Beneath a Hot Tequila Sun (3 page)

Add the wry humor in his gray eyes, and Kayla had to wonder how many tourist photos he appeared in during the course of a normal day. Despite the sun, a shiver ran through her. A nice shiver.

He pointed at the sun again and raised a dark eyebrow.

She dithered. He was right; she would burn. On the other hand, allowing a strange man that kind of liberty in such an isolated spot might give him the wrong idea.

The INAH logo on his shirt jumped out at her, reminding her that he was some kind of state employee. Surely these people were vetted? Of course they were. They’d have references and things. Which made it unlikely he was a serial killer.

Unless he murdered the real guard and left his body where it would never be found…

Get a grip!
She drew a deep, steadying breath and asked herself what he could possibly have gained from killing a guard on top of a pyramid? A plastic chair and a cool box? Surely most serial killers set their goals higher.

He waited for an answer.

“Okay. But no funny business,” she warned, handing over the now greasy bottle.

He took it and walked around behind her. Kayla swiveled her head like an owl, trying to keep him in sight, still not fully convinced he wouldn’t strangle her and add her body to the pile he may or may not have at the base of the pyramid.

He winked, and she blushed, wondering if her thoughts were so transparent? Again he made that twirling motion and feeling vulnerable, she obeyed, lifting her ponytail out of the way. Her shoulders were so tense she suspected it would feel no different from rubbing suntan lotion over one of the carvings. Gradually, though, as his hands glided efficiently over her skin with not a single wrong move, she began to relax.

And then, maybe because it was so long since she had been touched by a man, Kayla began to enjoy what he was doing. Immediately, she squirmed away.

“Thanks. That should do,” she said briskly.

Instead of backing off, he indicated he would do her legs next.

She had a sudden, heated image of him kneeling at her feet, strong, tanned hands sweeping up her legs, his thumbs maybe grazing the frayed hem of her shorts…

“Do you seriously think I’m going to let a total stranger loose on my legs?”

Whether he thought that or not, she would never know because she had lost his attention. His eyebrows drew together in a frown as he looked at her sketch pad.

Remembering her ex-husband’s sneering criticism of her drawings, Kayla snatched the pad away, ready to flip it shut. But glancing at the drawing, she too frowned. The man she had been drawing had a magnificent erection. However, the erection she had drawn was bigger. Much bigger. Monster-cock bigger.

The guard’s eyes danced with humor as she snapped the pad shut. “It’s an interpretation, obviously,” she huffed. “I’m hardly going to do an exact copy, am I?” Her face burned as she said this because that was precisely what she had set out to do. Her interpretation would have come out later, in the clay.

The guard squatted in front of her, lightly touched her calf, and raised an eyebrow in question.

Kayla squinted at him. “Do you do things like this often?” she asked. “Seduce tourists on top of pyramids?”

Seduce?
She realized immediately what she had said and flushed, but his gaze didn’t waver, and she thanked whatever gods might still reside in the pyramid that he didn’t speak English. Because seduction was exactly what his touch felt like.

“Okay. You can do my legs.” And then, because that sounded ungracious, she added, “Thank you.”

With her hiking boot-clad foot cradled in his lap, he began to massage her calf, working out the knots she had acquired on her climb up from the river. His touch remained efficient and impersonal, and slowly, she began to relax. His hands only traveled as high as her knee, reducing the tightly knotted muscles to putty before starting on the other leg. And it did feel good. Within minutes Kayla was so limp she kept sliding down the plastic chair in a greasy, sweaty puddle. After a few ineffective attempts to push herself up, she gave in and simply slumped in the sun, anchoring herself with one booted foot on the ground while the other rested in his lap.

Even with her eyes closed, the images of cavorting nudes still danced behind her lids. Had the models rubbed coconut oil onto each other? Probably, since coconuts were so abundant here. Kayla tried to put faces to some of the men she had recently drawn, but disturbingly, the only face she saw clearly was that of the guard. He would make a magnificent addition to her art project when she got home. Would it be wrong to put his face on one of her pieces?

