The Bad Boys of Eden (44 page)

Suddenly everything Leila had ever written in her romances became clear. She’d written words, created characters and given them relationships, but the emotions that Cheryl had said were missing welled up inside of Leila. Passion and lust, the desire to give as well as receive pleasure—intense pleasure—caught her off guard. She had something to give Sebastian and for the first time, she was ready to explore just what that was.

Kneeling on the grass in front of Sebastian, she rested her hands on his thighs. She looked up to find his eyes locked with hers. There was no hesitation in her actions as she reached for his erection, stroking him slowly for a moment.

As she pulled him into her mouth, Sebastian gasped, one hand moving to cradle the back of her head, fingers winding into her hair.

Sebastian’s sounds changed from gasps to low moans as Leila used her tongue and hands to give him pleasure. It wasn’t long before he was thrusting slowly into her mouth, his eyes watching every move she made.

Leila’s body reacted to every sound Sebastian made, the feel of him, the taste. A sense of feminine power rose up in her as she realized how much pleasure she could give Sebastian, how much she wanted to be here with him. All that was now mixed with the throbbing deep in her body, the ache for Sebastian, to have him hold her, make love to her.

As if sensing her feelings, Sebastian tugged on Leila’s hair, halting her movements. She pulled away and he knelt beside her.

“Leila…” He breathed her name as he lowered her to the grass, stretching out next to her.

She pulled him to her, arms around his neck, eagerly wanting his kiss, seeking his lips with hers. Sebastian was there instantly, and she claimed his mouth with passion.

Leila’s body ached for his touch, ached to feel him inside her again. Wordlessly, she shifted next to him, pushing him until he was on his back. She sat up, straddling his hips.

He was beneath her, his erection pressing against her inner thigh, his hips rocking slowly. But he held himself in check, hands on her hips, teasing her with his movements. She tried to lower herself, but he gripped her with strong fingers, keeping her from settling down on him.

The excitement built in her body, threatening to consume her. She wanted Sebastian, and she wanted him now.

“I can see what you want, Leila. It’s written all over your face. Take it.”

Leila held Sebastian’s eyes, a smile pulling at her lips. For the first time, she wanted control and she was ready to take it.

“I am. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth turned up and he let go of her, holding his hands up in surrender.

“I’m at your mercy, Leila. Take whatever you want of me.” His wolfish grin told her that he knew damn well that she was the one at his mercy. If she hadn’t already been thoroughly seduced by the man, that smile would have done it.

Leila held his gaze for a moment, arousal swelling in her body. She reached down, taking him in her hand. She held him a moment before she lowered her body, guiding him into her.

She was ready for him. She was always ready for him.

As she lowered herself onto him, he closed his eyes, exhaling a low moan. He moved beneath her, his hips rising up slowly. Leila shifted her weight, rocking her body, hips rolling forward.

They started the dance together, Leila leading, setting the pace. Sebastian followed her every move, shifting beneath her, letting her ride him as she pleased.

Sebastian rested his hands on Leila’s legs, sliding up the soft skin of her inner thighs, thumbs running along the crease of her leg. Slowly, he moved one hand between her legs, slipping it against her slick wetness, caressing her gently

Leila gasped as his fingers brushed quickly across her clit, her hips jerking as he slowly circled the sensitive nub with his thumb once, then twice. She faltered in her rhythm and Sebastian pulled his hand away.

She caught Sebastian’s smile, the knowing look that told her he’d decided he was taking control. As she began moving, raising her body, sliding him in and out of her, he rubbed harder against her and she cried out, hips jerking again.

This time Sebastian laughed, a low seductive sound. But he didn’t take his hand away again, instead sliding his thumb over her again and again. Leila tried to keep moving, to continue her dance with Sebastian, but her body had other ideas. Her hips jerked with each pass of his thumb, her thigh muscles tensing against his hips. Almost without conscious thought, her hands rose to her breasts, clutching and squeezing them, pinching the hard nipples between her fingers.

Every nerve in her body was alive, humming with arousal, the sensations Sebastian was creating with his fingers while he inside of her more intense than anything she’d ever experienced.

And then everything exploded. She rose on her knees above Sebastian, hips pressed forward as her orgasm ripped through her. Throwing her head back, arms flung wide, she screamed, her voice echoing across the lush tropical foliage.

She fell forward against Sebastian’s chest, breathing hard, her body thrumming with pleasure. Sebastian’s arms went around her shoulders, holding her gently as the ebb and flow in her body gradually subsided.

But his body was anything but still beneath her. She could feel the tension in his limbs, inside her, and his hands slid down her back. As he cupped her ass, fingers digging into her sensitive skin, his hips flexed upward, thrusting himself deeply into her. He started a slow but barely restrained rhythm.

His movements brought her right back to the edge and she ground herself down on him, following his lead as his hands pushed her against his body, meeting his thrusts over and over.

