By Triple Vice

She remembered how hesitant she had been, the last time they had been in an awkward situation. She was good—oh, so good—at turning them away. She could turn a moment of burning passion into a fizzled romance. She had the skills to dump a bucket of ice water on Hell's fiery flames, and she could make a man turn around in his tracks and seek some other woman. She had a mask for every occasion, and for every man. For some, the turn off was too big a smile. Too much innocence. He'd think she was either mentally retarded or would be no good in bed. For others, the "good girl" act made guys run as fast as they could. If they were afraid of commitment, religion, weren't attracted to certain speech styles, she played her part and turned them away. She was like a fortress—impenetrable, with shifting walls that adapted to the attacker, rebuffing every attempt to get past her stone towers.

She was so used to playing her part, so good at instinctively knowing what would keep her from getting involved with someone she didn't care for, she had forgotten how to turn that feature off. She knew, deep down, in some part of her subconscious, how to turn a guy on. What he would like, what would make him want her. It was as instinctive as knowing what he wouldn't like. She had just forgotten how to employ it. As with tears, she had become so used to forbidding herself access to those skills that she had almost forgotten she had them. Maybe she was afraid. No, she was afraid. Afraid of getting attached to the wrong guy. She didn't want the trouble of a relationship. Didn't want to be reigned in and tied down to a home, where she'd live as a stay at home mother—like her mom—for the rest of her life. Though, ironically, with the right guy that was exactly what she wanted. She just didn't want to be bedded by a man and then left the next day, or get married to the wrong guy and find out years later that he'd gotten sick of her after the first few months. She didn't want to have a relationship for three or four years, and she didn't want to be stuck to some bastard for fifty. She wanted all or nothing, but she was afraid. Afraid she would screw up, make him lose interest, or lose interest herself. She'd get hurt. She'd get him angry. She'd do something wrong. Maybe he'd do something wrong, and she'd nag. She'd choose adventures over relationships any day of the week. They were so much more simple, and the only scars they left were physical.

What if she was wrong though? With Trey's eyes on her, she could look right into intense, light brown orbs with golden flecks and wonder, how could she know when it's the right guy? How can a girl wait until the right guy comes along, and then make her move? What if she never made a move and the guy that she didn't know was the right guy moved on? She'd lose him, and she'd never even know it.

Glancing over at him again, Renee pulled her corner of the sheet closer around her shivering body. It felt intimate, sharing the blanket while their clothes dried over the fire, and she couldn't seem to focus her mind away from the feel of his warm skin against hers. Even just sitting shoulder to shoulder, she could feel hard flesh—harder than hers—and the curve of toned muscle pressed against her side.

He glanced over at her, and looked away. It was her fault they were here, and he hadn't said a thing. She'd been waiting for an 'I told you so' for the past hour. Trey had told her not to take the boat out to the island, but she'd wanted to visit her mother's grave. It was the wrong time of year and the rocks were dangerous, but she'd wanted to go.

It was an irrational desire, as most desires were, but he'd volunteered to come along. Now, here they were. The boat would need a little patching in the morning, but at least the wind had died down. The ocean washed in against the little cove where they sat, the waves making gentle lapping sounds. It was far gentler than it had been earlier, maybe to make up for nearly killing them.

Trey loved the ocean. It made her a little nervous because she'd heard too many shark stories, but when he looked at it his eyes got a dreamy faraway look in them that had nothing to do with any human being. Which was unfortunate, really. It meant he had feelings for a body of water that she doubted he would ever feel for her. She glanced over again.

He looked gorgeous in the moonlight. She'd never met a man who could pull off the angelic look without looking…almost feminine before, but he managed it. His jaw length blonde curls were pulled back in a ponytail at the moment, revealing his strong jaw line and exotic features in the soft silver light. He could have modeled, but he'd been too adventurous, and ended up as a captain for hire. He owned a yacht that carted tourists across the Caribbean. Many a lady tourist had lost their hearts on his boat, and Renee was fairly certain hers had been as well. Well, actually, her heart had been a lost cause long before he owned a ship, because even as children on the big island, she'd loved him.

Trey could have had any woman he wanted. Renee wanted to be the one he chose.

"Renee," he said, and reached out to jab a long stick into the fire. There was more smoke than fire though, because the storm that had just passed through had left everything wet and steaming. The humidity was high and the heat was higher—a far more dangerous combination than dry heat. Every tiny little breeze left them chilled.

"What?" she asked, and pressed in closer to his side as a shiver took over. It was an excuse, granted, but it was a good one.

