Jill Shalvis - The Trouble With Paradise

But then he added his fingers to the mix, and she completely and totally burst right out of herself.

An orgasm.

With a man.

Without working at it, she was having a mind-blowing orgasm. This time when her legs gave out, he let her fall, though he caught her, yanking her onto his lap, covering her mouth with his, his hands urging her thighs open, wrapping them around his hips.

Then his pants were somehow open… okay, she opened them… and she straddled him right there on the bank of the natural pool, on the soft, still warm sand beneath a skinny moon. Gripping her hips, he slowly pushed up inside her.

“Ohmigod!”

He wrapped her ponytail around his hand and pulled her head back to his, kissing her hard, ensuring her silence as he arched up, seating himself deep within her, oh God, so deep.

She’d never felt such a bone-melting heat, never, ever, and starting from within, working its way out, making it almost impossible for her to do the quiet thing. “Christian-”

“I know.” He whispered this against her mouth, moving in and out of her with a heart-stopping sensation that was not only unexpected, but suddenly as necessary as air.

Her eyes were open, locked on his as he rocked his hips in a glorious, maddening, perfect motion. She stared at him, thinking he was so beautiful, all hard angles and intense heat. She’d never kept her eyes open during such an intimate moment before. Never thought to, but this felt so real, so real she almost couldn’t stand it.

“Okay?” he whispered.

“So okay.”

His smile was reward indeed. Lifting his head, he glided his mouth along her jaw to her neck, tasting her as he slid into her, over and over, until she tightened her legs around him, until she, unbelievably, felt herself begin to go over again.

Two orgasms in less than ten minutes.

She couldn’t believe it, but she didn’t even have time to marvel at it because he shifted, gripping her legs as he subtly changed the angle to thrust even more deeply inside her. A soft gasp escaped her at this, mirrored by his own rough breath. Her name was on his lips when he groaned and came, and she spared the second to think that it was the most lovely sound she’d ever heard, before she exploded all over him, giving herself up completely to the mesmerizing, sweet, hot, glorious sensation of being lost.

Even as she felt found.

Christian didn’t know how long he and Dorie clung to each other by the lagoon, breathing like crazy, serenaded by the island, which pulsed with life around them.

That wasn’t the only thing pulsing.

He could still feel her body twitching, contracting around him, milking him dry, and the sensation kept him hard.

She was something, so much so that he was going to be ready for round two if he wasn’t careful. Normally at this point of the evening’s festivities, his mind would already be wandering, but his brain remained solidly on task-do her again.

Focus.

From his vantage point of being flat on his back, he could see the two cliffs high above the lagoon. Closer, hanging from the rock just above them, was a cluster garden of poinsettias, oleanders, and an assortment of fruit trees: papaya, sour sop, tamarind… “We’re not going to starve to death.”

She didn’t respond. Or, for that matter, move. That couldn’t be good. Sinking his fingers into her hair, he lifted her face from where she’d pressed it into his shoulder.

She was wearing those sweet, drown-in-me eyes. In spite of himself, his heart rolled over and exposed its underbelly. Her mouth was soft, and just a little swollen from his kisses. And her hair… all over the place, more than usual that is, including a strand stuck to his jaw and another stabbing him in the eyes. Her two camisoles were still shoved down past her ribs, her skirt rucked up around her waist, exposing her mouthwatering breasts and the treasure between her legs, which made his mouth water even more.

Except for that look in her eyes. The one that said she was falling for him, that said she was making plans which undoubtedly included a white picket fence and a set of hopes and dreams to boot.

Even that wasn’t his biggest problem. He could fall as well. He’d been having sex since his fifteenth birthday, when a nurse from his father’s clinic had seduced him beneath a Brazilian summer night’s sky. He’d been with his fair share of women since, maybe more than his fair share, and he’d even managed a few good relationships out of the deal.

But nothing compared to the five-minute quickie on this godforsaken island in the arms of a woman with the eyes that could slay him in less than a single heartbeat. “Dorie.”

She smiled. “I know. Sand. Everywhere.”

When he didn’t return the smile, hers faded, her expression telling him she was already prepared for rejection. “Don’t worry, Christian. I know what that was. A release of fear, tension, and adrenaline. I’d get up, but my knees are still knocking together and I don’t think I can stand.”

He closed his eyes. She slayed him, all the way through.

With a soft breath that spoke volumes, she slipped off of him and moved away.

Jerk that he was, he let her go. Or started to. Then his damn conscience rose up and bit him on the ass. “Dorie.”

She’d turned her back to him as she fought with her clothing, which involved a lot of muttering as she attempted to right her two tops. Finally she yanked them both off and started over.

He rolled to his feet, ignored the undeniable fact that his own knees were still knocking together as well, and watching her bare breasts bounce in the moonlight as she dressed didn’t help. “Listen-”

“I’d head back alone, but I’m pretty sure I’d get lost.” She said this very quietly, still not looking at him. “So if you could just point me in the right direction, and maybe watch my back-”

He took her arm and pulled her around to face him.

She studied something over his shoulder. “If we don’t get back soon, they’ll wonder-”

“I don’t sleep with guests.”

“Except for tonight,” she pointed out, still not looking him in the eyes.

Good point. “And I’m not sure why.”

“I know why,” she whispered. “For me, anyway. It’s… been a long time. Really long.”