When he came, it was as sudden as a summer thunderstorm and just as intense, and it took her breath away. Leila could feel his heart beating against her breasts, his breath rasping against her neck as he thrust up, hard and sharp. His heat filled her, his passion overwhelmed her, and the emotions that flooded her body threatened to consume her. She buried her head against him, inhaling the scent of him, of them, her eyes closed.

“Leila…”

Sebastian breathed her name against her neck. She lifted her head, meeting his gaze. The brilliant green eyes were soft, and she brushed a lock of black hair away from his forehead.

“God, woman. When you take control, you take no prisoners.”

She smiled. “I guess you bring out the animal in me.”

Sebastian shifted her, nestling her alongside him on the grass. Curled into the crook of his arm, she rested her head on his shoulder. Beneath her cheek, she felt more than heard his laugh.

Chapter Seven

Leila stirred restlessly. The sun had probably slipped behind the trees and the air was cooler, a flush of goose bumps peppering her arms. It had grown late and she must have fallen asleep, naked, on the bench. Of course she’d be cold. She reached for Sebastian, hand clasping empty air.

Opening her eyes, she blinked up at patches of deep blue sky visible through the roof of the arbor.

She sat up on the bench, wrapping her arms around herself. Startled, she looked down as her fingers touched the linen of her dress. She was fully clothed, down to the satin lingerie.

“Sebastian?”

Her voice echoed in the silence. She rose and walked from beneath the arbor. The garden surrounded her, but everything was still. The butterflies were gone, the birds silent.

And Sebastian was gone as well.

Sinking back onto the bench, she frowned. He’d been there with her, and again he’d made love to her. She knew that—she was sure of it—emotionally, and certainly her body knew what it had experienced.

She pulled her writer’s box toward her, opened it, and took out the pages she’d written earlier in the day. Her hero and heroine were torn apart now, divided by circumstances beyond their control, misunderstandings, missed connections. Sitting in the gathering twilight, she felt her heroine’s loss as keenly as if it were her own. And maybe it was. She felt like she’d lost Sebastian again.

Who was Sebastian?
Was he an actor? She clung to that tiny shred of hope. If he was hired to play a part, could she get Cheryl to admit the charade, to tell Leila his name? She’d be able to contact him, maybe meet him somewhere other than this damned island.

But the thought kept intruding that something else had happened, that maybe he wasn’t real. Something strange had happened to her at the cove. Had she suffered some kind of injury, hit her head, maybe laid on the sand and suffered heatstroke? Was this all just a dream?

Leila shivered, a sudden chill running down her spine. She’d forgotten her watch and wondered if she’d missed dinner completely. But it didn’t matter; food was the last thing on her mind.

Sighing, she picked up her writer’s box and made her way back up to the path to the castle. Soft lights lit the stairs and she climbed them slowly, her feet leaden.

The castle door opened on well-oiled hinges and she stepped inside the cool, dim interior. There didn’t seem to be anyone downstairs. The dining room was dark, the hall beyond deep in shadows. She started to call for Dominick or Cheryl, but then decided she really didn’t want to talk to anyone.

Leila climbed the stairs to her room. Dominick had left a tray with a cold supper, but she pushed it aside. She set the writer’s box on her desk, lit a candle, and opened the box. She glanced at the pages that lay inside, but the joy she’d felt as she’d written the words was gone. Sighing, she folded them in half, stepped into the hall, and laid them on the silver tray.

She turned and her eyes fell on the door. The carved figures were immobile, locked in their chaste embrace. An irrational wave of self-pity washed over her. At least they had each other. Shaking her head, she closed the door softly, the latch clicking shut behind her.

Slowly she undid the buttons of her dress, remembering how she’d felt that afternoon, as she’d unbuttoned the dress under Sebastian’s heated gaze. Excitement had swirled through her as she revealed herself to him, as he’d drunk her in with his eyes, his arousal fueling hers. Now her fingers were stiff and cold as she pulled the dress away from her body. The bra and panties followed, landing with a satiny whisper on the floor.

She was bone weary, suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion. It even seemed like too much trouble to find a nightgown in the drawers of the giant wardrobe. She climbed into bed naked, blew out the candle, and pulled the sheet over her shoulders.

Leila’s mind was in turmoil, desperately trying to reconstruct what had happened that afternoon at the arbor, to make some kind of sense of everything. She drew a deep breath, resigning herself to a sleepless night.

But as she lay in bed, watching the moonlight trace a silvery path across the floor, her eyelids drooped, grew heavy, and slowly closed. The moonlight still played across her bed, but Leila was already in a deep sleep.

The sound of the door opening pulled her from that sleep. Leila opened her eyes, her heart racing. Moonlight flooded her room and in the soft light, she saw the outline of a tall man in the doorway. Her heart leapt in her chest. Sebastian had come back to her.

