"I'm not going to let you hurt her, none of us will. You know that, don't you?" Derek shifted to sit on the edge of his bed. A big guy, he didn't need to try to look intimidating—his sheer mass got the message across. "If this doesn't go well, we'll all be more than happy to kick your ass out of Texas."
He laughed at the threat, even though he knew it wasn't idle. "High stakes...I understand. I notice no one is giving her a lecture or is Stewart over there now? What if she breaks my heart?"
Derek shrugged, a grin reappearing on his face lined with three days' worth of stubble. "We'll all assume you deserved it and kick your ass out of Texas."
"Ah, I see what's going on. Now you're acting like her big brother and making sure I know my place. Believe me," he stood and walked toward the mirror next to the armoire, "yesterday humbled me more than I'll ever be able to explain."
"You and me both," Derek admitted, his grin fading. "Just don't fuck up tonight, okay?"
"I'll try." He glanced at himself in the mirror and grinned at the bruise on his forehead. He thought it added to his rugged charm.
When Jon, Stewart, and Paul suddenly walked into the bungalow high in the trees, he knew they'd come with a similar message.
"Are you ready for your date with Savannah?" Jon looked him over from head to toe and shook his head. "A t-shirt? That's the best you can do?"
"I packed for a dive trip." He rolled his shoulders back, thankful for the pain meds that had stopped the throbbing from the bruised ribs. "We're in a jungle. What did you all bring? A tux just in case?"
No one looked impressed at his argument.
"We all have a lot at stake in this," Stewart said, walking toward Bill's luggage and pushing other t-shirts aside. "You're a big shot millionaire now and you seriously don't have anything nicer to wear?"
"I'm going to dinner with Savannah." He widened his eyes when the four men gaped at him like he'd said something insulting. "What now?"
"Yeah, you're going to dinner with our Savannah." Paul shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe you said that."
"I said what you just said. What's wrong with all of you?"
"She deservers better than a t-shirt wearing punk in worn out jeans, that's what," Jon said.
"I'm a punk now?" He laughed at his group of buddies who he had known as long as Savannah. They'd traveled the world together, had had each other's backs, and now here they stood acting like he'd just strolled in off the street. "Okay, let me clear the air. I know I started the trip being a bit..." he struggled for the right word.
"Weird?" Stewart asked.
"Arrogant?" Jon suggested.
"What they said," Paul jabbed his thumb toward the others.
"Even if I move out of Texas—or am run out—I will never abandon this group. I'm sorry for acting like an asshole." He looked them each in the face so that they would understand his sincerity. "I love Savannah, have for a long time, and hope that our relationship won't change the team dynamic because that would really suck—for her and me."
They all stared at him for a minute in silence.
"Why are you still here talking to us? You should never keep a lady waiting." Derek stood and walked to the mini-bar where he grabbed beers for the other men. "Get going."
"You'd better make up for your appearance by treating her like a princess." Jon followed him to the door. "You know, in my marriage I—"
"Oh, stop!" Stewart tossed a pillow at Jon's back. "Not more words of wisdom via Jon. Do you know what hell it was being stuck in a cave with this guy going on and on about his perfect wife?"
Bill met Derek's gaze and laughed, "Yeah, I'm sure you all had it worse than the rest of us. Goodbye."
He stepped onto the suspension bridge, thankful for the relative silence of the jungle. The lanterns strewn over the bridge glowed in the twilight. Somewhere a howler monkey roared followed by the stirring of branches high in the rain forest surrounding them. Fireflies twinkled against a backdrop of green.
Although the resort had sustained some damage from the earthquake, it had all been superficial compared to the villages scattered throughout the countryside. He paused and listened to the river moving unseen not too far away. Thunder echoed in the distance yet the rain remained at bay.
He took his time walking to Savannah's tree house. With each step he thought of their friendship and the journey it had taken to get to this point. Everything had changed in that cave—kissing her, fearing for her life, making love to her, watching her climb away from him—they were different people than the two who had arrived.
He knocked, averted his gaze to the buzzing fireflies, and hoped that she hadn't changed her mind.
"Hey, honey baby," she drawled.
He smiled and took a step back to enjoy the view. "Damn, Savannah, you surprise the hell out of me time and time again."
She wore a strapless yellow sundress that showed off her delicious curves and endless legs. Her black hair had been brushed into a gleaming sheen that hung straight to her elbows. To his complete shock, she wore make-up—mascara highlighted her large brown eyes and a touch of red tainted her smiling lips. She'd look drop dead gorgeous wearing nothing but a potato sack, but seeing her like this solidified his belief that she was most definitely out of his league.
"What'd you do?" he managed to ask.
"I fancied myself up."
* * *
"Did you know there are two thousand species of fireflies in Costa Rica?" Bill asked while pouring her a glass of wine.
She loved it when he got all nerdy and started spouting off nature facts. Grinning, she let him go on and on about fireflies while indulging in simply staring at him in the candlelight. He'd reserved a secluded table in the resort's restaurant high above the jungle floor. White and purple orchids decorated the table. Lanterns moved in the slight breeze while the canopy of the rain forest whispered mysterious secrets.
