The Trouble with Mojitos (8 page)

“It’s going to be hours before the tide washes the dinghy back in,” Rik said.

She swallowed, and though her first thought was ‘
the condoms are on that boat
’, what she said was: “I need to upload my pictures to London.”

She sank down on the strip of beach which had more than doubled in size since they’d passed through that morning.

This was just bloody typical of her life. One step forward, two steps back.

Impossibly hot, indulgent sex with a prince on a tropical beach, followed by being marooned on a deserted island with everything you wanted and needed just tantalisingly out of reach. She was getting really, really tired of always needing a back up plan. Just once, wouldn’t it be nice if everything worked out first time around?

Kenzie’s shoulders sagged for barely a moment before she lifted her chin, the determined look returning to her face. Rik admired her tenacity. She never gave up, never let defeat drag her down.

Not the way he had.

This was his fault. He’d checked the tide tables and planned to have them back at the boat before the tide turned. They’d only got lost because he’d drifted back into the past instead of paying attention to where they were headed. Looking back to the past caused nothing but grief.

The dinghy had to be a good mile out. And this cove was less protected than the others since the break in the reef offered no defence against the wild ocean here. These were no gently lapping waves, but crashing breakers, battered by the wind that whipped beyond the shelter of the bay.

Still, he’d swum through worse. Though at the time, admittedly, he hadn’t cared if he drowned.

Before he’d met Kenzie and rediscovered what it felt like to be alive.

He stripped off his jeans and shirt. He seemed to be making a habit of that around her. “I guess I’ll have to swim for it then.”

She turned a startled gaze on him. “Is that wise?”

Who cared about ‘wise?’ He’d spent his whole life being rational and careful, and he was sick of it. Where had caution ever got him?

Kissing Kenzie, making love to her … for the first time in his life he’d followed his instincts and let passion overrule his reason. And it had felt good.

He would trust his instincts again now.

Without answering, he dove into the waves, and began to plough through them. They battered at him, rolled over him and submerged him, but he relished the fight. He’d left Westerwald without a fight, running away into the night because he’d believed a clean break would be better for his nation.

A person is not defeated when they lose, a person is only defeated when they quit
. That had been another of his father’s favourite sayings. He was over quitting. From now on he was going to fight for what he wanted. Starting with getting Kenzie safely onto the yacht where she could get her work done …  and after that, she was his. No interruptions, no excuses, and a box full of condoms.

He’d never had sex without protection before. He’d always been so careful – princes couldn’t afford accidents. But today he’d been so caught up in the moment, in the emotion, he hadn’t even given it a thought until Kenzie pointed it out. How could he be such a fool? Especially now he knew he was one of those ‘accidents’.

It had felt good, though. Stupid, but good.

He stroked through the waves, fighting the current that pulled at him as he pushed through. Every morning he swam, pitting himself against the elements. Out here in the open sea he’d discovered the purest form of oblivion. There was no other thought but survival, of conquering the elemental force of the water. No time for memory or regret or despair.

In spite of the rougher water, of the churning waves that surged over him, under him, in a violent caress, this swim was even better. It felt good to simply be alive. For too many months he’d done nothing but exist, wanting only the things that were denied to him. Now at last he’d found something he wanted, and he wasn’t going to quit until he got it. Again and again and again.

He swam until his limbs ached until his chest throbbed with the effort of drawing in air.

The wave carrying him crested and broke, and in that moment he glimpsed the dinghy. It was mere metres away. The outgoing tide pulled at him, threatening to sweep him further away. With his breath burning in his chest, he poured every last ounce of fight left in him to reach the little boat. His hands stretched out for the vessel which rocked violently on the breakers, crashing down another metre further away. He’d have sworn if that hadn’t meant a lungful of seawater.

He plunged forward, and gripped the boat’s side. For a moment he clung, too spent to drag himself out of the water and into the boat.

Then another wave crashed over him and his fingers began to slip. Involuntarily, he opened his mouth to gasp, and water rushed in, choking him. For the first time it occurred to him he might drown. And Kenzie would be alone on an island no local dared set foot upon.

He’d be damned before he let a stupid curse keep him from what he wanted. Tortuga was not going to get the better of him.

