Private Pleasures (3 page)

Someone a lot like him, he thought, his mouth curving into a smile as he kept his gaze trained on the spot where she'd disappeared.

Not that Drew could be her one and only, in it for the long haul. Not with his innate restlessness and need to pull up stakes every so often.

But he was damn willing to help her pick up the pieces, give her a taste of what she needed. If only to get her back on the right track.

And people thought he wasn't charitable.

He set down his drink, his mouth curled into a smile as he went to find Chris and get him to divulge where Wendy was staying. She might protest at first, but Drew didn't have any doubt she'd cave.

She was a smart girl. She might try to deny it, but deep down Wendy knew exactly what she needed tonight.

##

Please God, make it stop. this is the last thing I need tonight.

Wendy turned up the volume on the TV in her room and tried to focus on the repeat of
Law and Order, SVU
playing on the flatscreen of her room in Holley Cay's main building. But tonight even detective Stabler and the twists and turns of whatever sexually charged murder case he and Benson were trying to solve weren't enough to help her shut out the sounds of the sexual marathon going on upstairs.

As if she didn't feel enough like a loser, she thought as she poured herself another glass of wine from the bottle she'd sweet-talked out of one of the servers she'd run into on her way back to the room. Not only was she the only single person—her thoughts strayed momentarily to Drew—okay, the only single woman on the island, she was already back in her room, sexy halter dress exchanged for a tank top and shorts, plopped on the couch in front of her TV at ten o'clock while everyone else was still partying on the beach.

Now she had to listen to the only other people who'd left the party carry on as though they were auditioning for American Porn Idol.

Oh, God, yes! Yes! Yes!
Well, not everyone else was partying, Wendy thought with a grimace as the harsh feminine voice cried out so loudly it was as though she was in the same room with Wendy instead of upstairs.

Oh, yeah, oh yeah,
the woman's partner groaned in concert with the rhythmic thumping sounds that made the fan on the ceiling of Wendy's room tremble so hard she was afraid it was going to come crashing down on her head.

She could just see her obituary.
Up and coming attorney dies in freak accident as couple upstairs inadvertently fucks her to death. But not in a good way.

Jeez you'd think for the steep price they charged for people to stay at a a swanky place like Holley Cay the rooms would be a little more soundproof. Not that Wendy was paying for the room—Chris and Julie were comping all the party guests, but still.

Wendy kicked herself for the moment of martyrdom mingled with self pity that had made her turn down Julie's offer to stay in one of the resort's detached—not to mention much more private—villas. "Oh, no," Wendy had said. "It'll just be me, and I'm sure there's a couple that would really enjoy the extra space and privacy."

Like the couple above, she thought sourly. Now there was a couple that needed one of the villas. Preferably on the far side of the island where someone like Wendy wouldn't have to listen to their incessant caterwauling, reminding her with every cry of pleasure and slam of the headboard that she hadn't been laid in over six months.

The cries increased in speed and volume, and there was a thump so loud she expected the ceiling to cave in. Then a high-pitched scream, followed by a roar, and finally, blessed silence.

Wendy breathed a sigh of relief, took a sip of her sauvignon blanc, and settled back in the overstuffed armchair to refocus on Stabler and Benson's efforts to track down this week's killer.

But she barely made it through the next commercial break before she heard the unmistakable rumble of her male neighbor's voice.

Ooh, yeah, baby. Suck it. Just like that, yeah, harder. Oh, yeah, tug on my balls. Tug 'em. Yeah, harder.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Wendy snapped and shoved herself up from the chair. This was her cue to leave. She knew if she stayed she'd have an aneurysm while the couple upstairs fucked each other into a coma.

She slid her feet into flip flops and grabbed her room key. Though she didn't have a destination in mind, she marched purposely down the hall and down the stairs of the resort's main building, her only goal to get the sounds of the other couple's loud, raunchy sex out of her head.

