Slow Hand (2 page)

The captain’s shock turned to heat as he accepted what she’d said about her being here alone. He understood that there was no groom joining her. He understood the possibilities between them for the week. A sudden shift in his gaze gave her a strange and confusing thought. Was he afraid of her? She dismissed the crazy idea as soon as it popped into her head.

“Stay right here. Don’t move,” he instructed. He headed down a narrow flight of stairs that led below. He was a full head and shoulders taller than her and must outweigh her by forty pounds. What would he have to fear from her?

Ignoring his instructions, she followed him to the head of the stairs and peeked down to see what he was up to.

Jared MacKay was stripping down a honeymoon congratulations banner, replacing wine flutes with tumblers and removing an ice bucket and champagne bottle from beside the bed.

He was de-honeymooning the
SandJack
.

A pirate with heart.
Who’d have thought she’d stumble onto such a man when she felt this heartsore?

Not heartbroken, she realized with a start, just sore. She rubbed her chest over her heart. It beat strong and true, even a little rapidly, at the thought of her honeymoon for one turning into something for two.

Jared whisked a package into the medicine chest she could just see from her vantage point. Then he slid some DVDS into a drawer by the bed.

He gave her the all clear and she took down one small overnight bag to unpack. He carried the rest of the bigger suitcases below, careful not to touch her again when he handed them off to her. Without a word he headed back up to take the
SandJack
out of Kingston harbor.

Shit.
Jared’s mind spun and his arm still burned where he’d held Teri to lift her over the rail. He should turn around and dump her back on the pier and escape while he could. He rubbed his chest and swiped a hand across the back of his neck. He was sweating.

Shit
.

His palm still held the memory of the sting he’d felt at their first touch. He rubbed his palm across his thigh, but found no relief. Like a bee sting, it throbbed, reminding him, making him think crazy thoughts.

His father’s and more recently his brother’s words echoed.

“It’s hot. Snaps like a brand you can never remove. A couple more touches, you won’t want to remove it.” He envisioned the grins on their faces, the red that seeped up to their ears.
Saps, both of them.

Wrong, too.

Love was not a firebrand. Did not scorch the skin. Did not appear out of nowhere. Did
not
come at first touch.

Love grew slowly.
Over time. With the right woman. When a man was ready. He’d lived by that mantra his whole life. Had based his marriage on the idea.

The other two males in the MacKay family had scoffed when he’d married Gina. He’d pretty much cut them out of his life for the next six months, but eventually, he’d eaten crow. The marriage died a slow gentle death.

Teri Branton wanted a week at sea. She was here for a honeymoon that wasn’t. The display she’d put on for him with those shoes had let him know she was looking for action.

Revenge sex?
Maybe. If so, he’d be happy to take her up on it, in spite of the live wire that snapped and bit whenever they touched. He’d adjust because there was no way in hell he was going to let a chance at a woman like that go by just because his brother and father were crazy. No way.

For now he focused on navigating Kingston harbor, avoiding smaller and larger craft. He waved to other charter boats heading in for the night and wished like hell he’d never thought up this honeymoon charter idea. Day trips paid well enough and all he’d have to do was promise snacks and drinks.

But no, he hadn’t been satisfied with a casual income, had to go after the guarantee of advance bookings. Had to turn this easygoing venture into a full time career. When he’d decided to go for it, he’d been happy to get back into the game.

His time for drifting had come to an end.

And who has to show up? A woman who shoots sparks.

Shit!

Alone below, Teri took in how sumptuous the boat was. The Web site hadn’t done it justice. Pleased, she noted an extra-long cream-colored leather sofa along one side. A couple of armchairs completed the furnishings while a big screen television hung on the wall. Light wood cabinets kept the cooking area from being dark. She marveled at the ingenious use of space and opened every cupboard she saw.

The bathroom off the master cabin was small but well appointed with a shower set in a tiny tub. She opened the medicine chest over the sink to check out what it was that Jared had put away. A variety pack of condoms: glow in the dark, flavored and ribbed for her pleasure.

Extra large
.

She snorted. Philip should be so lucky.

Back in the master cabin she checked out the drawer in the night table. The DVDs Jared had put away were x-rated. She popped one into the player, propped herself on the bed and skipped through the beginning to find couples enjoying strong, healthy, powerful sex. Great sex. Friendly sex. Even affectionate sex.

