“You gonna stare down at me all night or finish this?” Dahlia looked at him with heavy-lidded eyes, her voice hoarse.
Cruz blinked out of his haze, mentally shaking his head. He’d examine his feelings for Dahlia at another time, a time when she wasn’t giving him that come fuck me look and self-satisfied smile. She lifted a leg, brought her foot to his chest, and dragged her toes down his chest. His cock—semi hard—pulsed.
Damn.
Dahlia’s lips curved as though she heard his inner curse. “You’re staring at me like you don’t know me, Green Eyes.” Her foot continued its journey down his body, toes sliding across his hip before she moved to the front, lightly touching her toe to the wet tip of his cock.
“Shit.” Cruz jerked away, gritting his teeth. “Fuck, woman, are you trying to kill me?”
She chuckled. Stretching a hand over to the stash of condoms on his bedside table, she grabbed one and threw it at him. He caught the black plastic square with one hand.
“I just might kill you if you don’t suit up and give me what I want. Now.”
Fuck. A repeat of that command wasn’t necessary, not when she brought her knees up and trailed a finger down to the slick folds of her pussy. Her body arched and Cruz tore open the condom, spitting out the piece in his mouth and tugging on the lubricated rubber with impatient grunts.
Gaze on Dahlia’s naughty fingers, he almost swallowed his tongue when she plunged three into her core then brought them to her mouth and licked off the glistening juices.
apart her knees with less than gentle hands and drove into her waiting pussy. He groaned at her heated clasp. Her knees shook, fingers grabbed the sheets, tearing at it as he reared back and thrust in.
Balls deep.
Dahlia’s inner walls spasmed, the sensation like a million tiny massagers wrapped tightly around his dick. Her hips rolled and he sank his fingers into the flesh of her thighs to hold her still less he explode like a twelve year old at his first glimpse of tits.
“Yes, so good.” Dahlia palmed her breasts, squeezing, teasing the nipples. “Harder, fuck me harder. I won’t break, Green Eyes.”
Her eyes were pools of liquid need, trapping him, drowning him. He bit the inside of his cheek, sweat dripping from his hair into his eyes as he pulled all the way out of her.
“No!” Wide gaze promising death, her empty pussy fucked the air. “Cruz!”
He grinned. “Don’t wor ry. I’m not done with you yet.” Dipping two fingers into her dripping pussy, he removed them and pushed into her ass, opening, stretching the muscles.
Dahlia whimpered. “Burns. So fucking good.”
Cruz fucked her, scissoring into her tight channel until her hips sped up then he replaced his fingers with his cock.
Under him, Dahlia stiffened.
The grip of her heated ass brought his balls up as fire and pain zinged through him. Cruz took a steadying breath. “Love the feel of you, baby. So hot. So tight.” He smoothed a palm over her quivering stomach. “Never felt anything like it.”
Her muscles clamped own around him. His cock flexed with the urge to move. He canted his hips forward, heard Dahlia’s sharp intake of breath.
Cruz stilled. “Okay?”
Her eyes drooped close. She plucked at the sheets as her throat worked. “M’good. Move.” She did a tentative roll of her hips, muscles fluttering.
“Move.” She groaned.
He reared back slowly and slammed in. She cried out. The telltale tingles started at his nape and the base of his spine.
“Let me see those fingers work your pussy,” he rasped, pounding into her. She undulated. “Fuck yourself as I fuck you.”
She did. Her throaty moans mingled with his animalistic grunts as those three fingers went to work plunging in and out as she rode him. The sight of that brought him to the edge.
“Fuck, babe! So sexy like that.”
“Cruz, I’m—I’m…” The proof of her impending climax was present in the trembling of her body, the heaving of her chest. The tightening of her inner muscles.
“Yes, bathe those fingers in your cream.” His vision dimmed.
“Oh, God!” She stiffened, breath raspy as the orgasm overtook her. “Cruz, Cruz!” Her shoulders rose off the bed.