His grasp tightened and he heaved himself out of the water and into the boat.

For a dizzying moment he lay in the bottom of the dinghy, coughing and gasping for breath. Thank God for all the swimming he’d done these past months. When he’d been a soft prince living in a palace, waited on hand and foot, he’d never have managed this feat.

He thought of Kenzie, on the beach, anxiously waiting for him, watching for him, and pulled himself upright. Wiping the dripping water from his face, he rose shakily in the pitching boat. It took two attempts to get the engine fired up, then he turned the boat back towards shore.

Within the shelter of the bay, the waves smoothed out and the dinghy skimmed across the water. The white sliver of beach seemed impossibly far, and he pushed the dinghy faster, following an overwhelming urge to reach dry land. For this once, the shore wasn’t the place where reality waited for him like an ominous shadow. It was where he wanted to be. It was the place where Kenzie waited for him.

She waded out to meet him, cradling her camera bag like a baby. The relief on her face was gratifying. “You’re sopping wet.”

“Water tends to do that.”

She handed him the camera bag and returned to the beach to fetch his clothes and the rucksacks, then climbed into the boat beside him. “I lost sight of you for a while. You had me scared.”

“You would have been okay. You’re resourceful like that.”

She clouted him. “Don’t be a dolt. It was you I was scared for.”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat. It was nice to have someone who cared. He’d felt alone for far too long.

When they reached the yacht, drifting placidly on its mooring as though absolutely nothing had happened, he was so depleted he could barely climb the swim ladder onto the deck. Without comment, Kenzie stowed her camera bag and helped him secure the dinghy.

“I’ll get you something to eat,” she said, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Send your pictures first.”

“Screw the pictures.”

Kenzie not only had a kind heart. She was fierce in her defence of anything and anyone she cared about. Despite her fragile build and too-young face, she was a stronger, better woman than he’d given her credit for that first night.

He took her arm and propelled her towards the cabin. “Food can wait. Send your pictures,” he commanded.

She nodded meekly, the usual flash of defiance noticeably absent from her eyes, and that alone spoke volumes of how frightened she’d been.

In the yacht’s tiny bathroom, smaller than any wardrobe he’d ever owned, he stood under the shower until the water ran cold. Then he pulled on the spare sweater and chinos he kept on board and returned to the saloon where Kenzie had thrown together a meal.

He frowned at her. “Have you sent your pictures?”

She nodded, pushing her long fringe back from her face. “Neil will probably call as soon as they’ve viewed them.”

He grinned. “Luckily for us, there isn’t a mobile tower in sight. He’ll have to leave a message.” He chose not to mention the satellite phone on board.

They ate in silence, the air between them humming with delicious tension. His body was no longer tired, and in spite of the ache in his limbs, he was hard again.

He shoved his plate aside and rose, needing something to take the edge off his desire. This time he wanted to take it slowly. He wanted to give her pleasure. Not come like a schoolboy with no self-control as he had in the ocean.

He found a bottle of white wine in the little fridge. A glance at the label and his heart pulled tightly. It was one of Max’s Californian wines.

He poured two glasses and held one out to Kenzie, his fingers lingering over hers on the crystal stem as she took it. Her gaze met his, her eyes clouded with desire.

He drank a long draught of the wine then held out his other hand to her. Without question she took it and he pulled her to her feet. Then he led her to the aft cabin.

The low ceilinged room had not been designed for comfort, and though the bed stretched from wall to wall, it wasn’t nearly big enough. But until he could get her back to the villa and the luxury of his own bed, this would have to do.

He set down his glass on the narrow shelf above the bed, and sat on the edge, pulling her to stand between his legs. She came willingly, with a wicked smile and a smouldering look in her eyes that made his blood boil.

She bent her head to kiss him, her hair falling around him in a cascade of soft tresses. He threaded his fingers through it, holding it back from her face, and eased his tongue between her lips, into the soft wet warmth of her mouth. His body ached to sink into the soft wet warmth between her legs too, but he held himself back, even though it took every ounce of effort left in him not to tumble her onto her back.

He broke their kiss to yank her shirt over her head. Her white lacy bra had dried, and was no longer see-through. With one hand he unclasped it, and she shrugged out of it, revealing perfect breasts. His hands already knew their shape, but his body tightened at the sight of her nipples, pink and tightly budded.

