Moonshell Beach: A Shelter Bay Novel (26 page)

Yeah. Like that was going to happen.

He paused, a desperate man caught on the edge of a jagged, treacherous cliff. One more step and he could send them both tumbling off.

Even knowing the impossibility of the fantasy, understanding that what was happening between them wouldn’t—couldn’t—last beyond the festival, he decided for now just to concentrate on the moment.

She drew in a quick breath as he began to caress her breasts. Sighed as his mouth captured hers in a slow, drugging kiss. She tasted like wine and sweet, forbidden fruit.

She shifted, lifting her arms as he drew the sweatshirt over her head. Then hummed deep in her throat as he drew her jeans down her long, slender legs.

He’d seen her body in her films. The bodysuit she’d told him about hadn’t hidden all that much, and although the movies hadn’t gotten anywhere near an X rating, there had been scenes when she’d obviously been bare breasted.

But as good as she’d looked on the screen, here, now, bathed in the glow of firelight, she was a thousand times more perfect in person and J.T. thanked whatever gods or fate had given him yet another gift by having her wear a front-fastening bra.

He flicked it open, filled his hands with her breasts, and felt her warm wherever his hands and mouth touched. He tasted the leap of her pulse at the base of her throat, then felt her heart hammer beneath a breast as fragrant as midnight gardens.

“I’ve dreamed of this,” she murmured as he stripped off her lace panties, then nipped at the cord behind her knee.

“Have you, now?” His mouth trailed down to her ankle.

“I have.” She sighed, and closed her eyes, as if reliving it. “Wicked, wonderful dreams.”

J.T.’s senses filled with her until his own heart was racing, and although he’d already discovered that control seemed to disintegrate around this woman, even as the hunger clawed at him and his body screamed for release, he deliberately, ruthlessly slowed the pace. And experienced a rush of power as she willingly, eagerly surrendered, giving him her mouth, her body, in the same way her selkie character had surrendered to the human male.

“Well, then.” Entranced by the true siren she’d proved to be, he lowered his still fully clothed body over her naked, lean one. “Let’s see what we can do to make your wicked dreams come true.”

Which he did his best to achieve as he drove her higher, again and again, to the edge of release.

When his roving tongue slid up the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, she quivered in response, her nails digging into his shoulders.

She was erotically hot. Wet. Ready.

But even as she moved under him, turning to quicksilver in his arms, still he retreated, rolling onto his side, leaning up on one elbow as his free hand stroked down that strong, slender leg, then back up again, stopping where her leg and hip came together.

“J.T.” Her voice was rough with need as she arched toward him. “I want.” She moaned low and deep in her throat as he cupped her. “I need.…”

“I know.” All too well. If he didn’t end this soon, he’d make an IED explosion look like one of those firecrackers he and his brothers used to set off on this beach on the Fourth of July.

All it took was a flick of his thumb, followed by a long stroke of his tongue, to send her over. She bucked. Shuddered on a gasp that gave way to a whimper.

Then went lax.

“Oh,” she murmured dreamily. “That was lovely.”

“And we’ve only just begun.” He skimmed his fingers over her breasts, which tightened at the light touch.

“Well, then…please, sir,” she asked, her eyes like blue fire in the starshine, “may I have some more?”

The look of her staggered him. And amazingly, for now, at least, she was his. “Much, much more,” he promised.

He stood up and watched her watching him undress. He’d never had a woman look at him the way she was doing at this moment. She made him feel invincible, as if he could leap tall buildings in a single bound, as if bullets would bounce off him.

Like, he realized, he’d felt during battle, before he’d had his life sucked out of him.

But better, he decided, as his blood heated to near boiling when she unconsciously licked her lower lip.

After he’d rid himself of the boots Kara had complained about, pulled off his socks, then ripped off his shirt, tossing it uncaringly onto the sand, he desperately hoped, as her remarkable eyes followed his every movement, she wouldn’t notice that his hands were less than steady as they struggled with the metal buttons on his jeans.

“Oh. Wow.” She let out a long, lusty breath as he stood naked in front of her. “When you come to Malibu, I’m going to have to make sure to keep you all to myself. Because one look at that body and every female agent in town will be tearing each other’s hair out to have you.”

