Locked In Temptation. Brenda Jackson
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get it back under his control. She wondered if that control also included the rock-hard erection that had been pressing against the juncture of her thighs the entire time they’d kissed.
The look in his eyes promised more than just something hot and steamy. It promised rapture of the most illicit kind. She licked her lips, loving the taste of him still there. “I guess we need to take our seats now and buckle up.”
His eyes tracked the movement of her tongue. “Yes, I guess we should.”
When he continued to stand there, she took a step back and eased into her seat. She reached for her seat belt, but he said, “No, let me.”
He leaned down to buckle her in, and the scent of him sent a sensual throb of desire racing through her veins. He leaned in and whispered hotly against her lips, “Do you want to continue this later?”
Did she! “We’ll see,” she said, deciding not to commit to anything just yet.
A smile spread across his lips as the strong sexual chemistry continued to sizzle between them. “Yes, we’ll see.”
He snapped her seat belt in place and moved to take his own seat. A part of her knew whatever happened later tonight was meant to be. They had been imprisoned in this deep, mind-blowing attraction even before they’d officially met.
His gaze held hers, and she thought that no man had ever made her skin tingle and the area between her legs throb just by looking at her. Sexual vibes were pouring off him, and at that moment she hoped she would make it through dinner.
* * *
SENSATIONS WERE WASHING over Stonewall in a way that he’d never experienced before. He definitely recognized the intense heat and the ragged tug of desire when he’d kissed her, but nothing could have prepared him for the longing that was settling deep in his soul. Had ten months without a woman in his bed brought him to this?
Even now, while sitting across from Joy, he had to fight to tame his breathing and heartbeat. What was it about her that had his vital signs reacting crazily whenever he saw her? And it didn’t matter if she was dressed as a police detective or a seductress; the assault on his senses was the same. The last few months had all but proved that.
After watching Joy lick her lips a few times, he decided to lick his own. The taste she’d left there was extraordinary. Not only did her lips have the same luscious, sweet flavor as before, but they’d felt soft beneath his. The shape of them had fit his perfectly, and when he’d applied greedy pressure, she had reciprocated. There was no doubt in his mind if the pilot’s voice hadn’t intruded over the intercom, they would still be kissing. Or he might have changed his mind about being a gentleman and joined the mile-high club, after all.
He finally broke eye contact with her to stare out the window when the plane began its descent. It was either that or embarrass himself when the pilot saw him with a hard-on as big and solid as the Rock of Gibraltar.
“I’m excited about dinner, Stonewall.”
He glanced back over at Joy. “I’m excited about dinner, as well.” What he decided not to say was that he was more excited about the prospect of continuing where they’d left off earlier. He knew she was well aware that the next time they kissed, he intended to take things further. Or die trying.
“Have you ever eaten at this restaurant before?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. This will be my first time.” And he would be sharing the experience with her. “But the restaurant came highly recommended. You once mentioned how much you liked seafood, and I understand this place has the best. They catch their own.”
The smile that touched her lips right then was priceless, he thought, as his mind tried drowning him in the memory of her taste. “I can’t wait to try it,” she said.
And I can’t wait to try you. He felt the plane touch down on the runway as it landed. He smiled over at her. “We’re here.”
* * *
AN HOUR AND a half later, after finishing her meal, Joy decided if being at Martha’s Vineyard with Stonewall was only a dream, then it was one she didn’t want to end. A private car had picked them up at the airstrip. This was her first time on the island, and since it was still daylight when they’d arrived, she’d been able to see just how beautiful it was.
The pilot had called their attention to a large group of whales in the Atlantic. It was definitely an OMG moment. Something else that had captured her attention from the air was the five lighthouses that signified the island’s maritime heritage. When the plane dropped altitude for the landing, she could see several rows of gingerbread-looking houses painted in bright colors as well as a number of small, impressive estates, most likely owned by the rich and famous who made the island their summer home.
During the car ride to the restaurant, she saw not only the island’s scenic beaches, but also miles and miles of lush farmlands. Stonewall told her about the six townships that made up the island as well as the fact that the Steven Spielberg movie Jaws had been filmed in one of them.
“I hope you enjoyed dinner,” Stonewall said, breaking into her thoughts.
She couldn’t help smiling at him. “I loved dinner. It was perfect. This restaurant is perfect. I’ve never had a dining experience quite like this one.”
And she truly meant it. Undoubtedly the restaurant had expected their arrival and had escorted them to a private room in the back overlooking the ocean. And once they’d been seated and served drinks, it wasn’t long before several platters of delectable seafood had been placed on their table for them to enjoy.
She had started off with a bowl of the best clam chowder she’d ever tasted, followed by grilled shrimp over a bed of vegetable rice. Then there were the steamed lobsters and mouthwatering crab cakes.
“I’m glad you enjoyed everything, and I hope that our first date met with your approval,” he said, smiling across the table at her.
“It most certainly did, Stonewall. Thank you for everything. It’s been a wonderful evening. You went above and beyond.” Not only was the food and atmosphere of the restaurant wonderful, she also enjoyed Stonewall’s company. He was a great conversationalist, very adept at keeping the chat between them moving without dominating it.
“I hope you saved room for dessert,” he said when the waiter had removed the last of their dishes.
“Dessert? You’ve got to be kidding. Who can eat dessert after all that?”
“I can. And I refuse to eat it alone. At least share it with me. We’re having butterscotch peanut butter cake.”
Her eyes lit up. “Butterscotch peanut butter cake?”
“Yes. Will you share a slice with me?”
She shook her head, chuckling. “Okay, I will share a slice, only because I’m curious to see how it tastes.”
Within minutes the waiter returned with two smaller plates and forks. Stonewall returned one of the forks to the waiter. “We’re sharing.”
Desire clawed through her at the thought that not only would they share the cake but the eating utensil, as well. He glanced over at her. “If you prefer your own fork, I can call him back and—”
“No, that’s fine. I only want a tiny taste anyway.”
When the waiter delivered the slice of cake, she thought it looked delicious. “That’s a rather large slice, don’t you think?”
He chuckled. “Not really.”
Stonewall was definitely a man with a healthy appetite. And if the kisses they’d shared were anything to go by, she had a feeling that appetite wasn’t limited just to foods.
She watched him slice into the cake with the fork and extended it toward her, offering her the first bite. She opened her mouth and he slid the cake between her lips.
“Mmm,