Rachel Gibson - Lola Carlyle Reveals All

“You’ve held up better than some men I know.”

“I hate to cry. I don’t want to cry.”

“It’s okay to cry,” he told her as he gently rolled her onto her back and looked into her watery eyes. He held himself up on one elbow and added, “If I were a girl, I’d be crying, too.”

“But a guy like you would never cry, right?”

He glanced down at the party on the beach. The boom box changed CDs and the kind of music you’d hear in a border cantina rode the breeze. He’d seen grown men, war-hardened soldiers cry, but Max had only cried once. The night his father had died, he’d sat in the old man’s house, alone, and cried like a baby.

“Guys like you don’t get scared.”

He placed his hand on the side of her face and brushed the tears from the cool silk of her cheek. She was wrong. The thought of failing her, of anyone hurting her, scared the hell out of him. “Right,” he finally answered. “Guys like me aren’t afraid of anything.”

Lola stared up into Max’s face. The heat of his chest seemed to be the only thing letting her know she was still alive. Her fingers and toes felt numb as if she were standing in snow, and she was afraid that if she let it, she would become frozen with fear. For the past three days, she’d lived with it, battling it back and barely keeping it at bay. She wasn’t sure she could do it anymore. “I want to feel safe again, Max.”

She’d been accidently kidnapped, threatened, tied up, almost drowned trying to save her dog, barely lived through a storm. Baby had been stolen and now drug runners were shooting at her. Add the unfortunate accident with the flare gun, the near-rescue of the night before, her constant worry, and she’d had it.

The first night aboard the Dora Mae, she’d felt she was going to die, and she’d fought to live. Last night during the storm, she’d known the same fear, and now she had to face this latest threat to her life.

She raised her hands to the sides of Max’s head and brought his face to her. In the past few days, the only time she’d come close to feeling safe was within the arms of the man who’d put her life in danger. The strength of those same big arms was the only thing making her feel alive now. “Max,” she whispered.

He didn’t have to ask her what she wanted; he knew. His mouth took hers, and she clung to him as he fed her the warmth of his kiss. It spread across her flesh like an accelerating flame and battled back her fear. He possessed her with his lips and tongue and she was able to concentrate on him. On the texture and taste of him. The scent of him filling her head.

She ran her hands over his neck and shoulders, touching as much of him as she could reach. She slid her palm under his shirt and warmed her hands on his powerful chest. He was so solid and alive. So potently male, his strong heart pounding beneath her hand making her senses alive and buzzing. She wanted more. Much more.

She moved her mouth to the side of his throat. “Make love to me, Max,” she said on a heavy breath.

His hand found her bare thigh and slipped beneath the hem of her dress. The touch of his warm palm and the anticipation of more pooled between her legs. “This isn’t a good time.” His voice sounded as thick as the blood pumping through her veins.

She couldn’t have heard him right. “What?”

“This isn’t a good time.”

She had heard him right, but she couldn’t believe what he was saying. This was Max, the guy with the quick fingers who could undress a woman before she knew it. Max, the man who’d called her a tease no more than twenty-four hours ago.

She looked up into the shadows caressing his face. “When would be a good time for you? In a few hours when we might very well be dead?”

“Lola, I’ll do my best to see that you get home, whole and in-”

“I know,” she interrupted, “but you can’t guarantee it.” She plucked the button at the waistband of his jeans. “Everything we are, and everything that we’ll ever be, might die tonight, Max. On an uncharted island in the middle of the Atlantic.” All of her hopes and dreams for her business, and having a family of her own someday, would die with her. There would be no more somedays for her. Her mother and father would never know what happened to her, and they would have to live the rest of their lives wondering if she was dead or alive. She knew them well enough to know that they would never give up hope. They would search for her the rest of their lives. “No matter how much you might want to, you can’t promise we’ll be alive tomorrow.” All five buttons popped from their holes, and she slipped her hand inside. Through the clinging cotton of his boxer briefs, she found him fully erect. She pressed her palm against the incredible heat of him. Fire ran up the inside of her wrist, danced up her pulse, and shot straight to her heart. This was what she needed from him now. “Give me something to think about besides how afraid I am.”

