Lost (Shifter Island Book 1) (3 page)

It was dark when she woke, enough so that she let any thought of getting up slip away and instead snuggled deeper under the covers. The bed was cozy and comfortable, and her drowsy mind felt protected and safe.

Then she remembered where she was.

She’d cried for quite a while after Aaron had brought her inside, out of pure frustration and exhaustion. He’d settled her on the chair next to the little table and then left her alone, though she’d been able to see through the window alongside the cabin’s only door that he was hovering nearby, fussing with things as if he was unsure what he ought to do next. After her crying had finally wound down, he’d come back inside and poured her a cup of water. She’d drunk it quickly and he’d filled the cup again, then a third time. Once her thirst had been slaked, he’d given her a stack of something he called “honey cakes”—small squares that tasted something like granola bars. Like the bread, they were dry and stale, but she was past the point of caring. He’d gathered more blueberries to go with them, which had made them go down a little easier.

During none of that had he made eye contact with her.

By the time she had finished her meal, the sun was starting to go down. The day seemed to have evaporated, which was just as well. She’d been glad it was over with, though of course it wasn’t anywhere near over with.

“There’s no road?” she’d asked Aaron for the third or fourth time.

His only response had been to shake his head.

“Do you have a boat? Or gas for a boat?”

Another shake.

Then where should I go? What should I do?
she’d wondered.

As if he’d heard that, Aaron had said, “You can sleep there,” and nodded at his bed. Before she could respond, he’d added, “I’ll sleep outside.”

And he’d done exactly that. Now, there was just enough moonlight coming in through the window that she could see she was alone—unless he was hiding under the bed or inside the cupboard, a thought that made her laugh in a nervous squeak. She’d started out the day in the plump, soft bed at the resort, and less than twenty-four hours later she was here, in the ramshackle cabin of an off-the-grid recluse who wouldn’t even look at her.

His bed smelled of him, musky and warm, a far more natural scent than the lemony freshness of the hotel. Not at all bad.

Kind of… sexy, actually.

She burrowed in deeper and took a deep breath. Yes, definitely sexy, in a way that created a tingle between her legs. She’d had fantasies like this, of being in a strange place, naked and aroused, and having a gorgeous stranger appear at the door. She wasn’t naked now; she was still wearing the dress she’d put on in the bathroom at the hotel, and its full skirt was tangled around her hips and thighs.

It’d feel good to take it off. Freeing.

To take everything off, actually—her bra and panties too.

And then, if he’d…

She heard a small sound from outside, one she probably wouldn’t have heard if the wind had still been blowing. But it had died down during the evening and the world seemed silent except for that one sound, something almost like a moan. A deep, throaty rumble.

Him. Aaron.

You’re losing your mind
, she thought.

That might well be. But she couldn’t think of anything she’d ever wanted more than she wanted him to open the cabin door and come in here. She thought about him moving around the cabin during the afternoon, bringing her water and food, his broad shoulders flexing under the tight skin of his t-shirt as he reached and stretched. He was narrow-waisted, slim-hipped, his body forming a classic V that ended in long, strong legs. His jeans were a little loose, but she’d still been able to see the nice, firm curve of his ass.

The tingle got stronger, begging her to reach down and touch herself.

No; she wanted him to do that.

The logical, sensible part of her objected pretty strongly. She’d never been that kind of girl, for crying out loud. Yes, in her fantasies she had wild romps with all kinds of men, but in the real world there were too many pitfalls. STDs, unwanted pregnancies, men she might not be able to get rid of. Men who’d start talking about her. So she always picked people like Lane, people who were safe, reliable, too worried about their own reputations to do anything to mess with hers. She hadn’t had a one-night stand since college.

She wanted one now, though for the life of her she couldn’t figure out why. She was
trapped
here. What she ought to be focusing on was a way to get off this island, back to the safety of the mainland.

Not…

Please open the door. Do it.

She heard another noise, one that was a little more like a growl, something wild and guttural.

Oh, God, please do it.

The door didn’t open.

If this whole thing hadn’t felt like a fantasy, a wildly sexy dream, she might have stayed burrowed under the covers, waiting for the bright light of morning to arrive so she could make her way back to the boat. She might have been sensible. Instead, she slipped out of bed and stood barefoot in the center of the tiny cabin in her badly wrinkled dress, tangled hair falling around her shoulders, staring at the door. When it still didn’t move she padded over to it, grasped the handle and pulled it open.

Aaron was sitting just outside, holding his head in his hands. He stayed like that for a moment, then he turned and looked at her. It might have been a trick of the moonlight, but his eyes seemed to glitter, as if they gave off a light of their own. The entire clearing seemed otherworldly, unreal.

Was
she dreaming? she wondered.

No; there was a pebble under her bare foot, grinding into her heel, and the pain was enough to convince her that she was awake. She moved her foot, frowning, and went on looking at Aaron. She’d never seen anything like the glow in his eyes… or the look on his face. What would he do if she approached him? For that matter, could she make herself do it?

She took a small step.

Aaron took a deep breath, one that made his chest swell. She could see the outline of his pecs through the thin fabric of the t-shirt. And his arms… God, she wanted those arms around her. Lifting her, pinning her against him.

She was a sensible girl. She had a good job with a steady paycheck, no real debts, a decent car. She took no real risks, not with money, or her safety. Her apartment had two smoke alarms and another to detect carbon monoxide.

She never did anything foolish.

But… couldn’t she? Just this once? Other people did. People went on vacation and had little flings all the time. She’d heard some of the other girls at work talking about doing just that: meeting some gorgeous man on a cruise, or at a conference, and having a couple of days of wild, carefree sex with him.

Couldn’t she…?

