Page 47 of Caribbean Crush

My toes are tingling as he picks up his pace. It’s maddening, but nothing I can’t handle. My hands bite into the back of the couch as I lean over even more. And I know without asking that Phillip loves the new arch in my back, the way my body drapes over for him.

I feel him in ways that I know will haunt me, but I don’t struggle against the burn. I let him tug my hair, fist it in his hand. Then he touches me between my legs, whispering those dark words again. Telling me what a good girl I am, how much he likes me like this, bending over the back of his couch, letting him have me in this way.

I let him take, and then he gives me everything in return—a second orgasm that has me crying out so loud I’m almost ashamed, but he feeds off my cries, tumbling into his own release, shuddering and pulsing so roughly it’s almost like I’m hurting him.

My name falls from his lips, and when it’s finally over, when I can focus again, I realize he’s propping me up, cradling me against his body now, holding me in a tight embrace.

“Tell me you’re okay,” he says, withdrawing and turning me around, holding my cheeks.

“I’m fine,” I say, almost laughing.

Does he think he hurt me?

He didn’t. Far from it.

He’s the one who looks shaken from the experience. He kisses me again, and then like a child who’s had a first lick of ice cream, who’s desperate for more, he asks, “How long do I get to keep you?”

Chapter Eleven

PHILLIP

I tip my head back against my chair and close my eyes, feeling the sea breeze ruffle my hair. I came out onto my balcony hoping the fresh air would give me clarity of thought. I inhale deeply, though it ends up sounding more like a heavy groan. Christ. I sit up and reach for my coffee cup on the low table in front of me, but I cut my sip short once I realize my drink has gone cold, again. Twice now, I’ve made a cappuccino only to set it down and forget about it as my mind wanders back to last night.

I can’t seem to stop fantasizing about her.

Casey’s body was extraordinary, and not just the obviously tempting parts—everything. Her intoxicating smile as she tried to hide her face against my pillow. The soft trace of her fingers down my back. The little tattoo on her hip. It’s so small I didn’t notice it at first. Not until I was stringing kisses down her stomach, pushing her back on the bed. We’d showered and ordered room service. She was tucked into a white terry cloth robe, and I couldn’t hold myself off her. The whole evening felt like a frenzy. I wanted her again and again, endlessly. At the time, she held a french fry midway in her mouth when I started to push her back flat onto the bed so I could part her robe.

She’d laughed and tried to push me away, but it was so halfhearted that it didn’t deter me in the least. God, she smelled good. She’d used my soap, but it smelled different on her skin, heady and tempting.

I kissed her stomach, and she strung her fingers through my damp hair with a familiarity that sent a shiver through me.

“What are you doing? I’m trying to eat here,” she complained.

“So am I.”

“Phillip!”

I laughed at her reaction. It was so easy to rile her up, to make her skin flush pink and hot.

That’s when I caught sight of her tattoo. A tiny outline of a sun on her hip, so small you wouldn’t see it even if she wore a bikini.

“A sun?”

“Sunshine, a nickname.”

I arched a brow. “From a previous boyfriend?”

“Yes,” she said with a mischievous look in her eyes. “A bulky biker named Stan. Watch out, he’s going to come for you now that we’ve slept together.”

I kissed her tattoo and then traced it with my finger. She couldn’t stay still while I did it, so I did it again. “I’ll take him on, no problem.”

She smiled. “He’ll tear you apart limb by limb.”

“Oh no.”

“It was nice knowing you, though. The sex has been ...” She stuck out her bottom lip and tilted her head back and forth like she was only mildly impressed. “Decent.”

I knew she was teasing me, and yet my pride still sat up and took notice. “Decent?”

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