Island Peril by Jill Sorenson Read Free Book Online Page B

shirt to her. “Here. It’s dry.”
    “Thanks,” she said, touched by the gesture. She put her head through the neck hole and slipped her arms into the sleeves first. Then she tugged the fabric over her body, making sure she was decently covered before she rose from the mat. The shirt smelled nice, like smoke and salt and warm male skin. “I’ll stay up with you.”
    “You don’t have to.”
    “I want to.”
    His shirt dwarfed her, hanging loose to her upper thighs. She felt exposed without anything under it. The thin fabric showed the outline of her nipples, but her breasts weren’t large enough to jiggle or attract attention.
    In theory, anyway.
    His eyes traveled down the front of her body, studying her slight curves as if he couldn’t help himself.
    Her nipples tightened and an ache pulsed between her legs at his perusal.
    He turned his back to her, flushing. The firelight danced across his bare shoulders. Her fingertips itched to explore that expanse. She engaged in a brief fantasy of coming up behind him and pressing her lips to his spine. Distracted, she stumbled over a piece of driftwood.
    “You should rest,” he said, mistaking her clumsiness for fatigue.
    “I’m cold.”
    “Get back under the blanket. I’ll put my arm around you.”
    Ella murmured an agreement. She needed the comfort of human contact; it didn’t have to be sexual. They returned to the mat, sitting side by side. He held her close, tucked the blanket around them and stared across the quiet harbor.
    They had logical reasons to maintain a polite distance. His professional reputation—and their personal safety—were at stake. She didn’t know if he was in the market for a steady girlfriend or even a casual relationship. Maybe he’d pegged her as off-limits because they had too much in common.
    She leaned against his shoulder, soaking in his heat. His skin was smooth and warm. Snuggling together half-naked was a minefield of pleasant sensations. The crackling fire and deserted beach added to the ambiance.
    “I’m trying to be a gentleman,” he said, “but I can’t sit here and pretend I’m not dying to touch you.”
    “You don’t have to be a gentleman,” she said, moistening her lips.
    Whatever this was—temporary insanity, stress-induced lust or just a casual fling—she wanted it.
    He closed the distance between them, brushing his mouth over hers. She twined her arms around his neck and kissed him back. His tongue plunged inside, penetrating her in silky strokes. Her skin prickled with awareness and her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out the sound of the waves. Their mouths were hot and wet and hungry, tongues lashed together.
    She offered no resistance when he pushed her down on the mat and covered her body with his. Her breasts flattened against his chest and his erection swelled against her belly, making her shiver. He took her mouth like he owned it, kissing her again and again. She dug her nails into his shoulders and threaded her fingers through his hair. Groaning, he slid his hand along her thigh and palmed her naked hip.
    He rolled over, bringing her on top. The hem of the shirt rode up, exposing her bottom to the cool air. She squirmed for more contact, but he didn’t take it too far. He just kissed her, caressed her lower back and nudged his thigh between her legs, driving her crazy with gentle pressure. When he finally cupped her bare buttocks, she shuddered with pleasure, sucking his tongue into her mouth.
    She wanted to touch him, too. Shifting her weight to one side, she slipped her hand between their bodies. Her fingertips played over the firm contours of his chest and stomach before moving south, to the front of his shorts. When she rubbed her palm against his hard length, he broke the kiss.
    To her disappointment, he pulled away from her. “Maybe we should stop,” he said, glancing around the empty beach.
    “Why?”
    “I don’t have a condom.”
    She reached under the waistband of his