His nostrils flared and through the orange fingers of the setting sun his eyes dilated, and still he hesitated. “You owe it to me,” she added, and couldn’t believe he was forcing her to use strong-arm tactics. “It’s your fault I’m here, now make it up to me.”

His hand slid farther up her thigh to the elastic edge of her panties and a smile curved one corner of his mouth. “That’s a persuasive argument.”

“I can’t believe we’re arguing at all.” She shoved her hand farther down his pants and softly took the weight of his testicles in the palm of her hand.

He sucked in his breath. “You’re not a screamer, are you?”

Not tonight she wasn’t. “I’ll control myself.”

That seemed to be what he needed to hear, and he cupped her between her legs. “Jesus,” he groaned, “you’re already wet.” His fingers slid beneath the crotch of her panties, and he parted and touched her slick flesh. She whispered his name, then turned her face into his shoulder. The tips of his fingers brushed her where she was most sensitive, and she bit the hard muscle at the top of his arm.

“Lola.”

“Hmm?” She kissed the spot she’d bitten.

“Nothing. Just Lola.” With each stroke of his fingers, he fed her intense desire and shut out everything but her need to feel him inside of her.

She shoved her hand beneath his underwear and closed her fist around his shaft. The air whooshed from his lungs, and she moved her hand up and down the long hard length of him, feeling the tight silkiness of his skin and the incredible heat. She raised her lips to receive his kiss and took the plump head of his penis in her hand. She squeezed and a low groan sounded deep in his chest. His mouth opened wide over hers, and she tasted his passion, hot and vibrant on his tongue. Dimly she heard the music from the beach, but nothing existed beyond Max. Beyond the scent of him, the smooth texture of his hard flesh, and the length of him.

Max rose on his knees and removed her panties. He moved between her legs and hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband of his jeans and underwear. Slowly, he pushed them down his thighs, revealing first the black hair that grew thicker low on his belly. Then his erection jutted free, huge and powerful. He took himself into his hand as his heated gaze moved over her. Within the shadows of the pine tree, the Caribbean sun set around him, bathing slices of him in gold. “Unbutton your dress, Lola,” he said, his voice raw. “I want to see you. All of you.”

The air around her was charged with longing as she worked each button until the dress lay open. She raised her arm to pull him close, but he planted his hands by her hips and lowered his face to her belly. He kissed her navel and stomach, and buried his face in her cleavage. His rough cheeks chafed her breasts as his wet mouth placed more kisses there. His smooth erection brushed the inside of her thigh and sent a shudder throughout her body.

With unsteady hands, she brought his face to hers. Their gazes met and held as he began his entry. He pushed the broad head of his hot penis inside of her, then his hips rocked back and forth. A slow and easy rhythm, giving her time to stretch and adjust before he grasped her thighs, and with one final thrust, he buried himself fully. Lola gasped and grabbed hold of his shoulders. He filled her completely, the heat of him burning her up inside. A moan she could not control poured from her throat and she wrapped one leg around his waist.

Max sucked in a breath and held it. Beneath her hands his muscles had turned to stone. “Lola,” he whispered against her cheek. “God, you feel incredible. So hot.” He pulled halfway out, then lunged forward. “So good.”

Like the blast of a furnace, heat spread across Lola’s skin. Down her legs to the soles of her feet. Up her belly and across her breasts and arms. Each thrust felt better than the last, leaving her greedy for more. Leaving her wanting. Wanting. Wanting more. More of him.

In and out, harder. Faster. She couldn’t breathe. And still it went on. Stroking exquisite pleasure, and just when she thought she would combust, he placed a hand beneath her bottom, tilted her pelvis, and dove a little deeper.

“Max,” she whispered on a panted breath. “Max. Don’t stop.”

“I don’t plan on it,” he managed as he hammered into her.

Below his T-shirt where their bellies touched, their skin stuck together. He wrapped his arm around her, and she felt completely consumed by him. With his taking of her, surrounding her, and filling her. Driving her toward orgasm with each thrust of his hips and stroke of his velvet penis. Her entire world was focused on the place he touched inside of her and how good he made it all feel. Her mind reeled and she may have spoken out loud, but she wasn’t quite sure. She closed her eyes, and he placed his hands on the sides of her face. “Lola, open your eyes and look at me.”