Playboy in Paradise: The Complete Set Read online

  He takes me by the hand, causing my heart to skip a beat … or three. His hand is warm and strong, his confidence felt as his pulse beats against my stuttering one. Pausing, he does a minute shake of his head then continues toward the back door with my hand still tucked neatly in his. When the door is opened wide, the breeze flowing through the large room, combined with the view, and the company of a bewildering boy, sets my head spinning.

  “I’ll be right back,” he says, leaving me alone with this natural beauty.

  I sit down on the step that leads to the grass, unable to imagine any place better than this. The word paradise could easily be overused if I spent a regular amount of time here. This place is perfection come to life. Until he sits down next to me, and hands me a glass of white wine. That’s when my perfect world gets even better. The wine choice surprises me. “I didn’t take you for a wine guy.” I sip.

  “I like to enjoy a good glass now and again. But, shhh, don’t tell anyone.” He laughs at his joke.

  I laugh at the whole set-up. “Wine with this view, Evan? I’m sure there are not many girls who haven’t had this move played on them. I think your secret might already be out.”

  He shakes his head, disappointment coloring the defined features of his face and his tone. “Can we drop the games and just enjoy each other’s company? I’m not going to lie to you, remember? I think it’s fairly obvious that I find you attractive. You’re pretty and smart. I like that. Sometimes that combo is not easily found.” He chuckles to himself while swirling his wine in the glass. “Or ever.” The last part is just a whisper, but I hear him.

  Before I can respond, he looks at me and says, “I’m gonna overlook that biting charm you use to feel secure because I can tell it’s not the real you.” He stands up and walks a few feet ahead of me, staring at the ocean.

  I stand, but I don’t join him. Leaning against the house for support, I debate whether I should be insulted or not—no matter how true his assessment of me is. Even if I’m slightly offended, I can’t take my eyes off him. He’s athletic, his shoulder muscles highlighted by the thin cotton of his t-shirt.

  I down two gulps of wine, needing the respite it provides.

  He turns around and looks me in the eyes, puzzled, as if he doesn’t know what to do about me. Then he’s in motion, rushing forward, his mouth crashing into mine. There’s no asking and definitely nothing polite about this kiss. It’s needy—he’s needy—and I inwardly smile that I’ve made Mr. Smooth desperate for me. My body reacts and I become just as needy in return. I wrap my arms around his neck without warning, struggling to hold the wine glass in the other. When our tongues meet, he backs me through the open doorway, taking my glass from my hand. I’m dazed, lost in desire for his sexy, heated body against mine. His hands glide over my ribs and down my hips then back up to the sides of my breasts where they linger.

  My breathing picks up, the anticipation for what’s to come, building deep within me.

  His palms squeeze lightly, pushing my breasts closer together as his hands grip me tighter, grounding me to the spot and to him. His tongue is gentle, unlike when his lips first took possession of mine.

  I let my hands roam up his shoulders and toward the back of his neck and push my fingers into his incredibly sexy hair. Just from the little kissing we’ve done, I don’t want to leave him either, now sympathizing with the girl at the airport. I open my eyes to sneak a peek at the Sex God I’m making out with and am once again beaten to the punch. His eyes, though hooded with desire, are already watching me. Clamping them shut again, I moan. “Oh, Evan.” Wait, what? Where’d that come from?

  He takes that as a sign to continue, which makes me realize how much I want this to happen—how much I need this to happen. It’s been too long and … well damn, look at him. His face alone turns me on, so I start to appreciate it with my mouth. I hear him groan internally and I can’t help smiling again at the carnal pleasure I derive from that sound.

  Kissing down my neck, he stops and asks, “What? What are you smiling about?”

  I sigh, answering him despite the sex drunk state I’m currently in. “This feels so good.”

  A smile flashes across his face before exploring my jaw with his mouth, leaving a wet trail across my skin. “This?”

  “Um, yeah, that.”

  He reaches the base of my neck, and his warm tongue traces the curve of my collar bone. “How about this?” he asks.