She eagerly pulled back the sheets as he walked across the room, her body already coming alive with anticipation. But as he came to sit on the edge of the bed, Leila pulled back in alarm. It wasn’t Sebastian.

But something about him seemed oddly familiar, almost as if she recognized him. Then it hit her: he looked like the man from the carving on her door. A shiver ran through her, her mind going back to the night she’d watched him…with her…on the door.

“What do you want?” Her voice was just a whisper.

“I want you, Leila. Ever since the first time I saw you, I’ve wanted you.” He leaned across the bed, placing his hand on her bare leg.

“But…you’re not real.”

“I’m as real as you want me to be, Leila.”

The man shifted on the bed and Leila realized he was naked. Her eyes widened, and in the moonlight she let them travel over his body. He was lean and chiseled, and as her eyes moved lower, she saw he was obviously very aroused.

A surprising thud of deep and dark hit her low in her belly, and the entire episode she’d witnessed replayed in an instant, the primal way the man had taken the woman—her—the heat and fire she’d felt by just watching. Leila wanted him, wanted him to take her just as he had before.

As if reading her mind, the man climbed onto the bed, resting on his knees beside her, his eyes locked with hers. She tried to hold his gaze, but her eyes flickered away from his face, down past his chest, and she drew an involuntary breath, eyes widening. His erection was large, rising along the flat plane of his stomach, straining upward. Another deep thud hit her.

She lay back, letting her legs fall open, one hand straying to her breast, fingers rubbing her nipple. It puckered at her touch, hardening, growing exquisitely sensitive. She pinched it, an electric jolt shooting through her, going directly to her core.

The man watched her for a moment longer, then his eyes slid slowly down her body as she lay waiting for him, aching for him. She shifted, her legs moving further apart.

Even though she’d written the words before in her story, she never really believed they could be true, but in that moment, she could actually feel his eyes caressing her body as she lay on the bed.

His eyes met hers again. She waited, but instead of coming to her, he shook his head. Her brows drew together in confusion, but then it was clear. She knew what he wanted.

Under his intense gaze, Leila rose up to her knees, then turned, her back to the man. Looking over her shoulder, she saw him nod, his lips curving into a knowing smile.

He moved behind her, his hands caressing her hips with such familiarity, as if he’d touched her—made love to her—a thousand times before. She leaned forward, hands braced on the headboard of the bed, spreading her legs for him, willing to do anything for him.

His caresses stopped as he dug his fingers into her skin. Pressing his body against her, he rubbed himself slowly back and forth, his erection hot and hard against her skin.

Anticipation welled inside Leila, her breath coming in short gasps. As she turned her head again to look at the man, he reached forward and grabbed a handful of her hair, jerking her head back. At the same instant, he drove himself into her, filling her with one stroke.

Leila cried out, every nerve in her body reacting as the man thrust into her. Just as before, the man thrust quickly, his moans deep and masculine. Then Leila heard herself, as if from a distance, her high, sharp cries mixing with his. They startled her; she’d never made noises like this, wanton and wild and uncontrollable.

What he did to her was brief and fast and utterly primal. He drove himself deeply into Leila, over and over, pulling her head back, his breath rasping in her ear. And then with a deep moan, he buried himself completely, held himself still inside her, his body trembling fiercely. As before, she knew he was close, so close she could feel it in every shudder and movement of his body against her, inside her.

She was so close, her body trembling on the edge, aching for release, waiting for him, knowing this was how it was supposed to happen. He tensed briefly, fingers digging into her hips, and then he thrust forward quickly, sharply, his voice rising as he came. As his heat filled her, Leila cried out, shaking and jerking, her orgasm taking over her body, igniting her from the inside.

Her climax spiraled on for what felt like an eternity, carrying her higher and higher, her body shaking, out of control. It was more than she’d ever experienced…and everything she’d ever wanted.

The man finally released her hair and she fell forward, catching herself on the headboard. The man moved away from her and for a moment she hung there, gasping. Sinking to the mattress, she brushed the hair from her face.

“Leila.”

Leila lifted her head.

Sebastian stood just inside the open doorway. The man was gone, and she was alone on the bed, naked, gasping, body still trembling with the aftershocks of her powerful orgasm. The look on his face told her everything, told her he’d been there long enough to hear, to see…to know.

“Sebastian…I can explain.” But could she? She wasn’t even sure what had just happened, who had just been there in her room, in her bed.

Without a word, Sebastian turned and walked out. Leila scrambled off the bed and rushed into the hall.

But the hall was empty. Sebastian was gone, again.

Leila turned back to her room. She avoided looking at the figures on the door, afraid of what she might—or might not—see. Closing the door behind her, she climbed back into bed.

The last image on her mind before she fell into a restless sleep was the look on Sebastian’s face, the knowledge…the hurt in his eyes.