He did more than that. He grabbed all the dishes and cutlery they needed, spread out the cloth she'd brought as a tablecloth, and found a utility candle on a shelf. He stuck that in a mason jar and lit it.
"Nice touch," she murmured as she brushed past him with two groaning plates of food.
"It's getting dark," he said gruffly.
"Of course."
He should be annoyed at the hot and cold, but how could he be? They'd known each other less than a week and her job was on the line. And staying cold to each other wasn't an option, either. He couldn't help himself-so he could hardly blame her for indulging in a little flirtation.
Besides. A week-that was nothing. He'd spent longer on a mountainside staring down the scope of a rifle.
They ate in agreeable silence, only broken by his occasional groan of delight at how fucking good the food was. "I want to eat this every night."
"Welcome to Miralinda," she said with a wink. "We like our lobster."
It wasn't the same as he'd had in Maryland and Maine, but it was just as delicious in a different way. "What other island treats are in store for me?"
"Have you had conch?"
"Nope."
"Then we'll add that to the dancing date. And we have a lot of fruit, which you've already tried, and excellent eggs … "
"You should have excellent eggs, there are enough chickens running around the island."
She let out a hoot. "True. And pigs, too. Not here, but on the other side the mountain. Fantastic barbecued pork."
"You'll take me over there?"
She held his gaze. "I will. Promise."
They finished eating, then cleaned up together. With each passing minute his pulse picked up another beat, frustration swiftly building at the fact that their dinner was over and it was time for her to leave.
Time for him to go against all his instincts and leave her alone for a few days.
Time to say goodnight
In a minute, he told himself. "Are you going back to work tonight?"
"No," she said slowly as she reached up to put the last plate away. "I'm beat. I'll get to bed early and start first thing in the morning."
He moved closer to her. Close enough to make his intentions-his desire-clear, without pushing himself on her. "Then let me follow you home. Tuck you in. And starting tomorrow, I'll get out of your hair until you have space for me again."
She gave him a beseeching look. "I didn't mean to say I don't have space for you. That's awful. You're worth more than that to me. You are."
"I know. But it's the truth that you need me to back off. I never want you to hide the truth from me."
She took a long, shaky breath, then nodded. "Okay."
"Okay, what?"
She reached for him, her fingertips grazing the front of his t-shirt. Time slowed as she blinked, then glanced up at him from beneath her lashes. "Follow me home."
FIFTEEN
CARA WAS PAINFULLY AWARE OF MICK'S EVERY MOVEMENT AS HE PARKED BEHIND HER CAR and silently followed her up the stairs to her apartment. She lived one block off the main drag in Petite Ciotat, off a private lane, so nobody was watching, but there was something secret and special about tonight, a stolen moment together before she threw herself into work for a week.
A week without Mick. Hell, she hadn't even had a full week with him, and already the thought of shutting herself off from him hurt her. But deep down inside, she knew she'd been unprofessional since the moment he'd first stepped into the kitchen at Villa Sucre.
And the more she got to know him, and saw behind the mask he wore by defensive default, the less she wanted to fight him.
Now the fight was out of their hands, sure, but could she have done something differently? She'd never know.
She owed it to herself to try and salvage her job.
Starting in the morning.
Tonight, she'd give herself to him once more. All of her, no holding back. A promise of sorts.
It was quiet already in town, most people down at the beach or tucked into their houses, and a potted frangipani outside her door laced the night air with a heavy, sensual scent.
As she fit her key into the lock, he traced the curve of her neck, bare for once beneath her heavy, twisted bun.
"I like the studious librarian look," he murmured. "All buttoned up. Like a serious, smart present for me to open at the end of a long day."
She stretched her head to the side, baring the skin there even more. "I didn't even ask you about your day. Have you had a chance to talk to your friend?"
"He'll be fine," Mick said quietly, his voice washing over her, rich and velvety. "No work talk tonight, okay?"
She nodded and pushed the door open.
Her skin prickled with more awareness as he followed her into the darkness. She turned on the small lamp in the hallway. He closed and locked the door with a quiet click.
Turning slowly, she held out her hands and he crossed the space between them. He was so big. Corded muscles stretched the sleeves of his t-shirt, and defined his neck, his forearms, even his jaw and his cheekbones. She followed those hard lines with her fingers, then her lips, whispering kisses over his skin until she found his mouth.
She gave him a slow, fluttery, barely-there kiss, then another. Teasing. Coaxing. But also honest. He wanted the truth and she'd give it to him, but it was heavy. Serious and intense. The truth was she was way past flirting and games. "I want you to do more than just tuck me in."
His voice was thick with need when he responded. "Me too, kitten. Me too."
"But I want to do something for you, first." She kissed him again, harder this time, and he opened for her willingly. She tasted him until her breasts grew heavy and her legs stared shifting restlessly, and his roaming hands promised he was affected just as much. But his mouth was addictive. Heady. She pulled back and saw a lusty, half-drunk look on his face that matched exactly how she felt. "I could kiss you all night."
"You should." His grip tightened on her hips as her mouth drifted down his throat, to his collarbone. "There. Kiss me there."
She parted her lips and swirled her tongue against his skin, tasting the faint salt of a long day. His skin pebbled under her lazy exploration so she widened her mouth and sucked.
He groaned and squeezed her waist. "Harder."
With a gasp, she sucked again, marking him just below the neckline of his shirt, then she released the fabric and shoved the shirt up his torso instead, so she could kiss him again a little lower.
Then lower again.
She left a line of love bites down his chest and only his rippling abdomen. She kicked off her heels, then carefully lowered to her knees, still in her skirt.
Her blouse was still buttoned nearly to the neck.
She licked her lips as she looked up at him. "What's next in your kissed by a librarian fantasy?"
"A historian," he rasped, cupping her cheek in his hand. His thumb rubbed against her lower lip. "That's my fantasy. A feisty, smart-mouthed historian."
He pressed into her mouth, just enough to send a dirty thrill through her. She slowly, softly swirled her tongue around his finger, sucking him into her body. A tease, like all the kisses. A promise, too. She'd be whatever fantasy he wanted. When he slipped his thumb out of her mouth, she buried her face in the front of his shorts and rubbed against the thick erection there.
"Kiss me there," he whispered roughly.
Fingers shaking, she opened his shorts. They fell to the floor and he kicked them to the side, his sandals flying with them.
His legs were a thing of beauty. Long and well-muscled, and the scarring didn't detract from that at all. It was a part of him, and she longed to know more about that story. For now, she settled for carefully stroking around the pink, puckered skin as she coasted her hands up his knees and onto his thighs.
Over his tight hips. She bit her lip in appreciation of how fine he looked in black boxer briefs. Lady porn in 3D.
And right in front of her, a bulge that made her mouth water.
"Just a kiss?" Her heart was racing as she looked up at him. The look on his face-intense and hungry, but full of warmth, too-sent a jolt of desire through her. She kept her eyes on his face as she hooked her fingers into the waistband and tugged down, freeing his erection.
"Whatever you want to do is going to feel amazing to me."
She pressed a sweet kiss right to the tip of his crown.
He groaned.
Emboldened, she kissed him again, this time holding the press of her lips against his shaft a little longer. The intoxicating scent of him swirled around her, and with each restless beat of her heart she drifted into another space.
One where she was the type of woman who did this. Who sank to her knees and took a man in her mouth and drove him wild.
So what if she'd only done this in her fantasies before?
So what if he was really, really big?
She wanted him. She trusted him.
The next kiss, she parted her lips and her tongue snuck out, stealing a taste. God, his skin was soft like velvet there, stretched tight over throbbing muscle, but still so sensitive, she was sure.