  I nod enough to encourage him to slide his hands down my body as he continues his kissing journey. Even though I’m taking all he’s giving, I still want more.

  “And this?” he asks, teasing with the tip of his tongue flexed flat on my skin.

  I don’t even bother with an answer because my body’s response is answer enough. His hand slides between my legs and rubs roughly up and down, twice, before leaving me well bothered and craving more.

  His words are just a whisper, his breath hot against my ear. “What about—”

  “Yes! Jesus! Evan, right there, especially there!” My voice is screechy, not even recognizable to me. The word wanton comes to mind.

  “Okay, settle down. I was just asking,” he says, but I can hear the playfulness in his tone.

  My hands work their way down his backside, his muscles flexing under my touch. I take the open invitation and squeeze his ass. Oh good lord, why’d I do that? It’s fantastic, hard and rounded. Images of seeing it move up and down as we have sex fuels a surge of ultimate boldness.

  My words sound more like a demand than a request. “Take off your shirt.” Maybe they are.

  His lips stop on my cheek, his hands pause on my waist just under my shirt, and he leans back away from me. With a furrowed brow, he asks, “What kind of guy do you take me for, Mallory?”

  “I’m hoping a guy who can back up that bad boy reputation you’ve worked so hard to create.”

  His hand graces my face and he places a sweet kiss on my forehead. “Oh, baby, I can back it up. Don’t you worry your little cotton panties about that. But, I’m a firm believer in ladies first.”

  His cockiness is growing on me and I’m starting to think he probably can back it up. His hands reach the bottom hem of my shirt and he starts slowly pulling it up, never losing eye contact.

  It’s too slow for how much I’m revved up. Feeling confident, I take the shirt into my own hands, lift it over my head, and toss it onto a nearby chair. In these situations, which hasn’t been many times, I usually hide a little, but I don’t want to here. He allows me to feel good about my body. I’m fit, not an athlete and there’s a softness to my curves.

  He quickly follows, lifting his shirt off and tossing it to the floor. His abs are not bulky like bodybuilders. His are defined and strong, more natural in form, probably from sports and a healthy lifestyle. I run my fingers over his stomach again as he kisses me with passion. If I allow myself, I might venture to say it’s laced with deeper developing emotions.

  We continue with our lips freely occupying the others and our hands deceptively close to operating on their own accord. I can sense that I’m already in too deep. All I can do is pray that I’m as strong tomorrow as I am right now, here in this moment.

  He unbuttons my jeans and slides them down my pale legs. Kneeling, he remains eye level with my center, leaning gracefully forward, his nose and mouth land on the apex of my thighs. My mouth drops open in shock as my middle heats up. My right eyebrow shoots up when I hear him inhale and then feel his hot breath released back onto me, my knees weakening at the sensation. He slides his nose against my wet panties and upwards not stopping until he lands between my breasts.

  “This won’t do at all,” he says, unfastening the bra as if he’s done it a million times, which he probably has.

  My back is arching my exposed chest toward him, an offering he’ll hopefully accept. The playfulness has disappeared, only to be replaced with a lustful burden. A crease forms across his forehead, backing my intuition. He kisses me quickly to cover then says, �
��Let’s move to the bed.”

  Taking me by the hand, he leads me to his platform bed that sits as the dominant feature in the open space. We stop at the edge and he strips his own jeans off before we slowly lay down together. Looking at each other, we study, learning the other’s features. His leg slides between mine. His are long and muscular, and I wonder if he plays soccer or tennis.

  He looks me over, taking one of my breasts in his hands and kneads. “You’re incredibly sexy,” he says.

  I have a decent sized chest, average, I suppose, but he seems satisfied and his words make me feel beautiful. Eyeing each other without a word, we give one last out of this unexpected turn of events. Neither of us takes it and we move closer, our bodies tangling.

  He rolls on top of me, taking the lead and suddenly we’re moving together, intense pleasure I’d long forgotten building quickly. Our kisses are fevered and we moan in unison pushing the other towards our mutually desired goal.