She had the sense that Aaron might walk away again, that he might be offended or angered if she approached him. On the other hand, he’d been nothing but gentle and kind, bringing her into his house, feeding her, giving her his bed. And he was looking at her in a way that didn’t suggest he wanted her to go back inside and shut the door. She couldn’t say she knew everything there was to know about men, but it didn’t take a genius to know he was interested.

His gaze moved up and down her body, like a caress.

He looked away. Then back at her again.

At the very edge of her hearing, he made a noise. It seemed to come from deep down in his throat, from the very core of him.

A moan.

With Aaron watching her closely, Abby reached down, gathered up handfuls of her dress, and pulled it up over her head. When it was off, she dropped it to the ground.

Bathed in moonlight, she took off her bra and panties and dropped them on top of the dress. She shivered a little—from nerves, she thought, because the night was warm. But the nerves disappeared quickly and she watched Aaron rise slowly to his feet. His jeans were tighter now, filled with the evidence of his interest in her, indisputable evidence that yes, he had been thinking about the same thing she had.

“You shouldn’t,” he whispered.

She felt herself smile. Not seductively; she didn’t think she could manage that, because it always seemed put-on and foolish. More because this seemed… right, somehow. Like everything that had happened had put her exactly where she was supposed to be, at least for tonight.

“Do you want me?” she whispered back.

“Very much.”

There was a
but
in his tone. Not a strong one, thank goodness, but one he seemed unwilling to overlook.

Then his shoulders shifted and flexed. Somehow, he seemed to grow a little taller, a little more muscular, although his muscle definition had been perfect to begin with. She had no doubt he could lift and carry her with ease. Back to the bed, for instance.

Instead of doing that, he stripped his t-shirt over his head, exposing his perfect chest and shoulders and sculpted belly to the moonlight.

Here, then. Right here.

He stepped quickly out of his jeans and tossed them aside, which was a shame, she thought, because she would have liked to unbutton and open them and ease them slowly down over his hips, releasing his cock bit by bit. But there it was, fully erect, quivering slightly in the warm, fragrant air. He stood basking in the silvery moonlight for the time it took her to take a couple of breaths. Then he crossed the short distance between them and cupped her face in his hands. They were warm and strong, and as he held her, she could smell the same scent that filled his bed, the one that had driven her out here in the middle of the night.

“This isn’t wise,” he told her softly.

“Do you feel like being wise?”

“No,” he murmured. “I feel like being very unwise.”

His hands began to explore, stroking her cheeks, her shoulders, her upper arms. Her whole body began to tingle at his touch, which was light as a feather, then firm and strong. She wanted him to plunge in and kiss her, devour her from head to toe, but he was taking his time, finding each new bit of her with obvious pleasure, as if she were a treat he’d waited his whole life to savor.

Finally he curled a hand around the back of her neck and drew her in. His lips touched hers gently. Then his mouth opened slightly and the tip of his tongue brushed her lips, asking to be invited in. When she shivered, he tucked his other arm around her waist and pressed her against him, his cock rigid and hot between them. Again she got that sense that he was warmer than anyone should be, that there was a fire burning inside him that might well break free, but he gave her no time to ponder that. His tongue pressed between her lips and opened them; then, swiftly and thoroughly, he explored the contours of her mouth as if there were some treasure in there that he could plunder. His hands went to her shoulders, the small of her back, brushed up and down her sides, then cupped her full ass cheeks and squeezed them, kissing her more and more fiercely the whole time.

Suddenly, he shifted down to his knees and drew her down with him. He leaned back a little and his gaze moved down to her breasts.

“Lovely,” he said with a teasing smile in his eyes.

This time there was no gentle introduction; he filled his hands with her breasts and squeezed them, capturing her stiffened nipples between his fingers and pinching them until she squeaked. That made him chuckle, and he was grinning broadly as he squeezed and pressed and tickled. He’d seemed serious at first; now he was having fun, enjoying every touch, every glance. He lowered his head and lapped at first one nipple, then the other, and caught the hard little buds between his teeth so he could pinch them again. His pure joy in what he was doing was infectious, prompting Abby to explore his body as he was investigating hers, moving her fingers along the contours of his shoulders and back, down to his ass, up to his neck. She wondered if she felt as hot to him as he did to her, because the heat that had started at her opening had filled her belly and was begging to be released.

Again he seemed to understand what she was thinking, what she wanted. With a hand behind her right shoulder he lowered her onto her back on the ground, let her wiggle until she was comfortable, then took hold of her legs to open them. His fingers went quickly to the place between them, stroking and exploring, and he was smiling as he slipped a finger inside her while his thumb rubbed her clit.

“You like that,” he guessed.

Though he was backlit by the moon, his eyes were still glittering: a warm, rich brown tinged with gold. There was fire in them, she thought.

She lifted a hand to grasp any part of him she could reach so she could pull him closer—pull him right on inside her, if that was possible. Not just his cock; all of him. She gasped and wriggled as he stroked her, moving closer and closer to her peak but torturously not there yet. Her lips formed the word “More!” and she saw him grin before he turned to focus on his assault. For a moment she felt as if the edge was miles away, completely, painfully unreachable… and then she plunged over it with a great, heaving breath that turned to gasps and grunts as the orgasm went on and on and on.

She was breathless when it was over, felt as if she were hanging in the middle of a void somewhere, far out of reach. But he was there, withdrawing his hand, then leaning down to kiss her. After a minute he lifted her without effort, as easily as if she were made of paper, and carried her into the cabin. He laid her down on the bed and stood looking at her for a moment, his smile still there but only barely. He seemed to have gone back to thinking that this wasn’t the best idea in the world.