Wicked Intentions(3)

Her hands flatten over my pecs. After a moment, she winds her arms around my shoulders. Then she gives me her weight, leaning into me with a little sigh as she goes slack against my body. The kiss softens but also deepens, so now it’s slower and less greedy, but somehow even more intense.

Judging by how hard her nipples are against my bare chest, how irregular her breathing is, and how she’s digging her nails into my skin, I’d say she’s just as turned on as I am.

When the kiss finally ends, a minute or a century later, I’m dizzy. I mutter, “Fuck.” My voice sounds like I’ve swallowed a handful of gravel.

Her laugh is low and throaty. “Well said.”

I open my eyes and look at her. She’s flushed. Her eyes are half-lidded. She has that hazy, satisfied look a woman gets after she comes.

The amount of blood leaving the rest of my body to boil in my cock can’t be healthy. Pretty soon I won’t be able to remain upright.

I grin at her. “This is already turning out to be a fantastic friendship.”

She stares at me for a second, then breaks into full-throated laughter, her head thrown back.

Goddamn. If I thought she was gorgeous before, watching her laugh is on a whole other level. She’s fucking stunning.

The waiter arrives with her conch croquettes. When he glares at me as he sets the plate down on the bar, I know he was hoping to be in the exact position I am now. You and every other guy in the place, buddy.

I smile blandly at him. He stalks off like a wounded puppy.

Angeline gently pushes me away, smooths a hand over her hair, and looks like she’s trying to rearrange her face into something a little more composed than the horny-sex-kitten expression she’s wearing now.

“Hey, Angel.” When she glances at me sharply, I explain. “I’m calling you Angel now. Less formal, since we’re such good friends and all. As I was saying—Angel—I have to go distribute these drinks before one of those animals in the pool throws something at me, so I want you to sit here and think about what you’re gonna say to me when I get back.”

I stand, pop one of her conch croquettes into my mouth, chew, and swallow. “And make it good. If I find out you’re just a pretty face, I’ll be sorely disappointed.”

Her smile is the definition of smug. “A pretty face who can make a soldier who survived three shots to the stomach swoon from just a kiss,” she says in that seductive accent of hers.

She takes one of the conch croquettes and bites into it with the unstudied elegance of a queen. I want to grab her, throw her over my shoulder, take her upstairs to my room, and fuck the living daylights out of her until we’re both exhausted, but I smile at her instead.

Time enough for that later. Right now I’ve gotta distribute some drinks.

I grab the beers and Tabby’s water and leave Angeline with a wink. She rolls her eyes and shakes her head, but she’s smiling, so I know she thinks I’m cute. Pretending my dick isn’t tenting the front of my shorts like the big top at a circus, I swagger back to the pool.

When I get there, Darcy takes one look at my crotch and says, “Uh, Ryan? Unless you’re starring in a Viagra commercial we don’t know about, you might wanna wrap a towel around your waist. That thing needs its own zip code.”

Connor hoots. Tabby and Kai look politely in different directions. “Ew,” Juanita says with perfect teenage disdain.

“Cut the poor guy some slack,” says Connor, chuckling. “He’s on vacation.”

Darcy snorts. “So that means we all have to be subjected to a front-row viewing of his monster boner? I don’t think so. I mean, it’s a beautiful thing, Ry, but seriously, you might as well be naked.”

She stares right at my dick the entire time she talks. Kai frowns and nudges her with his elbow. “What?” she asks innocently. “I’m telling him to put it away!”

Juanita slides into the pool with a muttered “You guys are gross,” and swims off.

I crouch down, set all the drinks on the edge of the pool, and say in a low voice, “So don’t be surprised if I miss dinner tonight. Somethin’ else came up.”

Darcy cackles. “You don’t say!”

I glare at her. Why the woman always has to use the volume of a carnival barker when she talks is beyond me. I think my hearing capacity has been reduced by at least 20 percent since I met her.

“Why don’t you bring your new friend to dinner with us?” Tabby asks.

When I cast a doubtful glance at her, she sighs. “It’s our last night on the island, Ryan. Who knows when we’ll all be together like this again. C’mon. You can sacrifice one hour in between…” She waves a hand vaguely in the air. “Whatever it is you’ll be doing.”