  Evan’s tongue enters my mouth, and unlike the frenzy we felt moments earlier, this time it caresses mine. His hands glide along the side of my body then stop and gently play with the back of my knee. He pulls it up, wrapping his arm around my thigh and holding it against his side. This new position makes me squirm with desire, needing more.

  My mind focuses on his fingers tucking under the sides of my panties as he continues trailing wet kisses down my body, over my hips, as he removes my panties.

  Lifting up abruptly, he stands at the base of the bed, his eyes locked on mine while he removes his black boxer briefs. Black equals bad boy. Will wore white.

  I prefer the black.

  My breathing deepens as anticipation starts to peak. He lowers himself back down, hovering over me. A small smile reveals his appreciation of my body beneath his. I’ve never felt more confident or comfortable being naked in my life, and I briefly consider leaving on this high. But knowing his history with women, I’m curious as to what makes them cry when they have to leave him. I have a strong suspicion it’s related to his skills in bed. As a matter of fact, I’m counting on it.

  On his hands and knees above me, he lowers himself down, resting his body lightly on top of mine as he kisses me again. Our lips part and we look at each other. I can’t hide the fire I feel for him as his erection presses against my center, adding the fuel that makes me heat and lust for more—more contact, more sensations, just more of all of him.

  “Are you sure about this?” he asks although we both are well aware that no woman ever says no to him.

  I try for casual. “Never more.” I don’t know how I sounded, but he definitely gets the message. His lips find mine with more pressure, but yet still gentle in their quest.

  He pulls back and stretches toward the nightstand, pulling the drawer open to retrieve a condom. Sliding down my body, he kneels between my legs, taking the packet between his teeth, and ripping it open. As I watch him put the condom on, I realize I hadn’t taken in the full view properly. His cock is larger than I’ve had inside me before and I’m daring enough to think it’s handsome. Wow! I can’t believe I just called it handsome.

  When it’s covered from tip to base, he leans over me in a push-up position, his gaze roving from my middle to my stomach and stopping on my breasts to admire. His eyes flicker up to meet mine and a small smile forms on his lips. “You ready for me?”

  I nod, feeling a bit breathless at the moment.

  With that, he drops himself back down and slowly pushes into me. My head lulls back and my eyes automatically close. I feel his breath and lips against my neck as a low rumble escapes him. “Mallory.” His voice is low and raw, bordering on wild.

  My eyes flutter open to take in the sight of Evan on top of me. His head is buried into my neck and hair as he moves gracefully. The act itself surprises me. It’s not that it doesn’t feel amazing, but it’s more like he’s making love to me rather than fucking. I thought we had an understanding that we were going to fuck—maybe not a verbal one, but an understanding of what this was when we started.

  My body responds to his and I join him in the action. I moan and my voice is breathy and uncontrolled as I wrap my arms around him, pulling my body closer to his. I spread my knees further apart and he lifts above me, going even deeper as our connection intensifies.

  Pulling my thigh up, he anchors it with his arm while thrusting faster and harder, our breathing becoming jagged when his fingers find my most sensitive center. Playful, deliberate moves make me jolt reflexively under his touch.

  As his mouth moves steadily along my jaw, I can tell he’s nearing his release. That knowledge, along with these overwhelming sensations twisting inside, sends me into an abyss of sexual vertigo, something I haven’t had in well over five months and nothing as glorious as this before. While I’m lost in my own orgasmic heaven, Evan reaches his peak. My mind lands safely back on earth as he soars in his release while his breathing and moaning into my neck makes my skin react and tingle.

  He relaxes on top of me for too short of a time before he rolls off, tossing the condom in the trash can near the nightstand. The action reminds me that this is his everyday, nothing special to him. I try to remain happy in the here and now, and by the smile on Evan’s face when he flops down next to me, he is too.

  A leisurely kiss is placed on my lips before he says, “You’re a really beautiful girl.” He pauses. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

  “Immensely,” I answer without hesitation because it’s true. I actually did enjoy myself, which is more than I can say about my previous sexual encounters back home. As much as I hate it, he was right in what he said earlier at the diner. He does have me all figured out. This annoys me, but doesn’t seem important anymore after what we just did.