"Promise me you won't ever do this again."

She hesitated. They were sitting fifteen feet away from her mother's grave, and coming here had been one of the few escapes Renee had found in the past months.

He must have guessed what she was thinking, because he turned to look over at her. "Don't ever come here again unless it's on my boat."

She lifted her gaze to meet his as the implications of that statement fizzled through her brain. Did he mean anything by it? He could have worded it a little differently if he didn't. Then again, it was pretty vague, so he probably didn't mean anything, though…this was the moment to turn him off, if she was going to. Say something, do something, that made it seem like she only thought of him as a friend. What if she didn't want to? What should she say if she wanted to turn him on?

The wrong thing came out anyway, putting immediate distance between them and eradicating the sensual suggestion of his offer—if there had ever been one. "I'd be willing to pay, of course. I don't think the little boat is up to any more trips," she said.

He snorted softly and turned away. The moment died, and she shifted. Her hip was already pressed against his, and she couldn't help but get a little extra out of the contact. She glanced up at her underwear hanging from the line above their little fire, right next to his swim trunks. Apparently he rarely wore boxers. She smiled a little, to herself.

The rest of their clothes were waiting for their turn, but she doubted that anything but the sun would be drying them. The fire could barely produce heat for her and Trey, let alone the clothes.

"Renee," he said again.

"Hmm?" she asked as she reached up and wiped some of the moisture off her forehead. So humid…

"Have you ever had sex with a man?"

Whoa. Suddenly the contact between their two bodies seemed to sizzle with tension, though maybe it was her imagination, because as soon as she heard the words she was that much more aware of their nudity beneath the blanket. Why would he be asking a question like that?

Wait. He was a man. Was she dense?

"You shouldn't ask questions like that," she rectified, to evade answering, because the truth was embarrassing.

"One? More than one?" he asked, and turned his head to look at her. He leaned over to kiss her suddenly, sending shock rippling through her like an icy wind. "Many?" he whispered.

It was because she was off guard that she answered. That kiss had ripped down so many walls that she was fighting off a desperate craving for more when she said, "None."

"None?" he asked. He gave a soft chuckle. "No wonder you're so bad at this."

She blushed and turned away, ready to march off into the night, nakedness be damned. She'd made it all the way up onto her knees before he reached out and grabbed her arm to swing her around, and then he hooked his other hand around her leg and pulled her over to straddle him.

Blind, groundless panic slammed into her like a sledgehammer, and she rammed a hand between them, holding him at arms length, and frantically grabbed for her part of the blanket. She held it over her breasts and stared down at her arm, afraid to look him in the eyes.

Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshitshitshit. Why couldn't she be the sensual lover type? Why couldn't she figure out how to turn her defenses off for a while?

"You're scared," Trey said in sudden realization, and she hiccupped.

"Fuck," she whispered, and turned her head so she wasn't facing him anymore. She swallowed another hiccup, and cleared her throat. Her face was probably glowing in the dark, she was blushing so hard. "Not…scared…exactly…" she said.

"Renee," he said again.

He used to call her like that when they were kids. She'd been about as good at ignoring him then as she was now. She bit her lip nervously and peeked up at him.

His eyes had dropped to her mouth. His lips were parted, like he'd been about to say something. He had that look in his eyes too, the one when he saw the ocean, and somehow her body just moved. She leaned forward, using her hand on his chest to hold herself steady, and kissed him softly. Gently. There was salt on his lips from the sea, but she liked the way it tasted on him.

There wasn't any panic anymore. That had been the precursor, because she knew how desperately she wanted him, and she'd known how powerful the need would become when she kissed him. It raged in her veins, pressing her heart into a breakneck pace and fueled the demanding voice of the one desire she'd never let herself acknowledge.

When she pulled away, she hadn't realized she was holding her breath until it came out in a ragged, shuddering sigh.

"Why'd you come with me?" she asked.

The look in his eyes was a little glassy now. That dreamy look she remembered had intensified, so that when he looked at her she felt it play through her nerves like a harpist on his instrument.

"Because," he said softly, "when I said don't ever come here again unless it's on my boat," he reached down to slide his hands over her hips, and tugged her lower body so close that her upper body didn't have much of a choice but to follow, "what I meant was that I want you on my boat, naked, on my bed, having sex with me, and that the next time you come up here, I will be the one taking you safely across those rocks, in my boat."

