though he’d heard her thoughts he shifted to press his lips to her neck as if seeking sustenance. She could only let her head drop back helplessly as his mouth traveled lower, down her throat, into the deep neckline of her dress.
When she’d kissed him last they’d still been amazed and overwhelmed by the novelty of French kissing, by the pleasure that mouth could give mouth. And later, she recalled, by the startling feel of his hands on her breasts, hot even through the fabric of her shirts.
Save for that one startling night behind the garage, hidden away, when he’d put his hands under her bra and scared her a little. They’d never gone further than that, though, and things ended soon after.
She’d wondered about him over the years, wondered how it would have been if she’d capitulated that night. But what could that fourteen-year-old boy have known about making love?
Now, though, he wasn’t fourteen any more. He’d learned in the intervening years, he’d learned all kinds of tricks. Kissing was no longer an end in and of itself, kissing was the invitation—enough to tantalize, to have the tension curling deep inside her, the demand whispering through her veins.
She wasn’t a girl, she was a woman who knew what she wanted.
And what she wanted was him.
DOM HAD WATCHED HER, FELT her on the dance floor, needed until his system throbbed with it. Now, all he wanted to do was devour the softness of her mouth, feel that willowy body against his, sink into her. And when she growled low in her throat and took the kiss deeper, he felt himself harden.
She caught his lip between her teeth and bit down, the flash of pain jolting him for a fraction of an instant before the soft slide of her tongue wiped it away. There was addiction in that wide, mobile mouth. There was addiction in the sweet, spicy taste of her. And all he wanted was more.
He could tell himself he’d approached her because he’d wanted to see her again, wanted to talk with her. But that wasn’t it completely and he knew it because all he really wanted, all he’d wanted from the instant he’d recognized her was this moment of crushing her against him, devouring her mouth with his, rediscovering her taste, her touch, the softness of her lips. Need hammered at him, to have her naked against him, under him, to feel her wet heat as he drove himself into her. He had to have her.
Now.
“I think we should—” Then he inhaled sharply as he felt as much as heard his zipper coming down. “What are you doing?”
Delaney laughed against his lips. “A guy your age, you shouldn’t have to ask that.” And she caught a breath. “Why Jake the Snake, no underwear? A nice private-school boy like you?”
He’d thought he was already as hard as he could get, but at the first brush of her fingers on his bare cock, he swore he turned into granite. “Stop,” he growled when he could get a breath.
“Stop?” she repeated, moving her hand. “Why?”
He was about two seconds away from coming and he didn’t want to waste it like this. “We’re behind a bar, for one thing.”
“So? We used to make out behind a garage.”
“Not like this, we didn’t.” She shifted her motion and he swore. “There are people wandering around.”
“Here?” She glanced at the patio behind them, then slipped her hand in farther. “Those people don’t care what we’re doing. They’re too wrapped up in each other. Besides, isn’t that what vacations are for, a little bad behavior? Come on.” She nibbled on his earlobe. “I dare you.”
“Stop it.”
She furled her fingers more tightly around him. “Don’t you like it?” She pouted.
Oh, he liked it, all right. He liked it enough that he was about ready to drag her off to some dark place, push that dress up around her hips and—
She leaned into his shoulder, draping herself over his leg, licking his neck. “I like it,” she whispered. “I like feeling you hard. I like knowing that I was the one who got you that way.”
She’d never touched him like this when they’d been together. If she had, he could pretty well guarantee that he would have lost it. Even now, all these years later it was taking all his control to hold on against the tempting slip of those clever fingers, the feel of her tongue on his skin.
He slid his hand up over her breast. And when he heard her catch her breath, it was his turn to laugh and still the movement of her wrist. “I think maybe you’d better let me take over,” he said softly, running his hands down over her hips. And slipping one hand stealthily up underneath her short skirt, trailed his fingers over the smooth skin of her inner thighs. She moaned again. He chuckled low in his throat. “Yeah , I think it’s my turn.”
He leaned down and pleasured himself by ravaging her mouth with his, bringing his fingers up higher beneath the silky fabric she wore under her dress. Only to find her already hot and slick and wet. Pure, unadulterated lust slammed through him.
There was nothing like this, using his fingers to touch her and intimately feel her body quake, hearing the inarticulate noises she made against his mouth. Knowing he was bringing her pleasure. Knowing he was taking her to the edge.
And he wanted more. Feeling her wasn’t enough, pressing into one another like the teenagers they’d once been wasn’t enough. He wanted everything, wanted her naked.
Wanted her now.
“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered feverishly. “Where are you staying?”
“Aqua Blue.”
“I’m at La Hacienda. It’s closer.”
“You just said the magic words,” she whispered.
He kissed her hard and then broke away, breathing heavily. “No, the magic words are ‘I have a condom.” ’
She grinned wide and beautiful. “I have lots of them,” she said.
HIS ROOM WAS DARK, the louvered doors closed. The first thing Delaney did was walk over and open them up wide.
“What are you doing?”
“I want to hear the ocean.” She went out on the balcony to look down at the darkened beach, the lights of Cozumel beyond. The top of the waist-high wall surrounding the balcony was a planter full of lush tropical ferns. She turned to face Dom, sitting on the edge of the low wall to enjoy the sight of him coming toward her. He’d been a good-looking kid, but that was nothing compared to how he looked as an adult. The soft boyishness was gone from his face, replaced by hard planes, as though the excess had been stripped away to show the man beneath. It showed even in the way he moved, not a swagger, exactly, but a stride of pure confidence, pure focus.
And she was his focus now.
It made her shiver as he stopped before her, stood between her parted legs. His shirt gapped open, showing the dip and flow of muscle beneath. Slowly, softly, she traced her fingertips over the corrugations in his belly. It quivered at her touch. His breath hissed in.
Intentionally taking her time, Delaney reached for his shirt