Even with his left forearm encased in a cast and a nasty gash above his right eye, he managed to pull off the part of charming gentleman. When he flashed her a smile that gleamed white against his tan skin, she wondered how she'd been able to ignore her attraction to him for so long.
Then she remembered and looked away. All day she'd struggled with the idea of what to do with Bill, with this game of chicken she'd started, and realized she wasn't willing to hit the ditch.
Some people were worth risking it all for—even her heart.
"I'm boring you with rain forest statistics, aren't I?" he asked.
She smiled and shook her head 'no.'
"Why are you so quiet?" His eyes darkened.
"I'm thinking about our game of chicken."
He toyed with the rim of his glass. "I thought you'd forgotten about that."
"Me? Forget a dare?" She leaned her elbows on the table, dinner and desert long gone, and looked at him from across the table. "Yesterday you told me that you loved me. Do you remember that or were you out of your mind with fear?"
He grinned and took a long sip of wine before answering, "I remember everything."
Flashes of sensory memory from having sex in the cave melted her panties to her skin. She crossed her legs beneath the table. When she met his gaze, she knew he shared the same memory.
"Then pay the check and let's go back to my bungalow." She winked and pushed away from the table. "I don't fancy myself up for anyone, Billy Boy."
He stood and slowly walked around the table. Without touching her, he leaned an eyelash away from her face. "I don't want another girlfriend, I want the whole damn sha-bang."
Tears filled her eyes. He was really pushing the whole game of chicken thing.
Nothing scared her more than loving someone, trusting them not to leave, believing they wouldn't disappoint her time and time again.
He tipped her chin up with his fingertip. "Savannah, look at me."
She slid her gaze over his neck and face before finally looking him in the eye.
"You already trust me with your life every time we h
it the water, now I'm asking you to trust me with your heart."
"I know what you're asking," her voice hitched on the last word.
"Then say yes."
She thought of all the times she'd looked longingly at other couples and wished she had a man adoring her like that, as if she were the only woman in the world, and here he'd been doing that all along.
"I could do worse," she said, her hands sliding up his chest. "I think I want to try."
"No bullshit?"
"I'd never lie to you, not about this."
Instead of kissing her, he snagged her hand in his and led them away from the restaurant, muttering something about already taking care of the bill before they'd arrived, and led them toward the bridge to her tree house.
Thunder sounded in the distance and lighting flashed momentarily. Moisture from the thick humidity slid between her breasts. Neither said another word as she unlocked the door.
Once alone, he pulled her against his chest and smiled. "I dreamed of you and me...but I never believed it could happen."
She kissed his chin, her hands working his t-shirt up his chest. She didn't want to talk because she wasn't sure she'd be able to articulate the crazy emotions spinning in her heart. The past few days had been too intense, too jarring.
"Are you really going to marry me, Savannah Willis?" He walked backward toward the king-size bed in the middle of the room.
Feeling more alive and daring than ever before, she smirked and pushed him back into the center of the mattress, not caring one bit that he winced from the bruised ribs. "How about we make a deal?"
"Sounds scary." He watched her lifting the dress over her head and tossing it aside without moving from where she'd shoved him.
"At the wedding, when you're waiting at the end of the aisle dressed in your tux with the guys all around you," she crawled over him dressed in only her panties and enjoyed his gaze ogling her bare breasts, "you can wonder if I'm still playing a game of chicken."
He laughed. "Get down here and kiss me. We both know neither of us is ever hitting the ditch."
"Do we?" She arched an eyebrow, refusing to comply to his demand, and unsnapped his jeans without breaking eye contact. She peeled his jeans from his long legs before running her fingers lightly over his skin as she crawled back to straddle his hips. "I." She kissed his lower abdomen and rubbed her hand over his erection that tented his boxer briefs. "Love." She licked the center of his chest while pushing his shirt to his shoulders. "You." She devoured his mouth with all the pent up desire she'd always felt for him, but had been too afraid to express.
"You love me." He grinned against her mouth as his hand claimed her breast. Squeezed.
With a smile she slid away from him, pulled his boxer briefs down his hips while raining kisses over his inner thighs. She slid her hand over his penis.
"Savannah, not to sound like a wimp or anything..."
"Too late." She knew she needed to treat him tenderly because of his injuries.
He tugged on her hair and pulled her up until they were eye-to-eye and lip-to-lip. "I want you naked and fucking me. Just go easy, okay? Never tell anyone I said that."
Laughter danced between their mouths as they kissed, eyes wide open in the well-lit room. His fingers slid beneath the lace panties before sliding inside of her. His left arm moved, the cast rough against her skin as he adjusted their position so he could feast on her breast.
She gripped the headboard and tipped her head back, content to let him touch her any way he wanted. She tilted her head back, enjoying the heat of his mouth on her nipple and the thrusting of his fingers.
When his hand squeezed her ass and he moaned something incoherent against her skin, she moved down and kissed him again with all the love she felt in her heart. No more hiding or holding back.
