Seduction on the Sand (The Billionaires of Barefoot Bay #2)(34)

Only her heart when he scooped her up and carried her inside, refusing to put her down or end the kiss until she was lying on his bed, breathless and ready for him.



Chapter Ten

What the hell was wrong with him? Elliott’s body was ready—so, so damn hard and ready—but something in his chest, probably in the vicinity of his heart or, worse, his soul, wouldn’t make a move. Instead, Elliott slowly sat on the giant king-size bed.

“So, where are these fragrances?” he asked.

From under her thick lashes, she eyed him suspiciously. “In my bag, which I dropped in the entryway when you Rhett Butlered me into bed and then...changed your mind.”

“I didn’t...” Shit. “I want to help you with your fragrances.”

With a soft sigh, she rolled off the bed and disappeared out the bedroom door. For a moment, he froze, wondering if she’d just given up on him completely. And part of him was hoping she had. He could call Burns, kill the deal, and then, and only then, could he get in this bed with Francesca and probably stay in it for a week.

Ah, hell, he hated when shit that should have been easy got all complicated and difficult.

“Damn it,” he muttered, falling back on the bed and throwing an arm over his face. Who was he?

“Smell.” Frankie’s hand closed over his arm, keeping it firmly over his eyes as a heady and rich aroma hit his senses. She straddled him on the bed without taking the cotton ball from under his nose.

“How’s that?”

“Nice.” He used his one free hand to push her a little lower and get right over his... “Really damn nice.”

“What’s it smell like to you?”

“My sense of smell just gave in to my sense of”—he rocked his hips against her bottom

—“woman.”

Just a little, a traitorous voice whispered in his head. Just a few kisses and touches and maybe he could tell her without...

No. He had to do this right.

“I’m serious, Elliott.”

Sadly, so was he. He would not...how had Nate put it? Screw her in more ways than one. He wasn’t going to be that guy.

But then she rolled a little harder over his erection. “What’s this smell like?”

Heaven. Trouble. Fun. Frankie.

He caressed her backside and hip, letting his fingers wander to the front of her skirt, skimming skin under her thin cotton top. “It smells like...coconut.”

“Yeah, but what does it make you think of?” Her stomach was taut and silky and tensed up at his light touch. “Remember the assignment. Romance.”

Romance. And until he was honest and real, this wasn’t romance. This was...the tip of his finger glided over the bottom of a lacy bra. This was sex.

Which used to be just fine, thank you very much.

“I don’t know,” he said gruffly, yanking his hand away.

She tsked. “Losing your touch, Becker?”

He wanted to smile, but nothing was funny, not even her stupid pun. “What is this stuff?” he asked, trying to play along and remember the labels he’d read on the vials. “Lemon verbs or something?”

She laughed, tightening her legs, her bare calves against his thighs, and little else except that slip of a frilly skirt she wore. What else did she not have on under that skirt?

His dick grew harder, right into her bottom, earning a sweet little moan from her when she felt it.



“It’s clearly making you think of something romantic.”

“It makes me think of...” Sex. Sweet, fast, easy, hard, now. “Lavender?” he guessed.

“Becker,” she sighed in frustration and lifted her hand so he could look up at her. She rested her hands on either side of his head, her hair dangling down to his cheeks, her top draped enough that he could easily slide his hand right...up...there.

“I need you to work your magic,” she said.

Magic. She was magic. He put both hands on her hips and rolled her over his erection. And that was magic. Hot, needy, achy magic.

“Come and kiss me, Francesca.”

On a sigh that sounded like pure relief, she lowered herself and pressed against him, kissing soft and sweet before adding heat and passion.

One hand found its way under her top, caressing skin as he reached around to unhook her bra and fill his hand with her bare breast. The other was already bunching up the skirt, desperate for skin and a long-awaited caress of her backside.

She was just as hungry and desperate, whimpering with each kiss, nibbling his jaw, threading her fingers through his hair, his name on her lips between strangled breaths.

“We never got a name for midnight, remember?” she said in between kisses, giving him the cotton.

He laid her on her back, bracing himself on one elbow next to her, lifting her hair to find that delicate spot right under her ear. “Let me smell it on you. That inspires me.” He dabbed the fragrance gently, leaning in to kiss her eyes and cheeks and mouth.

And then back to look at how incredibly beautiful she was.

She looked at him. “How does it smell?”

“I need to find another place.” He reached down to her skirt, pulling it higher to reveal her long thigh and bare hip. As he stared at her gorgeous body, his own nearly exploded. She wore nothing but a tiny strip of white satin, a thong he could take off with his teeth. “A place right...here,” he said gruffly, drinking in the sight of her, trailing the cotton to a sweet spot on her inner thigh.