“I’m here. Shit!” The contractions in her ass held him captive, powerless, as the orgasm ripped through him. “Ugh, God!” He held her quivering body still, pounding out his release in the condom, resenting the thin bar rier.
When he could no longer hold himself upright, he collapsed onto her, rolling them. His spent cock slid out of her clenching ass as she lay atop his sweaty chest. Their lips met, teeth clinking, biting, tasting. Tongues twirled around each other, licking, until they came up for air.
Dahlia wrapped her arms around him, buried her face in his neck. Her thumping heart vibrated against him. “Hold me. Don’t let go.”
Now or ever?
****
A hard knock on the cabin door roused Dahlia from a contented sleep. She lifted her head off Cruz’s naked chest as he stretched and called out.
“Yes, Sammy?”
from the other side of the door.
Cruz sat up. “Thanks, we’ll be ready.”
A moment of silence then muted footsteps moved away from the door. Dahlia watched as Cruz got off the bed, walked to a good-sized closet she hadn’t noticed before, and retrieved a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt.
“Who was that?”
His head shot up, hot gaze sliding over her skin, and she clutched the sheets to her chest.
“That’s Sammy.” He pulled on the jeans then grabbed the T-shirt. “He’s the captain…amongst other things.” His lips curved.
She rolled her eyes. “You’ve had me brought here against my will. You’re taking me God knows where.” She ticked the list of his wrong doings off on her fingers. “Yet, I know nothing about you except your name—if it’s even your name—and you know everything about me.”
“I don’t know everything about you, not yet, but I will.” He winked. “I will.”
“You’re deflecting.” She knelt on the mattress, allowing the flimsy sheet to fall from her fingers. His gaze immediately zeroed in on her breasts. Dahlia licked her lips. “Tell me about you.”
He met her gaze. “I’m the brother of the woman Austin Harington murdered. I’m the man hired to frame you. A man out for revenge.” A muscle in his jaw ticked. “That’s all you need for now.” He pulled the T- shirt over his head.
“Like hell.” She hopped off the bed and stood in front of him, nose to…well, chest. “I’m not staying with you in some foreign country when I don’t know who you are, or what you really want from me. Not happening.” She looked around for her clothes. Freaking man had another think coming if he thought he could just snap his fingers and she’d remain at his side obedient and high off his cock. Orgasms kept her malleable for only so fucking long.
crossed his arms and stared her down.
“Like I give a flying fuck!” She met his blank stare with all the fury she could muster. “You took me away from my life. I want to know why. It can’t be just to get information on Austin.” She glanced around the suite. “You strike me as a guy with very deep pockets, you didn’t have to fuck me to get the information you needed.
Those green eyes darkened. “No, babe.” His husky voice dropped lower. “That was pleasure, strictly pleasure.”
She shivered then swore at herself. It shouldn’t be so easy for him to have her wanting to drop to her knees before him. Shit. “Whatever. Just know this, you have one last chance to come clean, tell me what you really want from me. Besides the obvious.”
His lips twitched.
“I mean it, Cruz.” She picked up her pink sweats off the floor and tugged it on. “I’ve had a man mess up with my life once, it won’t happen again. I can promise you that.”
“You worry too much.” He pulled her to him, taking her mouth in a soft kiss. Dahlia kept herself stiff and locked her knees. He lifted his head slowly and stared into her eyes. “I’ll make you a deal: share a meal with me at my hotel and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know…within reason.”
She wrinkled her brow and moved away from his touch. “When would we share this meal?” What time was it anyway?
He shrugged. “Your choice. It can be once we get to the hotel, or we can wait for breakfast.”
The sneak spoke the last part so soft, she had to lean in to catch it. “You think I’ll wait around for breakfast?”
“I’m hoping you will.” He cupped her cheek. “I’m wishing you will. I want you to.” The truth of his words stared back at her, written all over his gaze.
