Turning, she headed toward the door of the cabin. She saw him even before she stepped out on the porch. He was hurrying up the path. In her mind, she pictured running to him across the sand. He would sweep her up into his arms and carry her down to a secluded section of the beach.
It was the water bottle she'd left on the top step that shattered the image forming in her mind. Her foot snagged on it, and she made a grab for the post. It kept her from falling, but it also swayed ominously, rattling more loose shingles on the roof. Three of them showered to the ground and one landed on Lucas's shoulder as he reached her.
"Are you all right?" he asked, brushing it off.
"Are you?" It was his quick grin that made her smile, and suddenly they were both laughing. When she reached for the post again to steady herself, he grabbed her hand.
"Please. I don't want to be hit by any more falling debris."
She felt a fresh wave of laughter bubbling up.
When it finally subsided, she found she was standing on the bottom step, his hands were at her waist, steadying her, and her eyes were level with his. Laughter had lightened the color, but the blue was already deepening, and his gaze had become intent. Her body reacted instantly, every nerve ending snapping to attention the way they always seemed to when he was close.
Her gaze dropped to his mouth. His lips were wide, not thin … not too full either. It was hard to tell if they would be hard or soft, and she had a sudden, compelling need to find out. In her dream, he'd touched her – everywhere. But he hadn't kissed her. She leaned closer.
"Doc…" Lucas cleared his throat as he tightened his grip on her waist, once more steadying her. "I came back to the cabin to tell you that I don't need twenty-four hours. I've reached a decision."
A quick skip of panic moved through her. He was going to say no. To forestall him, she pressed her fingers against his mouth. "I've reached a decision too."
"Go ahead."
The movement of his lips against her fingers sent a wave of heat through her. "I was coming down to the beach to…"
"Yes?"
Another wave of heat shot through her. "I wanted to … that is, I wondered if you…" It was hard to keep her mind on the fantasy, hard to think of anything but the pressure, the heat of his mouth on her fingers. What would his lips feel like on hers? What would they taste like? At the same time that she struggled to keep her focus, she couldn't seem to prevent herself from moving closer. "I have a fantasy in mind…"
"Yes."
In the fantasy that filled her mind, he gripped her wrist to pull her hand away. Then his mouth crushed hers, strong arms lifted her, carrying her into the cabin, and then the full weight of his body pressed her into the mattress of that narrow cot. Even as a sharp spear of pleasure streaked through her, she struggled to rid her mind of the image. She was supposed to be creating his fantasy, not hers.
Struggling to concentrate, she said, "My name is Lania. You're shipwrecked on my island. And every day I've come from the village to nurse you. To bring you food. There isn't a part of your body I haven't seen." She pictured it in her mind. "There isn't a part of you I haven't touched." She could feel the smooth skin stretched taut over long bones, solid muscles. "You've been growing stronger every day. You haven't noticed, but I've been watching you work on your boat. I know that you'll leave soon. But before you do … I want to – I need to—"
She wasn't sure what it was – the fantasy that her words were conjuring up in her mind or the heat that seemed to be steadily drawing her closer to him. But the need she felt to kiss him had twisted into something sharp and compelling inside her. She dragged her fingers away from his mouth, rubbing them over his bottom lip as she did.
"I just have to kiss you. I've been dreaming of doing this for so long." Framing his face with her hands, she touched her mouth to his. His lips were neither soft nor hard. "Just right," she murmured.
"What?"
She drew back slightly but she didn't meet his eyes. She couldn't seem to take her gaze from his lips. "Not too hard. Not too soft. Your mouth feels just right, I was wondering…"
This time when she pressed her mouth to his, she couldn't seem to prevent her tongue from slipping between his lips. If she'd thought he'd tasted good a moment before, this was heaven. Not sweet really, and not any flavor that she could remember tasting before. It reminded her just a little of her favorite childhood candy – the dark chocolate that her father would always send her on her birthdays and that her mother would take away from her and hide. It always tasted so delicious, so forbidden when she found it.
But Lucas's taste was much more potent. It seemed to be spreading through her, clouding her mind – and she had to focus. She'd forgotten for a moment the fantasy. In just a minute – or two – she'd have to get back to it.
