No Strings Attached

  "Oh, great idea," Ella said, and stood, pulled off her tank top and shucked her shorts.

  Damn. Even though he'd had her naked last night, the sight of her in her bikini was enough to make his mouth water and his dick twitch. She had smooth skin, she was slender and well built, and she fit a bikini like a model. Yet she wasn't perfect. She bore scars here and there--minor injuries incurred from working construction alongside her crew. Her hands were calloused, her nails short and scraggly, and her feet looked as though they spent the day stuffed in work boots.

  Maybe that was what he liked so much about her--she wasn't buffed, puffed and polished, didn't look as if she spent her days at the gym and the spa being pampered. She worked for a living, just like he did. She had a fundamental understanding of what his life was about, which was light-years away from any woman he'd ever dated. He could actually carry on a conversation with her--hell, he wanted to talk to her, which was rare with the women he was usually with.

  She pinned him with a curious stare, her hands on her hips. The wind blew her hair across her face. "You taking inventory?"

  He grinned. "Maybe."

  "Well, stop it. It freaks me out. I know I'm not perfect." She slid into one of the cushioned chairs and propped her feet across the raised deck of the bow.

  "I know. I was just thinking that."

  She slid her sunglasses over her eyes. "Gee, thanks. You sure know how to compliment a woman. I'm amazed you get as many dates as you do."

  "No, I was thinking that I can appreciate how imperfect you are, because I'm not perfect. These scars, for instance." He lifted her arm and traced his finger across the faint ridge on her forearm.

  "Damn weld burn. Went right through my shirt."

  "Yeah. I carry more than a few of those myself."

  She leaned over and smoothed her fingers down his arm. "I recognize your battle scars."

  He laid his hand over hers. "I like you touching me."

  Her hand stilled. "I like touching you."

  Their gazes caught and held.

  "This is so...odd," she said.

  "Yeah? Why?"

  "I don't know. You, me, together. That part I'm used to. But this part?" She smoothed her hand across his arm again.

  "Is that a problem?"

  "Not really. I've just known you a long time. As a friend. A business associate. I'm not used to having free access to your body."

  He pulled on her hand until she came over to his chair and sat on his lap.

  "Get used to it. I want you to touch me."

  She leaned against him, the curve of her breast so near his mouth he could have licked her. His cock rose at the thought. Instead, he buried his face in her neck and inhaled her scent. "You smell good."

  Her breathing deepened. He ran his hand down her back, letting his fingers tease the material of her bikini bottom.

  "You keep doing that and something scandalous is going to happen right here on this boat."

  He kept doing it, letting his fingers dip just inside the material.

  "Clay."

  "Yeah."

  "I'm pretty sure the captain and crew can see us."

  "That's too bad because my dick is hard."

  "Does this boat have a cabin?"

  "As a matter of fact, it does."

  She lifted, looked at him. "A private cabin? With a door lock?"

  He laughed. "I don't think they're going to bust down the door, Ella." He'd paid a hell of a lot of money for this private charter. And private meant just that--he expected time alone with Ella.

  She slid off his lap and held out her hand. "Let's go."

  He stood, hoping his erection wasn't too obvious. Not that he cared. They went downstairs, Ella leading the way. She found the door to the cabin, opened it, and Clay shut it behind them, making sure she heard him lock the door.

  She was already kneeling on the bed facing him when he turned around. Her legs were spread, her fingers teasing along the front of her bikini bottom. His erection returned with a vengeance.

  He came toward her and stopped just short of the bed. "What are you doing?"

  "I got a little hot out there."

  He palmed his cock through his board shorts, squeezing it as he watched her. "How hot?"

  She seemed indecisive, chewing on her bottom lip. But then she asked, "Want me to show you?"

  "Hell, yes."

  Her fingers disappeared into her bikini bottom. Her eyes went glassy, her lips parted and she thrust her hips forward. Then all he could do was imagine what was going on as her hand moved.

