The luau was clearly for tourists, from the leis of waxy-petaled flowers to the servers dressed in Hawaiian shirts to the four bars, one at each corner of the outdoor patio. Ian had helped himself to a couple of local brews by the time the entertainment started. Haven had told him a lot of the dancers were Sully’s high school students, so that kept his interest low. He did not lust after teenagers.
Then the host came forward and asked people from the audience to join them, and he was stunned to see Bailey hop up and drag Haven with her. Before he knew it, the four women, his mom and Haven’s mom, for God’s sake, were on the stage receiving instruction by young girls, holding their arms gracefully in front of them, swiveling their hips slowly to convey the basic movement, slowly raising their arms over their heads.
Because he didn’t want to have to gouge his eyes out watching his mother shake her ass, his gaze drifted to Bailey. Now, he’d known Bailey a little over a year, and she’d always been the quiet one in the group, the little mother. But now she was on the stage beside Haven, arms raised over her head, her hips moving in sinuous circles, her shirt rising up, revealing her tummy, not quite flat but toned and strong. Funny how getting a glimpse of her stomach beneath her blouse affected him more than seeing it earlier in her bikini.
Okay, that had affected him too, if he was honest.
But Jesus, he never would have thought quiet Bailey….
She looked up then, met his gaze and smiled, that age-old smile of a woman who knows what she’s doing. What. The. Hell. She turned, moving to the music, her ass hypnotizing him before she turned to face the audience, copying the teenaged instructor’s lead, looking as if she’d done this all her life.
After a few more moments, the women were sent back to their seats and the fire dancers came out, leaving trails of fire in the night sky. But the image burned on Ian’s retinas was the graceful sway of Bailey’s hips.
***
Bailey strolled up to the hotel room she was sharing with Haven—Haven and Eric had decided to spend the week before their wedding in separate rooms—only to find a “Do Nut Disturb” sign hanging on the handle. Bailey rocked back on her heels. So much for trying to make their wedding night special if he couldn’t keep his hands off his bride after watching her dance the hula. See, the plan had been for Ian not to be able to keep his hands to himself, but he had kept a respectful distance after the luau.
Damn it.
With a sigh, Bailey turned downstairs to the bar. She wished she’d had a heads-up—she would have fetched her bathing suit and gone down to the pool for some laps. She smiled to herself. Now that was a new and different attitude—choosing to exercise.
She passed the bar in the lobby. She was in Hawaii and felt like she should take advantage of the outdoors as much as possible.
The patio bar was packed, but really, where did she need to be? She made her way to the bar. Her heart thudded against her ribs when she saw Ian Viera staring from a seat at the other end. She placed her order for a Blue Hawaiian, and when she looked up, Ian was gone. Her stomach dropped in disappointment, but she forced herself not to scan the place looking for him. Instead, she drummed her fingers on the bar until the bartender brought her drink. She charged it to the room, thinking the least Haven could do was buy her a drink since she kicked her out of their room.
“How can you drink those things?” Ian said right next to her ear, and she bobbled the drink, sloshing a little over the side.
She turned and looked up at him, licking the liquid from her fingers. Ian’s gaze followed the movement and his nostrils flared.
“Your brother is apparently not immune to the hula.” When he frowned, she elaborated. “He and Haven put a do not disturb sign on my door.”
“You’re rooming with Haven?”
“Made sense, to save a little money.” And she’d had no plans to seduce anyone at the time. “Are you rooming with Eric?”
He shook his head and took a sip of his own drink, a whiskey from the smell of it. “I wanted my space, especially with my folks around.”
Ah. She got it. He was looking for a fling, so why not her? The idea made her bold, and she swung her legs around on the barstool, her knee brushing his thigh.
“Want to go for a walk on the beach?” she asked, her heart hammering at her own boldness. Could she really see this through?
“Eric told me to stay away from you,” he said, looking into her eyes.
That gave her a little thrill, that he was interested enough that he spoke of her to Eric. She smiled. “I’m a grown woman. I can look after myself.”
“I think it’s more that he knows I’m not looking for anything serious after Mallory.”
“I can see that. I just thought, you know, the week.” Her face flushed. She couldn’t believe she was confessing her intentions to him. But if honesty got her what she wanted…why not? “It’s not like we run into each other all the time anyway.” Though they probably would more, him being Eric’s brother and her Haven’s best friend. But she could deal. She was pretty sure. She just wanted the experience of being with a man like him.
“All right, then,” he said, motioning for her to lead the way out of the bar.
***
How had he thought her quiet? She’d chattered the whole way home in the van, and now on the walk to the beach, and he couldn’t stop himself from watching her mouth and wanting to close his own over it. This was insane. He wasn’t drunk, though he’d had a few drinks. Sleeping with Bailey was a bad, bad idea. She was the kind of woman you had a relationship with. But the way she’d moved on the luau stage, the creamy skin, the sway of her hair, gave him a clear picture of how she would look over him in bed. He would have thought she’d be shy in bed, but now he wondered if she might be a little adventurous. He suddenly really really needed to know.
His nerves did a little skitter as he moved back to let her fall into step with him. He hadn’t felt that in a very long time, since he first met Mallory. He pushed that thought down. “So. Hula dancing. That was unexpected.”
She laughed, a pretty husky sound that carried through the night. “We took lessons last time so Haven could surprise Eric.”
“I think it’s clear he was pleasantly surprised.”
She stopped at the edge of the beach and kicked off her shoes, then bent to pick them up. When she straightened, he took the sandals from her, hooking the fingers through the straps at the back. The smile she gave him punched him right in the gut, and before she stepped in the sand, he moved forward, hooked his hand behind her hair and lowered his mouth to hers.
