Paradise Revival Page 3

  "How large is your family?" she asked.

  "Four brothers, two sisters and probably eight hundred cousins."

  "You're joking, right?" Being an only child, she couldn't imagine that many siblings and cousins. Neither of her parents had brothers or sisters. She'd always wondered what it might have been like to have a large, extended family. As it was, her parents could hardly stand having her around, let alone anyone else. It had seemed that their universe had been the two of them, and anyone else was an interference. Like her. Morgan had always felt unwanted, as if creating her had been something her parents had felt obligated to do.

  "Maybe I exaggerated a bit on the cousins. But at least thirty of them, plus their own kids. Holidays are always chaotically interesting."

  From the sparkle in his eyes Morgan knew he was remembering good times. When was the last time she had a good memory? Did she even have any?

  "Thinking about work again?" he asked, taking a swallow of wine.

  "Yes." Eventually she'd have to come up with a better lie. Or quit zoning out on him.

  "You're probably tired. I should let you get some sleep."

  Morgan waved her hand in the air. "Not really. I don't sleep much." And just exactly why had she revealed that to him? She glared at her empty wine glass.

  He arched a brow. "Why?"

  "Always a lot on my mind, I suppose."

  "Resort things, or personal things?"

  Wonderful. It hadn't taken long for that line of questioning to start. "Mostly resort things, and my personal life is none of your business."

  He leaned back in the chair, a smile curving his lips. "The article will focus on both you and the resort."

  "I know that, I agreed to the terms. But there's personal, and then there's personal."

  "And how am I supposed to distinguish between the two?"

  "I'll let you know if your questions are out of bounds."

  "You like being in control, don't you?"

  The words echoed in her memories, calling to mind the first time David had spoken them. Of course, he'd followed up with, "That's too bad, because your days of control are over."

  And after that, he'd shown her exactly what he'd meant. Repeatedly, until the thought of her controlling any aspect of her life became nothing more than a distant memory.

  She shuddered. "I like my job. It requires me to manage the environment around the resort, to insure the guests are satisfied. So, yes, in that respect I like being in charge. I like knowing my guests leave with a smile on their faces."

  "What about you? Are you satisfied? Personally, that is?"

  "Yes."

  "Quick answer."

  "I know my own mind." Or at least she used to. She used to follow her desires, enjoying the journey, reveling in the destination. Before she'd made a wrong turn once and had ended up in hell. Once she'd made her escape, Paradise had seemed like heaven.

  Now, looking across the table at Tony, his long legs spread out, and the clean, crisp scent of him drifting across the table, she felt an ache between her legs that she hadn't felt in a long time. Her body pulsed with the desire to feel a hard shaft ramming into her until she came, screaming.

  Too bad. What her body wanted and what it was going to get were two very different things.

  "What's on your mind right now?" he asked, startling her.

  "Why do you ask?"

  "You have a look about you."

  "What look?"

  He grinned. "I don't know how to describe it. Like there's something you want--something really nice. Your eyes are glassy and your cheeks are pink. If I didn't know better I'd say you were turned on."

  What the hell was he--psychic? Even though he'd hit the nail right on the head, it was the last thing she'd want him to think. She steadied her gaze on him, remembering the practiced, icy stare she'd perfected over the years. "Actually, I'm thinking that we have an early day tomorrow."

  "Sorry," he said, but his grin didn't completely dissipate. "We'll take this up again in the morning."

  They stepped inside and Morgan followed Tony down the hall, stopping at the doorway to her room.

  "Good night." She suddenly felt awkward, like she was reluctant to let him leave. How long had it been since she'd had a decent conversation with a man? Or any conversation that didn't include resort business.

  Yes, this was business, but something a little bit more. And that more intrigued her way more than it should.

  "Sleep well," he replied, heading into his room and shutting the door.

  Morgan leaned against the closed door and sighed. What she wouldn't give to be a normal woman who could act on feelings of lust for a man. Damn David for what he'd done to her!

