Adrian Beck lost everything, including his passion for designing beautiful buildings, after 9/11. Self-imposed exile on Long Caye Island gives him the sanctuary he needs to live a simple, uncomplicated life.
Isabelle Clemet, of Clemet Hotels, is ready to rebuild after Katrina. She wants the best to design her new project on the coast in Biloxi, Mississippi. She wants Adrian.
Can an erotic late-night encounter on a secluded beach help a lonely architect rediscover his lost passion?
"No. My first time to Belize Island. It's beautiful."
"So are you."
She smiled and dipped her head.
"It's late for a swim."
"I'm restless. The moon is full." She glanced into the sky then returned her gaze to his. "I didn't expect to see anyone." She kept her legs tucked beneath her and his shirt covered most of her nudity. "I should've worn a suit."
He grazed a finger over the fabric. "I'm glad you didn't. And I'm the only one who saw you. We're alone." With each beat of his heart, he felt the pull to crush her flush against him and kiss her trembling lips. "This is a private beach."
"Then we're both trespassing." Her whispered words hinted at seduction.
"I don't kiss and tell."
He took her word as consent. He cupped her cheek and brushed his lips over hers. A soft whimper slipped from her. With a heated touch, she melted against him. Twining her arms around his neck, she clung to his shoulders. Adrian flicked his tongue against her lips. Her mouth opened and he relished in the cool fresh taste of her. He growled, parting the fabric and touching her. Smooth bronzed skin fluttered beneath his fingertips. This was crazy. Beautiful women didn't materialize from the sea, like an erotic dream come to life and make love on the beach.
He gripped her tighter, trailing his palm to her hip. She was warm, soft and pliant in his arms. Trekking higher, he widened his hands, feeling each of her ribs. Her breath was shallow and her pulse raced in the same frenzied rhythm as his.
Isabelle trembled. Strong hands warmed her chilled flesh and erotic heat scorched her from the inside out. Perhaps it had been crazy to slip into the soothing Caribbean waters for a midnight swim, but she was wound too tight and had to release some of the pent-up energy stressing her out. So much responsibility rested on her shoulders.
Perhaps the moon had drawn her to this distant shore. Or the enchanting tropical waters. Or the magic of this man.
The island dream kissed her with passion. She ached to feel the desire of a man who was interested in her—the woman. Oh, and with each wondrous glide of his tongue, she slipped a little more under his spell. She wanted more than kisses. Cream simmered in her pussy, hot and waiting for this man to fill her. She shouldn't be here. But who would know? His lips were tempting, his taste intoxicating. The moon, the ocean, the man all contributing to the madness in her mind.