In the dark he could sense her embarrassment and imagined that her ears glowed, and he felt a tug in the region of his chest. “I wish I could say the same, but-”

“You know what’s really funny?” She laughed, the sound more heartbreaking than amusing. “I actually wanted to comfort you. Over Bobby. Can you believe it? I thought I could.” She sighed. “Look, don’t worry.” She patted his arm. “We’re okay.”

Then she walked off.

“Dorie?”

“Trying to have a dignified exit here,” she called back.

“Wrong way.”

“Oh. Right.” She did an about-face, passed him, and kept going, heading through the forest by herself in spite of her fear and trepidation, reminding him yet again like a punch to the gut just how brave and courageous a woman she was.

She’d laugh at that. She’d say he was the brave one, considering his job and how he’d lived. But she’d be wrong. Because she wore her heart on her sleeve, leaving it out there to be treasured.

Or not.

Brave as hell.

While he, on the other hand, had buried his heart deep, refusing to open it up for much of anything these days. Which made him the coward. He scrubbed a hand over his face. He just needed to let her go, and keep his distance.

Ahead of him the branches rustled, and then came a muffled female curse. He tipped his head up to the star-riddled sky. For a brief moment he actually considered letting her go on by herself, letting her walk away and go back to the beach on her own, all to maintain that distance he needed.

Another round of rustling, and a soft cry of distress.

Ah, hell. Of course he had to go after her. If by any chance at all she was right about Bobby being pushed off the boat then they were all still in possible danger, and even he wasn’t coldhearted enough to not care. He headed after her, through the clearing, skidding to a stop at the sight of her at the top of the cliff, standing so still he’d have wondered if she was breathing if it wasn’t for the single tear making its way down her cheek.

His heart, the one which only a moment ago had turned over and exposed its underbelly, cracked right down the center. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” She swiped at the tear. “Nothing at all.”

“Don’t.” He’d froze at the sight of her and that single tear on her face. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m not.” She sniffed and hugged herself. “I’m not doing anything, I’m just standing here.”

The pit of his stomach contracting into a knot, he took a step toward her, but was surprised when she jerked away.

“Look, I’m not crying over you, all right? So stop looking at me like that, all pitying and worried that you broke the poor stupid passenger’s heart. You probably break all their hearts, but you didn’t break mine. I’m crying because my ankle hurts, and because my hair is frizzy, because I look like something the cat dragged in, and because we’re trapped here without M &M’s, and damn it, because my splinter hurts!” She slid a hand over her ass and gingerly rubbed. “But I am not crying over you! I would never cry over you.”

Okay, that was good. “Um…”

“That’s my word, remember?”

He found himself wanting to smile. Only a moment ago he’d wanted to cut off his own stupid dick, but now he wanted to smile. No doubt, she was slowly but surely driving him over the edge. “We need to ice the ankle if it’s still aching.”

“Okay, I’ll just call room service.”

“I have instant ice packs in my gear. And as for your hair… it isn’t that bad-”

She glared at him.

Christ, had he learned nothing about women at all? “Actually,” he said very quickly, “it looks just fine, I swear.”

She didn’t move a single muscle but he’d have sworn her ear cocked outward slightly.

She was listening.

He raced on. “And for the rest of your problems, well, I think I just proved I can’t keep my hands-or my mouth-off of you, so you can cross the worries about your looks off your list. You’re sexy as hell, Dorie, and so goddamn beautiful I had to talk myself out of having you again.”

There. Her eyes met his. Definitely listening.

“And I should tell you,” he said softly, moving a little closer. “I have a secret stash of M &M’s in my bag, though they’re the peanut ones. Do those work for you?”

Her eyes practically shimmered, full of so much emotion it almost hurt to look at her.

“If you’re lying about the M &M’s,” she finally said shakily, “I’ll hurt you.”

He lifted a hand to his heart. “I promise. They’re yours, if-”

Her face creased into disbelief. “There’s an if?”

“If you let me help you get that splinter out.”

Both hands went to her ass now. “No.”

“There’s no need for this…” He waved a hand toward her splinter. “Savoir-faire.”

“What?”

“False modesty. Look, I just got an up-front and personal view of every inch of you, remember?”

“It’s not modesty.” She bit her lower lip. “Okay, it is. But…”

“But?”

“I just had a quickie, and I don’t do quickies. Worse, I did it with a guy who prefers to pretend it didn’t happen. I really need to be alone with the M &M’s.”

“I can’t leave you alone.”

“Then don’t. I’ll leave you alone.” And with that, she walked away. Luckily, she walked the right way, so he didn’t have to do anything but follow at a respectful distance.

But as he did, he wondered at the odd sense of regret he felt, and the certainty he’d just blown the best thing that had ever happened to him.

Dorie made it back to camp, passing the fire pit to go directly to the makeshift shelter.

Cadence and Brandy sat on two pads, with a third between them, made up like a bed at a luxury hotel.

“Here, for you.” Brandy patted the empty pad. “Ethan set us up. Four-hundred-thread-count Egyptian silk, can you imagine?”

There was even a chocolate on her pillow.

“Also Ethan,” Cadence said. “Are you going to eat yours?”

“Knock yourself out.” Dorie plopped down on the pad, and feeling Brandy’s steady gaze on her, shifted uncomfortably. “What?”

“You gave up chocolate. Willingly.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“Now, see, that right there is a sign.” Brandy looked her over some more. “Plus your hair is a little wilder than usual, and your skirt seems slightly twisted off to the side. Interesting.”