Tempt (Take It Off #3)(12)
Author: Cambria Hebert

He snorted.

I turned serious again. “You covered my body with yours.” For some reason, that replayed over and over in my head—the weight of him pressing me down. The sound of his foreign tongue whispering to me softly… Maybe it hadn’t meant anything. Maybe it was just a kneejerk reaction on his part, but to me… to me it meant more than he would ever know. That moment was branded into my brain and my heart forever.

“It was the only thing I could think of,” he said, not brushing off what I said. Something in my chest swelled just a little when those green eyes met mine. “I didn’t know any other way to keep you alive.”

“Even if it meant you getting hurt,” I whispered.

How had we gotten so close? Our noses were almost touching. I could feel his warm, chocolate-scented breath across my face. In that moment, I forgot we were stranded. I forgot I was filthy. That my head hurt and that we might never make it home. In that second when his gaze touched mine, we were just two people who were irrevocably drawn to each other. Two people sitting in a tropical paradise with the sound of the waves echoing around us and the hum of chemistry between us.

He swallowed; I heard his saliva slide down his throat. “I didn’t do a very good job,” he said low.

The huskiness in his voice almost overshadowed his words. Almost.

“What do you mean?”

He reached out tentatively and touched around the tender area where my stitches were. “You’re still the one that got hurt the most.”

“But you fixed me up.”

The corner of his mouth turned up.

He was going to kiss me.

I felt the pull between us so strongly that it took my breath.

He trailed his fingers down from my head, across my cheek, and then traced the line beneath my bottom lip. Then he cleared his throat and pulled away.

I blinked rapidly, shocked that he hadn’t followed through. My body screamed for him to come back.

“You need to drink this,” he said, his voice still husky. I knew he had to be as affected by me as I was by him. Or was that only wishful thinking? “The sugar will do you good.”

“Only if you drink some too.”

He nodded and popped the top on the can.

Brown, fizzy liquid sprayed up, making me squeal and lurch away. I looked back at Nash, who was still holding the can out away from him, with droplets of the sugary soda all over his arms and face.

I pressed a hand over my lips, trying to stop the giggle.

He glanced at me. A drop of soda dripped off his nose and he caught it with his tongue. I lost it. I laughed so hard I fell over in the sand.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” he said, not amused at all.

He turned away and my giggles died away. “I’m sorry,” I said, sitting up, reaching out for his shoulder.

He pounced on me. Literally turned and tackled me into the sand. Pinning me to the ground, he shook his head, his dark curls flinging droplets of soda onto my face. I squealed.

“Not so funny now, is it?” he said, rubbing his damp cheek across mine.

His lips brushed the corner of my mouth.

I froze, no longer able to laugh.

My stomach dropped and then started to dance around. He was literally on top of me, his body pressed along mine. Just the mere tease of his lips was enough to make my hands tremble and my knees weak.

He pulled back just a fraction of an inch, turned his head, and stared down at me. I could barely read his expression because of the way the sun shone around his body like a halo, making him look like he was in the shadows.

But I didn’t need to see his expression.

Because something was pressing against my stomach. Something hard and urgent. Something that I had to make an effort not to wiggle against.

His mouth claimed mine. He literally stole every feeling I was experiencing and replaced them with only him. His kiss was so utterly consuming, so all-encompassing, that I could do nothing but allow him to ravage my mouth, again and again.

Oh my God, it was the single most devastating experience of my life. He was truly delicious. He tasted like chocolate and salt. His body was hard and lean. Our toes twirled around together in the sand, the grittiness teasing my skin as his tongue tantalized my mouth.

“Open for me,” he murmured against my lips.

I obeyed without thinking and his tongue swept inside my mouth, caressing over my teeth and fondling the roof of my mouth. He sucked my lower lip into his mouth and moved against me. I cried out because the sensation of his body and his mouth at the same time was almost more than I could bear.

There was a gnawing hunger inside me, and it wasn’t for food. It was for something else, something I didn’t quite understand. I felt like I was standing on the edge of a cliff about to tumble over and there was no parachute or net to catch me.

His jean-clad leg pushed between mine and he brought it up, the firmness of his knee right at my core. I moaned again, his body affecting mine in ways I truly didn’t know was possible.

He tore his mouth from mine but kept kissing, down my neck and across my collarbone, where he nipped at the bones and made me shiver. He lifted his head, dark curls falling near his heavy-lidded eyes, and his tongue jutted out between two swollen lips, licking at the remains of our kiss.

“You taste good.”

My thighs involuntarily tightened around his knee. I watched as his eyes darkened to a deep leafy green.

He brought his hands up and brushed away my hair. Some of the hair was stuck in dried blood and pulled, making me wince.

He frowned. “I should have cleaned you up.”

“I’ll do it.”

He stood swiftly, the sea breeze brushing over my passion-fevered skin and making me wince. He reached down and grabbed my hands and pulled me to my feet. I stumbled a little, feeling dizzy, and I knew it was because of that kiss.

He kept hold of my hand and retrieved the Coke that started it all and handed it to me. “Drink.”

I reached up to take it, but he shook his head and held the can to my lips. I watched him as he tilted it up and the warm soda traveled across my tongue. I drank. Then I drank some more. He was rather pushy about it, but I didn’t argue. I was still drunk from that kiss.

My goodness, was he going to kiss me like that every day? If he did, I would never want to leave.

After a couple minutes, he relented, pulling the can up to his mouth. I watched his lips wrap around the aluminum as he drank. He drained the rest in seconds flat. And then we were walking back to the plane—our makeshift camp.

When we made it to the door, I glanced back over my shoulder, not remembering a single thing about the walk here.