He lifted off her, making her groan as her tight flesh struggled to release him.
‘That was seriously awesome.’ Flopping over onto his back, he lay with his arm over his face. ‘You’re incredibly tight.’
She felt herself blush, an odd combination of pleasure and acute embarrassment at the intimate comment. ‘Only because you’re so big,’ she said, trying to find the playful tone again.
‘While my ego and I thank you for that...’ he dropped his arm to find her hand and thread his fingers through hers ‘...I’m not that much bigger than the average guy.’
The blush glowed. Maybe it wasn’t just his size that had made him feel so large. Maybe it was because she hadn’t done it with anyone in at least a year. And certainly never with that much energy or enthusiasm.
He turned onto his side, and cupped her cheek, his palm cool against her heated flesh. ‘Has it been a while?’
She blinked, disconcerted by the perceptive comment. ‘Are you a mind-reader?’
He touched her cheek, the tender, curious smile more seductive than the tangy scent of sex that surrounded them. ‘How long?’
She huffed out a laugh, the embarrassment burned away by a new surge of arousal. ‘Far too long, it seems.’
He hooked his thigh over her legs, shocking her when something stiff prodded her hip.
‘Is that...?’ She looked down, stunned to see him hard and ready again still sheathed by the condom.
He lifted her chin, grinning. ‘Yeah, it is.’ The cheeky grin—not to mention his astonishing powers of recuperation—made him seem very boyish. Too boyish.
‘How old are you?’ she asked, before she could think better of it.
His lips tilted. ‘Nearly thirty.’
She propped herself up on her elbows. Good grief, he was still in his twenties. ‘How nearly?’
‘I’ll be twenty-nine next month. Why? You planning to give me a present?’ He cupped her breast, licked at the nipple. ‘I can think of something I’d love to see gift-wrapped.’
‘You’re twenty-eight.’ She scooted back. ‘But that’s...practically a toy boy.’
He chuckled, then grabbed her shoulders and shoved her onto her back, anchoring her in place with one hard thigh. ‘Oh, yeah? So how old are you, then?’
‘I’m thirty-four,’ she said, indignantly.
His gaze drifted over her face. ‘You don’t look it.’
There didn’t seem to be any judgment in the tone, but still she felt...embarrassed. ‘Well, I am.’ Maybe it was only six years but it felt like the wrong six years. ‘Let me up.’
‘Not going to happen, old lady,’ he teased.
She struggled, trying to buck him off, but he didn’t budge. ‘Please, this feels awkward now.’
‘Why? You’re at your sexual peak. And so am I.’
Given the now-prominent feel of his erection, she had to agree. ‘I know, but it feels weird.’
‘It’s not weird, it’s cool.’ He rubbed his shaft against her hip—making it fairly obvious he wasn’t put off in the slightest by her vintage. She looked down at the thrusting erection. ‘Although FYI, I’m not a toy boy,’ he added. ‘You’re a damn cougar.’
A laugh popped out before she could stop it, but cut off when he cupped her sex. His fingers delved, stroking her oversensitive clitoris, the touch light and fleeting but enough to send shock waves of need echoing through her.
She thrust her fingers into his hair as he opened her thighs to position the impressive erection against her entrance. ‘Well, I suppose, if you put it like—’
Grasping her hips, he thrust deep in one long, smooth, all-consuming stroke, stealing her breath and cutting off any more pointless protests.
Oh, sod it.
Six years was nothing, she decided, especially once he’d established a slow, lazy, teasing rhythm that quickly became more intoxicating than the rum.
* * *
Hours later, Ella struggled to focus on the radiant glow of dawn peeping through the shutters. Contemplating the tenderness between her thighs and the soreness in other, previously unknown and now thoroughly exercised muscle groups, she conceded that, while the years might not be a problem, the mileage definitely was.
‘I should go,’ she mumbled, her fuzzy brain latching onto the fact that lingering past daybreak had the potential to be a lot more awkward than their age difference.
But when she lifted one tired limb, a muscular forearm banded round her midriff from behind and hauled her back into his embrace.
‘Nothing doing,’ Cooper’s sleep-roughened voice murmured against her hair. His big body cocooned her, his chest solid against her back, the soft hairs on his thighs brushing the backs of her legs and the softening erection still prominent against her bottom.
She debated arguing with him, but couldn’t fight the thundering beat of her pulse, the fatigue dragging her into oblivion or the novelty of being held so securely. Maybe she could stay and snuggle, for a little bit? Grab one more hot memory to sustain her through the difficult truth she would have to face when she got home?
This was her holiday of a lifetime, after all, and Cooper Delaney—toy boy extraordinaire—her passport to no-holds-barred pleasure.
She relaxed, warmed by the comfort of his embrace. ‘All right, but I’ll go soon.’
Her lips tilted into a smile as he grunted. ‘Shut up and go to sleep.’ His forearm tightened under her breasts. ‘You’re going to need to get your strength up, my little cougar. This toy boy isn’t finished with you yet.’
She choked out a laugh—that became a wistful hum as his arm became slack and her own body drifted towards sleep.
Colourful images collected behind her eyes—the glitter of pink sand beaches, the darting sparkle of blue-finned fish, the tangerine glow of fruit juice and rum, and the piercing jade of Cooper Delaney’s eyes.
She swallowed to relieve the clutching sensation in her chest, and tumbled headlong into the rainbow dream.
‘Hey, Coop, get your butt out of bed, it’s past eleven. And I’ve got exciting news.’
The muffled musical voice intruded on Ella’s dream. She squeezed open an eyelid, grateful when the brittle sunlight hitting her retinas didn’t appear to be accompanied by any pain, despite the definite thumping in her head.
Flopping over onto her back, she squinted at the empty bed beside