Her heartbeat was probably about as ragged as her breathing right then. She wasn't sure what to say. Her mind turned up an absolute blank when she went searching for some kind of situation to compare this to, maybe to try and salvage an old answer to something and use it here. She opened her mouth to say something, shut it, and tried to think of something that wouldn't sound corny, because as much as she hated to admit it, that statement had produced an image in her head that she couldn't quite manage to see around. Her eyes dropped to his lap, where the blanket pooled, unfortunately, just over his…his manhood. She swallowed.

"Show me," she said softly, finally, and she wasn't sure where the words came from, but they seemed to work well enough.

He gave an ever so smug smile and reached down to take her hand off his chest, and lifted it to kiss her palm, mimicking her earlier move, only when he did it, fire seemed to explode in her palm and sizzle down her arm. He kissed the inside of her wrist, then her elbow, then her shoulder, and then he leaned forward, pushing her away from him just enough to tongue the fingers of her right hand, which was holding the blanket up over her breasts. Actually, her fingers were clenched so hard they were digging into her breast, and his tongue was being very thorough, and with a little imagination it looked like he was…

She sucked in a hard breath as a chill went through her body, sweeping through her veins like a cloud of pleasure then splitting to concentrate in her breasts—and while the chill hardened her flesh there, heat was pooling down south. His hands were at her back, supporting her weight and holding her in place. Her free hand moved up to slide her fingers around the back of his neck.

"Trey?" she asked.

He lifted his beautiful golden head. "Hmm?"

She shuddered, trying to regain her senses enough to look at him rationally. "I feel like another silly schoolgirl who's fallen for you and just so happened to catch you in a good mood."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Really? Fallen for me, is it?"

Oops.

He slid a hand up her thigh, and a heady, shuddering gasp came out of her before she'd managed to shut her mouth. He also managed to lean forward and claim another kiss before she shut her mouth…and that…was really difficult to pull away from. So she didn't.

"None of those silly schoolgirls got what you're about to get, 'Nay," he whispered against her lips.

She smiled. That was supposed to make her feel better?

That seemed to be when the flip finally switched, because suddenly the dam blew up. The armor disintegrated. The defenses turned offensive, and her hands slid up his chest, then his neck, and into his hair. She fussed with his hair tie for a minute before just yanking it out so she could bury her hands in those curls. He smiled against her lips.

…Mmmm…yumm…

He tasted like popcorn. Maybe because that was what they'd snacked on before they left. Either way, it was tasty. And so was he. Damn, but he tasted good. His tongue seemed to know its way around pretty well, and maybe she got a little excited. Maybe, when she sucked in another desperate breath, it was laced with the scent of his skin. His bare skin. Oh yeah. She'd been holding onto a blanket. Where was it?

Oh well.

He was touching her skin, his hands running up her body to cup her breasts. One hand kept moving, the pressure of his touch lifting her breast as he moved upwards. She felt it drop back into place a moment later, the rebounding movement somehow driving her crazier. She felt him between her legs, where she straddled him. She'd actually felt him getting harder for a while now.

Maybe it was time to make a move.

Renee broke the kiss and pushed Trey back onto the cool earth. He hit the ground and looked up at her in surprise, but she was grinning at him.

"I'm sure all those women would have been happy enough to hear you say that," she said, "so I suppose I should just accept what I can get."

She put a finger over his lips to stop his reply, and leaned forward until she was face to face with him, and then, with a devious grin, she shifted down so that her breasts were pressed against his collar bone.

"But you picked me last," she said, "and I'm not too happy about it."

He reached up to slide his hands over her hips. "Can I make it up to you?"

"Well," she said, and reached back to grab his hands. He let her move them, and she dropped them to the dirt at either side of his head. "I have a price. You have to suffer a little first."

He reached up for her arms, and she batted his hands away. "No touching, perv," she said.

He shrugged and dropped his hands.

She grinned, and lifted herself up a little to lean forward and tousle his hair. She ran her fingers through it, trailing her nails across his scalp. Then she bent closer, and kissed his neck, just beneath his ear. She trailed her nose down the shell of his ear, and then opened her mouth to bite it gently. She heard his soft exhalation and moved her teeth to his jaw.

As she nibbled on his jaw, playfully, she ran her nails down his arms, then up them, loving the feel of his muscles beneath her fingers. She trailed them down his chest, down over his abs, and then down between her legs to his lap.

He sucked in a hard breath, his muscles tensing, and she smiled as she started weaving her shoulders back and forth, dancing to a tune in her head. She held his gaze as her sensual movement rubbed her breasts across his chest, and she started sliding down his body.