Dahlia shook her head at herself even as she said, “Get me one of you r shirts and I’ll think about it.”
When the captain of Cruz’s yacht dropped anchor while still miles out at sea, they climbed into a small engine-boat designated to car ry them to shore. Dahlia held on to the sides of the vessel with a death grip as they speed to the small strip of land barely visible through a mass of tall trees. It was still dark out, but the moon lit their way over the inky black waters.
No one spoke over the loud roar of the engines; not her, Cruz, or the tall stranger who’d appeared as if from the depths of the sea just in time for them to disembark the Deception. He didn’t address them at all, and Dahlia couldn’t unlock her gritted teeth long enough to bitch about it.
She held her peace when they came to shore and Cruz helped her out the boat. Her feet sank into the soft, pale sand then he swung her up into his arms. She could’ve fought him on that, but she figured there’d be way more important stuff to lash out at him for.
A strange bird-like call split the still air, the low hum of a vehicle’s motor reached her ears, and Cruz walked through a thick curtain of trees with steady strides. A black SUV waited for them, headlights turned off, driver silhouetted by shadows, and once again Dahlia questioned the wisdom of being in the company of a man she didn’t know.
Not good at all.
She wiggled in Cruz’s arms and he tightened his hold with a low growl. Their escort to the island’s shore opened the SUV door and Cruz plopped her down in the back seat. She scrambled to a seating position, mouth opening to tell him off, but he cut her off with a look.
One look, sharp and cold, and she swallowed her words. Maybe her tongue as well. The man transformed into something else before her eyes, and while Dahlia would agree she didn’t know Cruz, she’d gleaned enough to know the person now seated beside her in the vehicle wasn’t the same as the man on the yacht.
Or in her bedroom back at home.
This was someone different. Colder. Harsher. Ultimately more dangerous.
She rubbed away the goosebumps forming on her upper arms and shivered. This was a mistake. Being here was a mistake. Throwing her lot in with Cruz against Austin was a huge mistake she’d live to regret.
Of that she had no doubt.
Their driver pulled off down the barely-there path hidden by overgrown weeds and rocks, the SUV’s headlights spearing the cloying blackness and providing the only light for their journey. The quiet gentleman who’d piloted the boat stayed behind, leaving Dahlia and Cruz in the company of an equally silent, and shadowed, chauffeur. The man smelled faintly of cigarettes and chocolate.
Weird combination right there.
She sat back with a sigh, lashes drifting closed. Exhaustion washed over her suddenly, and she wanted nothing more than a hot bath and a cool bed.
Cruz shouldn’t be in that bed.
I need a strategy. A way to get away from here. From him. She’d stay the
night at the hotel like he asked, not like she had any other choice, but once refreshed and her mind alert, she’d find a way out.
I have to.
Rough fingers slid over her uptu rned palm, twisting around her fingers in a tight grip. Dahlia’s pulse leaped. Had she spoken her thoughts out loud?
“Everything ready?” Cruz’s low voice broke the stillness.
She opened her eyes in time to catch the slight nod from their mysterious driver.
“Right as rain,” the man replied. A thick island accent was clearly evident in his deep voice.
“Will it rain?” Cruz kept his voice low, his face forward and blank as his thumb drew circles over her skin.
“You never know, my man. You have to be careful with the rain, washes everything away.”
Cruz apparently understood whatever the hell the driver meant because he chuckled. “Oh, I’m always careful. Always.”
The driver brought the SUV to a stop and Dahlia sat up, eyes straining to catch a glimpse of where they were. She saw nothing, but they had to be in some kind of building. She could’ve sworn they’d entered a tunnel and never exited.
The SUV doors opened from the outside. Dahlia tensed. A blond man with an orangey tan smiled at them, exposing blinding white teeth.
“Welcome to the Hotel Doriaye. I’m Har—” “Save it, Harold.”
Harold gaped and blinked rapidly, that hideous tan getting darker as she could only assume the man flushed. “Oh, ah. Mr. Doriaye, sir. I didn’t see you there. Wel-welcome home.”