Philip’s pious expression when he’d explained the concept of
revirginizing swam in front of her mind’s screen. He wanted them to remember their wedding night as special, he’d said. She’d been amazingly agreeable. It had been so easy to give up sleeping with him that she should have seen the signs of a dying relationship.

But by then the wedding had taken on a life of its own, a juggernaut, there was no stopping it. His mother, her mother, the caterer, the church, the dress!

None of the energetic sex she saw on the portable bedroom television had ever happened with Philip. She sighed, wandered out to the little kitchen, retrieved the champagne from the fridge, opened it and poured herself a tumbler full. She considered digging out the flutes Jared had put away but the tumbler held more. And Teri wanted lots.

When she settled back onto the bed a couple onscreen were enjoying a fabulously decadent
soixante neuf
. The actor’s tongue work looked enthusiastic. The actress looked happy.

Teri watched closely, amused at first. The moaning and sex talk were obviously dubbed in afterward. No one really said things like
that, no one felt things as strongly as the actors pretended.

She changed positions on the bed, lying on her belly with her head at the foot so she could see the action up close. And up close was what she got.

The camera closed in on his tongue so Teri could see the moisture, the red, full clit he was licking and sucking gently between his lips.

Her own body reacted to the visual stimulus and moistened as the actress widened her legs and the actor slid his tongue deep into her. She thrashed on the bed in a stunning display of sexual hysteria that had never, ever overcome Teri.

She was jealous. Did people react this strongly to oral sex? She never had. But, then, Philip was so fastidious she doubted he’d ever been as deeply involved as the actor was. Even an actor who was being paid to fake it was more turned on than Philip had been the few times she’d insisted.

Teri knew what she wanted, knew what she liked,
knew what would get her off like a rocket, but Philip had issues.

She’d always hoped he’d warm up more. Get hotter, get horny.
For her. But he hadn’t. Wouldn’t. Not ever.

The onscreen couple switched positions and the actress performed fellatio until the man bucked and howled with his orgasm. The couple tumbled onto the sofa, sated.

Teri clicked off the TV, took another long drink and rolled onto her back. Her legs slid open and she felt herself, moist and heavy with need.

The bedroom door was open and from here she could see through the living area and up the stairs to one small rectangular patch of sky. She wondered what would happen if Jared were to peer down the hatch and see her here with her legs splayed and her hand on her wet slit.

Would the pirate on deck come down to the master cabin and grab her ankles like the actor had? She closed her eyes and let her fantasy play out. It was better than any porn flick because she could control every movement, every word and all of her responses. She could tell Jared what to do and he’d do it.

She could tell him to lick her breasts and lift her hips to bring her closer to his mouth. He could trail his scratchy chin delicately along her inner thigh until he got close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her hotter pussy. She slid her other hand to a nipple and plucked it while she opened to her questing fingertip.

She would tell him to linger there, just far enough away from her that he’d be able to see her wet lips, smell her aroused flesh, feel her need. Sliding a fingertip into herself, familiar tension built while she worked to bring herself to orgasm. He would kiss her there where she was hottest, moist and achy. He’d do whatever she told him to and like it.

She wasn’t wired for abstinence, hadn’t wanted to go along with Philip’s crazy idea, but – oh, yes, it was building to a peak now and soon she’d be over the – on a weak sigh, her orgasm pulsed through her lower body in a poor imitation of what she’d witnessed onscreen.

She opened her eyes on the wish that Jared had seen her and that he was right now on his way to ravish her like the pirate he was. But no, he’d been a gentleman and left her to herself.

Her unsatisfied self.

She’d taken the edge off, but it had been far too long since she’d had a truly good orgasm. And she deserved one.
Or three.

Or a week full of them. She smiled and rose to wash her hands. In the mirror, she faced herself.

Philip was gone. She was here. Jared was here.

And Jared was hot, hot,
hot.

She decided to unpack her lingerie after all.

Her carry-on bag sat on the floor beside the bed, tagged and zipped and bulging. A couple of sharp points threatened to poke holes through the sides, but still, she couldn’t bring herself to open it.

She took another drink of champagne instead.

The bag was full of shoes. Stilettos, each and every pair. Toes pointed enough to cripple, Philip always wanted her to wear them. If he’d wanted a tall, lanky, long-limbed wife why had he asked her out in the first place? She would never have that look, no matter how high her heels were. She was lean, yes, but her muscle tone was obvious.