As her body slid across him, she followed the movement with her head, tracing little lines across him with her tongue as she kissed his skin. When she got to his nipple on one side, she slid her tongue around it once, and then bit down lightly. She smiled when he caught his breath, and felt his hands drop onto her legs. She decided not to remind him he wasn't allowed to touch, because just a few inches lower her tongue was trailing along his stomach. Just a few inches lower and…

He growled from the pain of his arousal and drew one leg up, then shoved himself up onto his elbows to curl around the aching need in his groin. She wrapped her mouth around him, just far enough to bite down gently and run her teeth across him. Then she moved to take more of him, her fingers trailing up him to wrap around slowly, her tongue toying with him.

Then she pulled her mouth away, and licked the very tip, softly, then drew her lips back to bite down, gently, at the very tip.

He swore and reached down to grab her arms, and she hit the dirt hard enough to lose her breath.

"Impatient, much?" she asked, but she'd done it on purpose. She wanted him to feel as desperate as she felt.

He pushed her legs wide and shoved into her, hard. It hurt, and she gasped as her back arched and she dropped her head onto the rocks. He wasn't very nice about it though, which was probably fair payback. The pain faded, and she reached up to hook her arms around his neck.

Aahhh…he lifted her hips up and slid his knees under her, probably to give his hips more room to pound into her. Her stomach was stretched, and it was somewhat uncomfortable to hang from a man's waist with her breasts rocking like jell-o in an earthquake. When he thrust in at that angle, however, her whole vision seemed to explode with stars, and she cried out because it felt so amazing.

…But…she kinda missed the kisses, so she reached up to grab a handful of his blonde curls, which were growing somewhat damp, and pulled him down. His hands hit the soil on either side of her head and she pushed herself up to kiss him.

They weren't gentle kisses anymore. He was still thrusting into her, and she was rocking her body into his thrusts, her legs braced on the soil to give her some leverage. His lips now were hot and lusty, and now that her hunger had awakened, she was ravenous. Their teeth and tongues crashed against each other, and her back scraped across the soil as he thrust into her. His curls fell around her face, and her hands found them again as their bodies undulated. She felt his chest rising and falling against her, his breathing ragged and fast. He grunted. She gasped, and they went in rounds, echoing each other, sucking in each other's air, scent, taste, feel. She listened to him, listened to the sound of their bodies moving together, listened to the ocean waves in the background, and listened to the slick suction of their kisses.

Her hands moved up to his back, sliding across hard muscle, trying to memorize the feel of his skin. Oh, she wanted to remember everything. Especially what it felt like where their bodies met, where he moved inside her. His skin sliding across hers, and the slick, wet, power of his thrusts, the friction that built up so many sensations inside her…and inside, deep inside, where she was hyper aware of every little touch…

Renee gasped against his lips, her nails digging into his back a little too hard. She would have to apologize later, because now on top of fresh rain and the ocean she could smell the sharp scent of blood.

The need to release was building too fast now. It was almost there, and she was heady with exultation as her head dropped back and her chest arced. Her body seized up for a moment as she tried to hold it back, and came anyway.

Trey braced himself over her, and let out an explosive cry as he came too. Renee sucked in a little breath at the sensation of his seed spilling into her, and smiled as the warmth spread to envelope the fiery heat of her sex.

He collapsed on top of her, breathing hard like she was, and she leaned her head against his neck as her open mouth sucked in one deep breath after another. She looked up at the stars, her vision just a little clouded, and her skin hotter than it had been beneath the blanket. Now she really felt the humidity, because it had gathered on her skin, and on his, and she could feel the slick dampness of his chest expanding against hers now.

Damn. So that was what it was like, she thought. Shoulda put up the white flag a looooooooooong time ago.

Her knees were on either side of his hips, and she squeezed them together and gave her hips a smooth, sensual twist. She squirmed, and he chuckled as he rolled over and hiked her up his waist so that her breasts were within easy reach of his mouth.

"Ah!" that caught her by surprise. Oh. She inhaled sharply, the breath expanding her chest and inadvertently pressing her breast further into his…kiss? Couldn't be a kisssssss…

Oh gods.

The last time her brain had moved this thickly had been when her mom died and she drank until she couldn't even lift the glass to drink any more. Yeah. That was it. She felt drunk on all the emotions she'd held back for so long, and since he'd been the idiot to let them loose, he'd better be willing to deal with the consequences.

She looked down at him, her hands braced on the ground to either side of him, her hips straddling his stomach, and smiled.

For tonight at least, he was hers. That was a start.

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A/N - If I get good reviews, I'll write more of these =)