And she would … definitely … just as soon as she tasted him one more time. Withdrawing a little, she nipped at his bottom lip, then let her tongue probe deeper. The tip of it brushed the edge of his teeth, then met his tongue. In the space of a heartbeat, the flavor changed again to something very dark and very male. As it streamed through her, she tightened her hands on him and felt her toes curl on the edge of the step. In the space of a heartbeat, each sensation intensified – the rough wood of the porch beneath her bare feet, the burning warmth of his thighs pressed against hers. Beneath her hands, she felt the sharp line of cheekbones, the hard strength of his jaw.
She wanted more. She wanted him to touch her, to kiss her back. And he was just standing there, letting her do whatever she wanted. Suddenly chilled, she drew away and met his eyes.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"You stopped. Why?"
She blinked. "You're not kissing me back. I should have insisted that you fill out the questionnaire. Then I would have some idea—"
"Forget the questionnaire and kiss me again."
*
It seemed like an eternity to Lucas as he waited for her to bring her mouth to his again. He'd seen the confusion in her eyes and the hurt. He wanted to erase both. More than that, he wanted to ease her to the ground and run his hands over her, slowly, molding every inch of her until she felt as helpless as he did.
How could he possibly explain to her what he didn't understand himself? He hadn't touched her, he hadn't taken control of the kiss because he quite simply couldn't. Even now, he wasn't sure he could lift his arms.
Was it the fantasy that her words had conjured up? He'd imagined what it might be like to lie there, powerless, while she touched him – everywhere.
Or had it been the reality of her kiss – the softness of her lips and those tiny, tentative movements of her tongue as it glided over his? Perhaps it was the combination that had acted like a powerful drug on his system, pouring through him and trapping him in a world of sensations.
He wasn't sure of anything except that she'd weakened him. He'd never allowed a woman to do that to him before. And it wouldn't happen again. This time he intended to be in control of himself, but the moment her mouth brushed against his, a short, explosive fuse ignited. Any intention he had of keeping the pressure light and teasing was blown away. Feelings she'd stirred up with that first kiss tore through him in a series of explosions, and wave after wave of sensations rocked him.
He'd never been so aware of a woman before – the helpless hitch of her breath when he nipped at her bottom lip, the husky, pleading sound of her moan as he swallowed it, and her skin … it was on fire. He could feel the flames licking at his fingers as they moved down her throat over her breasts, burning him even through the thin material of the bathing suit And her taste, the deep ripe flavor poured through him.
He'd sensed this raw passion in her before, simmering beneath the surface, waiting to break free. He could feel it now in the way her hands gripped him, in the way her mouth met each of his demands with one of her own.
Though the ocean was over fifty yards away, he could have sworn he was standing in it, feeling the push and pull of the water as it sucked the sand out from beneath his feet. He pulled her closer for balance and felt her breasts crush against the hard line of his chest. It wasn't enough.
Desperation clawed at him as he ran his hands over her. He knew he was being rough. And in some distant part of his mind, he knew he should slow down, be patient. But his hands seemed to be operating of their own accord, following one directive – he simply had to get her closer to him. Impatient with the bathing suit, he stripped it down to her waist and cupped her breast in his hand. It was as soft as rainwater. Liquid silk. He wanted to savor it, taste it, but she arched against him, calling his name.
He had to have more.
"Mac." He cupped his free hand under her hip. "Scoot up. Wrap your legs around me."
With a murmur of acceptance, approval, she did. Then, arching against him again, she began to move, rubbing against his hardness. What he'd thought were flames before couldn't compare to the searing heat that sliced through him now. He'd felt need before, but not this kind – unreasonable, unmanageable. Something inside him snapped with the same quick finality of a switch being pulled. Then he wasn't thinking at all.
Sinking to his knees, he managed to pull down the zipper of his jeans, push aside the thin protection of her suit, and then he was sinking into her. But it still wasn't enough. With a quick, savage movement of his hips he went deeper, stretching her, feeling her slick, hot core take all of him. Gripped fiercely inside her, he felt his climax begin to build. His hips began to move, thrusting harder and faster. Swearing, he drove her, drove himself until the final release and the world went dark around him.