She gently pushed his shoulders back onto the mattress before sliding herself onto his erection. She eased herself over him, savoring the slow invasion of her body inch by inch.
"I love you so much," he said, his uninjured hand sliding over her abdomen.
She rode him hard, arched her back, closed her eyes, grabbed his thighs with her palms and moved with primal instinct as he touched her from breast to hip and back again while matching her thrusts with his own.
In perfect synchronicity—just like when they dived—always matching each other's pace as if born to be in harmony.
Thrills that had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with being free to love him rocked through her body and soul. She lowered herself to him, slowing the pace, not wanting it to end, and meshed her mouth with his.
He moaned against her mouth, his hand wrapped in her hair, and his body shuddered beneath hers.
"I think we both won this time around," he whispered against the side of her face.
"Yeah, I guess we did." She folded her arms beneath his neck and lifted her head just enough to see into his eyes. "I love you. I really do."
"What a concept." His slow smile turned her bones into mush. "Keep telling me so I know it's real."
"I love you," she whispered.
"Again."
"I love you."
Their lips slid lazily together, neither ready to break their union, eyes wide open, while rain pattered against the thatched ceiling of their tree house surrounded by snapping fireflies and thunder.
The End
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Books by Amber Lea Easton
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Check out Duplicity, Book Three of the Wanderlust Series
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About Duplicity
Nothing bad happens in paradise...or does it?
Lexi Dubois is in trouble. On Grand Cayman for business, she discovers the company she's been working for is funding a human trafficking ring—and the money trail leads back to her. Scared for her life, she charters a boat for a week to hide from the men on the small island who want her dead and to buy time to find enough evidence to take them down. The last thing she expects—or wants—is a torrid affair with the hot captain and dive master.
Larry Gibbon has been running a charter dive boat operation in Grand Cayman for years. He's seen it all—and done his share of creating havoc. But when a mysterious woman charters his boat for a week—alone—he has no idea what trouble she's bringing aboard.
The ocean is vast and unforgiving, but will Larry's knowledge of the Cayman Islands and Lexi's relentless determination to survive be enough to save them?
**The Wanderlust Series consists of stand-alone adventure romance novels. Occasionally, characters from previous novels may make a cameo, but each story truly does stand on its own merits.
Read Duplicity, book three of the Wanderlust Series
http://getBook.at/Duplicity
While you're waiting, find all of Amber Lea Easton's books at http://www.amberleaeaston.com
A peek at the sizzling best selling romantic suspense novel, Riptide, set in Grand Cayman. A story of betrayal, trust, revenge, and love under the Caribbean sun.
Riptide—a stretch of turbulent water in the sea, caused by the meeting of currents or abrupt changes in depth. Also called rip current, a strong current, especially one flowing outwards from the shore, causing disturbance on the surface.
Chapter One
Lauren couldn’t go fast enough to drown out the doubts that screeched in her brain. Water sprayed her face as she steered the Jet Ski into a sharp turn, arm muscles quaking with the force of her grip on the handlebars as she drove full throttle. Wet hair smacked against her face and neck. She tasted salt on her lips. The sun burned her bare skin. Her legs held firm as the Jet Ski went airborne before landing hard against the surface of the crystal clear Caribbean Sea.
Every instinct screamed mistake. Taking a leave of absence after the attack had made sense, but now
, no matter how she looked at it, retreating to her brother’s house on Grand Cayman equaled running away.
She hated thinking of herself as someone who ran away.
As a news anchor in Atlanta, she’d been accustomed to reporting the news rather than being the lead story. She simply hadn’t been able to handle the spotlight shining so brightly into her private life, or seeing judgment—whether real or imagined—in everyone’s eyes. Barely out of physical therapy, she’d attempted to go back for a few weeks after being released from the hospital, but the camera’s red light had seemed accusing. Murderer, it blinked at her. Murderer.
Self-defense did not and could not justify her actions, at least not to herself.
Shaking her head to silence the relentless thoughts, she aimed the Jet Ski back toward Seven Mile Beach where her brother’s bar, The Lazy Turtle, rested between two hotels along curving white sand.
Cursing under her breath, she steered sharply to avoid running over a lone snorkeler who’d swam far beyond the reef. Dangerous territory. Idiot. She shot him a look over her shoulder as he raised his head from the water, spit out his snorkel, and shouted something that was lost in the wind. Moron.
Beaching the Jet Ski, she waved toward the attendant. Her entire body shook from exertion. She’d needed a good dose of adrenaline after her plane ride to the island. With a nod toward the attendant, she pushed damp hair from her face and twisted it into a knot at the base of her neck.
Lost in her own thoughts, she ignored the man’s small talk. She pulled a sundress over her head to cover up the black one-piece swimsuit. Bikinis had once been her preferred swimwear choice, but this provided the logical solution to conceal the evidence of violence that scarred her from beneath her left breast to her right hip bone. If the wound had been a half an inch deeper, she would’ve died, or so the doctors had said. Then again, she had died. Died and been brought back...although she sometimes wished the paramedics hadn’t been so good at their job.