He removed the wine glass held limply in her hand and dipped his fingers into the golden liquid, then trailed his wet fingers between her breasts, over the soft mounds, tracing circles. He licked at first one, then the other, and she shivered.

He sucked her nipple into his mouth, savouring the taste of her, that faint essence of orange blossoms beneath the taste of the wine, a stimulating combination of innocence and impishness.

He playfully bit her, his teeth grazing the erect bud, and she let out a soft cry. There was nothing innocent about Kenzie beneath that delicate skin. He knew she liked it rough. She liked it hard.

And as he was slowly discovering, so did he.

He stripped off her cargo pants and knickers, and she stood naked before him. He sighed his pleasure. He stroked a hand through her pale curls, and she parted her legs, inviting him in.

He withdrew his hand, not touching her as she wanted, making her wait.. Her eyes flew open and she frowned.

He held the wine glass to her lips and let her drink, then took a long sip himself. Then he flipped her onto her back on the bed and poured the dregs of the wine between her legs. He slid down the bed between her thighs, parting her with his fingers.

Kenzie gasped as his mouth closed over her. He licked down her, sucking up the droplets of wine that clung to her sensitive skin.

It was killing him taking this so slowly, and his chinos pulled painfully tightly, but he wanted her to enjoy this. Wanted her to remember this day and how he’d made her feel long after they went their separate ways.

His tongue teased her. He nipped and kissed her clit, until she cried out; until she came in a series of tiny shocks that shook her entire body. Only when she lay limply on the bed, breathing heavily, did he rise and strip off his own clothes.

Then he stretched out above her on the bed, holding his weight off her with his arms. “Tell me you want this.”

She nodded.

“Tell me.”

She laughed, a low, husky sound. “You want me to beg?”

“Well, that would be nice.”

Her eyes gleamed with mischief. “Please, sir, may I have some more?” She arched her back, rubbing herself up against him. “And this time, don’t forget the rubber.”

As if. Much as he wanted to feel her skin against his again, that wasn’t a mistake he would make twice. .

He retrieved the box of condoms from the shelf above the bed, removed one and ripped the foil packet open with his teeth. Kenzie took the condom, ‘ribbed for her pleasure’ according to the box, and rolled it onto him. The firm, heated touch of her hands wrapped around his cock sent a shudder through him.

She stroked down his length, with practiced hands that seemed to know just how he liked it. The pressure built inside him, demanding release, and he had to yank her hand away. He was on the verge of turning into that over-excited schoolboy again.

Nudging her legs further apart, he sank down onto her, enjoying the way she pressed up against him, not afraid to demand what she wanted. Even through the desensitising condom he could feel how wet she was, how ready. He massaged himself over her, teasing her again. Her eyes glazed over with that same desperate expression, the half excited, half afraid look he’d seen in them a dozen times over the last two days.

She wanted him with the same desperation he felt for her. But she still didn’t want to feel this way. Something primal and possessive took hold of him.

Last night, looking at her laid out on the bench in his cockpit, so sensual, so relaxed, that silky dress riding up her long pale thighs… he’d felt savage. It had taken every ounce of his precious self-control to play the gentleman and walk away.

He didn’t feel gentlemanly now either. Perhaps he had more of his biological father in him than he realised, but the urge to ravage Kenzie was starting to drive him insane.

He wanted to drive away her doubts and her fears and make her want him with every fibre of her being, holding nothing back.

“Please, Rik,” she begged, rubbing herself against him. “Please.”

He took mercy on her, on himself, sinking himself inside her in one long, ferocious thrust which she met with a thrust of her own. There was no taking it slowly after that. Her moans drove him wild as he drove into her, faster, harder, until years of self-control, of denial, cracked apart and he lost himself in her.

When he came, in a vicious climax that affected every part of him, it was a hundred times more powerful than their first kiss had been. He collapsed onto her, chest heaving, body still shaking. But his soul soared.

He rolled over, pulling Kenzie with him, cradling her against his chest, burying his face in the vivid hair that splayed across his chest. He pulled a blanket over them, staving off the inevitable chill as their sweat-slicked skin cooled.