The small island stuck up out of the water like a green porcupine with trees for the quills. It was nothing short of stunning. Definitely there were lots of coconuts. But nothing else except a mile or so of gorgeous white sandy beach.
“Where are all the other contestants?”
“I dunno.” Fitz toyed with something on his navigation system, throttled back until they glided to a halt, and then killed the engine. “Maybe they’re around on the other side? Or late?”
But there was no dock or marina or anything even remotely civilized about this place. It was as wild as the beat of her pulse in her throat that she couldn’t quite tame after the word kiss had rolled off Fitz’s tongue so casually.
“How are we going to get to shore?”
“Swim maybe.” But he wasn’t looking at the island, he was looking at her with lazy interest that set off a dozen or more alarms. “But you’d get all wet.”
“I’ll… uh, dry.” Assuming that wasn’t supposed to be a double entendre. If it was, then dry wasn’t the goal. And he was already halfway to getting her good and soaked with nothing more than his voice.
“I was being serious.” He flowed to his feet and held out a hand, which she was clearly supposed to take. She did. He hauled her out of her chair, and before she could blink, his arms slid around her waist. “About this being the kissing part.”
“Oh.” All righty then. The pinwheel of gold flaring around his pupils mesmerized her. “Is kissing the established way to celebrate finding the next destination?”
There was really nothing else to do with her arms but put them around his waist as well, and oh, yes, that was exactly where she wanted them. Her whole body sang with the promise of kissing. With Fitz. Because he was so… everything.
“Yes. Absolutely. We’ll make it a thing.” His gaze dropped to her mouth. “But the thing right now is that you’re driving me crazy and I have been taunted with the promise of tasting you since you first brought it up. I don’t think I can fully concentrate on finding the next clue until we’ve cleared up this little mystery between us.”
She was mysterious? A delicious tendril of need stabbed through her abdomen as his thumb brushed across the corner of her mouth. And then everything froze—time, her heart—as his lips touched hers.
She should have heeded the warnings.
In a flash, he dragged her deeper into his arms, and all the ferociously hard planes of his body molded to hers. The kiss fell open, sucking her down a rabbit hole of sensation as his lips slanted over hers, completely melting her insides. Good thing he had her. Oh, yes, he did. Those arms.
The slick, hot slide of his tongue against hers slammed through her senses at the same moment his hand cupped her rear, pushing her hips into closer contact with his, where she became intimately familiar with how very turned on he was. The hard length of his erection pressed into her stomach.
That was for her. And the power of it exploded inside her with a dangerous, dark edge. Yes, that was his implicit risk—that he could make her feel wanton and needy, things she scarcely knew what to do with.
But he knew. His fingers danced along her spine, and within a moment had snaked under her shirt to explore the bare skin of her back. She moaned and arched against him. Instantly he responded by changing the angle of the kiss, yanking more long, taut pulls from her core.
All at once the boat lurched, throwing her sideways, but he easily caught her, holding her steady against his body. He’d barely moved, but the kiss was effectively broken.
“Remember where we were,” he murmured.
“I’m pretty sure that will be emblazoned across my mind for a long time to come,” she said wryly as his arms dropped away.
His smile warmed the rapidly cooling places inside. “More where that came from. But give me a minute. The boat is drifting with the tide.”
She’d thought the motion was just her soaring along with the sensation of kissing a gorgeous chunk of man like Fitz. But when she glanced around, they were much closer to the island than they had been.
And then he swore as he tapped on the navigation tablet. “These depth charts are off base too. I think the motor hit a sandbar.”
The water was clear enough this close to shore to see that the motor had run aground. Fitz heaved over the side and splashed down. His feet touched the bottom, which was not a good sign. While he’d been sating his curiosity about how responsive Lilah would be when he kissed her, the boat had made the acquaintance of the island.
“Can you get it loose?” she asked and caught her bottom lip between her teeth. Clearly worried.