  “Would you like something to drink?” he asks, sitting up.

  “Yes.” I glance at the clock. “I’ll take my wine and a glass of water please.”

  He laughs as he saunters across the room into the kitchen area completely naked. After grabbing two bottles out of the fridge and our wine, he returns to my side and hands me my glass. I sip the wine as he opens the bottle of water for me. Alternating between the two, thirsty yet needing something stronger than water to keep my mental state in check, I crave both.

  Watching him go into the bathroom, I hear the shower start seconds later. He pokes his head out. His smile is huge as he suggests I join him. “Come in here with me.”

  Now I hesitate, but I don’t know why. He senses my reluctance and comes back to the bed and sits down next to me. Taking my hand in his, he tries to comfort me. “There’s nothing to be embarrassed about. We just made love, Mallory. I want you to shower with me.” He tugs at my hand and I give in, following him into the steamy room. The warm water relaxes my body as I think about his words ‘made love’ when he steps into the shower stall behind me. He’s right. We did just make love. This stall is very close quarters, and he amusingly prods me out of my thoughts when he asks, “Can you share?”

  I tilt my head surprised by his lightheartedness. “Yeah, of course, Evan. Sorry about that.” I’m embarrassed for hogging the water.

  Stepping aside, I let him under the water. He runs his fingers through his hair, soaking it under the spray. Looking back down at me, he says, “I like the way you say my name.”

  “Really? How do I say it?”

  He shrugs. “Um, I’m not sure. It’s your accent, I guess. Where are you from?”

  “Colorado.”

  “Ah, that must be it.” He taps me on the nose while reaching for the shampoo. Squirting a capful of shampoo into his hands, he massages it into my hair, dragging his fingers carefully through to the ends of my long hair. I’ve never had a guy do this before and it’s erotic on a physical and an emotional level. I hum my pleasure aloud which makes him chuckle. As he rinses my hair, he asks, “Repeat?”

  “Absolutely, magic fingers.”

  That makes him laugh even louder, enjoying the ease and fun of the moment. I return the favor, adding a few
fun flair techniques I developed myself, causing him to groan in pleasure. Minutes later, we dry off, and he says, “You’re different now.”

  It’s just an observation, but it shows how perceptive he is. “I feel more comfortable after what we did.”

  “Any regrets?”

  “Not yet. I can’t promise I won’t have any tomorrow though.”

  “What you’re saying is that I have tonight to make sure regret never crosses that pretty face of yours?”

  He’s attentive and caring which makes me question that maybe this whole bad boy thing really is just an act. My changing feelings don’t matter though because he’s been more than clear how this is going down. We’ve only got tonight and I need to enjoy it.

  When I walk back into the main room, he’s already dressed, but hands me a t-shirt, a pair of briefs, and ibuprofen. “I’ll get your suitcase out of the car, but you can wear these if you want.” He hands the pills to me, and adds, “You might need these before morning.”

  I’m not sure why I would, but figure it will help with the soreness of sitting on that airplane for more than five hours.

  I take the clothes, dropping the towel. Evan watches me dress with interest as a darkness clouds over his eyes. He comes closer as I pull the shirt over my head and then he’s on me. His hands are on me, his lips are on mine, and his legs are tangling with mine.

  All of Evan, all on me.

  I kiss him back before he abruptly turns and leaves the room, walking outside and up the path towards the car. This gives me a minute that I desperately need for clarity. I sit on a barstool, swiveling and taking in my surroundings. I have so many questions, but with the short amount time we have together, I don’t want to waste words on topics that don’t really matter in the end. I feel giddy inside that he just assumes I’ll stay with him. He’s already accepted that as fact which leads me to believe he wants me to be here as much as I want to spend more time in his arms.

  He returns with my heavy suitcase in his hand and walks to the corner of the room, moving about like it weighs nothing. He sets it down on its side in the corner, and while scratching the back of his head, asks, “Are you hungry or tired? Do you want to watch a movie or go to bed?”