe they’d stand here all day, staring at one another like lovestruck idiots.
Maybe her brother would find them at midnight and clonk their heads together and point out the obvious. They needed to get a room.
Maybe they’d be struck by lightning.
Eventually—mercifully—one or both of them started walking. The outdoors became the indoors. One corridor led to another, and then the elevator, and then another corridor, and then, without so much as a word passing between them, they found themselves outside Zach’s hotel room.
He tugged the key out of his back pocket. “You good with this?”
She nodded. She was. And there wouldn’t be any need for the room service menu. She had everything she needed right in front of her.
CHAPTER TEN
THE SECOND THE door clicked shut Zach felt every chain he’d wrapped around his heart unlock and drop to the ground. He felt free in a way he hadn’t in years.
At last. The fight was over. Resisting his attraction to Lulu hadn’t made him stronger, wiser, or better able to defend his son. It had hobbled him. And Harry. And Lulu. And holding either of them back was the last thing he wanted to do.
He looked at her as if seeing her entirely anew.
Smart, funny, feisty, fiery, sexy Lulu. The yin to his yang. The fire to his ice. All of the opposites combining into something better, not worse.
Today his attraction to her had deepened into something he’d thought he’d never feel again. Love. Or at least the beginnings of it. He trusted her. With his heart and his son’s. It was a powerful realization.
She looked up at him, those amber eyes of hers glinting through the inky darkness of her lashes. There was an openness in her expression he hadn’t seen before. It wasn’t vulnerability. It was consent. Belief. And unfettered desire.
“Should we call Harry?”
“Definitely.”
He put his phone on speaker, and when Harry answered they described the day to him, their eyes glued to one another as they spoke, peeling off their boots and shoes. When the call ended they were still staring at one another, their breath coming short and fast as if they’d just run up a mountain. And in a way, they had. Both of them had opened up, baring their most vulnerable selves to the other, and had emerged from their admissions not only unscathed, but cared for. Deeply so.
His erection came so hard and fast he heard the leather on his belt strain in protest. He’d never wanted anyone more than he wanted Lulu, and from the dark gold glimmer of her eyes she felt the same way.
“You’re shivering,” he said.
“It’s cold,” she said.
It wasn’t. She was shaking with adrenaline. So was he.
“Before we do anything...” He stopped and cleared his throat. “Um... Do we need to define what this is?”
“It’s us,” she said. “Trying to figure out what this is.”
He nodded. Yeah. That was good. But... “Not much of a courtship...us hating each other at first sight.”
“It wasn’t hate,” she countered. “It was...frustration.”
He quirked his head to the side and nodded. That was right, too. “We’re very different.”
“That’s not always a bad thing.”
“What if it becomes a bad thing?”
“What if it doesn’t?”
He smiled.
She smiled back.
So it was settled. They were going to see what this was. No matter the outcome.
“Shower?” she asked, her eyes doing a quick scan of their muddy and rain-drenched clothes.
He took her hand in his and, without bothering to take her clothes off, led them straight under the rainforest shower heads in the huge wet room.
He’d been upgraded by the hotel, but hadn’t thought a thing of it until now. The wet room was otherworldly, bringing the outdoors inside. It had two walls of bamboo, and the water was dewing on the surface, creating a tiny waterfall on the beautifully tiled shower bench. The other two “walls” were retractable glass doors that led onto a small, private rooftop garden, filled with lush tropical plants.
He threw them open, relishing everything he’d barely noticed the night before. With Lulu by his side the setting was pretty damn sexy. Then again, he would’ve happily made love to her just about anywhere right now. They could’ve been in a double wide trailer or a palm leaf shack for all he cared. But adding the element of luxury to this long-awaited moment was a very nice cherry on top of a long-awaited sundae.
He tipped her chin up and dipped his mouth to hers, then kissed her hard, enjoying the way her lips felt like that first incredible sensation of biting into a soft-serve ice cream cone. Yielding, but rewarding. Mouthwatering in a way that only made him want more.
Though they had both literally dragged themselves through the jungle, she somehow managed to taste of vanilla, mint and coconut. He didn’t think he’d ever tire of the taste of her. And this was just the tip of the iceberg. Kissing. Standing in a shower with nothing more than a couple of flimsy T-shirts between them.
An insatiable hunger built inside him. It was beyond anything he’d felt before.
He’d thought what he and his ex had shared ranked up there, but he’d not had a clue.
His body’s response to Lulu was in another league.
Holding her in his arms, tasting her, touching her...her back, her waist, her hips...he felt as if he was being consumed whole by an unquenchable thirst.
Knowing that he could trust her, that she cared for him and his son—loved his son, even, and possibly loved him—meant more than he could ever put words to. He and Harry came as a unit, and until this moment he’d never realized how braced he’d been, ready to be found wanting because of it.
To Lulu, it seemed it was an asset. Having a boy so filled with love. Joy. Just like she was.
His kisses deepened. He wanted her. All of her. Taste. Touch. Sound. Pleasure. Pain. All of it.
“Wow...” she whispered against his lips as he turned on the matching shower heads.
“It’s no Turtle Hideaway, but...”
“It’ll do.”
Lulu play-growled, grabbing fistfuls of his T-shirt and tugging him closer to her. Their lips met again, and his body felt saturated by an all-consuming temperature explosion. Lava meeting lava. Impact succumbing to immersion. It was impossible to know where he began and she ended. He didn’t want to know. All he wanted was Lulu. Everything that made him who he was—common sense, lists, rules—was being swept into the drain along with the water pouring round the pair of them, energizing them as if it were a life-affirming ambrosia.