Well, fuck.
She held her tongue until they were in the elevator, a huge glass structure big enough to fit her bathroom. Orange-glow Harold stood off to the corner, hands clasped behind his back, pretending not to stare.
“You own this place?” Speaking in a stage whisper, she nudged Cruz with her elbow.
“Uh-huh.”
He looked down at her with twinkling eyes and she wanted to stomp on his toe. Better yet, knee him in the freaking nuts. That would hurt more.
The Doriaye Hotels rivaled the Hilton in popularity and distinction, catering only to the best of the best with money to burn. The name Doriaye was itself synonymous with wealth, power, and prestige.
No wonder he hadn’t told her his last name.
Cruz Doriaye. Brother of Ciske Doriaye, the woman she’d—
Dahlia swallowed around the lump of terror in her throat. “Just how rich are you?”
Harold sniffed.
God, I’m so dead.
The elevator doors opened and they stepped out into a living room, beautifully decorated in gold and purple. The place looked immaculate.
“Welcome home again, sir.” Harold held the elevator open with one hand. “Anything I can get you?”
Cruz pulled off his leather jacket and dropped it on a chair. He turned to her. “Do you need anything? Food? Drink?”
Who could eat at a time like this? She shook her head. “I just want a bath and sleep.” And room to think of an escape from the noose tightening around her neck. “Oh, and clothes.”
“You heard the lady, Harold.” Cruz looked her up and down. “Clothes size eight, shoes size seven. And a half?” He raised an eyebrow.
Dahlia rolled her eyes. “Yeah.”
“Very good, sir.” Harold pressed a button inside the elevator. “I’ll have a new ward robe sent up once it’s ready, ma’am. Goodnight, er, morning.” The doors closed on his grimace.
Dahlia met Cruz’s gaze. They just stared at each other until she cleared her throat and broke eye contact.
“Point me to your bathroom, Mr. Doriaye.” She removed the shirt and sweat pants she wore, kicking them off to the side as she stood naked.
“Second door on your left.” Those green eyes blazed fire, burning her skin at contact.
Steeling herself, she ignored the heated flare in her womb and did an about face. She followed his direction, entering the humungous bathroom outfitted with mirrored tiles, and the same gold and purple color scheme. The shower stood in the middle of the room, no enclosure, just a raised platform with about ten wide, gold shower heads.
A gold sunken tub sat at the opposite end of the room, next to the windows overlooking the twinkling dark waters of the beach below.
Jeezus H! The view alone had her moaning.
bottle of bubble bath next to the tub and inhaled. Milk and honey.
She upended the bottle, watching as the bubbles rose in the tub. Once satisfied, she turned off the water and climbed in, sinking into the warm water with a sigh. Tiny buttons at the side of the tub caught her eye and she leaned in closer.
Front desk. Kitchen. Intercom. Lights. Music.
Hell, yeah. She pushed the button for music and soft jazz filled the room. Dahlia moaned. This was the shit. Leaning her head back, she closed her eyes.
She’d figure a way out of the mess she was in once her bath was over. Until then, she planned to relax and enjoy.
When next she opened her eyes, Dahlia found herself on a bed, spooning a hard and hot body.
She jerked upright, but her left wrist was restricted, handcuffed to the bed.
Oh, fuck!
Dahlia pulled and pulled. The cold metal bit into her skin, jiggling but refusing to budge.
“Son of a…bitch!” She kicked at the naked body next to her. “Wake up, you sneaky fuck,” she screamed. “Wake up!”
Cruz stirred, opening sleep-heavy eyes. He looked on as she tugged on her caught wrist, teeth bar red.
“Why did you do this?” Her voice trembled and Dahlia couldn’t make it stop. “Why?” Panic swirled red-hot in her tummy, sweat itched her hairline.
Cruz propped himself up on his elbows. “Calm down.” Stretching out a