He noticed that the hypothetical trip to visit her after the festival had shifted from
possibly
to
when
.

But since this was so not the time to discuss their future, after sheathing himself with a condom from the stash he’d driven down to Newport to buy after leaving her at the inn last night, he lay back down on the blanket.

“Know this,” he said as he braced over her. “The
only
woman I want, the only woman I want to have me, is you.”

Finally free of the barrier of cloth between them, he covered her body with his, heat to heat, flesh to flesh, male to female. With a long sigh, and a dreamy murmur, she wrapped her legs around his hips.

“Now,” she said achingly.

“Now.”
Thank God.

As he slid into her, she opened to him, taking him in, enfolding him. He moved slowly, in…out…in again as his rhythmic strokes went deeper, until he felt her contractions as she came again. With the sound of the surf roaring in his ears, swamped by what felt like a tsunami of sensation, J.T. gave in to his own release, which went on. And on. And on.

Finally, spent, he collapsed on Mary’s warm, pliant body.

They lay there for a long silent time as the tide ebbed and flowed and stars whirled overhead. “Are you sure we’re still on the beach?” she asked, sounding
like a woman who’d polished off an entire bottle of that champagne he’d been wishing he’d bought.

He trailed a finger along her moist skin, between her breasts. “Last time I looked. Why?”

“Because I feel as if I just got swept away by a riptide.” She laughed softly. “Or one of those sneaker waves all the beach signs warn about. Because you certainly sneaked up on me, J. T. Douchett.” She lifted her hand and went to playfully bat his arm, but missed. When her hand fell limply to the blanket again, J.T. picked it up and pressed a wet kiss against the center of her palm.

“Although I hate to break this party up, we’d better leave.”

“Do we have to?” She rolled over and pressed her lips on his chest, leaving a trail of sparks as she kissed her way down his torso.

“Unless you want to get washed out to sea,” he said, fighting back the groan. “Tide’s coming in.”

“Oh.” She lifted her head and looked at the water that was getting closer to the edge of the blanket. “Well, since I’m not Deborah Kerr and you’re not Burt Lancaster, and this is real life, not the movies, I guess we’d better.”

It was not her first choice. Then again, Mary thought with a little burst of sexual anticipation as they walked hand in hand toward the SUV, they did have the rest of the night.

Since it would be obvious to anyone who saw her what she’d been up to, she was grateful when J.T. called ahead and arranged for them to go in the back door and take the service elevator up to the suite.

Where, after a long steaming shower, which essentially turned out to be hot, wet foreplay, they took advantage of the oversized bed.

By the time a soft, silvery predawn light was filtering through the shades, Mary lay with her cheek against J.T.’s chest, drinking in the musky scent of his dark skin, listening to his steady breathing and the beat of his heart.

The night had passed in a sensual blur, a stolen, fantastic time apart from reality. Her dreams of him had been so hot, when she’d decided to make love to him, she’d feared the reality could never live up to those erotic images smoldering in her mind.

But she’d been wrong. Last night had been no dream, as the vague ache in her muscles attested to. The reality had proved amazingly better. And had her understanding, for the very first time, what her
selkie queen had felt when she’d so totally given herself to that human scientist.

Mary had never known it was possible to feel so much; had never given herself so openly. So freely. Nor had she ever wanted to. Until meeting J. T. Douchett.

With a single look, a mere touch, the man could arouse her to desperation, inflaming passions she’d never realized were lurking deep inside her.

Displaying a stamina that was nearly superhuman, he’d shown her exactly how responsive her body could be, taking her places she’d never imagined possible. And in turn, he’d held nothing back, encouraging her exploring hands and lips to grow more and more intrepid until she’d learned to read his needs and desires as a blind woman would read Braille.

The upside was that she’d experienced a night of passion that few women could ever imagine.

The downside was that she was also realizing that she wasn’t any good at casual sex. It struck her that if she was going to be able to distance herself from this man whose leg was over both of hers, effectively holding her hostage, she was going to have to do it now.

