Summer Beach Reads. Natalie Anderson

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it open. Then she tried to get the thing to work.

      ‘You have to help me with this,’ she panted. Her fingers not getting the slippery rubber to roll down right.

      He lay back, his hands pushed hers out of the way, but she bent, following the downward stroke of his fingers with her mouth. He hissed a curse—a whisper so stretched with desire it broke.

      She laughed, delighted, and lost her last fragment of inhibition. The breathlessness, the haste, the heat, all turned her on to an extreme degree. He seemed to have the same reaction. His erection strained flat against his stomach. She straddled, shifting closer to him, letting her core rest just on the base of him, his tight balls just beneath her butt. She teased them both with tiny squeezes of her muscles, like little kisses from her intimate lips. The hard ridge of him was delicious torment on her sweet spot and grinding against him set her on an even faster track to ecstasy. Oh, yeah, now it was carnal, now it was insane. Never so raw and passionate and quick. He growled and firmly slid his big hand up her thigh, then forced his fingers between their bodies. She moaned, abandoned, as he used his thumb to tease her. He sat up to kiss her breasts again as he toyed with her, circling her rhythmically, occasionally slipping deep. She was dripping with desire, unashamedly writhing as he flicked his fingers, as he licked and kissed up to her neck, then down to her breasts again. Almost at the point of climax she pushed him back, her strength catching him by surprise. A loud smacking sound clapped in the room as she broke the seal of his mouth on her skin. He fell back on the mattress and she held him there with a hard hand on his shoulder.

      ‘I want to do it,’ she growled, grabbing his rigid length in a wide fist, hovering above him for one moment of ecstatic anticipation.

      She gasped as she slid, instinctively clamping tight and twisting down on him. He roared and she felt his muscles flex. She smiled, thrilled he was as turned on as she. He arched uncontrollably again; whatever words he muttered were unintelligible.

      She pressed her palms to his big, taut biceps for leverage, for control. Her fingers curled into the solid muscle as she began to ride him. Filled with limitless energy and endurance, she took him deeper and deeper, over and over. He was big and powerful and she loved having him beneath her. Oh, yeah, he was the most incredible ride. Perfect—big enough to fill her ravenous appetite—too big really. But that was exactly what she’d wanted—an extreme experience of pleasure.

      His hands cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples between finger and thumb, until—mere seconds later—she lifted and sank on him too fast for him to keep grip, so he swept his palms over her curves, slipping down to her waist, smoothing the sudden slick of sweat over her body. And then his hands spread wide on her thighs, his fingers firmed, holding her soft flesh as tightly as she was gripping his biceps. Suddenly he thrust hard, meeting her in a massive movement. She roared with pleasure then, as the duel for dominance began. Her fingers curled deep into his, pressing down as he pushed up, ratcheting the friction. They drove hard, slamming together faster and faster, each forcing the other to ecstatic abandonment.

      ‘So good, oh, so good,’ she panted, almost inaudible. ‘Oh, it’s never been so good.’

      So good it was only seconds before she came with a harsh, high cry. Only one more before he came hard after.

      * * *

      Rapid, jerky breathing filled her head—her own and his. Sensual joy surged through her in a final squeeze. If she had the energy she’d laugh. But she was sweaty and breathless and so zapped she was fast sinking into a lax, sleepy mass.

      She heard footsteps—the clipping sound of high heels on concrete. A cough, then laughter rising up from the courtyard below the window. She froze. People were still up, still awake. Could have heard... The realization brought reality back with a crash.

      The morning after hadn’t been a very much thought-upon part of her plan. Now all the decisions came to her split-second: this would change nothing between them. They’d be colleagues who’d had a carefree kick together one night. That was all. She knew he flirted with every woman he met and that this would mean nothing to him. So it had to mean nothing to her too. She liked to think he’d keep his mouth shut. While in their industry hook-ups were common, this was her first. But she knew it would hardly become notorious news—there were people far more important than her for others to talk about. And she was not going to let this get ugly. It was over already.

      She peeled her chest from his, preparing to slide off his body and get back to her own room. But he pulled her back against him. He was stronger than she’d thought he’d be. He was more everything than she’d thought he’d be.

      ‘Stay.’ A low, sleepy word—but a command none the less. His embrace tightened. Inescapable but so irresistible.

      She hadn’t expected this caring comfort either. He rolled them both in a smooth movement, settling them into a sleep position—still devastatingly intimate. The moment of clarity she’d had before now melted in lax drowsiness as she physically melted back into his warm strength. He lifted a heavy leg over hers, his arms curled tighter—cradling her ultra-close. Consciousness slipped. Her muscles were spent, that yearning in her depths sated. The last thing she heard was another burst of laughter coming through the open window. A man’s laugh. With the last fragment of conscious energy she frowned—she recognised that laugh.

      * * *

      Hours later she slowly woke to a low moan echoing in her ears. Her own moan as she released a breath that seemed to have been held for ever. Her heart was pumping, her skin—and other bits—damp and so hot. She was having the most vivid, gorgeous dream. She resisted opening her eyes, wanting to stay in the sizzling fantasy. And in that fantasy she was imprisoned in the arms of one very hot, hard body—part of that body was very, very hard. His fingertips gently brushed down her lower belly. The urge to flex her hips—to invite—was irresistible. As she rocked back against him she felt the rebellious ache in her muscles, but she didn’t care. Not as the memories cleared—the wildness of that ride coming into focus. Not when his hips teased right back and his fingers went...

      ‘Good morning.’ His voice was less sleep-rusted than it had been last night, but it was still strange.

      Ellie froze. Her heart stopped, totalling her oxygen supply. Then she spun, inadvertently trapping his hand between her legs. The molten-brown eyes intently focused on her weren’t the pale green ones she’d expected.

      ‘Oh, my God!’ She jerked to a sitting position, trapping his hand all the more. Clutching the sheet to her chest with hands curled into claws, she squawked, utterly breathless, ‘Who the hell are you?’

       CHAPTER TWO

      RUBEN THEROUX had never had a bedmate regret frolicking with him and he had no intention of breaking that record now. He didn’t care that he hadn’t a clue who his sexy intruder was. No, the question he’d spent the last twenty minutes musing over was what colour her eyes were. Now he knew. Cornflower blue and crazy big. And though shock had whitened her face, she was still the prettiest thing he’d woken to find in his bed. Then again, he hadn’t woken to anyone in his bed in a while. Relationships and Ruben were like oil and water, and he’d been too busy in recent times for even a five hour fling. So maybe it wasn’t surprising he’d spent so long studying the soft woman soundly sleeping—until he’d succumbed to the temptation to tease. And, oh, my, she was hot to tease.

      ‘You’re not Nathan.’ Strangled sound emerged as she stated the obvious.

      ‘No,’ he answered calmly,

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