From that thought it was only a tiny step to picturing him naked, giving him a sweating, grunting, fully active role in the mural. Kayla’s imagination slipped into overdrive when, as if by accident, his hand swept past her knee and onto her thigh. The massaging action didn’t change, the pressure didn’t change, it was just…above the knee rather than below.

Eyes still closed, she wondered at what point she should call a halt. Actually, she knew the point—roughly ten minutes ago. But his hands felt so good. Marc, her ex, as well as being her own personal art critic, hadn’t been into massage, not even in the early days of their marriage.
Another clue I missed?
Did normal couples massage each other? Kayla bet they did if it felt this good. She bet they massaged the hell out of each other.

A moment later, his fingers grazed the frayed hem of her shorts, and she fought a sensuous shiver. Definitely high. Definitely pushing the boundaries of being helpful. What if he pushed those boundaries higher still? What would she do?

She knew what she wanted to do. She wanted to wriggle out of her shorts and let him massage all the way up to her hot-pink bikini.

A shimmer of loneliness flashed through Kayla. What would it be like to be touched
there
by a man who wasn’t simply going through the motions? Whose desire for her matched hers for him?

If we had a condom, this could get interesting, she thought, and only realized she had spoken aloud when she felt him draw away.

Oh, crap. She’d shocked the sexy guard. Opening her eyes, shielding them from the sun, she prepared to apologize. Until she saw him holding up a condom.

Chapter Three

Kayla sat bolt upright. “You speak English? What kind of man would let me rabbit on like that without speaking up?”

“The kind who wants to get laid?” the guard said hopefully.

He didn’t just speak English. It was his mother tongue. “You’re American?” Kayla didn’t try to hide her affront. “I don’t believe this. You tricked me!”

“I didn’t trick you. You assumed and I allowed it. Now, about that condom?” Again he held the foil packet aloft.

“Not a chance!”

His face fell. “Try to see it from my point of view. Letting on I understood you could have been risky. You might have talked about your nails, or your hair, or your favorite boy band. None of those are conversations I enjoy. But instead, you were interesting, so I kept quiet and listened. Aren’t women supposed to like men who listen?”

Kayla wracked her brain, trying to remember everything she had said. She couldn’t remember every word, of course, but what she did recall mortified her.

The guard kept talking. “I’d like to rewind to the bit where you said things could get interesting if I had a condom. Because as you can see, we’re in luck.” He waggled the foil packet so it caught the sun.

“You seriously think you’re going to get to use that? I feel like a fool.”

“You feel like silk,” he said simply.

Wow.

“And I know you’ll feel like liquid silk when I’m inside you.”

Double wow
. Arousal shot through her, and a sneaky peek at the front of his jeans showed she wasn’t the only one turned on. But she averted her gaze primly. “You do this often? Seduce women on top of pyramids?”

“First time.”

“But you carry condoms?”

“First time on top of a pyramid.” His eyes twinkled. “I confess to seducing women as often as I can. Which, I freely admit, isn’t nearly as often as I’d like. Would it help if I promised to be quick?”

She fought a smile. “You think that’s a selling point?”

“I can do slow too. Just maybe not the first time.”

The first time. There could be more than one?
Heat flared inside her again, and she glanced at the murals behind him, where women spread their legs eternally for men with ever-hard dicks. She looked at the guard, at the evidence of his erection straining against his jeans, and tried to remember the last time a hard cock had pointed her way.

Which was when it dawned on her that she was actually considering his proposal. Kayla’s chest constricted so fast she could barely breathe.

No way should she even consider this. She had enough drawings. She should grab her stuff and race down to the jetty to wait for the boat.

That was what she
should
do.

Or she
could
stay on top of the pyramid and have sex with the hot guard. The hot guard who wanted her and whom she would never see again.

“Do you know,” she said hesitantly, “fast or slow, I don’t think I’d mind. I am so turned on right now, I’m tempted to sit on that stone penis over there.”

The guard had his shirt off before she finished talking. Excitement and panic churned inside Kayla, but she strove for casual, I-do-this-all-the-time insouciance. “You’ll get sunburned,” she warned, though even as she said it she noticed a few more clouds in the sky and that the wind had started to pick up.

