Pleasure Point-nook (7 page)

But he knew it wasn’t. A bit insane, perhaps.

He smiled to himself, let her go and took her hand to lead her down the beach where
he’d had the staff set up a small open cabana facing the ocean. As he’d instructed
they’d laid the table with fresh sushi, fruits, a sweet bread he loved that was made
on the island. There was also a bottle of wine and two glasses, and a large bottle
of San Pellegrino, the sparkling water he’d been told was her preferred brand.

“Oh, this is so lovely,” Miranda said.

“Don’t be too impressed. I believe you made the bread in your kitchens.”

She laughed as they sat down on the low, bamboo-framed sofa that was strewn with colorful
pillows. “Well, one of my staff, anyway. But it’s one of my favorites.”

“Is it? I hope you like sushi.”

“I do. I like almost everything.”

He turned to her and watched her face, illuminated in the amber torchlight. He couldn’t
seem to get enough of her face. The feel of her body under his hands. His arms around
her. He couldn’t get enough of her.

“I like
you
,” he told her, pausing to take in her smile and the fact that he’d said the words
aloud. “That’s not something I say to too many people. Not in this way.” If he didn’t
stop looking at her, if he didn’t shut up and stop trying to figure out what the hell
was happening to him he was going to kiss her again and…and what? Make things worse,
somehow? Or ruin it. Lord, he was confused. Totally unlike him. He needed to change
tracks. “Shall we try some of this feast?”

“Yes, please.”

She really was trying to kill him, with that undertone to the words that could be
purely innocent but with her would always sound like pure sex to him. Sex and yielding,
which was even more powerful.

Miranda was powerful. It was a power he was ultimately going to have to resist.

He grimaced as he reminded himself why. That was one thing he wouldn’t—couldn’t— talk
to her about. Everyone had their secrets. His was kept to protect not only himself
but the one person who was most important in his life. He could never forget that.

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy this beautiful woman. This warm beach and this
wonderful meal, and whatever might happen between them in the coming week.

It was only one week. He could hang onto his secret for that long.

Good food and light conversation and a little wine later, they lay together on the
wide couch, listening to the crash of the sea, watching the clouds move across the
dark sky.

Roan stroked her silky hair, trying not to wonder how it was possible that he felt
he’d known her forever somehow. Better to talk to her, to get out of his head. “Tell
me something about you,” he said.

“Like what?” Miranda squirmed next him and it felt like pure luxury—a warm, beautiful
woman and a full stomach, with that keen edge of desire simmering between them.

“Anything. What’s your favorite color?”

She laughed. “Really? Are we going that inane? Okay, it’s blue. Turquoise specifically.
Like the water in the afternoon here.”

“Like that very sexy bikini you’re wearing.”

He tone was coquettish. “You think it’s sexy?”

“So damn sexy it’s all I can do not to ravish you. Hence the inane conversation so
I can remain a gentleman true to my word.”

“That’s important to you, isn’t it?”

“It’s everything. But please stick to the inane, Miss Royce.”

“Yes, sir. What’s your favorite color?”

“Black.”

“Ha! That’s no surprise. Okay…what about family? Or is that off limits?”

“No, not at all.” Except for that one piece he never gave to anyone. “I was born and
raised in London. One sister, Rissa. She’s a few years older. She’s a brilliant photographer,
married to a painter who’s a not quit as brilliant and a bit of an asshole, to be
frank. Riss and I haven’t been as close since they married. I tried. Well, perhaps
I should have tried harder. But he reminds me too much of our father.”

“Your father’s an asshole?” she asked, a little humor in her voice meant, he knew
right away, to lighten the mood.

“He is, in fact, a complete and utter asshole.  He left my mum—and us—when I was seven.
We’ve hardly seen him since, which is probably just as well, but I was an adult before
I realized that. Mum never did. But she likes her life in Cambridge, I think. She
has her friends and her garden and her travel club.”

And her grandchild, but he wasn’t going to say so.

“Your turn, Miranda.”

“Well, I grew up in the Carmel Valley, just south of San Francisco.”