  At least the anger quelled the urge to cry. She hadn't cried since the last time she'd ended up at the hospital. After that episode, she'd vowed to shed no more tears for herself. The situation with David had gone on as long as it had because she'd let it. She hadn't been strong enough to walk away the first time, or the times after that.

  Instead, she'd stayed and endured his lessons, losing a part of herself each time until the joyous, sexual creature she'd been no longer existed. Maybe her ex had ruined her for sex in the future, but she'd gained one thing she hadn't had before she met him--strength.

  If she could survive five years married to David, she could survive anything.

  Including spending the week with a sexy hunk of Italian man occupying the room next to hers.

  She pushed away from the door and stepped into the bathroom to prepare for bed. Water was running in the other room, and she knew Tony was in his bathroom. She smiled wistfully at the shared intimacy, even though a wall separated them.

  What would a normal relationship be like? She'd missed out on those special moments between her and a man, like sharing a bathroom, waking up snuggled next to a warm body in the morning, that first kiss of the day. That sense of normalcy that she'd never had with David.

  Fantasies again. Not only the regular, every day life with a man, but the intimate ones, too. She often thought of what she'd missed. Like right now, wondering if he shaved before bedtime, or even what he wore or didn't wear to bed.

  Maybe she wouldn't act on her thoughts, but she still had her fantasies.

  And she was damn well going to indulge that fantasy tonight. Her body rushed with heat and she hurried through her nighttime ritual, shed her clothes and slipped in between the cool sheets of her bed.

  Slick satin rubbed against her heated skin, tantalizing her.

  The evening breeze blew the soft scent of gardenias into the open window. She inhaled and closed her eyes, letting her imagination take over.

  It didn't take long.

  Her mind was already filled with thoughts of Tony. Imagining his six-foot-two frame towering over her, she conjured up the fantasy and made it real. He was all tanned muscle, his body beaded with sweat as he stood in front of her. His labored breathing caused his chest to rise and fall dramatically. She stepped toward him and boldly ran her hands over his shoulders. Threading her fingers through his hair, she pulled his mouth down toward hers and paused, not touching lips yet, just breathing each other in.

  His eyes blazed midnight black. His breath brushed against her cheek. And when he wound his arms around her and pulled her firmly against him, she didn't run, she didn't panic. She welcomed his embrace. Just like she'd welcome the moment he slid his thick shaft inside her wet sheath.

  First, she had to taste him. She brushed her lips against his, felt the muscles in his arms expand, which excited her all the more. There was nothing like a man with incredible power restraining himself, and letting his woman make the first move.

  He could have thrown her down and fucked her easily. Her petite stature was no match for him. But he didn't. He stood motionless and let her explore his lips and slide her tongue gently into his mouth to tangle with his.

  When he devoured her lips with his sensuous mouth, she moaned.

  Really moaned. Out
loud.

  But she was too deep into the fantasy to care, too intent on visualizing how Tony would taste and feel against her heated skin, to worry about the sounds she'd just made.

  The exquisite pleasure shooting through her at imagining his touch, his mouth, his body covering hers, elicited whimpers and pants of longing. Oh, how she wished this could be real.

  She slid her hand over her breasts and teased her nipples until they stood upright. Her fingers snaked down to her aching, wet mound and she bit her bottom lip to control the loudest of her urgent cries.

  Small whimpers and moans escaped. She couldn't help it. She'd never been quiet, even when masturbating.

  Besides, Tony was probably dead to the world right now. If she made any sounds, he'd never hear them.

  Chapter Three

  What the hell was that sound? Tony jerked upright in bed and searched the darkness.

  It sounded like a moan. A deep, throaty moan. Maybe it was Morgan's cat.

  He listened, but all he heard was the wind rustling the palm trees. Warily, he settled back against the pillows, too wide awake now to go to sleep.

  Sure as hell sounded like a moan. Then again, maybe he was only hearing what he wanted to hear. His body ached all over, his penis hard and waving at him under the sheet, clamoring for some attention. Hell, it had been hard since the moment he'd set eyes on the fiery redhead in the room next to his. It didn't appear to want to settle down, either. Nothing like walking around in his shorts with a hard-on, swimming with one, eating dinner with one. It's a wonder she hadn't noticed his semi-rigid state all evening. He sure as hell had.