He felt her hands unceremoniously ruck up his T-shirt, her fingers pressing against his skin, tracing the lines of his stomach muscles, inching their way ever upwards, as if trying to commit the terrain of his torso to memory. Until, impatiently, she pushed his T-shirt up and over his head, her mouth leaving his only to find purchase on his nipples. Her tongue gave each one hot wet swirls of approbation, and her groans of pleasure at the sensation of skin on skin vibrated through to his chest. His heart. He’d never imagined being on fire would feel this good.
He slipped his fingers under her top and slowly...achingly slowly...pulled it up, enjoying feeling her body quiver in response to his touch.
“Take it off,” she begged. “I want to feel you against me.”
She was doing that, all right. Her hips were pressed into that sweet space that seemed to have been molded just for her, where his erection was taking on a life of its own...pulsing, demanding attention. If she so much as touched it with the tip of one of her fingers...
He grabbed her wrist as she began tugging at the clasp on his belt. “No.”
“Yes.”
Her chest arched into his, her hips nestling in closer, daring him to deny her access to all that strained at the fabric of his trousers. Hell. Every single pore in his body was aching to burst out of his clothes, rip hers off and take her right here and now on the tiled floor, but...
“Not yet.”
“I want you naked. Now.” Her voice was throaty. Hungry.
“When I say so.”
Something flickered in her eyes. On and off. On and off. She was rewiring her response to him. Twenty-four hours ago Lulu would’ve let him have hell for being so absolute.
Half-naked, ravenous, horny, today’s Lulu kind of liked it...handing the reins of control over to him. Her fingertips pressed into him as if she was trying to divine which direction to go. Push or pull. Take or be taken.
He saw the lights flick on again—full beam. She went up on tiptoe, leaning into him but not against him. “All right, then, Mr. Boss Man,” she whispered into his ear, nipping his lobe as she paused for breath. “Have it your way.”
He took the reins she’d just handed him and held on tight.
Her hunger for him made prolonging the moments of discovery all the more pleasurable. Finding the beauty mark just to the left of her belly button... The tiny tattoo of a starfish hidden between her ring and index fingers... The small scar etched into the divot between her hip and her rib cage...
“Coral...” she breathed against his neck as he traced his finger along the bump.
He didn’t know how he did it, but he took his time.
Eventually, when she threatened to rip her own clothes off, and his too while she was at it, he pulled her T-shirt up and over her head. Her hair fell free of the messy topknot she’d stacked it in, a slick of ebony cascading down her back.
He ran his hands over and through it as if it was one of the seven wonders of the world. “Let me wash it.”
She looked up at him, surprised. “No one’s asked to do that before.”
“Well, I’m asking now.”
“Why?”
There was the smallest hint of fragility in her voice. Defensiveness.
“I’d like to do it. Consider it my gift to you before I ravage you.”
She pulled him to her again, and he felt the small triangles of her lace bra rub against his chest, the tight nubs of her nipples straining against the fabric.
“I want you,” she whispered.
He wanted her, too. But he was enjoying this. Not just touching and holding her. It was the trust she was giving him. The openness. He wanted her to enjoy the luxury of caring and being cared for.
Lulu had locked the door of her emotional cupboard long ago. Way back when her parents had died, actively refusing help from anyone from that point forward.
He took the shampoo bottle off the small teak shelf, but she steered his hand back and he put it down.
“Why don’t you want me to wash your hair?” he asked.
She hesitated, then said, “Because I won’t be able to see your face.”
He got it. They were both on new terrain.
He put her hand on his belt buckle. “Go on. Take it off.”
He was handing back the reins. Letting her know this could go at whatever pace she wanted, stop or start whenever she blew the whistle—because this was something they had to do together, or they weren’t going to do it at all.
Her fingers trembled for a moment. She looked up at him and then, decision made, took tha
t belt buckle and whipped it out of its belt loops so fast he heard the clatter of the buckle on the tiled floor before he felt the exquisite release of his erection from his trousers.
He stepped out of the pile of saturated cotton and used his foot to flick it away. Lulu was right. Even a solitary thread of fabric between them was too much.
“Oh, my goodness me,” she said, in a voice double-dipped with approval.
Her tongue swept across her lips. An intense pulse of longing throbbed deep inside him.
“May I return the pleasure?” he asked, his fingers hitching onto the waistline of her hiking trousers.
“Please...” she managed, her eyes still glued to his arousal.
He dropped to his hands and knees, hushing her protests that his moving wasn’t fair because his body was too far away now as he undid the waist tie of her trousers and tugged them down in a oner. He threw them on top of his.
“Now,” he said, sitting back on his heels and sliding his hands along her legs up to the perfect curve of her butt. “Now it’s fair.”
As he rose she pushed him back, so that he was forced to sit down on the bench. The energy between them flashed and morphed into yet another form. Neither of them was in charge now. It was as if they’d handed this moment over to the more primitive parts of their hearts—their souls—leaving their bodies to respond organically to each other.
He pulled her to him so that she was straddling him, his arousal taut and pressing against her belly. He undid the front clasp of her bra, felt his breath catching in his throat at her sheer beauty. A completely naked Lulu...right here on his lap. She was so perfect he could hardly breathe.
If he were to have conjured up his own Aphrodite to step out of a seashell and into his arms it would have been Lulu. He lightly stroked each of her breasts, cupping them, tracing them, and when her nails clawed into his back, her hips ground into his, he pulled one of her nipples into his mouth as he rubbed the pad of his thumb against the other nipple, enjoying her whimper of response.
“We need protection,” she eventually managed. “Now.”