before, her knees went weak.
Maybe it was those bubbles, but Issy’d had enough of being teased. Of fleeting little kisses that left her wanting more. Much more. Time for payback.
She traced his mouth with the tip of her finger, lingering over his full lower lip.
The fire she’d seen earlier in the depths of his dark eyes sprang back to life. He caught her finger between his teeth and licked the tip.
Need pulsed through her. Before she could second-guess herself, Issy stood on tiptoe and replaced her finger with her lips.
J.B. WAS IN trouble again.
That internal warning—the feeling in his gut when he was about to be blown out by an opposition D-man—was flashing. Still, he refused to back out of this woman’s kiss.
He’d only known Bella for a couple hours and she’d already managed to keep him off balance with those damn frustrating, damn intriguing contradictions. She definitely had an uptight streak, but instead of putting him off, it enticed him to dig deeper. To see if he could loosen her up.
Even her kiss was a contradiction. He sensed her inexperience, yet the way her tongue teased his lower lip was anything but innocent. She tasted of champagne and chocolate-dipped cherries with a hint of Caribbean spice. Sweet yet intoxicating. Slightly wicked.
J.B. took her up on the invitation she so blatantly offered and deepened the kiss. When his tongue touched hers, she sighed softly. He could feel her smiling. That made him smile, too.
A bump against his shoulder brought him back to reality.
“Oops. Sorry. Carry on.” A tipsy blonde waved a hand with hot-pink nails.
Bella stiffened in his arms and blushed as if suddenly realizing what they were doing.
“Perhaps we should take this somewhere a little more private,” he suggested.
“Oh.” She bit her lip.
Sensing she might bolt, J.B. gave her an easy out. “Or we could dance, like we planned.”
Bella brightened and reached for her champagne. “Dancing sounds good.”
J.B. grabbed his drink, drained the glass, then took hers and put both flutes on the table. “Sounds like they’re playing our song.”
She tilted her head, arching an eyebrow. “‘Thriller’ is our song?”
“For sure.” He lifted his hands, fingers curled into claws, and waggled his eyebrows like an old movie villain.
Bella fluttered her hand against her chest. “Hey-yelp. I’m so scay-urred.”
Her damsel-in-distress voice made him grin. “Come with me, my pretty, and I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
As the DJ called out instructions, J.B. and Bella joined in and laughed their way through the zombie steps.
After “Thriller” came the “Macarena.” J.B. rolled his eyes and tried to head back to the table. But when Bella started dancing in front of him—suggestively swaying those hips, invitation in her eyes—once again, he couldn’t resist.
“How come you know all the right moves?” he teased.
“One of the benefits of teaching preteen girls who like to work on dance routines during recess,” she replied primly.
“Is it appropriate for me to be grateful to those girls?”
“Why not?” She grinned. “I am.”
When the DJ played the next song, a group of older people whooped, then sat on the sand in a long chain. They started swaying from side to side, patting the sand in time to the music. Then they shimmied their shoulders forward and back. Soon a second line had formed.
“You can all do this one,” the DJ called out. “It’s a bit of ‘Oops Upside Your Head.’”
J.B. and Bella looked at each other, confused by the strange dance.
“Come on, it looks like fun.” She grabbed his hand and dragged him over to join the end of a line. She dropped to the sand, pulling him down with her. “Scootch up behind me.”
Maybe this weird dance wasn’t so bad, after all, he thought as she nestled between his legs. They knocked heads when he leaned forward while the rest of the line leaned back. She looked over her shoulder at him and they laughed together.
It didn’t take long to realize that as pleasurable as it was to have the curve of Bella’s butt pressed against him, his body saw it as foreplay. The song was barely half-over and he was rock hard. There was no way Bella couldn’t have noticed; when she shimmied backward she was practically lying in his lap.
Think cold. Ice. A big sheet of clean ice.
Another freaking shimmy. Think colder. Freezing his ass off doing chores on a winter morning on his parent’s farm up in Canada.
That did the trick. His brothers might love being tied to the farm and that spit of a small town, but the mere thought chilled J.B. to the bone.
Bella jumped up the moment the song ended and headed back to their table. Her champagne had gone warm and flat, but J.B. snagged rum punches from a passing waiter.
“That’s delicious,” she said. “Very refreshing.”
“Yeah, but don’t have too many or you’ll be dancing on the tables. The rum packs a punch, if you’re not used to it.”
Bella put down the glass with such force that the drink splashed onto her hand. She rubbed it off with a napkin as if it was acid, an accusation in her eyes.
Surely she didn’t think he was trying to get her drunk?
“I don’t think one glass will do you any harm,” he said lightly.
Uptight Bella was back. “I should probably go back to the room, anyway. It’s getting late.”
J.B. debated trying to convince her that it was still early, but figured he’d cut his losses. “I’ll walk you.”
“There’s no need. It’s safe here.”
“I know.”
A hint of a smile curved her lips. “Honestly, you don’t have to hang out with me any longer. Your duty’s done.”
“Maybe I’d like to.” He took off his loafers. “Let’s walk along the beach.”
Bella nodded. Instead of reaching for his hand as she had earlier, she removed her sandals and held them by the heel straps. She started off at a decent clip, heading toward the accommodation block on the far side of the property. But, even barefoot, it was hard to walk fast along the soft, shifting sand, so she soon slowed. Beside her, J.B. matched her pace.
Though
