Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(31)

She leaned in, sucking harder, letting him know it was okay.

That was all it took. He breathed her name, and his fist tightened in her hair, his hand thumping on the table as he came in her mouth, his hot come wetting the back of her throat. She jerked involuntarily, swallowing and pulling back when he was done. She’d hit her head on the underside of the table, she was pretty sure. She was also pretty sure that neither of them had noticed.

“Bront?,” he groaned. “God, your mouth.” And he was still hitting the table with that light, rhythmic slap that sounded like a beat. Music?

She smiled to herself, pleased at his reaction.

His hands pulled her up from under the tablecloth, and she realized that the rhythmic sound was continuing. Puzzled, she looked up at him—he had a slightly dazed expression, his hair was mussed and tousled over his tanned forehead, and he was still a bit hazy from his passion. “What’s that noise?”

Logan focused, and then his eyes narrowed. A grin spread across his face. “Helicopter.”

“Rescue?” She stood, wobbly and leaning against him, her body still humming with need. Lousy timing, that rescue.

He leaned down and kissed her on the mouth. “Come on. Let’s get our stuff and see who’s here.”

***

Their stairwell went all the way to the roof, and even though there was debris scattered up the stairs and she was pretty sure some of the steps were creaking more than they should, they made it to the top. Once up there, Bront? could see several things at once.

There was a helipad on the roof of the resort. That was handy. There was a helicopter coming in for a landing, too, close enough that her sundress was whipping around her legs and her tangled mess of hair was turning into a tumbleweed around her face.

She could see for miles around up here, too, and she gasped at the sight of the island. There were cars washed off the road in the distance, in ditches. Trees were uprooted everywhere. Boats were overturned at a distant marina. On the far side of the hotel’s roof, it looked like the hotel had crumbled away. The east wing hadn’t fared nearly so well as where they’d been staying. She was thankful their elevator hadn’t been there.

“Come on,” Logan shouted over the deafening chop chop chop of the helicopter. He put an arm around her shoulders possessively, and she put her hands to her sides to keep her dress from flying up. He leaned over and yelled something at her that sounded like, “I think I recognize that chopper.”

They ran forward, and to her surprise, a man jumped out of the helicopter and ran across the helipad to meet them. He was wearing mirrored sunglasses and a khaki shirt and shorts, and laughing as if this were the funniest thing he’d ever seen. He raised a friendly hand in greeting, and Bront? was surprised when Logan gave it a high five, clasped it, and then brought the man in for a hug.

That was rather . . . friendly.

The man in the sunglasses gave her a rather knowing up-and-down look and then turned back to Logan. “I should have guessed,” he shouted over the helicopter’s blades. “You looked entirely too happy for a man who’s been stranded for a few days, but I guess the company was good, right?”

“This is Bront?,” Logan told him. “She was stuck in the same elevator I was.”

“You picked a good elevator to get stuck in,” the man agreed amiably and then thrust his hand toward Bront?. “Nice to meet you.”

She shook his hand, noticing that it was very big and sturdy, and covered in calluses. Small scars crisscrossed his dark tan up and down his arms. The newcomer looked wild and just a bit dangerous. Handsome, she supposed, but Logan was more appealing to her. Still, it was odd that Logan would be such good buddies with the resort’s pilot. Maybe the manager of a resort had to fly around in a helicopter a lot? She had no idea what his job entailed.

“We’re so glad to see you,” she told the newcomer as they moved toward the helicopter. “I guess I picked the right hotel to be stranded at if it’s the one with the private helicopter.”

They got into the helicopter, and the men buckled her in. The seats were plush leather and incredibly nice. Not what she’d expected from a rescue copter. It seemed almost luxurious. Someone handed her a headset with a microphone, and she put it on. Thank goodness, no more shouting at each other. The thwack thwack thwack of the helicopter blades was so strong it vibrated in her belly, but at least it wasn’t making her eardrums want to burst anymore.

The new man was giving her a confused look, though, as he sat back down in the cockpit again. Next to . . . a pilot. Strange. “Does this dump of a resort have a helicopter, Logan?” the new guy asked.

Logan’s response was crisp over the headphones. “It does not.”

“Huh.” The newcomer grinned, then turned back to Bront?. “I’m Jonathan, by the way.”

Something wasn’t adding up. “You don’t work for the hotel, Jonathan?” she asked.

He laughed as if she’d said something hilarious. “Hell, no. And if anybody asked, this is a Red Cross helicopter. Or Coast Guard. Or something.”

“It’s not?”

Logan fixed her with a meaningful look. “We’ll talk about this later, Bront?.”

That sounded like he was trying to quiet her down. She narrowed her eyes at him, her jaw set. “What’s going on?” She turned back to Jonathan. “Who are you, exactly?”