“I’ll risk it. Truth is, there’s not a lot I wouldn’t risk to get laid right now. Any chance I can persuade you to take your top off?”

She glanced down at her sleeveless top, quite probably ruined forever by suntan lotion. Her nipples were clearly outlined against the material, to the point where she looked practically naked anyway. “You could.” She licked her lips. “If you take your jeans off.”

Oh. My. God. Had she really said that? A sexual request spoken aloud by Kayla McPherson? Saying something like that to Marc would have deflated his erection faster than an order of nuns marching into the bedroom.

But the guard seemed unfazed and immediately began to undo his jeans, hopping comically from foot to foot as he tried to heel off his boots at the same time. “I watched you all the way up from the river,” he told her. “I feel I already know your boobs intimately, but I can’t wait to get better acquainted.”

“You saw me from the boat?” She remembered the feeling of being watched.

He worked the stud of his jeans with slippery, coconut lotion-covered fingers. One of his boots skittered across the stone, and his hat went flying. “I have binoculars. I had a bird’s-eye view of your cleavage all the way up here.”

His jeans were undone now. Kayla pulled her top off. Then hesitated. Was she seriously doing this, getting naked and sweaty with a man she had known for under an hour? Out in the open?

Why not? Maybe I will finally find out what all the fuss is about.

“I thought you were asleep,” she said, pulling her top over her head, trying to behave is if undressing in front of a man she had only just met was no big deal.

She dropped her top down onto the limestone and paused self-consciously, her breasts spilling over her pink bikini top. Having come this far, she quickly dispensed with the bikini top too. Marc had always complained that her breasts were too big, and though Kayla had dieted hard to please him, nothing she had done had ever affected their size. They were easily her worst feature, especially now with her nipples so swollen and needy.

The guard’s expression was an eerie mirror of the man in the fresco behind him, who also seemed to be staring right at her boobs. In fact, they were both staring so hard she had to fight the urge to cross her arms in front of her chest.

“Asleep?” The guard shook his head reverently. “I couldn’t sleep around tits like that. It’s a man thing.”

Next moment she saw his “man thing” for herself as he kicked off his remaining boot and peeled his jeans down. It was very, very impressive.

Any moisture left in Kayla’s mouth dried up. “Have you ever posed for an ancient Mayan sculptor?” she asked faintly.

He looked down at his shamelessly protruding cock. “I think it’s safe to say some things are timeless, don’t you think?”

She swallowed. “That’s going to get a nasty sunburn.”

“Which is why I plan to put it in the shade as soon as possible.”

He stood over her, seemingly oblivious to the rough hot stone under his bare feet. He lifted her heavy breasts as though weighing each oily, slippery globe, flicking his thumbs over her swollen nipples, bringing them to hard peaks. “Nice,” he murmured. “Very nice.”

A shudder of need passed through Kayla, but she said, “They’re too big—”

“Real breasts like these can never be too big,” he said firmly. “Trust me.” He crouched down, then pressed his face into her cleavage, the friction of his stubble enhancing the sensation as he dragged his chin gently back and forth.

Kayla gasped, astonished by how good something that simple could feel, still not ready to believe he wasn’t just being nice about her breasts.

She had lost her hat at some point, and the sun beat down on the top of her head, her boobs, and the tops of her thighs as she sat back in the plastic chair. He spread her legs and knelt between them, sucking her nipple deep into his mouth. Stunning sensation shot from the tip of her nipple to her groin, igniting every nerve and cell in between. The sweet, sharp pull was totally unexpected. “Oh!” she said.

“You taste of coconut.” Seemingly unaware of the affect of his touch, he knelt back on his heels and circled her nipples with the pads of his thumbs. “At some point, I am going to fuck your tits, just like that guy over there is doing with his woman.” He jerked his head toward a carving.

Kayla looked at the image. How weird he had picked one that had always been a favorite of hers since she’d seen it in a book years ago. The idea of a man worshipping her breasts like that, molding her flesh around his erection, sliding his cock between them again and again, faster and faster, till she felt the hot splash of semen on her skin, always turned her on. In her fantasy she always sucked him deep into her mouth at that point, licking up every drop.