“Then prove it. Let me make you dinner.”
Zane ran his tongue across his lower lip tentatively. It was one of his most adorable quirks and he always did it when he couldn’t make up his mind about something. Allison didn’t like that her offer required any deliberation at all, but she certainly appreciated the vision of his mouth. “Dinner? Nothing else?”
Allison closed up her sarong and rose from her seat. “Fair warning. You might go home incredibly satisfied.” She patted him on the shoulder. “From my cooking. It’s really good.”
Three
Zane’s entire body was humming when Allison left, which left his brain running at a clip to catch up. If Scott knew what was going through Zane’s head right now and how that all centered on his little sister, he would end him. It wouldn’t be a quick death. It would be a long, painful one, during which Scott would drive home a single point—Allison was off-limits. Always had been. Always would be.
But here on a dot of an island, more than a thousand miles away from his best friend, Zane couldn’t deny his churning thoughts or the insistent pulse of electricity in his body. The second Allison’s sarong fell open to reveal the tops of her luscious thighs, the soft plane of her stomach and that little spot on her hip where the tie of her bikini bottoms sat, all bets were off. Or most of them, at least. He’d withstood an unholy rush of blood to the center of his body, so fierce that it nearly knocked him off his feet. Thinking about it was only providing an opportunity to put a finer point on the things he’d wanted to do to her—drop to his knees, start at her ankle and kiss every inch of her lovely leg, moving north until he reached the bow at her hip. The only thing that would make sense if he ever got that far would be to tug at the string, quite possibly with his teeth, slowly untie it and use his mouth to leave her curling her fingers into his scalp and calling out his name.
Thoughts like that were going to ruin Zane and everything he held dear.
He stalked into his cottage and opened the fridge, if nothing but for the blast of cold air against his overheated skin. It didn’t help. It somehow made everything worse—another bodily conflict to endure as the shot of coolness mixed with the balmy salt air—everything on this island felt good. Too good. He popped open another beer and took a swig, but dammit, it was only a pleasing jolt of sweet and bitter, a shock of frothy cold followed by a wave of warmth that made him pleasantly dizzy. The erection he’d tried so desperately to fight off was now at a full salute, begging for attention and hungry for release.
There was only one way to get past this, and it didn’t involve an icy shower. He couldn’t wash away Allison’s effect on him. He had to get past it. He stormed off to his bedroom, shucked his clothes and stretched out on the magnificent bed. The linens were smooth and impossibly soft against his skin, another pleasure he didn’t relish, but this was the only way to keep himself from doing something foolish later tonight when he saw Allison. It was time to take matters—namely, his erection—into his own hands.
He didn’t bother with seduction, reaching down and wrapping his fingers around his length. He closed his eyes and allowed himself the luxury of visions of Allison—glossy hair framing those deep, soulful eyes, plump lips and a smile that could turn ice to a puddle. Her shapely legs and curvy hips. Her luscious breasts. He took long strokes with his hand, imagining kissing her again, except there was no stopping this time. He started things, and she turned up the volume, their tongues winding, mouths hot and wet and hungry for more.
The tension in his body built, but coiled tighter, a push and pull he wouldn’t be able to take for long. To edge himself closer, he conjured an illusion of Allison naked and the feeling of her body on top of him, holding him down with her warmth and softness. He imagined being inside her—the closeness, the heat—and her heady sweetness perfuming the air as he brought her to her peak. With that thought, the pressure was released and he arched his back, riding out the waves of pleasure. His breath hitched in a sharp inhale, then came out in a long rush of relief. He settled back on the pillow and slowly pried his eyes open, not to the sight of Allison but to the white painted ceiling and whirring fan overhead. He turned and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. He had four hours until dinner. Hopefully this solo rendezvous had prepared him. Now to shower, read a few chapters of a book, take a nap and hope that he could keep his libido in check.
Five minutes before six, Zane headed to Allison’s cottage, dressed in jeans and a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. He carried his flip-flops and walked barefoot through the sand, which was still warm from the day’s rays. Over the water, the sun was dipping lower, painting the sky in vibrant shades of pink and orange. It was so obvious and easy to say, but Rose Cove really was paradise. He didn’t want to leave anytime soon. Having distance from his past and from Joshua Lowell? Amazing. If it weren’t for Scott, and Zane’s company, he might never go back to Falling Brook.
He found himself taking his time as he strolled across the beach, now approaching Allison’s. She had every window and door flung open, allowing him to watch her in the kitchen, milling about. He really hoped she wasn’t going to put the full-court press on him tonight, and that her only intention was for the two of them to