If I’m being honest, I don’t think I can. That one taste of Angeline knocked me flat on my ass. I feel like a junkie after a high. All I want is more, more, more.

But tomorrow Connor and Tabby are off to island-hop for the rest of their honeymoon, and the rest of us are back to our real lives in New York, so Tabby has a valid point. It would be impolite to bail on our last dinner together just for some mind-blowingly hot sex with an incredibly beautiful, sensual, and fascinating stranger.

I mean…right?

Watching my face, Tabby says drily, “Don’t break your brain trying to decide, Boner Boy.”

“Leave him alone, woman.” Connor wraps his arm around Tabby’s waist and drags her against him. He smiles down at her. “If he makes it, he makes it. If he doesn’t, I can’t honestly say I blame him.” He lowers his voice. “Seriously, princess. Look at her.”

Tabby’s brows lift. “Oh, you think she’s hot, jarhead?”

Darcy mutters, “Uh-oh.”

“Not my type,” Connor says instantly. “But I can see the appeal.” When Tabby just keeps staring at him, he clears his throat. “For someone else. Not me, obviously.”

“Mm-hmm,” Tabby says.

Darcy makes an “ooh” sound that’s like You are so dead right now, while Kai watches the exchange with his typical batshit-crazy grin.

My friends are so weird.

“Okay, in the name of marital harmony, I’ll commit to dinner,” I say, itching to get back to Angeline and her strawberry-flavored mouth. I stand and salute Connor, who gives me a pleading look like he really wants me to stay and help defuse the situation.

I leave him with a smirk. He’s my brother-in-arms and I love the guy, but I’d rather take another three shots to the gut than deal with a pissed-off Tabitha West.

Angeline watches me return with the focused concentration of a predator contemplating a meal. Why that should be such a fucking turn-on, I have no idea.

I stop beside her and lean an elbow on the bar. “So. What’d you come up with, Angel?” When she opens her mouth, I warn her, “And remember, it better be good.”

She waits a beat and then says tartly, “Is it my turn to talk now?”

Mercy. A goddess and a smartass. I’m done for. “Be my guest,” I say mildly.

A secret smile hovers around her lips. She crooks a finger, inviting me closer. I’m in her face so fast, I’ve probably set a new land speed record. She puts her lips against my ear and whispers, “You don’t really think I’m going to sleep with a man I met five minutes ago, do you?”

Something inside my chest does this flopping, dying fish thing that doesn’t seem healthy. I have to stifle a groan. I want this woman so bad I can taste it.

I turn my head a fraction and now we’re nose to nose, staring into each other’s eyes. Hers are a gorgeous caramel brown, twinkling with mischief.

“Of course not,” I say. “I’m a gentleman. I was gonna let you finish those conch croquettes first.”

She slow blinks and smiles.

My titanium boner is in serious jeopardy of exploding in my shorts.

“You haven’t even asked what I’m doing in St. Croix.” Angeline leans back and lazily selects another of the croquettes from the plate. “I could be vacationing with my husband.”

“No ring,” I counter, watching her make eating a piece of fried seafood look like dirty fetish porn.

She swallows and licks her lips, obviously enjoying torturing me. “My boyfriend, then.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend.”

My tone of total confidence makes her arch an eyebrow. “No? What makes you so certain of that?”

“Because you kiss like you’re starving, you look at me like a little kid looks at all the presents under the tree on Christmas morning, and you’re not the type of woman who cheats on her man. You’re too serious for that, even though you try to seem carefree.”

Something crosses her face, a look of surprise or irritation, instantly erased. “I had no idea I was so transparent.”

Though her tone is casual, I can tell she’s disturbed. She doesn’t want me to look too closely, to notice things about her. Naturally, that makes me want to notice even more. I’m a bloodhound with the fresh scent of fox in my nose.

Let the hunt begin.

“Ignore me,” I say, watching her compose herself. “I’ve been out in the sun too long. So tell me, Angel, what brings you to St. Croix?”

She flips a lock of long brown hair over her shoulder and swivels on the stool so she’s facing the bar counter, her eyes turned away. “Work.”