‘The problem is I shouldn’t have kissed you last night, because I’ve been up half the night with a hard-on the size of Guadalajara, and it’s made me cranky.’
She giggled, his frustrated response washing away her insecurity. ‘Guadalajara, eh? That sounds impressive?’
‘More painful than impressive.’ His lips quirked in response. ‘Especially when a two-ton hound leaps on top of you at dawn.’
She covered her mouth with one hand. The giddy rush of relief making it hard to suppress another giggle.
‘Oh, you think that’s funny, huh?’
Catching her round the waist, he bent over and hoisted her onto his shoulder.
‘What the heck!’ She rode the solid shelf, kicking and struggling, as he hefted her back towards the house. ‘Put me down!’
‘No way. We’ve got unfinished business.’
‘And whose fault is that?’ she yelped, trying to wriggle free as he hefted her up the steps and across the deck.
r /> The dog leapt and barked playfully beside them, happy to join in the game.
Iona bucked trying to escape. But not trying very hard. Stepping through the sliding glass door into the living room, Zane shut the dancing dog out on the deck and dumped her unceremoniously onto her feet. She tried to dart off, but he caught her round the waist, then trapped her against the wall, his hands above her head, his body pressed into hers.
His lips covered hers, capturing the gasp of surprise. Their tongues tangled, and the relief was replaced by the hot shot of passion. His hands skimmed under the denim jacket, then pushed it off her shoulders, trapping her arms behind her back and drawing her close.
She moaned, her head dropping back, as his lips fastened on the pulse point in her neck.
‘You taste so damn good, Iona,’ he murmured, his breath hot against the sensitive skin.
She drew a much-needed breath, opened her eyes to find him watching her.
‘I aim to please.’
‘That’s good.’ The supremely confident grin coaxed another laugh to the surface—along with the rush of something she didn’t quite want to identify. Zane Montoya made her feel good, he made her feel needed, but only in a purely physical sense. ‘Because after the night I’ve had,’ he added, ‘you owe me one.’
‘I don’t see why,’ she said, faking indignation. ‘That goodnight kiss was your idea.’
Warm palms snuck up her sides. ‘I don’t remember you objecting.’
‘Well…’ She drew out the word, stretching into the caress as his thumbs brushed the underside of her breasts. ‘I guess if you put it that way…’ she lifted her arms, draped them round his neck and arched against him ‘…I might consider some payback fair.’ He nuzzled her neck, sending the shot of arousal shooting down her abdomen. ‘But purely as an act of mercy, you understand.’
It was all the encouragement he needed to grab her hand and head down the corridor.
Zane grabbed the bottle of maple syrup he’d left on the breakfast bar for the waffles as he dragged Iona through the kitchen towards the back staircase.
He had to keep himself from pushing too hard or asking too much. He wanted this to be good, to be fun, to be light and easy, casual, just like he’d promised, but he had a feeling that after the way he’d gotten himself going last night—and this morning—props might be a good way to remind himself of that.
He let the dog in the back door, and Cookie gave them a bark of greeting before settling into her basket.
‘What’s the syrup for?’ Iona asked breathlessly as they mounted the stairs.
‘Wait and see,’ he said, anticipation making his hands tremble as they walked into his bedroom.
He kicked the door shut, flicked the lock, just in case C.D. didn’t have her customary two-hour nap. As much as he loved his dog, he didn’t want company.
He placed the syrup bottle onto the bedside table, the sharp crack reverberating round the room. Then went to the glass wall that looked out onto the beach, and dropped the shade.
He squeezed his fingers into fists, dismayed to feel the clammy sweat on his palms.
Get a grip, Montoya. You’re acting like a nervous virgin, instead of a guy who popped his cherry a lifetime ago.