Some men liked her athletic build. The pirate above decks for one, she realized as she poured and drank another tumbler of champagne. She sat on the edge of the bed, one toe on the floor for balance, the other heel tucked into her crotch. She bent over toward the night table to grab the bottle again, but nearly fell off the bed.

She was tipsy. Well and truly feeling no pain. She giggled.

Oh, hell, who cared? There was no one here to judge her. No one to tell her she’d had too much and had to mind herself.

No one to tell her to keep her hands to herself and off Jared MacKay.

“Step away from the pirate,” she intoned in a dramatic imitation of Philip’s most commanding tone. Then she laughed harder.

Philip had no say in anything she did anymore. He’d given up the right to chastise her, instruct her or humiliate her when he’d dashed out of the church this morning.

She stood, still laughing, curiously aware of an incredible sense of freedom. She set aside her carry-on bag. She’d open it later. Right now she wanted her bathing suit and sarong.

There was a sunset waiting for her.

A sunset and a pirate who needed taming.

Teri reappeared on deck after they left harbor, dressed in a thong bikini with a see-through gauzy white skirt that fell to her ankles.

She hung like a wraith in Jared’s peripheral vision as he steered clear of other boats and watched the water for obstacles.

She wandered up to the bow, book in hand. What kind of man wouldn’t care that his bride brought a book on her honeymoon?

What kind of man would let a woman like this get away?

He knew when she sat on a deck chair. He knew when she opened her paperback, caught at an errant tendril of hair, opened her skirt to get some failing sunlight on her legs.
Toned legs, shapely legs that ended on pearly pink toes.

He liked pink so much better than red. Red painted nails just said come and get it. Pink made a man wonder how hot she could get.

The breeze blew her hair back from her face. The wind put color in her cheeks and he just knew her lips were moist and soft and pouty. Perfect lips, perfect teeth, and a perfect pink tongue to lick him with.

His hands clamped hard on the wheel, but his gaze slid down from her face to her chest, where hard pebbles pushed out of the little triangles that covered the tips of her breasts. The wind had blown the skirt between her thighs, outlining her. From here, he could see the line of her white thong bikini bottom as it disappeared between her legs. He clamped the wheel harder and remembered the threat of the snap and crackle on his hand and arm, reminding him not to touch her again.

He still hadn’t seen her eyes. She’d kept her sunglasses on the whole time. Were they green? Blue? Soft? Hard? Did they telegraph her thoughts or was she adept at hiding them?

He bet on her being wide open. Otherwise she wouldn’t need to hide behind the glasses and she’d have taken them off earlier.

He studied the shoulder length, blonde hair and decided she was born with it. A sleek cigarette boat appeared on the starboard side. The sailors waved and the speedboat crossed his bow well ahead of the
SandJack
.

Teri waved back and laughed at the smaller boat then put her bare feet up on the railing the same way he had earlier.

Now she was going to take the nap he’d wanted.

She slid down in the chair so she could stretch far enough to set her feet more squarely on the rail. The movement caused the skirt to fall clear of her legs, exposing them.
Great legs.

“You’ll burn,” he called. “Either cover up or use the sun screen under the chair.”

She tilted her face toward him. “Sunburn even in this light?”

“You’re pale and fair. This is Jamaican sun. Better to be safe.”

She felt around under her seat and came up with a bottle. She popped the top, held the container high over her other hand and squeezed. A slow white stream of lotion drizzled into her palm.

His mouth went dry as she lifted her left leg and began long slow strokes to apply it. She started at her toes and worked up to her ankle, swirling the creamy stuff around to the heel and
back to the front. Her pink painted finger nails trailed up to her calves and rubbed the lotion into her skin.

He hung on every smooth satiny movement of flesh as she kneaded and slathered and poured more from the bottle. She smoothed behind her knee where heat pooled, up her thighs, inside and outside. She stood, let the gauzy skirt drop to the teak deck and rubbed her hand across her left ass cheek. Creaming more lotion onto her hand, she went back to a thorough covering of her high taut buttock.

Sweat broke out on his forehead. His T-shirt was long since damp. His shorts strained until he made an adjustment.

He’d seen lots of women apply sun screen. He’d been invited to join the game countless times. He’d smoothed his share of fine asses, but this, this was like something out of a teenage boy’s dream.

The last thought he had before all control settled south of his waistband, was that he didn’t give a damn about static charges or electricity or even fate. After that, his other head was in charge.