  There was that sound again.

  Holy shit! It was Morgan! The walls must be thin. Then again, their rooms did butt against each other. He threw off the sheet and stepped naked to the open window. The gentle breeze caressed his fiery hot penis, but not enough to cool the raging inferno of lust coursing through him. As if his body wasn't heated enough, now he had to listen to her sex cries?

  A long, low moan lit the night. The wind died down completely as if in answer to his unspoken prayer. Hell, now he could even hear her erratic breathing. Her window must be open.

  His erection brushed the windowsill. Instinctively he grabbed his cock in his hand and squeezed. The ache was painful. He'd been fighting his arousal all night to no avail, and now that he could touch his cock, slide his fingers along the throbbing shaft, he had to stifle a groan of sheer pleasure.

  Her voice was low and full of passion as she groaned and gasped in pleasure. He heard the rustle of sheets and pictured her naked body outlined in the moonlight. She'd be on her back, her hips rising and falling with her strokes.

  Did she play with her clit, or did she slide her fingers into her wet pussy and pump away as if a hard cock was in there? Or both?

  Sweat poured off him as he began to stroke his swollen shaft He moved his hand slowly, savoring every sound from the room next door. He visualized her movements, trying to match the sounds to what she was doing. As arousing as the images in his head were, he wanted more. What he really wanted was to see her, to time his release with hers.

  This wasn't good enough. He wanted to watch her thrum her clit and fuck herself with her fingers or a vibrator or whatever she used. He wanted to come watching her do the same.

  As quietly as he could, he opened the door to the veranda and stepped outside. Her moans grew in intensity as he approached her window.

  Christ, he was a Peeping Tom! He couldn't believe the depths he'd sunk to. Granted, he'd do almost anything to get a story, but this was personal. He was invading her privacy--her most intimate privacy. And the worst part? His erection throbbed so hard he didn't give a shit. He wanted to watch. He was going to watch. And he was going to come in the process of doing so.

  With light footsteps he eased closer to her window. He couldn't chance standing right in front of it. So he stood back, inching forward a little at a time until a vision rocked him still.

  The bed faced the window. Morgan lay naked across satiny sheets her body outlined by the soft moonlight streaming in the window. Her back was arched, her hair spread out like a fan on the pillow. Full, rounded breasts with huge dusky nipples stood rigidly erect. Her feet were planted on the bed, her knees bent. Her hand was buried in the patch of red curls between her legs, moving slowly up and down her slit until she slid two fingers inside.

  Her eyes were closed, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. And she was moaning.

  Goddamn if that wasn't the most erotic vision he'd ever seen.

  This was new to him, something he'd never done before. He'd never been a voyeur, never stood by and watched a woman touch herself. What a damn turn on! The only thing that could make it better would be if she knew he was watching, if she put on a show for him deliberately.

  She'd already enticed him, but he wanted her participation, wanted to know she enjoyed getting off for him.

  He stroked his shaft and wondered what she was thinking.

  Morgan moved her fingers deep inside her pulsing core, amazed at the fluids drenching her. She hadn't been this stimulated in ages, hadn't felt the stirrings of desire and passion for a man in too many years.

  Here, in her fantasy world, Tony Marino was safe. He couldn't harm her, and she could do anything she wanted with him--have him do anything he wanted with her, without fear.

  Digging her heels into the mattress, she lifted her hips and mimicked the motions of fucking. Her fingers drove in deep, then slid out slowly, imagining Tony's huge cock plunging in and out of her in the same way.

  He'd position himself over her, his muscled biceps straining with the effort. She'd grab his arms and hold on, lift her hips and urge him in deeper and deeper. His expression would be intense, focused on her face. They'd watch each other's reactions--so intimate, a window to the soul. Then he'd lean over and kiss her.

  She moaned, imagining the magic of his mouth against hers. She licked her lips as if her tongue were his, licking and nibbling and demanding entry.