Wendy cut through the main lobby and out onto the pool deck. She could hear the party going strong down the beach. Avoiding the brightly lit path that lid back to the party, she cut right and went down to the beach using the stairs at the other end of the pool.

She kicked off her shoes and walked up the beach, felt the muscles of her shoulders relax as her feet sank into the sugar white sand, still warm from the day's sun. She walked up the beach, relaxing by degrees as the sound of the party faded, until it was barely audible over the sound of waves lapping against the beach and the wind rustling through the palms.

Wendy plopped down on the sand and looked up at the star-studded sky, and despite the beauty of the paradise surrounding her, she felt her throat get tight. For all that it purported to cater to singles as well as couples, Holley Cay was the kind of place she'd always imagined coming with someone special.

She'd wanted to come here for her honeymoon, but Alan had nixed it on the grounds it didn't have a golf course.
I should have known then,
Wendy thought with a rueful smile and a twist in her gut. What kind of guy would rather spend his honeymoon playing golf rather than hanging around with a wife who planned to spend most of the honeymoon dressed in an endless array of bikinis, each one skimpier than the last?

In all fairness, she couldn't blame Alan for the breakup. She was a type A workaholic, determined to make partner and unwilling to let anything—-even a fiancé—get in her way.

But Alan had known that, and, she thought, understood that from the very beginning. She was driven, and as dedicated—more dedicated—to her career than he was to his. She needed a partner who not only understood that but embraced that part of her.

When they'd first started dating, and through the early part of their engagement, she'd really believed he was that man. Unlike some of the guys she’d dated, he didn't seem threatened by her success. Didn't take it personally if she couldn't be on his arm at every dinner or cocktail party he went to. Openly bragged about her accomplishments to his friends and colleagues.

Despite what Drew claimed, Alan
was
what she needed. Or he seemed to be anyway. Kind. Supportive, and so what if the sex wasn't off the charts? Great sex could only get you so far. Real friendship and appreciation of who the other person was - that was the key to a long lasting marriage, her mother said.

Wendy had been so convinced she'd had that with Alan.

When did it change, she wondered, as her fingers traced a random pattern in the sand. She couldn't pin it down. But slowly, inevitably, things had started to erode. Alan started making little comments when she had to work late. Then when they were out, he'd cut her off in conversation to talk about his latest triumphs in the office.

He'd started to display a passive aggressive side that she hadn't realized existed. A side she quickly came to despise.

He wasn't what you needed.
Drew's low, raspy voice echoed in her ear, and though she was loath to admit it even to herself, Wendy knew it was true. She'd known it even before Alan broke their engagement off, but she'd shoved it aside, hoping that if they could just make it through the stress of the wedding everything would go back to being fine.

Though her pride had been stung and her heart bruised, Wendy realized now that it was better to be alone than to be with someone who would make her feel guilty for working hard and striving to get ahead in a career she loved. She and Alan might have made it through a few years of marriage, but better to nip it in the bud, she told herself now as she had so many times in the past six months, than to put themselves through an even more painful breakup down the road.

It had all worked out the way it needed to. Yet even knowing that didn't make being here any easier, with all the happy couples with their googly eyes and PDA, not to mention Tarzan and Jane swinging from the rafters in the room above hers.

Alone might be better than with the wrong man, but right now alone sucked.

"So this is where you snuck off to."

Wendy gave a startled cry and jumped clumsily to her feet at the sound of the deep, familiar voice coming from behind her. "Christ, you scared me," she gasped, flattening her hand as though to slow her heart's galloping pace.

Drew reached out to steady her, and the feel of his palm on the bare skin of her forearm sent heat licking to her core. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

"It was too noisy in my room."  She snapped, flustered as she yanked her arm from his hold.

Even in the faint light of the half moon, she could see the flash of white teeth as he smiled. "Yeah. Sounded like someone was trying skin a cat when I came looking for you."

Wendy gulped and felt her stomach do a little backflip. "Why were you looking for me?"