“Need help?” The pirate’s voice sounded strained and Teri smiled to herself.

“Not with this,” she called back.

The champagne had gone to her head, the movie she’d seen had aroused her, while her weak little orgasm had only served to remind her of how much more she needed.

As much as she wanted to let all those things dictate her behavior, her sensible side told her to slow down, take it easy, she’d been through too much to process in a few short hours. She shouldn’t add the seduction of a perfect stranger to the mix.

Perfect. That was the operative word here, her other, definitely dangerous side said. Jared MacKay was the perfect stranger. Sexy, hot, available.

No one, but no one need ever know about what went on between them.

Just the idea excited her.

Her hand filled with lotion and reminded her of what she was doing. Getting back into the game of seduction, she repositioned her chair with one hand so that she was sideways to Jared at the wheel. She took her seat again and slathered the lotion all over her right leg.

When she reached the top of her thigh, she allowed her fingertip to slide under the G-string that separated her folds between her legs. She rubbed lotion under the
vee
of material that covered her mons pubis.

Slicking the lotion around her lowest belly she made sure he saw her tilt her head back in a parody of sexual yearning. She jutted her hips up toward her hand miming the act of self-gratification.

The idea that he watched from the wheel as she played at pleasuring herself excited her. She made bets on how long it would take before he succumbed to the need that wafted around her, pulsing like a force of nature.

Peeping at him from lowered lids, it thrilled her to see him completely focused on her. Intent and narrow, his gaze tracked every slide of her fingertip. The muscles in his forearms stood out as he gripped the wheel tight and hard.

The pirate was turned on. An erection jutted under his shorts and made her mouth water. It had been far too long since she’d swirled her tongue across the head of an erect penis. She wondered about his scent and how he tasted, how much leakage he had when he was ready to explode. Oh, how she loved the taste of the slick stuff that hinted at the wealth of semen he carried.

Her eyes slid closed as moisture built between her legs. Her finger slid a millimeter lower and she felt the tip of her protruding clitoris. One delicate brush was all she needed to bring another slide of moisture to her inner lips. If she wasn’t careful, she really would be pleasuring herself again and she already knew that wasn’t enough to ease the ache she felt.

She removed her finger from under her thong and stood, pulling her sarong skirt up to cover her again.

She tied it at her waist and leaned over the railing to watch the bow slice through the water. Placing her feet wide apart on the deck, she let the vibration from the engine seep into her soles, up her legs to massage her heart.

The wind kicked up the ends of her hair and she raised her arms out from her sides, turning them into wings. How she wanted to fly, to lift away from this churning upheaval and soar away on an updraft that would take her far away.

Oblivion, that’s what she wanted. She could drink herself into it, eat chocolate until she exploded or have wild sex with a pirate all week.

She settled her chin on her hand. The drinking would make her feel sick, the chocolate would settle on her hips and the sex, well, she couldn’t see much of a downside. The actors she’d watched earlier had certainly enjoyed themselves.

She thought about that. Sex with an audience might be fun. Sex with a bunch of people standing around with lights, cameras and instructions for louder moans, more sweat,
better orgasms might make her wild, bring out her inner sex kitten.

Her mind swirled, kicked up a series of images from the movie that excited her. She easily overlaid Jared’s face with the actor she’d seen. She became the actress making such spectacular use of Jared’s tongue. But it wasn’t the movie or her fantasy that excited her, it was the pirate. The pirate and the promise she
’d seen in his gaze.

Hot promise.

“Don’t lean too far over,” he called. “Go overboard there and you’re lost for sure.” She turned to face him. He stood at the wheel. The wind caught at the curls at the nape of his neck, the sun kissed his shoulders and strong forearms. Her mouth watered. She set her elbows on the railing and crossed her ankles, content for the moment to let her gaze wander around the boat.

The
SandJack
boasted a hot tub on deck, several lounge chairs and heavily padded bunks along the edges. The deck itself was wooden and she guessed her stiletto heels would have left gouges.

She wriggled her toes against the deck. She hadn’t been barefoot in years. She missed it.

The bone deep heat from the sun eased away her tension and she grinned at the way her most disastrous day ever had turned out. No matter what Philip was doing, she was having the time of her life.

No phones, no e-mail, no mother-in-law, no arrangements to make, no faking smiles when she felt like screaming.

Just sun, waves and a man she wanted to ravish.

What more could a jilted bride ask for?