you should get
your own cable cooking show. Half Survivor, half Rachel Ray.”
“Not a bad idea. You can be my sidekick. We’ll roam the
world, stopping in all the most exotic places and I’ll cook for
you.” Jamie looked up and found her watching him as he plated
the fish and handed it to her. She had a strange expression on her
face. “What?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “That sounds nice actually,
traveling the world, eating. Together.”
Out of the blue, the memory of her going down over his cock the day
they met hit him like a physical blow. His body immediately woke up.
“Um. Here.”
Taking the plate he thrust in her direction, she broke the gaze and
concentrated on the food. “Thanks.”
With the second dish he’d prepared for himself in hand, he sat
again as Gillian began systematically to devour the fish. “I
guess you like it.”
“Yes. It’s good.” Her eyes shot nervously to him,
then away again. Was she suddenly shy around him? Or was it something
else?
The tension between them was almost palpable. His gut twisted and his
erection got even harder. To distract himself from thinking about
throwing her over his shoulder and tossing her onto his bed, he
shoved a forkful of abalone into his mouth. When he glanced up, she
was watching him again.
She placed the now empty plate on the blanket next to her and, if his
mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, she leaned toward him. Or
perhaps he leaned closer to her.
“Jamie.”
“Yeah?”
Their faces were a breath apart now. His gaze dropped to watch her
lips part as her breath quickened.
“Reilly!” The squeal had him pulling back guiltily just
as Reilly sped past, laughing and swinging a bikini top over his head
as a topless bridesmaid pursued him covering bouncing bare breasts
with her hands.
Brandon’s laughter came from somewhere in the dark followed by
a female voice saying, “You two are a couple of immature
idiots.”
His response to that was, “Yeah, whatever. You know you love
it.”
That was followed by another scream and the sound of a slap as Jamie
guessed Brandon had most likely imitated Reilly and grabbed the other
girl’s top.
Jamie feared the romantic moment had been lost. He glanced back to
Gillian. The dark look of desire still in her eyes made him think
again.
What the hell. What’s the worst thing she could do? Slap him?
Say no? Jamie gathered his courage and went for it. “I think I
could use some privacy. How about you?”
“God, yes.”
Heart pounding, he glanced at the plates surrounding them. As anxious
as he was to get her alone, he supposed he should take them below.
Gillian’s fingers wrapped around his bicep. “Leave it.
We’ll clean up later.”
She pulled him to his feet and toward the yacht, and he didn’t
think about the dishes again.
The door to the stateroom was barely closed before her lips crashed
into his. It was not the tentative kiss of a woman who’d only
just met a man two days before, but instead, the frantic,
clothes-tearing kind. The kind of kissing that could only lead to
something else.
Jamie fell backward onto the bed with Gillian on top of him. Their
lips stayed locked and their tongues tangled as she worked on the
button and zipper of his shorts.
When her hand touched the bare flesh of his erection, she groaned.
“Where are the condoms?”
“Top middle drawer.”
He immediately missed her touch as she released her grip and crawled
off him. Beams of moonlight lit her movements. He watched her take
out the box of condoms and leave them on the dresser. She quickly
pulled off her clothes, every last piece until she stood completely
nude and gorgeous before him.
Her skin glowed, and he drew in a sharp breath. He had to touch her.
He stood, yanked off his only remaining article of clothing, and
threw the T-shirt to the ground. He closed the short distance between
them, clutched her face in his hands, and plunged his tongue into her
mouth. He slid his hands down to
your own cable cooking show. Half Survivor, half Rachel Ray.”
“Not a bad idea. You can be my sidekick. We’ll roam the
world, stopping in all the most exotic places and I’ll cook for
you.” Jamie looked up and found her watching him as he plated
the fish and handed it to her. She had a strange expression on her
face. “What?”
Her throat worked as she swallowed. “That sounds nice actually,
traveling the world, eating. Together.”
Out of the blue, the memory of her going down over his cock the day
they met hit him like a physical blow. His body immediately woke up.
“Um. Here.”
Taking the plate he thrust in her direction, she broke the gaze and
concentrated on the food. “Thanks.”
With the second dish he’d prepared for himself in hand, he sat
again as Gillian began systematically to devour the fish. “I
guess you like it.”
“Yes. It’s good.” Her eyes shot nervously to him,
then away again. Was she suddenly shy around him? Or was it something
else?
The tension between them was almost palpable. His gut twisted and his
erection got even harder. To distract himself from thinking about
throwing her over his shoulder and tossing her onto his bed, he
shoved a forkful of abalone into his mouth. When he glanced up, she
was watching him again.
She placed the now empty plate on the blanket next to her and, if his
mind wasn’t playing tricks on him, she leaned toward him. Or
perhaps he leaned closer to her.
“Jamie.”
“Yeah?”
Their faces were a breath apart now. His gaze dropped to watch her
lips part as her breath quickened.
“Reilly!” The squeal had him pulling back guiltily just
as Reilly sped past, laughing and swinging a bikini top over his head
as a topless bridesmaid pursued him covering bouncing bare breasts
with her hands.
Brandon’s laughter came from somewhere in the dark followed by
a female voice saying, “You two are a couple of immature
idiots.”
His response to that was, “Yeah, whatever. You know you love
it.”
That was followed by another scream and the sound of a slap as Jamie
guessed Brandon had most likely imitated Reilly and grabbed the other
girl’s top.
Jamie feared the romantic moment had been lost. He glanced back to
Gillian. The dark look of desire still in her eyes made him think
again.
What the hell. What’s the worst thing she could do? Slap him?
Say no? Jamie gathered his courage and went for it. “I think I
could use some privacy. How about you?”
“God, yes.”
Heart pounding, he glanced at the plates surrounding them. As anxious
as he was to get her alone, he supposed he should take them below.
Gillian’s fingers wrapped around his bicep. “Leave it.
We’ll clean up later.”
She pulled him to his feet and toward the yacht, and he didn’t
think about the dishes again.
The door to the stateroom was barely closed before her lips crashed
into his. It was not the tentative kiss of a woman who’d only
just met a man two days before, but instead, the frantic,
clothes-tearing kind. The kind of kissing that could only lead to
something else.
Jamie fell backward onto the bed with Gillian on top of him. Their
lips stayed locked and their tongues tangled as she worked on the
button and zipper of his shorts.
When her hand touched the bare flesh of his erection, she groaned.
“Where are the condoms?”
“Top middle drawer.”
He immediately missed her touch as she released her grip and crawled
off him. Beams of moonlight lit her movements. He watched her take
out the box of condoms and leave them on the dresser. She quickly
pulled off her clothes, every last piece until she stood completely
nude and gorgeous before him.
Her skin glowed, and he drew in a sharp breath. He had to touch her.
He stood, yanked off his only remaining article of clothing, and
threw the T-shirt to the ground. He closed the short distance between
them, clutched her face in his hands, and plunged his tongue into her
mouth. He slid his hands down to
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