  He took a couple more steps toward her, stopping at the edge of the bed. Now he could smell her arousal, inhaling her sweet scent as her fingers did whatever the hell they were doing inside her bikini bottom.

  "Tell me."

  "I...can't."

  "Yeah, you can." He untied his board shorts and let them fall to the floor, then took his cock in his hand and began to stroke it. "Look at me, Ella. Talk to me."

  "Oh, God." Her gaze zeroed in on his cock. He almost lost it when she licked her lips, but he loosened his hold.

  "Tell me what you're doing," he said. "Better yet, show me."

  "Really?"

  "Yes."

  He got the idea she'd never played this game with James before. That this would be a first. And she was going to have it with him.

  "Take your bikini off, Ella."

  She shuddered out her next breath, reached behind and untied her top. It fell off, revealing her breasts. Her nipples were hard. He wanted to cup them, suck and lick them. It took every ounce of restraint he had to keep from going to her. But he wanted to watch. At least for the moment. Then he'd get in there and take action--later.

  She moved to her hips and slid the bottoms down her thighs, stopping to look at him. He squeezed his cock, stroked it, the two of them locking gazes as Ella removed her bikini bottoms. She resumed her position on her knees, her sex visible as she widened her stance. It was probably the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

  "That's good. Now I can see what you're doing."

  "I've never done this before, Clay."

  "It turns me on, Ella. Show me what you like. And I'll show you what I like."

  He wanted her to be at ease, to let her know he didn't mind at all showing her what pleased him. He gripped his cock in a tight fist, holding the base and doing a slow glide with his hand to the tip before traveling back down again. Not fast, not too slow. Ella watched his hand, seemingly transfixed. And he got a hell of a jolt out of her looking at him.

  "Now touch yourself for me."

  She laid her palm flat against her lower belly, her fingertips resting just above her sex. She eased her hand down and cupped her pussy, let it rest there, her fingers lightly tapping.

  Clay could tell from the look on her face that it felt good. Her eyes were half lidded, her lips parted, and her breasts rose as she breathed. And damn, watching her sure as hell felt good to his cock. He squeezed his shaft harder and pumped it once, twice--not too much--because watching Ella pleasure herself could make him go off.

  She eased her hand, up, then down, caressing her pussy, her fingers teasing her lips, not quite dipping inside. And then her lips parted and a soft moan escaped them. It was enough to drop a man to his knees. She lifted her gaze to his, and he read the heat in her eyes. Heat and nervousness. He liked seeing that innocence on her face, enjoyed knowing she gave him something she hadn't yet given another man. Yeah, call him an arrogant Neanderthal, but he liked that this was just for the two of them--something special just for him. At least today.

  Her hand movements quickened, her hips jutting forward. And then she tucked one finger inside her pussy.

  "Oh, yeah." He stepped closer, and dropped down to his knees, putting himself at eye level to her sex. He needed to see up close, watch her finger drilling in and out of her hot sheath.

  She was wet, the smell of her arousal soaking the air around him. He licked his lips and tilted his head back to look at
her. Her face was dark with desire, her mouth open as she panted.

  "Let me taste you."

  She removed her finger and held it out for him. He grasped her wrist and brought her hand forward, wrapped his tongue around her finger and sucked it into his mouth.

  Tart, tangy. Sexy, just like the woman who made him crazy.

  She moaned when he sucked, and the pressure kicked higher inside him. But he could wait. He had patience. He wanted her to come first.

  He pulled her finger out of his mouth and stood, leaning over the bed. "Lay down, babe."

  She dropped to her back and he pulled her to the edge of the bed, then parted her legs. He took a moment to just look at her while she was naked. If someone had told him a week ago that he'd be naked in a room with Ella Hicks, he would have laughed at them, would have said that would never happen. He was glad he'd been wrong, because he couldn't think of anyone he wanted to be with more than her.

  And maybe he always had, but he'd pushed the thought aside. She belonged to someone else, even if that someone else was dead. It had always been hard for him to think of her as a woman--an available woman--because he'd always thought of James.

