Teasing Her Seal (Uniformly Hot!)(15)

“You have to ask for what you want.” Sex on the beach. Gray’s money was on that particular drink. They were at a tropical resort, and he had a beach handy. She certainly wasn’t going to be picking anything with a classy name like Screw Me Sidewise. Not that he’d actually be able to figure out the logistics of that one.

“Leather and Lace.” She peeped up at him.

“Say that again?” She’d better be lace in this scenario.

“Leather and Lace,” she repeated, and this time there was no mistaking the pink in her cheeks. Her chin went up and she glared at him. “You asked me what I wanted. That’s it.”

“Give it to me in detail.” He could use a few more words here, plus she was digging into his chest as if she meant to nest. And, like the discussion of semi-permanence, he didn’t mind that, either. “You want to play dominatrix?”

She shook her head. “I don’t want to tie you up.”

Thank Jesus, because he didn’t know if he could go that far for her. “You want me to tie you up?”

That he could definitely do—and he would enjoy every single minute.

She chewed on her lower lip. “Not exactly.”

Yeah. He really needed an instruction manual here. Or at least a list of her don’ts.

“I want you to take charge,” she said in a rush. “I want you to take me. Pin me up against the wall or on the bed and strip me bare and ride me hard.”

Wow. “You liked my biker fantasy. You fantasize about rough sex.”

“No. Maybe. Not hard enough to hurt, but enough that I feel you between my legs tomorrow, and maybe the day after. Enough that I’m not thinking of anything but you and I’m not in charge, but just along for the ride. I want to let go and not worry about orchestrating some big sexy scene. You’ll make it good for us both.” The certainty in her voice was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard. “All I’ll have to do is enjoy it.”

As fantasies went, it was pretty tame. He could think of a few variations, except...it was hot as hell she’d said anything at all to him. Laney had picked out her sexual fantasy, and now she wanted to reenact it—with him. Not some anonymous guy, but him. He didn’t play at sex and he didn’t talk pretty—sex with him was gritty and real, and the women he slept with wanted the same thing he did. He had nothing to offer but straight-up, rough pleasure because he was empty. Tapped out. An emotional well run dry. He was no bloody poet, either, or he could have found some polite way to warn her.

The bottom line was, he couldn’t keep his hands off her. Hell, yeah, he was ready to enlist to help her score that fantasy she craved so badly. Not so much because he needed to maintain his cover—although he was pretty sure that factored into the decision somewhere—but more because something about her undid him.

So to hell with it. He rolled over, pinned her beneath him and kissed her. To make his point, he gripped her ponytail with his hand, tugging just hard enough that she knew what he was doing. Her eyes widened, and her breathing grew ragged, which was all the yes, please, more he needed.

He kissed her, a quick, hard kiss, and she opened up sweet as sin beneath him, her tongue tangling with his. A down payment on the fantasy he’d promised her. A sneak peek of the night’s coming attractions. He was supposed to be the one calling the shots, but she let him in, her mouth sweetly submissive, and who knew? He wasn’t in control of their kiss anymore. And he liked it.

Gray pulled back, sliding his mouth away, his gaze locked on Laney’s. Holy. Wow. The man packed a whole lot of sexy into a rapid-fire kiss. She managed to keep herself from demanding an instant replay, but barely. Proposition? Check. Hot kiss? Check. Sexy removal to the bungalow for wild, crazy sex? That part she was still working on. Ask him to carry her, and the man, no matter how buff, was likely to have a heart attack. Piggyback? Fireman style? Just thinking about navigating the path back to the resort gave her a serious case of the giggles.

Gray tugged her to her feet and pointed them both downhill. “What’s so funny?”

“Having sex is so much simpler with a bike. You leave the bar, you get on the bike, mission accomplished.”

“You don’t ever stop thinking, do you? Next time I’ll bring my bike.” But that slow grin was back on his face. “I prefer a challenge. How about this?”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, tucking her into his side. It was natural to slide her arm around his waist. They descended a hundred yards.

A hundred yards later, a new thought popped into her head. “What if someone sees us? Will you get in trouble?”

