Hot Mistake. Cara Lockwood
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SIX
THEY TUMBLED DOWN onto the plush cushions of the poolside lounger and she found herself on top of his hard, fit body. The shock of the impact jolted all her senses at once. The cruise ship’s pool was deserted, the silver moon high above their heads. No one was around. No one could see them. All her senses came alive then, rousing needs she’d long denied. Their bodies fit together perfectly, the thin layer of clothing between them not enough to contain the heat they generated. Everything about him screamed sex: the lopsided smile, the thick muscles across his chest on display through his thin T-shirt, the barely there hint of stubble on his chin. She glanced at his hazel eyes and the way he stared at her told her everything she needed to know: he wanted her. Her heart thudded in her chest as her brain struggled to realize what her body already understood: she wanted him, too.
This was the man she’d been warned about, the man with the reputation for breaking hearts. But none of that seemed to matter now. Nothing mattered but the feel of his body beneath hers.
He waited patiently for her to make the first move. Almost challenging her as he kept still, their lips nearly touching. All she had to do was dip down to taste him. She inhaled his scent: sandalwood and something muskier, something dangerous. She wanted that smell on her, she realized. She wanted him, period. An inner voice of warning pinged in her head. Don’t do this. It’s a mistake. He’s going to use you.
Not if I use him first, she told the voice.
Oh, she liked that idea. Play the player. Take what she needed...and she would. She’d denied herself for months. She’d been good for far, far too long. What had being tight-laced gotten her? Nothing. She needed this. She needed him. She was tired of being polite. What she wanted was a bad boy, someone who was off-limits, someone who wouldn’t play nice.
Her inner wild child roared to life. She’d been held down too long beneath the prim and proper, the straight and narrow path she’d struggled to walk. Tonight she wasn’t going to be a good girl. Tonight she was going to let the bad girl out. Her real self, finally. Wild, free, a woman who knew what she wanted and took it.
She dipped down and kissed him, pressing her lips against his, tasting the caramel-sweet sourness of bourbon. But she wanted more. So much more. Her tongue flicked out, meeting his in perfect unity, as if he anticipated her every move. Every nerve ending in her body stood on end, her blood buzzing in her veins, as she tasted him, drank him in. Her hand skipped down, running the length of his fit chest, finding him even harder, even more ready than she’d imagined.
She knew he’d had plenty of women. His reputation preceded him, after all. But she knew for a fact he’d never had a woman like her before. She reached for his fly and pressed her fingers against the length of him through the fabric and he groaned. Yes, that’s it, groan for me, her inner wild child thought. Get ready for the night of your life.
Four hours earlier
THE BRIDE-TO-BE SHRIEKED with laughter. One of her would-be bridesmaids accidentally dropped a margarita glass on the outer deck of the bar of the massive cruise ship. Gabriela Cruz inwardly cringed as she heard the glass shatter. Another one? She silently moaned. Seriously? She sprinted over, exchanging her glass of hardly touched wine for a dish towel. She worked to sop up the mess. Gabriela was already beginning to regret accepting the maid-of-honor gig from Lola, but how could she say no to the woman she’d known since preschool? Lola was her oldest and most loyal friend, and if she wanted to invite fifty of her closest friends and family on board the Royal Harmony for a three-day wedding extravaganza, then Gabriela could certainly babysit the bachelorette party on Deck Seven.
Felicia, the buxom blond bridesmaid who’d dropped the glass, was already on her way to the bar for another one, not bothering to help Gabriela. Figures. Felicia had been all about Felicia since high school and, Gabriela noted sourly, little had changed.
“Don’t worry about that,” Lola scolded Gabriela, gesturing for her to stand. Lola’s curly amber-colored hair was perfect—per usual. As was her outfit, a sweet, flower-printed short halter dress with platform sandals. She wore silver eyeshadow across her blue eyes, making them pop even more. Gabriela always thought Lola was like a Disney princess: hair and makeup always perfect. And she had a heart of gold.
Gabriela felt not-quite-as-adorably sexy in her sleeveless, festively printed, flowing long jumpsuit, the humid Atlantic air wrecking havoc on her long, dark waves. But then again, who was she trying to impress? These were her Miami friends. They thought she was the buttoned-up Gabriela of high school, the by-the-book, no-breaking-the-rules, no-alcohol-tolerance honors student. They had no idea about the Gabbie living in New York for the last five years and Gabriela wanted to keep it that way.
“Someone else will clean it up,” Veronica added. Of all the friends from high school, she was the most traditional. She’d married when she was twenty-four and had had two babies in four years, the last of which was only six months old. She was the mother of the group. Veronica gestured to a baby-faced busboy who was already on his way over with a mop. “See? What did I tell you? Gosh, I love cruise ships. Wish I had a staff at my house.”
“Come on,” Lola implored, grabbing Gabriela by the hand. “Have some fun, please?”
Lola caught Gabriela’s eye and grinned. This had been Lola’s harebrained idea: take her entire wedding party, and heck, her entire wedding, on board a four-day cruise to Mexico. She planned to have her bachelorette party, wedding, wedding reception and honeymoon all in one sweep. Lola deserved this happy-ever-after and Gabriela was going to do her best to give it to her.
She realized she’d lost her clipboard and glanced around the bar for it. The clipboard had all her notes for the party—the games she’d planned, the cruise-ship-sanctioned