"You know why," he said, the low rumble of his voice, the heat of his gaze devouring her in the darkness making every nerve ending pull tight.

You have no idea what I need.

I have a pretty good idea.

No, she told herself, her muscles poised to flee, she could not give in. No matter how vulnerable she was, she couldn't let her pity party make her lose sight of her common sense. She could not get involved with a player like Drew.

He stepped closer, close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off of him and catch his spicy, soapy scent on the salty breeze. "Come on Wendy. Don't play coy. You know you've thought about it and how good we would be together."

Only alone in my own bed at night. And maybe occasionally in the shower.
Wendy was glad for the darkness as her face flushed with embarrassment and shame. Despite her attempts to shut Drew out, how many times had she been having sex with Alan when, unbidden, images of Drew would creep into her thoughts? How many times had she wished it was Drew's huge muscled body moving over her, under her.

Inside her.

The guilt of that was almost enough to force her feet to move, even as Drew closed the distance between them and brought his hand up to curve around her neck. His touch was firm, dominant, one that said he wouldn't let her run away without putting up some resistance.

It should have made her nervous, or at least pissed her off. Instead it sent heat and moisture rushing to her sex. Wasn't that exactly what she'd been missing? The firm touch of a lover who reminded her that sometimes it was fun to let someone else be in charge?

With the rush of need came a startling epiphany. For someone who thought of herself as smarter than average, she was being remarkably stupid when it came to Drew.

She kept telling herself she couldn't get involved with him. And she still stood by that decision.

But who said a night of amazing sex had to lead to any relationship or involvement of any kind?

Not her. And she bet if she asked, not Drew.

Wendy had never been much for one night stands, even before she decided it was time to set her sights on a guy whose idea of commitment meant more than letting her keep a spare tooth brush and clean panties at his house.

But that didn't mean she couldn't indulge tonight. The universe seemed to have laid everything out perfectly at her feet. Lust in the air. Alone in tropical paradise.

And not to mention a man who was the embodiment of her deepest sexual fantasies, a man she'd been struggling to resist like a dieter tries to resist crème brûlée, was right here, right now, ready and willing to satisfy her most secret desires.

Wendy stepped closer and saw his nostrils flare as the swell of her breasts met his chest. "You really think you know what I need?" she said, reveling in the way his breath caught at the husky tone in her own voice.

Drew's hand slid around to her nape so his fingers could fist in her hair. Gentle pressure pulled her head back, and he bent close enough for her to feel the heat of his breath on her cheek. "I've known it from the second I laid eyes on you."

Wendy slid her hands around his waist, her lips tingling as he closed the distance between them. A shot of electricity sizzled through her at the first touch, sending shockwaves down her arms and legs and everywhere in between.

This was no tentative, getting to know you first kiss, but a carnal, almost brutal taking. His tongue swept into her mouth in bold exploration, scorching her with a bone melting heat as she eagerly tangled her tongue with his.

She raised up on her tiptoes and wrapped her hand around his neck, but to her shock Drew jerked his mouth away and loosened his hold.

"What's wrong?" Wendy asked breathlessly through tingling, kiss swollen lips.

Drew pressed his forehead against hers and let out a sound that was half laugh, half groan. "Fuck, I'm sorry," he said. He slid his hands down her her sides to her hips.

"For what?" she asked, bewildered.

"I'll slow down, I swear," he replied, confusing her more. Who said anything about slowing down?

He lowered his head, and Wendy closed her eyes in anticipation of his hot, hungry mouth on hers. But to her surprise, this time Drew's lips landed on hers with firm, gentle pressure, teasing with sucks and nips. She'd thought nothing could turn her on more than his hungry, bordering on out of control kiss, but right now she felt bolts of electricity sizzling through her, concentrating in the tips of her breasts and between her legs, her need roaring to life as his tongue flicked at the seam of her lips and slipped inside.

"I should have known that would happen, should have been prepared for it." he murmured as he traced the line of her throat with soft sucking kisses that made her knees threaten to buckle.