Page 8 of Hot Buttered Rum

Then something about it all, me, standing completely alone with a tall, wet stranger, a stranger who looked as if he was more than curious about what I was hiding under the plush robe, made me feel just a little naughty. And, sadly, I couldn’t remember the last time a man had made that hot curl of steam swirl through my body. This man definitely had.

I couldn’t stop myself.

I lowered my shoulders a smidgen. As planned, it resulted in the robe parting just enough to give him a much better view. His hot blue gaze went straight to my cleavage. I hoped my movements had been too slight for him to think I’d done it intentionally, but when his mouth kicked up in a cocky grin, I realized he’d seen right through my motive.

The heated flush that had swept over my body rushed down to concentrate almost solely between my legs. My pussy tingled as if subtly trying to remind me that it was down there and in bad need of some personal attention.

As if Turner could read my thoughts, he moved closer, shrinking the gap between us. He was close enough that I could feel the cold rainwater evaporating off his clothes, skin and hair. I inadvertently licked my lip, and I could taste the ocean salt floating in the heated air between us.

“How was the bubble bath?”

His question surprised me. “How did you know I’d taken a bath?”

Without the slightest hesitation, he leaned his face close to my neck and inhaled deeply. He hadn’t touched me with more than a tendril of his warm breath, but my body reacted as if he’d smoothed his, no doubt, callused hands over my skin.

He straightened and the blue in his eyes had darkened. “Hair tied up in a loose bun, fragrant soap on the skin and the fizzling sound of dying bubbles coming from the next room.”

I smiled. “Ah, that’s how.” I inclined my head in the direction of the parrot who was busy pacing the chair and staring at my plate of food. “I thought maybe you two were working as a team or something since Dexter just happened to land on the window overlooking the bathtub.”

“Did he?” He cast a proud glance in the direction of his pet. “He does have an amazing sense of direction.”

“I’ll take him back to the boat before he loses the tiny bit of self-control he’s holding onto and jumps on your plate.” Turner stepped back, and I worked hard not to show my disappointment. I wasn’t completely sure where I thought this unexpected visit was going, but, apparently, my lascivious subconscious had been waiting for something more than him breathing in the scent of my skin.

Turner walked over to pick up his bird. His wet shirt clung tightly to his skin and I couldn’t stop from gawking at the width of his shoulders. The warmth surged through me again. All these years I’d been writing romances, and here I was, standing in the same room with one of my fictional heroes. Only this one was real, dark long hair, magnetic gaze, blazing smile and all, and he was about to walk out of my room.

I decided to blame it all on the hot bath and the surprising turn my weekend had taken as I reached down and loosened the belt on my robe just enough to show my naked skin all the way down to my belly button. The sides of the robe parted and stopped just before exposing my nipples.

I drew in a long, deep breath and waited as Turner coaxed the bird away from the chair and onto his shoulder. He turned around. Under the glow of the room lights with the backdrop of the storm outside, he looked every bit the pirate.

His smooth dark brow rose slightly as he gazed appreciatively at the newly exposed skin. I bit my lip and silently wondered if I had completely lost my mind as he walked toward me. I should have pulled shut the robe. I should have backed up and shown him that this wasn’t me, that the wanton, wild woman standing in front of him was just an imaginary character from one of my stories.

But my feet didn’t move, and my hands didn’t pull shut the robe. The whole weekend seemed like a fantasy, the inn, the hostess and the man standing just inches from me. That made it that much easier to tamp down any of my usual inhibitions and give into my desires.

Turner flicked the parrot away. The bird gladly returned to the chair to keep watch over the dinner plate.

Turner moved so close that I felt the wet tip of his shoes against my toes. His dark lashes curtained his eyes as he gazed down at my body. I held my breath as his hand, still slightly cold from the rain, slipped past the edge of the robe and came to rest on my waist. The plush fabric moved aside enough to expose my nipple. He slid his hand along my side to my breast. His thumb swirled around the nipple, tightening it to a rose colored bud and at the same time filling my pussy with a rush of hot moisture.

The breath I’d been holding flowed out on a long sigh as he lowered his mouth and teased my nipple with his tongue and teeth. My skin grew hot with a flush. I pushed the robe off my shoulders to be cooled by the air in the room. His hands parted my robe completely and he lifted his mouth away from my nipple to gaze down at my now exposed pussy.

He grinned appreciatively. “Definitely not a red head.” His hands swept over my shoulders to push the robe off my arms. It pooled at my feet. I was stark naked in front of a man I’d hardly exchanged more than a dozen words with, yet the notion of picking up the robe to cover myself never even edged into my mind.

I should have felt embarrassed or ashamed of my behavior, but I wasn’t. I was, just like the heroine in my story, so starved for passion it was easy to ignore societal rules.

Turner’s long hair was still damp from saltwater as I tangled my fingers in it. The cold wet fabric of his shirt rubbed against the nipples he’d made tender with his teasing. His strong hands circled my waist, and my feet hovered just above the ground as he lifted me and pushed me up against the wall.

My back pressed against the cool plaster, a stark contrast to the fire burning between my legs. I was nearly out of my mind with the physical need to be satisfied. It was absurd timing, but in my haze, I tried to think of another occasion where a man had made me this delirious. I couldn’t find one.

When Turner’s mouth covered mine for a long, deep kiss all the surroundings fell away, and I was transported into a dream-like world where nothing existed but the two of us. The erotic dream was abruptly shattered by a loud squawk. I stiffened in Turner’s arms, but the sound didn’t slow him at all. His large hand smoothed over my bottom.

I pulled my mouth from his. “But what about Dexter?”

“He can get his own pretty girl. This one’s all mine.” His mouth covered mine again.

One hand firmly gripped my ass as the free one returned to my breast. Turner pushed his shoe between my bare feet and wiggled it back and forth to part my legs. He peeled away from the kiss and gazed down at me with a dark, hungry gaze that sent a shiver through my body, a shiver that straddled the line between fear and excitement. On the one hand, I was tight in the grasp of a tall, muscular stranger, who could be just as dangerous as he was handsome, which gave me some pause. But on the other hand, I wanted to be right there in his powerful arms, completely his captive to do with what he liked.

Captive. That word flashed through my mind, and I thought about the perfect man I’d described to the very persistent website, Coco’s website, the website that seemed to know everything about me.

How was any of this possible? Was I dreaming this? Were my stories coming to life in my daydreams? Was I making a big mistake? The questions were like a splash of cold water. I straightened and backed away from Turner’s body as much as the wall behind me would allow.

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