“Yes, I’ve been. Gorgeous area. Some excellent restaurants there these days. It must
have been a wonderful place to grow up.”

She shrugged. “I suppose. I mean it is pretty but…my parents are one of those couples
who will stay together forever despite constantly bickering at each other. I think
it’s why we all left as soon as we got out of high school. My brother Brody—he’s the
next youngest—is teaching skiing in Vail. Before that it was at Alta in Utah. I think
before that was Lake Tahoe. He moves around a lot, lives the ski bum life, which makes
him pretty happy, I guess—it’s all skiing and snow bunnies. My sister Pammie is even
more of a gypsy—she flits from one job to the next, one city to the next—but she doesn’t
seem quite as happy with it. But then, she’s the baby and was a little spoiled, so
I’m not sure anything could ever really satisfy her.”

“Hey. I’m the baby,” he protested with a teasing grin.

“God, I
so
cannot think of you in terms of being a baby.”

“Why not? I have a dimple, you know.”

He took her hand and laid her soft fingertips against his cheek and smiled.

“Ah. So you do.”

Her fingertips feathered over his cheek, then across his lips, and he captured them
with a kiss, feeling her body go loose and soft beside him.

No sex.

Pure torture, but at the same time, there was something to be said for this relaxed
time together, talking about all those simple details that made up their lives. When
was the last time he’d done anything like this? Opened himself to a woman?

Too long. Too damn long, and given how this evening was making him feel, it was a
damn shame he’d missed out on so much. Or maybe not. Because it wasn’t until now that
he’d met Miranda.

Don’t be an idiot. You have a week together.

A week he planned to make the most of. But that plan had changed. Because for the
first time in years, there was a woman in his arms he wanted more than play and sex
from.

The damn island magic at work. But whatever it was, he was liking it.

He pulled her closer and she curled into him in that feline way she had about her.
He swore he could almost hear her purring.

“Do you know about the constellations?” he asked her.

“Mmm, no, not enough.”

“It’s a hobby of mine. This bright star just below the moon is Venus. You can only
see it on certain nights, but when it’s visible, it burns with a brilliant gold glow.
Look, follow where I’m pointing. Can you see it?”

“Yes, I see it. What else?”

They lay together while he murmured to her about the stars, until the moon set and
the sky darkened. And all that was left was the cool ocean lulling them, seeming to
rock the world.

Miranda woke to the quiet sounds of two staff members leaving their cabana. A tray
with tea and scones and a new bowl of fruit was on the table. From the gentle angle
of the sun she guessed it to be around eight o’clock. Roan was just stirring beside
her.

She blinked. She’d spent all night in his arms. And she didn’t feel like getting up
and running off, back to her apartment in the staff quarters—her hideaway. No, in
fact, she was as content as she’d ever been in her life.

Crazy.

She started to sit up but Roan grabbed her and pulled her roughly back down.

“Where do you think you’re going, beauty?”

“To find a toothbrush.”

“Hang on.” He sat up with her still in his arms, pulling her with him. “Tea service,
Miranda. Now.”

“Tea service? You must be joking.”

“I never joke,” he said, yawning.

How did the man manage to look so damn sexy with his dark hair ruffled and stubble
on his jaw?

Had to be the stubble.

She laughed. “If you say so. Fine. Tea service. What do you take?”

“I’m English. Milk and one sugar. And Miranda? I wanted to ask if I’ve gained your
trust?”

“What? Yes. You have. Is that a prerequisite to tea service?”

“No, but it may be to other things. By the way, see you put the milk in the cup first.”

She clucked her tongue. “Picky, picky.”

“It’s a Dom’s job to be picky,” he said, yawning again.

She prepared his tea, handed him the cup. “You know, if you keep yawning you’ll ruin
that whole authoritarian tone thing.”

The next thing she knew he’d grabbed her and pulled her across his lap—she had no
idea where his teacup had gone—and tore her sarong off to give her a sound smack on
the ass.

“How’s that for authoritarian?”

“Much better,” she said, her body beginning to purr.

“I should hope so. Pour your tea and drink some. Then we’re going to bathe in the
ocean.”

