win.”
Marcus rolled his eyes as he looked over at Ian. Once Declan had a few beers in him, he was an encyclopedia of tells, every emotion written on his face. Both of them had always known it, but they weren’t about to reveal their secrets. “Just luck,” Ian murmured.
“I can’t wait to collect on our other bet,” Declan said. “I think Ian is already wavering. What do you say, Marky? Is Ian going to be the first to fall to his lustful urges?”
Marcus’s eyebrow shot up. “Ian has never been one to deny himself anything.”
And Marcus had always had the knack for cutting right to the point. Ian had come to the conclusion that he had no self-control when it came to Marisol. Every promise he’d ever made to himself to step back, to temper his desire, to fight his attraction, had been broken. And after their last encounter, Ian couldn’t ignore his feelings for her any longer. He was obsessed, an addict whose only vice in life was Marisol’s body. He couldn’t imagine a time in the near or distant future when he wouldn’t want her.
“A pact is a pact,” Ian said. “We swore on our lucky charm.”
Marcus held up his key chain, the little gold medallion dangling from it.
“That’s right,” Dec said emphatically, slamming his beer bottle down on the table. “And since you two blokes are so weak and pathetic when it comes to women, I give you permission to sleep with as many as you want. I plan to prove there isn’t a woman out there who can tempt me.”
“There isn’t a woman out there who wants to tempt you,” Marcus muttered.
Dec pointed his beer bottle at Marcus, sending him a menacing glare. “You can shut your mouth anytime, little brother.”
“And you can sleep on the street, big brother.”
Declan laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “All right. I won’t make any more disparaging remarks. Anyone who lasts three months deserves the money. And since I know the only person who will last is me, then I deserve the money.”
Marcus turned for the door. “I’ll see you guys next weekend.”
“Friday,” Declan said. “Ian’s cooking. Steaks at his place.”
Ian frowned. “Since when?”
“Since I have to be in Boston all day Saturday and since you guys don’t want to drive all the way to Providence. And since we can’t go out to the pubs anymore because there are too many women.”
“Fine,” Ian said. “My place. Friday. Burgers, not steaks.”
Marcus and Ian walked out together, down the stairs into the workroom and then out the door that opened onto the boatyard. “Maybe we shouldn’t have made that bet,” Ian said.
Marcus chuckled as he pulled open the door to his pickup. “I’m stuck on that boat, all alone. I’ve got it won, no matter how confident Dec feels.”
“Of the three of us, he’s the playboy in the bunch,” Ian commented. “All it will take is the right woman and he’ll be off and running.” Ian stepped away from the truck then waved as Marcus drove past him to the street.
The night was warm and still, small sounds magnified in the silence. A dog barked in the distance and he could hear the gentle hum of air conditioners as he passed by a row of shops. He didn’t even realize he was on Bay Street until he stood in front of Gallerie Luna.
Ian stared at the front windows, thinking back to the sculptures that had first brought him here, to that first day he’d met Marisol. It had only been two weeks, yet his life had been completely changed.
Ian sighed and closed his eyes, raking his hand through his hair. He knew the sound of her voice and the taste of her mouth, the way her hands felt on his skin and the scent of her hair. He knew what made her laugh and what made her moan with pleasure. And just that was more than he’d ever known about a woman in the past.
How had so much changed in such a short time? Two weeks ago, he’d bet his brothers he could avoid women for three months. And almost immediately, he’d found himself caught up in a wildly satisfying sexual whirlwind, unable to control his desire-or perhaps unwilling.
There were times when he wished he could go back and do it all again, to stick to the plan and stay away from Marisol. Maybe then he might have been able to master his impulses. Still, it would have only been a matter of time before he found himself drawn into her orbit.
He walked to the front door of the gallery and peered inside, but the lights were off. Resisting the urge to ring the bell, Ian turned from the door and retreated back to the sidewalk.
For all intents and purposes, it was over between him and Marisol. He’d given her a choice, honesty or him, and she’d chosen to keep her secrets. The need would fade with each day that passed, and in a month or two, he’d be able to pass an hour or even a full day without thinking of her.
For now, Marisol Arantes was no more than a citizen of Bonnett Harbor. If she caused trouble, he would be forced to involve himself in her life again. But if she kept to herself and didn’t break the law, then he had no excuse to see her.
Ian continued his walk home, his mind replaying images of Marisol, dressed and undressed, awake and asleep, aroused and sated, like an erotic movie in his head. Did he really believe he could do without her? He’d always achieved anything he set his mind to, so why was he suddenly doubting himself? She was a woman and women came and went in his life without much fanfare.
Cursing softly, he picked up his pace, his walk turning to a jog and then to a run. He ran until his chest burned and his breath came in ragged gasps. He ran until he reached his house, then ran around the block a few more times. When he was finally exhausted, Ian returned to his house, threw the back door open and stumbled inside.
The house was quiet and cool and Ian moved comfortably in the darkness. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and cracked it open, then took a long drink. But his mind immediately returned to the last night they’d spent together, in his bed.
He wondered if she’d come again that night and a twinge of anticipation twisted at his gut. “Damn her,” he muttered. Ian turned to walk to the front of the house, but froze when he saw a figure outlined in the doorway.
He closed his eyes and drew a deep breath, then opened them again. She was still there. Slowly, she walked toward him and Ian held his breath, waiting for her to simply evaporate before his eyes. But when she touched him, he knew she wasn’t a mirage.
Marisol nuzzled his chest, gently pushing him back against the counter. The water bottle fell to the floor and Ian braced his hands behind him as she slowly worked at the buttons of his shirt. Her lips traced a path, lower and lower, with each button she opened. And when she reached the bottom, she undid the button on his jeans.
His gaze fixed on her, his head down, and in the corner of his mind, he knew he ought to resist. But her forbidden seduction teased at his imagination, making every sensation more intense. Her fingers grasped the waistband of his jeans and she pulled them down around his hips, along with his boxers. An instant later, her lips surrounded him, gently drawing his cock into her mouth.
Desire slammed through his body, feelings so powerful his head began to buzz. Ian tried to think, to put what was happening to him into perspective, to find a way to rationalize his surrender. But instinct had overwhelmed lucid thought and Ian gave himself over to the extraordinary damp and warmth of her lips and tongue.
She knew him so well, knew every little thing that spiked his desire and left him aching for more. It was so easy to want her, to know that every time they were together it would be perfectly satisfying. Would another woman ever know his body so well?
Ian sucked in a sharp breath as she ran her tongue along his shaft, from tip to base. Like delicious torture, she began to move faster, picking up her pace until he could no longer delay. Desperate to be closer, Ian reached down and pulled her to her feet.
His hands tore at her clothes, caressing each bit of skin that he revealed. It only took a few moments and she was naked, her body outlined by soft moonlight coming through the window above the sink. He quickly shed the rest of his clothes, then began a gentle exploration of her body, smoothing his hands over every curve, every tempting bit of flesh.
Marisol did the same, her fingers dancing lightly over his naked skin, teasing and caressing, continuing the seduction she’d begun with her mouth. Every time he was with Marisol, her body seemed to reveal something new and intriguing, a soft spot of skin he hadn’t yet discovered, a place where his touch made her breath quicken and her need increase.