  His tongue would stroke in and out of her mouth in time with the strokes of his shaft. She whimpered and circled her clit with her thumb, intensifying the near explosive pleasure. Knowing Tony was in the room next door only added to her excitement--the risky element of possibly being caught.

  What would he think if he could see her like this? How would he react, knowing she was fantasizing about him?

  Tony sucked in a breath and caressed his cock, his hands slick with sweat. The visual of watching Morgan masturbate was the hottest thing he'd ever seen.

  Her eyes were closed tight, her mouth partly open. She panted, letting out tiny little gasps and whimpers as she fucked herself with her fingers.

  Sweat poured off his chest and down his stomach. He wanted to whimper, too. His cock wanted to let loose a hard stream of come that would fly right into her window. He grasped his throbbing shaft and squeezed, then slid his hand from base to tip, feeling his knees wobble a bit at the sheer erotic joy of the sensation.

  He was mesmerized watching this night vision pleasure herself, and pleasure him too. Fighting the groan that threatened to spill from his lips, he clamped his mouth shut and breathed through his nose. He didn't want her to know he was there. He desperately didn't want to stop the moment.

  When she sped up her pace, so did he. As her fingers fucked faster in and out of her pussy, he jacked his cock to her rhythm. His balls tightened and through sheer force of will he held back the orgasm he knew was imminent.

  He wanted to wait for her. When she came, he would, too.

  Her left hand brushed her breasts and teased her nipples. She squeezed one breast, then the other, hard, and cried out softly, her lush ass rising up off the bed.

  Tony increased the strokes on his cock, sensing she was close, knowing it was only a matter of time before she--

  Ahhhh, yes. Cries of ecstasy spilled from her lips as she came, her body shuddering with her climax. He released the restraint on his cock and allow
ed his orgasm to rack his body. He bit the inside of his cheek so hard he tasted blood. What he really wanted to do was roar out her name.

  Gradually, her legs relaxed and she slid them flat on the bed, her hand still gently parting and searching between the tuft of red curls. Then she stopped, sighed deeply, and seemed to fall fast asleep.

  Tony crept back into his bedroom and gently closed the door.

  He sat on the edge of the bed, completely drained and feeling more than a little guilty for spying on Morgan. And yet it had been the single most erotic moment of his life.

  Miss Prim and Proper was one hot number. For a woman so full of passion, why did she seem so cool on the outside?

  *

  Morgan couldn't help it. She blushed all through breakfast.

  It wasn't as if he'd known what she'd been doing last night. Still, reliving the thrilling moments and staring across the table at the subject of her erotic fantasies created a bonfire of heat in the kitchen. And it wasn't coming from the stove.

  "You look well-rested this morning," Tony said.

  "I do?"

  "Yeah. Your face glows. Or is it just warm in here?"

  "Must be warm." She was certainly heated. Whether from embarrassment at her thoughts or that knowing smile on Tony's face she wasn't certain.

  Why was he looking at her that way? As if he knew her--intimately. He didn't know her at all.

  She was imagining things. He couldn't have known about last night, could he?

  "Did you sleep well?" she asked.

  He coughed, took a quick swallow of orange juice, then looked up at her. "I slept fine. Like a baby. Took me awhile to fall asleep, though."

  Morgan's hand stilled on her cup and she set it back on the saucer, afraid he'd see her hand shake. "Awhile?"

  "Yeah. Kept hearing noises."

  He wasn't making eye contact, instead had his head buried in the schedule of events she'd given him. But still, she caught the upturned corners of his mouth and knew he was smiling.

  Oh dear God, he'd heard her getting off. That had to be it. He said he couldn't sleep right away, he'd heard noises, and he was grinning like a little kid with a secret. Her body flamed in mortification.

  Which irritated her even more.

  Years ago the thought of a man watching her masturbate would have excited her. Now, she was appalled. What had he heard? How could she even broach the subject this morning? What was she supposed to say--something along the lines of, "So how did you enjoy my performance last night? Did you get off, too?"