Private Party (12 page)

“Well, Buttercup, if you’re a good girl and keep your top on, we can watch it at my place before you leave.”

“I’d like that,” she answered softly, but made no move to cover herself.

Unable to stand it any longer, Chris snatched the cover-up from the floor and tucked it around her. But before he could straighten up, Julie’s arm curved around his shoulder, and he felt her fingers twist in the slightly damp hair along his nape.

“Why do you care whether or not other men see me topless, Chris?” Her lips were pink and parted, and if he couldn’t smell the faint sweetness of rum on her breath, he would have leaned down to taste her.

“Are you jealous?” she prodded.

It nearly caused him physical pain to reach up and gently untangle her hand from his hair. She was killing him, tying his gut in knots as his brain conjured a torrent of images of them, naked, spending the rest of the afternoon in a lusty tangle of limbs.

But she was drunk, and it was fueling her flirtatiousness. And like it or not, the same protectiveness and jealousy that made him want to conceal her from the eyes of other men was what prevented him from PrivateParty

throwing all good sense to the wind and sinking down onto that bed with her. That, and the knowledge that taking her again, especially in her inebriated state, would only make his life more complicated.

“I just don’t want you getting yourself into a situation you can’t handle, Jules,” he finally said. It was lame, but what else could he say? That the idea of another man seeing her naked made him want to put his fist through a wall? Or that the very notion that he was jealous had him more confused and pissed off than he’d ever been in his life?

Julie’s bottom lip jutted out in a sulky pout. “I’m not a little kid.” Her eyelids were heavy as she looked up at him from under her lashes.

“I know that. It’s just…old habits die hard.”

She rolled her eyes, looking exactly like the sullen teenager she claimed she wasn’t. “Okay, Chris, I’ll make a deal with you. I’ll keep my top on and stay out of your way, if that’s what you want. But you need to lay off and let me have a good time.”

His brows snapped down over the bridge of his nose. “I never said I wanted you to stay out of my way.”

“Bullshit.”

Chris couldn’t stop his grin. He didn’t know if he’d ever get used to hearing Julie swear.

“God, you should have seen your face when I showed up. You looked so scared, like you expected me to whip out a boiling bunny or something.”

Chris winced, but didn’t try to defend himself.

“I had a great time with you, Chris, and I thought you did, too,” she said softly. “But I know better than to confuse great sex with true love. Especially with you.” Now that hit him like the proverbial stake in the heart, making him suck in a sharp breath as her offhand comment hit home. Unfortunately for her, he wasn’t willing to be her personal boy toy for the week.

And even though the thought of it made him physically ill, he didn’t have any right to stop her from finding herself a replacement.

“Okay, fine, I’ll lay off. You just be careful.” When she opened her mouth to protest he silenced her with a hand over her mouth. “Look, I know you’re all grown up now and you want to have a good time, but that doesn’t change the fact that you’ve led a pretty sheltered life up to this point. So don’t go too crazy. Not all guys are nice like me.”

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“Okay, Dad,” she said huffily. Then, in a friendlier tone, “Does that mean we’re friends again?”

“Yeah, I guess it does.”

She fell back against the pillows and closed her eyes. Chris leaned over and pressed a kiss to the smooth skin of her forehead.

Before he could react, Julie slid her arms around his shoulders and raised her head. Her soft lips parted over his, her tongue flicking out to tease the slick inner skin.

Sighing, Chris let himself fall into her kiss. She tasted so amazingly good, sweet and warm with a spicy undertone of rum. Even as his brain screamed at him to stop, step away, get out of her bed, Chris trailed his hand down her arm. His palm slid across the silky skin of her belly and up under where he had tucked the cover-up around her.

She let out a little moan when his hand enveloped her breast, and her hands slid down his back, her fingers sliding inside the waistband of his shorts. He groaned, savoring the feel of her in his hands, the taste of her in his mouth, the feel of her barely contained heat rubbing against the front of his shorts.

A sharp rap sounded at the door of the villa.

The sound jerked Chris abruptly back to his senses. He pushed away from her, sitting up so quickly his head swam.

“Go away,” Julie called.

