He licked his lips, his dick hardening painfully when he thought of those luscious thighs wrapped around his back as he thrust into her. Blood pumping, adrenaline soaring, he grabbed her around the waist and hauled her into his arms.
When she felt his erection against her belly, Zandra’s eyes widened in surprise.
And then came the panic.
When she tried to step away from him, Remy pulled her closer, trapping her against his aroused body.
Lips tightening with anger, she raised her arms and pushed at his chest.
This time he let her go, reluctant to cause a scene.
They stood staring at each other, chests rising and falling rapidly, heat and need throbbing between them.
“I want you,” Remy said, low and husky. “And you want me, too.”
Her eyes darkened. She knew better than to deny it.
But as the music ended, she turned and hurried away.
Clenching his jaw, he glanced around, encountering the sympathetic stares of his siblings, parents and grandparents.
Be patient, his mother mouthed encouragingly.
Remy just nodded.
But patience was something he was losing—and fast.
Zandra tried to keep her distance from Remy for the rest of the evening.
She had to.
Because the more time she spent in his presence, the more her resistance eroded, to the extent that she’d begun inventing rationalizations for why he would make a better partner than a stranger for an island fling.
He was her closest friend, she reasoned, so she didn’t have to worry about him giving her an STD, robbing her or lying to her about not having a wife and kids stashed somewhere. And since he knew her so well, he might have a better idea of how to please her sexually than a complete stranger would.
It was madness. Absolute madness.
Around ten o’clock, nearly everyone retired to their hotel rooms for the night. Zandra stayed on the beach, having drinks with Racquel and Morgan. Remy and River stood outside the tent, smoking cigars and shooting the breeze with one of the friendly resort employees, who invited all of them to accompany him to a popular island nightspot. Zandra declined the invitation, joking that she’d done enough dancing for one night.
When Remy agreed to go to the club, she told herself she didn’t care that he would be dancing with other women, sensually grinding against their undulating bodies as sweat glistened on their skin. She told herself it wouldn’t matter to her if he met an exotic island beauty and chose to spend the night with her, or if he fell hard for her and convinced her to return to Chicago with him.
She told herself these lies as she assured everyone that she’d rather stay behind, then watched them depart for the club, smiling as Racquel playfully hopped onto Remy’s back and looped her arms around his neck.
When one of the cabana boys sidled up to the table and began flirting shamelessly with Zandra, she decided it was time to leave. But instead of returning to her room, she struck out across the beach, hoping that a moonlit stroll along the shore would help clear her mind before she went to bed.
As she walked, she passed more than a few couples holding hands and gazing into each other’s eyes as they enjoyed a leisurely romantic stroll. It was hard for Zandra not to envy them, harder still to pretend that she didn’t long for the company of someone special. Someone who would hold her hand and make her feel warm inside as he walked close beside her.
You could have had that someone, an inner voice taunted. But you pushed him away.
Shaking off the unnerving thought—and an accompanying pang of regret—Zandra quickened her stride. As she ventured farther from the hotel, she saw lights glowing from the windows of cozy cottages nestled into the cliff side. She decided that the next time she visited St. Lucia, she’d find a rental property so that she could stay longer and enjoy the beautiful island.
“Zandra.”
The sound of the low, deep voice had her leaping from her skin before she whirled around, her feet spinning in sand. She was stunned to find Remy standing there, seemingly materializing out of thin air.