Taken (27 page)

He nods, eager to please. “Of course.”

“Call me Rachael.”

A sheepish grin spreads across his face. He’s young, twenty-two at most, not that I’m much older. But is reserved manner and uncontrollable blushing make him seem a lot younger. “Can I get you another drink from the bar, Rachael?”

I pick up my empty mimosa glass from the small table beside my chair and hold it out to him. “That would be amazing of you. Thanks.”

“Mr. Rocha?” he asks, taking my glass.

You pick up your half-full bottle of water and shake it in Riley’s direction. “I’m good, thanks. But that reminds me, when’s the domestic staff getting in?”

“Three this afternoon.”

Riley trots off toward the bar on the opposite side of the pool and courtyard. “Someone has a crush,” you say, squeezing my knees between yours.

The stubble on your face has grown to a soft beard that covers your chin, not quite as full as it was when we first met, but soft to the touch and sexy. I can’t resist running my fingers over it. “You’re right,” I say. “But look at him. Those pressed oxford shirts he wears, the flop of dusty blond hair over his forehead and the way he always blushes when he looks at me. How can I not be crushing hard?”

You lower your sunglasses to the end of your nose and arch one brow over your blazing, dark eyes. “You’re full of jabs today, aren’t you? You know what I meant.”

I stand between your legs and take your face between my hands skimming my fingers through your dark, wavy hair. “You know I’m kidding. Look at you.” I let my hands run down your neck, across your broad shoulders, down over the bulging muscles of each arm. “Why would I ever want anyone else?”

Your hands find my hips and pull me closer, close enough to rest your cheek against my stomach. “I’ve already done everything you’re just getting to do. I’ve reached my goals. You could have someone like him—like you. Someone driven, making is way up the ladder. I kicked my ladder down, Rachael.”

Why do you think I care that you’ve decided to retire in your mid-thirties with billions in the bank? Somehow in your head that’s a bad thing. “You told me your plan months ago. When we went fishing, remember?”

“The storm that day.” You chuckle, sending vibrations through my skin. “I swear, you wrapped your wet little body around my back so tight when I carried you back to the hotel, I had obscene images running wild in my head.”

“Every time lightning flashed, I thought we were going to die.” I stroke the top of your head, twisting sun-warmed locks of hair around my fingers. “The fish you caught was good though.”

You turn your head and rest your chin in my bellybutton. “Yeah? You hardly touched it.”

I bend and kiss the grin off your face. Eating around you leads to kissing you and touching you and meals are quickly shoved aside and forgotten. I’ve lost eight pounds since I stepped foot on this island. “We need another chocolate raspberry cake.”

You growl and lick my stomach sending delicious flesh memories straight to my center. Memories of smeared chocolate frosting devoured with your tongue. “Don’t worry. I’ve got that covered.”

“Uh…” Riley stammers, standing at the end of my lounge chair with a fresh mimosa in one hand. “I’ll just…” He sets it on the wooden table and shuffles away.

“Thanks!” I call after him. “Think he’s a virgin?”

You let out a derisive snort. “Can’t imagine why you’d think that.”

 
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s just modest.”

“Hmm. Maybe.” With a flick of your fingers, my bikini top falls open. “Glad you’re not.”

“Not with you.” I wrap my arms around your neck and you pull me down on top of you on the lounge chair sucking a nipple into your mouth.

“Ah,” I gasp. I’ll never get used to the feel of your lips, your tongue. It’s too good, too drive-me-insane phenomenal.

I press against your shoulders, releasing my flesh with a drag of your teeth. I have to have your mouth on mine, your tongue sliding over mine drawing moans from deep in my throat.

I devour your lips. No holding back. I held back so long waiting to trust you, but now I need to take and take and never stop until there’s nothing left of you. Consume you delicious bite by delicious bite.

Rewarded with a low groan when I nip your bottom lip, I taste my way across your jaw to lap your earlobe and take it in my mouth. Your hands squeeze my ass and slide down between my inner thighs, pulling them apart so I’m straddling you. Your chest is warm under my splayed fingers, salty on the tip of my tongue tasting your hard pecs. You rock your hips into me. I dig my nails into your skin in response making you suck in an airy hiss through your teeth.

The wind blows my hair across your face, cools my bare back damp with heat. You ball my hair in your hands as I trail kisses down your stomach. “I love how you taste.”

My hair goes loose around my shoulders and you run both palms down my back. “I never want anyone else here. Just us. Alone.”

“Me too,” I say, springing your hard length free from your swim trunks. “I’ll have you naked whenever and wherever I want.”

Your fingers find my nipples and begin pulling, pinching and rolling, sending shocks of clenching arousal through my center. “My sex kitten.”

I run my thumb up the thick vein running from the base of your cock to the ridge around the head. A bead of pre-come glistens at the tip. “Mmm, for me?” I tuck my hair behind my ear and lave your slit with my tongue while staring into your deep, dark eyes. “I love giving you that look on your face.”

Acknowledgements

The past five years would’ve been lonely and miserable if I hadn’t wandered into an online writers forum and found the best group of friends an author could ever hope to find. I owe more than I can express to all the past and present members of (here come the acronyms) GGBT, OPWFT, GOTYA, and LB’s. Your friendship and support is invaluable.

Taken wouldn’t have come together if it weren’t for the keen eyes of Krista Ashe, Annie McElfresh, Rebecca Rogers, Melanie Kramer-Santiago, and Chanelle Gray. Rachel A. Marks blew me away with Taken’s cover. Her artistic and literary talents are beyond measure.

Thank you to my family for letting me disappear into my pretend worlds and listening while I talk endlessly about people and places that don’t exist.

About the Author

While not sitting at her laptop writing romance novels or procrastinating on Pinterest, Twitter and Facebook, Kelli Maine can be found avoiding laundry, waging war with a dishwasher, strategically planning her vacation requests to get the most time off, and convincing herself she doesn’t really want that dark chocolate Godiva bar.

Kelli loves hearing from readers! Find her on Twitter @KelliMaine, on her blog:
www.kellimaine.blogspot.com
, and on Facebook and Goodreads.