“Julie? It’s Amy. I just wanted to see—”

“I’m fine, go away,” Julie repeated. She got up on her knees and tried to pull Chris back down on top of her. “Now where were we?”

“Julie, I should go,” Chris tried to gently pull her arms from around his neck, but she was wrapped around him like an octopus. “We can’t do this,” he said, wincing at his own lack of conviction.

“Why not? It’s not like we haven’t done it before. And it was so good,” she murmured, torturing him with tiny, teasing nips at his neck and ears. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how good you felt, fucking me so deep and hard.”

He nearly came at that, shocked and unbearably turned on by her very un-Julie-like language. He closed his eyes, wanting so badly to give into her logic, but knowing that they would both hate him if he did.

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“Just because we made a mistake once doesn’t mean we should do it again.” Julie’s arms fell away, and she lay back on the bed. “Fine. I guess I’ll just have to take care of myself.” With a sassy smirk, she spread her fingers and slid her palm down her bare stomach. As Chris watched her, paralyzed with lust, she slid her fingers beneath the waistband of her bikini bottoms, arching up into her fingers with a throaty groan.

He had a thousand reasons why he shouldn’t give into his craving for Julie ever again. Right now he couldn’t think of one as all the blood in his body fled to his groin. His cock throbbed as he watched her fingers move under the silky fabric of her bikini. His mouth went dry as she captured her own nipple between two fingers and gave it a little squeeze.

He had tried so hard to be good, to do the right thing. But a man could only endure so much.

Within seconds he was on the bed next to her, his hand covering hers as it stroked and massaged her breast. Her eyes flew open, lips parting in a surprised gasp at his touch. He took the opportunity to capture her mouth with his, dipping his tongue inside to taste and tease. His palm slid down the flat, tanned expanse of her belly, pausing to untie one side of her string bikini so he could peel back the shiny coral fabric.

He swallowed hard at the sight of her slender fingers buried in the slick folds of her pussy. Her clit was a perfect red berry, juicy with her own moisture as it poked eagerly through her smooth pussy lips. She stroked herself, fingers circling in a firm, steady rhythm. She moaned, the sound sending sizzles of heat straight to his balls, and Chris knew he couldn’t last another second without touching her.

He traced two fingers along her juicy slit. Her fingers froze. “Don’t stop,” he whispered between the moist kisses he rained on her chest. “Show me how you make yourself come.” She let out a shuddery breath and resumed her stroking. He slid his fingers along her entrance, coaxing another wave of moisture, pressing inside. His eyes drifted closed, and he let out a groan at the slick, muscular feel of her surrounding him. She was melting all around him like warm honey, liquid sugar, bathing his hand in her sweet heat as she arched up and urged his fingers deeper.

Her own fingers moved faster, firmer, and Chris crossed his fingers, pumping in and out, twisting his fingers for maximum sensation. His tongue lapped up the beads of sweat that bloomed on her chest, licked its way up her breast to capture her pebble hard nipple. He sucked her hard, nearly coming as she stiffened against him with a high, keening cry. Her pussy rippled around him in waves, clenching his fingers in its tight, slick grip. He had to get inside her. Now.

He fumbled with the button of his shorts, grinning down at her as he pushed himself up and over her.

Her eyes were closed, lips parted as her breath evened out. Then she made a soft sound that made him groan. But not in pleasure.

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She was snoring. Passed out cold. He would have liked to give himself credit for making her come so hard she’d fainted, but he knew that the only guy responsible for her unconscious state was good old Captain Morgan.

The sound of her soft snores tortured him as he let himself out of the villa. He pressed his palm against his protesting cock, willing his painful hardness to subside. This was what he got for fooling around with drunk chicks.

Julie jerked awake. She lifted her head from the pillow, and she lifted crusty eyelids to peer around the room. What time was it, anyway? She looked at the sliver of light peeking through the curtains. Early evening, she guessed.

She swung her legs over the side of the bed, wincing a bit as her brain jostled against her skull. What had she been thinking? Drinking at ten in the morning, on no breakfast, to boot. Her mouth tasted like she’d been eating dirt sandwiches.