He gave her a look. Right. Hello. Secret sexy drinks menu.

“Do you mind?”

She had no idea. It would be awkward—not to mention downright embarrassing—if the other people on the island thought she’d been reduced to ordering a guy off a menu. Like she couldn’t get her own date.

“It’s a game, sweetheart,” he said softly. “A fantasy. Don’t overthink it. If it works for us and you enjoy it, the rest of the island can go screw themselves.”

Poetic and insightful up until the end.

“This path is relatively isolated, and the bungalows are sited for maximum privacy. There’s no line of sight from one to the other.” A frown creased his forehead. “Which is an oversight. Anyone could get into your bungalow, and resort security would never know.”

When they reached her bungalow, she fished in her beach bag for the keys. Overcautious, perhaps, to lock her door on a teeny-tiny private island in the Caribbean, but old habits died hard.

“Can I come in?”

He was giving her one last chance to back out, to change her mind. She looked at him and she knew. She was going to do this. For herself. Just once, she was going to be wicked and daring and do what she wanted. Tomorrow could take care of itself.

“Yes.” One word. Funny how potent a single syllable could be.

The key slid through the lock strip and the light flashed green. Good to go. She stepped inside and he followed, the door closing behind them with a soft click. He turned the lock as she toed off her sneakers, thinking fast. Did she strip everything off? Invite him into the shower? Darn it, she should have thought this through more, maybe asked Ashley what she did when she brought a stranger home and then copied her.

“Laney,” he rasped, and she knew then the doubts didn’t matter, because he’d started on her fantasy and she wasn’t the one in charge anymore. He was going to give her exactly what she’d asked for.

“Hands on the wall,” he ordered, and how could four words be so seductive? He laid his fingers over hers and just stroked for a minute, giving her a chance to sink into the rough-soft feel of his hands moving over hers. It was an unfamiliar sensation, having his big body pressed up against hers so tight she couldn’t step away. She should have felt suffocated. Dominated. And she did feel that last sensation, but God, it was hot. He was letting her know that he was there.

“If you want to stop, you tell me to stop.” He brushed her cheek with his fingertips. “I need us to be clear on that. Can you do that for me?”

His body enveloped hers, close enough she could feel his cargo pants brush the backs of her bare legs. Finally, finally, she didn’t have to do anything. All she had to do was let go and feel. And he made her feel so much, starting with the ticklish sensation of his army pants. Maybe they could play soldier next. God, that could be good, too. She sensed he’d let her explore her fantasies for as long as she wanted to. Stretching up, pressing her fingertips against the wall to steady herself, she pushed back against him where he was hard for her.

“You’re going to do what I say.” His mouth was at her ear, giving her the rough words she wanted so badly. “Not because you don’t have a choice, but because you want to. All you have to do is let go and let me take care of you.”

“Promise,” she whispered. White plaster danced before her eyes, the fan stirring the air in lazy strokes overhead. She was adrift, waiting. Waiting for him to touch her. To please her. It felt strange to be passive, but it was strange-good. There were no worries about whether or not he came or how long it took her. This was her night. Her fantasy.

Lips brushed her ear, withdrew. “Don’t move your hands.”

She wanted to ask or what, but he’d tell her and sometimes imagining was even better. He could tie her in place with the terry cord from her bathrobe. Pin her wrists in one big hand. Or land a small, hard slap on her butt, leaving a rosy-red souvenir of his possession. Those weren’t fantasies she wanted to bring to life, not tonight. They were a delicious secret.

“You’re thinking again,” he said.

“True.” It was hard to keep her fingers still and flat on the wall when she could turn around and touch him. Explore his hard, muscled chest. Drive him crazy, too, so that she wasn’t the only one out of control. Instead, she stood perfectly still. Waiting.

For him.

“You’re going to tell me someday,” he said, and she thought but we only have a few nights before she banished the fleeting regret. Regretting was like counting down the days of a vacation before she’d even begun. She was lucky to have any time. She wouldn’t waste it anticipating the end. Instead, she turned her head, giving him a small smile that was neither a yes nor a no. Let him figure it out.