If he thought the smile hit him in the gut, the kiss hit him lower, the softness of her lips, the innocent way she parted her lips for him, at odds with the seductress he’d seen on stage. He stroked his fingertips across her cheek, wanting so much to pull her close and take the kiss deeper, at the same time savoring the sweetness of it.
The sweetness that just underscored why this shouldn’t happen.
Shouldn’t. Not wouldn’t.
She shifted, just a bit, resting her hand against his chest, angling her head, inviting him deeper. He wanted to accept that invitation. Instead, he broke the kiss, closed his hand around hers on his chest, and led her to the beach.
She didn’t say anything, and her head was bent so her hair hid her face. Great, something else to fuel his fantasies, her hair curtaining them as they made love.
They walked to the edge of the water until the waves lapped at their toes. They weren’t the only people on the beach, which was lit by torches spaced along the beach. She dug her toes into the wet sand and he’d never seen anything more adorable.
“So you want to give me a demonstration?”
“Of what? The hula?”
He eased closer, his fingers itching to touch the warm skin between her blouse and low-rise cargos. “Yeah, it looked like more than just circling your hips.”
She hesitated, then lifted her arms over her head, her wrists crossed—his eyes crossed as that brought another fantasy to mind—and slowly started to sway, her hips undulating. Her shirt rode up, baring that strip of skin, holy shit, and it was all he could do not to drop to his knees to run his lips over it.
“It’s more a figure eight. Did you ever do a hula hoop?”
“Not well.”
She moved behind him and rested her hands on his hips. Both of them stood still for a moment, absorbing, and he heard her breath catch. Then she pressed his right hip, guiding him in the movement, right, left, right. He got the pattern long before he let on, liking the feel of her hands on him, wanting them to slide forward or back.
“Got it?” she asked, a little breathless as she released him and stepped beside him.
He demonstrated with exaggerated movements, making her laugh. She moved and he matched her so they were doing the hula side by side on the beach while the waves rolled over their feet. She sped up the tempo, which he couldn’t match, only watch the graceful movement, the shimmy of her breasts beneath the top, and he caught her hips and drew her against him.
“Eric and Haven might be at it all night.”
“They might be,” she said, her breath gusting against his throat.
“You could possibly stay with Joslyn,” he said.
“I could.”
“Or…with me.”
“Are you going to make me do the hula all night?”
He indulged himself by dragging his thumbs up from the waistband, over the damp warmth of her skin. Her entire body went tight and he bent his head. “Not exactly.”
Bailey’s heart hammered as Ian led her down the hall to his hotel room, her hand firmly tucked in his. She was really going to do this, really get naked with this fantasy-come-to-life. God, she hoped she wasn’t a disappointment. She hadn’t slept with a man in awhile, and when she had, she hadn’t been particularly good at it.
Great, just what she needed as fantasy was about to become reality—doubt.
He released her hand to slide the key card into the slot, a quick and efficient in-and-out that she hoped wasn’t indicative of the rest of the night, and smothered a giggle. He turned to her, a frown creasing his brow. She shook her head and followed him inside. He tossed the key card on the dresser and crossed to the window, where he pushed the curtain open wide and slid open the glass door, leaving the screen door in place. She knew from the location of the room in relation to the elevators that his balcony overlooked the ocean, but he made no move to step outside. Of course, they'd just come from the ocean. Instead he turned to her, turned on the bedside lamp, and started unbuttoning his shirt.
She swallowed. She thought she'd have maybe a little more foreplay than this. Instead, she watched his blunt fingers work the buttons open, watched the fabric part over his skin. Her palms itched to slide over his chest, to feel the crisp hair against her palms, against her breasts. But she mostly wanted him to kiss her, deeper than he had on the beach, wanted to feel his hands all over her skin. She wanted him to move to her, not her toward him.
He dropped the shirt over the chair and beckoned her toward him. Her feet dragged on the carpet, but suddenly she was standing before him in front of the open door. He traced the waistband of her cargo pants, circling her belly button with his finger.
"This just gets me," he said in a husky voice.
"I want to pierce it," she said.
He snapped his gaze to hers. "What?"
"I told myself if it looked good after I lost that weight, I'd reward myself by piercing it with a little loop. I think that's sexy, don't you?"
His eyes were black with desire as he held her gaze. "Oh, yeah."
"Maybe we can go tomorrow," she said, capturing his hand. "While everyone else is on the helicopter ride. You can go with me to get it pierced."
He eased closer, the heat of his body singeing hers through her linen top. "Oh, yeah. I like that plan."
And then his mouth was on hers, hungry, his lips angled, his tongue alternately teasing her lips and thrusting inside her mouth. She felt the effect everywhere, her nipples, her neck, between her legs. God, would he do that to her pussy? More than once she'd fantasized about him between her legs, looking up the length of her body as he pleasured her with his mouth.
He eased back long enough that he could pull the linen top over her head. It joined his shirt in the vicinity of the chair, and he brought his hands up the sensitive skin of her waist to cup her breasts through her lace bra. She gasped as her tender nipples rasped against the rough material, and she bumped her hips into his, encouraging him to go faster, which was stupid because she didn't want him to go faster, didn't want this to be over, but her body was ready to go up like a torch. He rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger as he eased kisses along her jaw to her ear, to the line of her throat, the combination of his lips and stubble making her squirm. God, she was so wet, she could feel it, could smell it. Could he smell it, too? Did it turn him on?
The moment she thought that, he pulled away, then sat in the chair beside the window and reached for her. She looked at him a moment, his head angled to the side, his hair a mess from her hands, his chest bare and coated with a light sheen of sweat, his pants tented from his impressive erection.