Years in a war zone had taught J.T. to sleep quick and light. Which was why he’d known the moment she’d woken up. Which was when, suspecting she might have regrets, he’d flung his leg over hers, to keep her in bed a little longer.

She was good, he allowed, as she carefully slid, inch by inch, out from under him. Although he’d never been one to believe in destiny, these past few days, especially the last hours, had J.T. wondering if,
just perhaps, there was some unseen force working here. Some fate that had brought them together at this time, in this place.

Whatever the reason, this was the first morning in months he’d found himself looking forward to the day. To exploring whatever was happening between them.

The problem was, although last night she’d been the most uninhibited woman he’d ever been with, in the light of a new day, Mary didn’t seem on the same page.

The bathroom door hinges squeaked, just a bit, when she opened it. He felt her tense, like a deer in the forest sensing a predator’s approach.

He could stop her. He was, after all, larger. Stronger. Not that he’d have to use any force. Because it would take only a slow, deep kiss, a lingering touch, a hand to that slick, hot place between her legs, and he’d have her right back in this bed where she belonged.

He was still weighing his options when he heard the shower turn on.

While he’d been away, Shelter Bay had been designated a “green” town. Recycle bins were everywhere, plastic bags had been banned, and even Sax had gone out and bought energy-efficient appliances for Bon Temps.

The least he could do, J.T. thought, as he threw back the rumpled sheet, was do his part to save water.

The sun was shining, their morning lovemaking in the shower had been every bit as amazing as everything they’d shared the night before, and although
he’d resisted the idea yesterday, J.T. hadn’t balked when she’d changed into running shoes, shorts, a white T-shirt, and a baseball cap to run on the beach with him.

They returned to Moonshell Beach, which was nearly deserted, as he’d predicted it would be. They passed by Adèle and Bernard Douchett, who’d gotten there before them, beachcombing for shells and agates left by the receding tide.

Because it would have seemed rude to run by without a word, they stopped to exchange greetings.

Adèle’s eyes swept over Mary. “As pretty as you were in that fancy dress the other night, I think I like this look better,” she said. “Especially that
Whale of a Town
cap. I have one of my own, in blue, and while a lot of people might think it’s touristy, it makes me happy to wear it.”

“I feel the same way,” Mary agreed. “It must be amazing to live where you can see whales all the time.”

“That was the first thing that helped me get over my homesickness for the bayou,” the older woman said. “I was down here gathering shells, just as we are today, feeling a bit blue, when a pod began riding the waves right in front of me, so close I was worried they’d beach themselves. I know it’ll sound fanciful, but it seemed as if they were welcoming me. From that moment on, I felt as if I belonged here in Shelter Bay.”

“I don’t think it’s fanciful at all,” Mary said. “There have been so many stories about whales and dolphins interacting with people—maybe they somehow sensed your emotions and wanted to cheer you up.”

Adèle’s beaming smile lit up her face, giving Mary an idea of the beauty she must have been when the couple had first married. “Do you know,” she confided, “I’ve often thought the same thing?” She shot a look at J.T. “This one’s a keeper.”

J.T. nodded as his grandfather did his best to smother a laugh. “I’ll keep that in mind, ma’am.”

Adèle’s answering nod was sharp and satisfied. “You do that.” Then she turned back to Mary. “My grandson’s gone through a rough patch. But it’s obvious even to an old woman whose eyesight isn’t what it once was, and whose brain has turned into Swiss cheese, that you’re good for him. And believe me, dear, you could do a whole lot worse.”

“Believe me, I know,” Mary said, speaking from personal experience.

“Well,” J.T. said, beginning to jog in place, “I guess we’d better get going if we’re going to keep to the schedule the committee has set up.”

Mary knew her busy schedule was not the reason he suddenly felt the need to escape.

“She certainly seems fine this morning,” Mary said as they continued running.

“She did, didn’t she?” His relief was obvious. “Though now that Sax and Cole have settled down, it looks like she’s got me in her marriage crosshairs.”

“I think it’s sweet. She cares about you and wants you happy. Which is the way families are supposed to be. You should’ve seen my father and grandmother trying to manipulate my sister and Quinn into a romance.”