  But for some reason, ever since he found her here in Hawaii, all those reservations had disappeared.

  Because while they were here, she belonged only to him, even if it was just for a week. And he was going to enjoy having her for every minute he could.

  And every which way he could.

  He spread her legs and knelt, slipping his hands under her thighs so he could raise her hips. She lifted up on her elbows. Obviously she wanted to watch.

  He spread kisses along the smooth skin of each inner thigh, then looked up at her and smiled, watching the tension spread across her face as he lowered his mouth to her sex.

  Her skin was warm and bathed in her scent. He breathed her in and took a long, slow lick of the entire length of her pussy. She shuddered underneath him, a soft cry escaping her lips. He wanted to hear more of that and pressed his tongue against her clit. She lifted against him, moaned again, this time louder.

  Oh, yeah.

  She had a sweet pussy, her body so damn responsive it was all he could do not to plunge his cock inside her right now. But doing this to her--for her--was more important. He loved feeling her squirm underneath his hand, his mouth, taste her as she edged closer and closer with every lap of his tongue. He felt her tighten, knew what he needed to do. He swirled his tongue over her clit and slid one finger inside her.

  "Clay. Oh, God. Yes." Her entire body vibrated when she came, her pussy squeezing his finger tight while she convulsed and thrashed against his mouth. And oh, he liked it. He liked it a lot seeing her let go like this.

  He took her down easy, using slow licks and caresses, waited until her body stopped shaking before he stood, put on a condom and leaned over her.

  Her eyes were glazed over and she wore a half smile that told him how much she'd enjoyed her orgasm. He'd always liked giving a woman pleasure. But making Ella come meant something more to him.

  He didn't want to analyze it. It made his gut clench in a way that meant there was emotion involved in that thought. And that was dangerous territory.

  Ella drew her knees up and planted her feet flat on the bed. "You going to fuck me or stare at me?"

  His lips lifted. "Both, probably."

  She frowned. "That freaks me out a little."

  He laughed. "No, it doesn't. But if my looking at how beautiful you are when you come bothers you so much, how about we do this instead?"

  He rolled her over onto her stomach and pulled her to the end of the bed, her legs dangling over the edge. That placed her ass right up against him, which made his cock dance in anticipation and his balls draw up tight.

  She threw a glance over her shoulder and wiggled her butt. "Oh, I like this."

  He held on to her hips, rocking against her. "Me, too. Sure you aren't going to worry I'm looking at you?"

  She rolled her eyes and arched her back, rubbing her pussy against his dick. "Smartass. Are you going to fuck me or psychoanalyze me?"

  This was what he liked about Ella--she was such a guy in so many ways, always throwing his sarcasm right back at him. But where it counted--the sweet softness of her--she was all woman.

  He slid inside her. "Oh, I'm definitely gonna fuck you."

  As he thrust to the hilt, she threw her head back, all that glorious dark hair spilling over her shoulders. He rolled his hips against her, rocking back and forth, giving her a little, then a lot, gauging the rhythm she liked.

  He already knew what he liked--whatever made her moan again. And he found that the harder he powered against her, the more noises came from her--and they weren't noises of complaint.

  "You want it harder?"

  "Yes."

  He pumped deep inside her, withdrew and thrust again. He pulled back and this time those beautiful brown locks resting against her back were too much of a lure. He wound his hand in her hair and used it to pull her head back while he drove deep. She let out a soft whimper, followed by a loud moan.

  "I like that. Do it again," she said, her nails digging into the sheets.

  "Which one? Pull your hair or shove my cock deep inside you?"

  "Both."

  Now it was his turn to groan, his cock demanding he roar to the finish line.

  Not yet. Not nearly yet. Not when Ella's sweet ass bounced against him. He smoothed his free hand over her ass, keeping the other tight in her hair, and tugged while he thrust. She cried out and her pussy tightened around him.

  "Clay, I'm going to come."