They had their tea and a few of the scones, which were excellent, having come out
of her kitchen like the bread they’d had the night before. Then they got up and wandered
down to the water, Roan holding onto her hand. She realized he’d hardly let her go
all night.

The foam curled around their feet, and they stood for a while, enjoying the morning
sun on their skin, smiling to each other for no apparent reason. She didn’t want to
question it too closely. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good,
this relaxed, and she didn’t want to ruin it.

Roan pulled on her hand, raised one dark, elegant brow, then picked her up, threw
her over his shoulder and strode into the waves with her.

“Roan!” she squealed.

“I said it was bath time. Quiet now or there’ll be another spanking.”

“How is that a threat?”

“Excellent point. But do you have any idea how much more an open hand stings on wet
flesh? Let’s find out, shall we?”

She was laughing, struggling, but he was so strong—it was easy enough for him to strip
her bikini bottoms off and dip her down into the crashing waves until she was thoroughly
soaked. Then, standing again, he smacked her bare bottom hard.

“Oh!”

“Bad?” he asked. “Poor girl.”

“Your attempt at sympathy is falling short, Roan.”

He smacked her again, a quick volley of stinging slaps that made her smile, her body
filling up with the lovely endorphins.

“Good girl. Nice and quiet.”

He lowered her into the water, holding her in his arms. Her body was buzzing with
need, and as he pulled her closer, she felt the hard ridge of his desire against her
belly. The mood shifted in a flash and she sighed as she pressed closer. He fisted
a hand in her wet hair, pulling until her head tilted back, his green eyes gleaming
in the sun, making her breath catch. He bent his head to kiss her, but she grabbed
his chin, stopping him.

“Roan, wait. We need to renegotiate.”

“What? Now?”

“Right now. We need to renegotiate the sex.”

“Ah. I do like you, Miranda. You think of everything.”

He yanked her in hard, hard enough that she could feel his nipple rings even through
her bathing suit top—and suddenly remembered she was no longer wearing any bottoms.
Which was incredibly hot. She pressed closer against him.

“So what do we do, Roan?”

“If your suggestion regarding negotiating sex means you are giving your consent, then
I believe I fuck you until you can’t walk, my beauty.”

“Oh! Yes, please.”

In a flash he’d lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist so that his hard cock
was pressed against her needy sex, with nothing but his wet swim trunks in the way.
She moaned, needing more.

“If only I had a damn condom handy,” he growled in her ear. Then he shifted her until
she was over his broad shoulder once more.

“Roan—”

A sharp smack on her bare ass shut her up. Nothing more came out of her but soft moans
as he stroked and pinched her skin, carrying her back up the beach toward the cabana.
Some small part of her brain protested at the way he was man handling her, but mostly
she simply loved it.

He laid her down roughly on the couch and she waited, watching as he stepped quickly
out of his trunks to reveal the beauty of his hard cock. It was thick and long, a
light golden color, the swollen head a bit darker. She wanted to wrap her hand around
it. Her lips. Her pussy.

He kept his gaze on hers, two points of darkly burning green, as he tore open a small
gold packet and sheathed himself.

“Where did you get that?”

“Shh. And open for me.”

She did as he asked, loving the command in his voice and the feel of his big body
as he slid between her thighs. He kept his gaze on hers as he reached between them
and brushed his fingers over her wet pussy.

She licked her lips.

“Oh, yes. You know that makes me crazy,” he murmured. “That wet little tongue of yours
on your gorgeous lips. But these lips are wet and gorgeous, too,” he said, stroking
her.

“Mmm… Oh…”

“I am going to fuck you, Miranda. Even saying the words makes me harder. Seeing you
lying here under me. I am so damn hard for you I can barely stand it. But I’m going
to torture you a bit first.”

She squirmed, tried to close her eyes, but he caught her chin in his hand. “You will
look at me,” he commanded. “You will watch me while I play with you. Tell me you understand.”

She groaned. “Oh God Roan. Yes. I understand. Sir. Fuck.”

He chuckled, let her chin go and went back to teasing her pussy lips with his clever
fingertips.