Somewhat unsteadily she stood, glancing down at the clock radio on the bed stand. Five-thirty. She walked over to the French doors that led to the villa’s patio and drew back the curtains. Odd. It was unusually dark for this early in the evening.

She flipped on the bathroom light, squinting as the brightness assaulted her eyes. She surveyed herself over the rim of a glass as she gulped down water. Nice. Her hair stood out in Medusa tangles, and there was a streak of dried drool on her cheek. Her stomach grumbled as the water hit it.

Room service. Then back to bed.

“Yes, I’d like to order some dinner,” she said when the operator picked up.

“Dinner? Ma’am, we’re just opening for breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Julie said stupidly.

“Yes, but we don’t start delivering until six. But if you’d like to place an order now, we will be happy to bring you your meal as soon as possible.”

Breakfast? Was it possible…Julie looked at her watch. Yes, indeed, according to the window that displayed the date, it was now Monday morning. Somehow she had managed to sleep for nearly eighteen hours.

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“Ma’am?”

The attendant’s voice startled her back to semiconsciousness.

“Yes, I mean, no, I don’t need breakfast at this time.”
They must think I’m a complete idiot. Or a complete drunk
.

But then, the room service operator was the least of her worries, wasn’t she? Based on yesterday’s antics, several people probably thought she was an idiot.

Starting with Chris. “Oh, God,” she moaned, vaguely remembering that he’d brought her back to her room. And then…oh God, the moments right up until she fell asleep. Chris’s fingers on her and in her, making her come so hard she’d almost…No wait, she had passed out, no almost about it. She squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassment burning through her as she remembered what she had said, what she had done. Oh my God, she’d actually touched herself in front of him! Put her own hands down her pants and started to masturbate in an effort to taunt him.

Obviously, it had worked to a point, but to what point she wasn’t entirely sure. She racked her brain, trying to remember what, if anything, had happened next. Had they had sex? Or had he left after he’d gotten her off?

Maybe if she was really careful, she could manage to avoid him for the next five days.

Her stomach knotted as more snippets of her behavior flashed through her brain like a poorly edited movie trailer. Taking off her top. That last banana daiquiri. Being thrown over Chris’s shoulder and carried off.

She shook her head and made herself a cup of coffee. On her wedding night, she’d vowed to herself that the new Julie would shake things up. Unlike the biddable daughter she had always been, the new Julie wasn’t afraid to cause a ruckus, to be the center of attention, to bring about a little scandal.

But getting drunk, stripping, and being carried off in front of her new friends wasn’t precisely what she had in mind.

What would she possibly say to him?
Sorry I threw myself at you like a crazy chick from “Girls Gone
Wild.”
She’d been scolding herself for living such a boring life, but as boring, straight-and-narrow, never-break-the-rules Julie, she had never faced a situation like this.

And practically browbeating Chris into having sex with her when he clearly didn’t want to renew their acquaintance was definitely not in her plans.

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To make matters worse, she’d proven him right, hadn’t she? After all of her protests that she hadn’t come down here with any expectations, she’d latched onto him like a barnacle the first chance she got.

Just because we made a mistake once doesn’t mean we should do it again
. Though the rest of their conversation was a little murky, those words rang clear. A mistake. That’s how he viewed sleeping with her. Not as a lark, not as a good time worth repeating, but as a mistake. So what if he’d finally given in yesterday? She’d been half naked—touching herself for God’s sake!—practically begging him to do her.

Julie didn’t consider herself an expert on men by any means, but even she knew she’d given him an offer a single, straight man would have to practically be dead to resist. She remembered now, that before she’d pulled out the big ammo, he’d pulled away.

There was only one solution. To stay as far away from Chris as possible for the rest of her stay.

She looked at the clock again. Six A.M. Something niggled at the back of her brain. Something she was supposed to do today.

She grimaced again as she remembered. Diving. She was going diving with Mike this morning. She didn’t really want to go, but Mike had seemed so sincere about wanting to help her overcome her aversion, she felt bad refusing.

If nothing else, it would give her a couple of hours where she was guaranteed not to run into Chris.