  That was exactly what he needed to hear. He increased the pace, pumping hard and fast inside her, feeling her walls close in around him. His balls slapped her pussy with every thrust, sweat pouring off him as he powered to climax. And when she let go, when she cried out with her orgasm, he let go, too, his orgasm ripping through him like a free fall off a high cliff, taking everything he had and exploding outward, inside her, until he had nothing left, until he was shaking. He dropped on top of Ella's back, then rolled over on his side, taking her with him.

  They breathed together for a while, rapid and spent at first; then both slowed to a regular rhythm. Ella put her hands over his and was doodling designs or something. He didn't know--didn't care. He just liked the feel of her touching him.

  "I hope this boat has a shower," she finally said. "I'm all sweaty."

  "Me, too. You make me work for it."

  She giggled, then pulled away and sat up, flipping her hair out of her face. "Yeah, well, gotta get our workout in some way. We don't want to head back to work with potbellies, do we?"

  She sauntered toward the bathroom. He admired her walk, waited a few minutes until he heard the shower running, then got up to join her, realizing how damned content he was with how things were going.

  That content feeling surprised the hell out of him. He'd expected to like the sex. But he hadn't expected to love spending every moment with Ella. Then again, he didn't know why he was surprised. They spent a lot of time together on jobsites. Their companies often worked side by side on projects, so they invariably worked in tandem. There had always been camaraderie between them.

  This, though--this was more than a camaraderie. It was a connection. And Clay felt it growing deeper.

  He didn't do deep. He didn't do connections. And he'd promised Ella no strings.

  So why in hell did he of all people suddenly feel as if he was tied to Ella? And why did he of all people think that wasn't such a bad thing?

  Seven

  "Grip it harder, Ella. That's it, babe. Oh, yeah. Just a little bit longer and you'll be there."

  Ella braced her feet on the edge of the boat's stern and yanked hard, the muscles of her arms straining each time she pulled back to reel in the fish. It wasn't a marlin--the crew said it was a mahi mahi--but it would be her first big fish and she'd been excited as hell about this expedition. They'd set out before dawn this morning a
nd had traveled to the deep part of the ocean where the best fish could be found.

  Clay had caught a big one a few hours ago--a nice-sized blue marlin. Ella had been so excited watching him fight for that baby she knew she had to experience it herself. The pure power, the exhilaration of human against powerful fish--it was primal and fierce watching the two of them battle it out. And when he'd won and reeled it in, she'd seen the gleam in his eye, the pride...Oh, yeah, she wanted a taste of that, too.

  She hadn't minded at all the hours of sitting there trolling along slow and easy with their lines in the water. It had given her time to sit and talk with Clay.

  This was their last day in Hawaii, their last day together as lovers before reality--real life--set in again.

  "Okay, looks like he's going to play dead in the water for a while."

  She looked to Clay. "What?"

  "Your fish is resting. Go ahead and relax the tension in your arms. But don't let go of the rod just yet. He may decide to take off."

  "Okay."

  "So I just sit here. And do what exactly?"

  "Well, it wouldn't be a good time to paint your toenails. Just chill. He'll come around in a few minutes."

  She laughed. Talking with Clay was so easy, so natural. Not at all like talking to a stranger. They'd had conversations about work, about projects coming up and ones they were finishing. Though she hadn't broached anything personal with him. And maybe she should. After all, other than work stuff, she really didn't know all that much about his personal life.

  "You've owned Mansfield Builders as long as I've been in the business," she started.

  He tore his gaze away from the trolling lines and onto her. "Yeah?"

  "Is that all you've ever done?"

  He nodded. "Pretty much. I started out in construction as a punk when I was eighteen. My dad worked construction, said it was an honest living. It just seemed natural to do what he did. As soon as I got out of high school, I wanted to get down and dirty alongside him."

  "He died young, though?"

  "Yeah. When I was twenty-one."

  She laid her hand on his arm. "I'm sorry."

  Clay shrugged. "He'd been in the business a long time. Never wanted to move up the ranks or become a foreman. Never saw himself on the business side of things. Just liked the physical aspect of the job. It was hard on him."