One hand fisted in the sand. Mindlessly, she clutched the back of his neck, holding his head in place against her breast, nearly sobbing with the need for him to touch her.
After an eternity, she felt the lightest of strokes between her folds and then he gave her all of it, all at once, plunging his fingers into her slick channel. Yes. Again. Yes, like that. His fingers were fast and talented, twisting against her sensitized walls expertly as he sucked on her nipple.
And again, he repeated the rhythm, until she shattered into a series of rippling climaxes that stole her breath, her vision, her brain. Spent, she fell back against the sarong as Charlie kissed her breast and covered it back up.
“That was sex in my book,” he said without an ounce of irony as he expertly tied her bottom halves back together over her hip bone. “What about yours?”
“It’s on every page,” she agreed shamelessly, still caught in his hot blue eyes. Her core throbbed through an aftershock and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. Again. “You win that round. Guess you should be considering what I might do to win round two.”
“Oh, yeah?” Piqued interest pulled the corners of his mouth into a wicked smile. “Whatever it is might already be on my list of fantasies. Give it a shot and I’ll let you know.”
The faint hum of a motor nixed that idea. Crap. The boat was here with impeccable timing, just as she was thinking about yanking Charlie’s shorts to his knees and seeing whether she could make him scream her name a couple of times.
Disappointed, she sat up. “Our ride. We have to go.”
There was something so… unfinished about letting a man drive her to a glorious orgasm without being given the opportunity to return the favor. Plus she wanted to see him, see the evidence that he liked the things she was doing to him. She wanted to taste him. The hard length digging into her stomach when she’d been riding his thigh had been next on her agenda.
Charlie stood and glanced down at her as if he’d guessed the direction of her thoughts. “Don’t worry. That was just to take the edge off. We’ll get to round two later tonight, which I have very specific ideas about.”
The carnal promise in his eyes built up the heat between her legs again. Or it hadn’t faded in the first place. Either way, she’d have to wait to sate her sudden thirst for this blistering hot man.
Later.
Once he got back to his suite, Charlie set the world record for fastest shower ever—alone, because he had plans for Ms. Anticipation, including a long, leisurely dinner in a secluded booth at the resort’s upscale restaurant on the beach.
A bottle of wine, some frothy chocolate concoction for dessert, then maybe a walk in the moonlight, some kissing… and then when he’d gotten her good and primed, he’d bring her back to his room for the culmination of a very long day of teasing.
If he could hold out.
Those sexy cries she’d made when he’d touched her. Perfection. He groaned, but refused to relieve the ache in his lower half with his own hand because hell if he was going to waste the energy when he’d have the real thing riding shotgun very soon.
In deference to the occasion, he ironed a button-down shirt to the point of crispness, rolled the sleeves to his forearms, and threw on a pair of slacks, which was about as dressed up as he could get.
Shock of all shocks, when Charlie entered the bar to wait for Audra, Jared Anderson stood behind the mahogany block, talking to the bartender. His old friend glanced up as Charlie slid into a seat, a smile lifting the corners of Jared’s mouth as he stuck out a hand over the bar to shake Charlie’s.
“Fancy meeting you here. Surely you’re not flying solo tonight,” Jared commented with a smirk. “Never thought I’d see the day the mighty Saint couldn’t score a date.”
Jared had been the first person to label him that. He was just jealous that women had always liked a decent guy who didn’t treat them like dirt. That never went out of style.
Charlie grinned. “Not hardly. She’ll be along. What brings you to the island? I thought you were busy until Thursday.”
When Jared had invited him to the resort, it had been with the caveat that Charlie would largely be on his own, which was totally fine by him. Jared ran a large empire here in the Caribbean, based out of Freeport on Grand Bahama, and his time was limited.
“I was,” Jared allowed. “I had to come out to address a couple of problems.”
Nodding to the bartender, Jared lifted the hinged pass-through and came around to the patron’s side, sliding onto the stool next to Charlie. The bartender lined up two shot glasses and poured a generous jigger of Patron into each, then garnished the edges with a lime wedge. He pushed the tequila shots in front of Jared and Charlie and turned his attention to the rest of the customers thronging the bar.