Wicked Games
Page 25

I gave him a throaty laugh, my hips rising to meet each thrust, legs locked around his waist. “You’re the one… that walked into my shower… remember?”
He grinned at that and gave me another slow, rocking thrust and leaned forward, stretching my legs wide as he leaned in to kiss me. “I surely do,” he drawled, taking my ankle and hooking it behind his neck and thrusting again with that slow, sensuous motion that was going to twist me into one big orgasmic knot. Again he thrust, and again, and my body arched slightly higher with each silken stroke. And when one of his hands that had been gripping my hip slipped free and sought the damp curls of my sex, I moaned his name and dug my fingernails into his shoulder as I came, trembling. After that, Dean seemed to lose all control, thrusting relentlessly into my body until he was racked by shudders as well, a hoarse shout on his lips as he came, collapsing over me.
I pressed a kiss to his scratchy face with its two-week growth of dark blond beard. “Think we can stay here forever?”
He chuckled at that, propping up on his elbows so he didn’t crush me under his weight and brushing a damp lock of hair off of my forehead. “We can’t stay here. If we don’t go back, we don’t win the money.”
Oh yes, the money. I made a face against the warm heat of his chest wall. The money that the producers would make sure that I would not get. The money that was Dean’s driving urge to be here. For some reason, that made me a little sad—the others had seemed greedy and driven, but for some reason I’d held Dean to a different standard. I shrugged my shoulders against his damp body, listening to the racing of his heart as it slowed down. I hadn’t given the money much thought in the past few days—my mind was consumed with the blond god that I shared my beach with.
“Besides,” he whispered against my forehead, pressing a kiss to my eyebrow, “if we don’t get up now, we don’t get to eat our breakfast.”
I jumped at that, wriggling out from underneath him and straightening my sarong. It had fallen apart on me, and I rewrapped it as I moved toward the door. “Breakfast?”
Dean laughed behind me. “Thrown over for pancakes and bacon. Figures.”
“Oh my god, they have bacon?” I squealed, running forward. “Bacon and showers. I’m the luckiest girl ever.”
“And a hot guy in your bed,” Dean prompted, moving to pick a sausage link up off the table and closing his eyes with delight at the taste. “Okay, never mind—the food is better than sex.”
I laughed, grabbing one of the pancakes—no syrup—and waving it at him. “You’re just saying that because you want me to stuff a couple of pancakes down my bra.”
His eyes lit up at the same time mine did.
 
***
 
After one more quick shower and a hasty re-dressing, the production crew knocked on our door. I moved slowly after Dean as they led us back to the helicopter, my bra stuffed with pancakes and a makeshift napkin-padded baggy of cold sausage and cheeses down the front of my bikini bottom. It was kind of disgusting if you sat and thought about it, but when you were starving, you did what you had to do—and that included sneaking food back to the island in your panties. Luckily, my sarong was heavily wrinkled and voluminous and hid everything.
I felt a keen sense of disappointment when the boat pulled up to shore and our camp came into view. I didn’t want to go back—back to biting bugs and sand in everything and no showers and starving. But Dean squeezed my hand as we got off the boat, and I followed behind him because I wasn’t quite ready to leave him just yet, either. No matter how much of a knee-jerk reaction I had to returning to the island.
A cameraman circled nearby as we trudged back to our beach, me with my arm crossed over my chest to keep my pancakes in place, my other hand still firmly latched into Dean’s. To my surprise, two people sat at our camp on our chairs (well, logs that passed as chairs). “Are they filming?” I asked Dean, squinting my eyes. I couldn’t see cameras with them. The sun was high in the sky, nearly blinding me, but I couldn’t raise my arm to shield my eyes or I’d risk losing my pancakes.
His steps slowed in front of me, to the point that I almost ran into his back. “It’s Lana… and Leon, judging by the tattoos.”
Lana and… Leon? I felt a surge of disappointment, though I kept it out of my voice. “Oh? What about Will?”
“I don’t see him.” Dean didn’t sound thrilled either, but his voice remained even, and he raised a hand to wave at them, even as he spoke to me. “Did you hide the peanut butter before we left?”
“Yeah—I buried it. Just in case.”
He glanced back at me and touched my cheek. “Good girl.” He seemed as if he wanted to do more, but then Dean released my hand and put his hands on my shoulders, his gaze flicking to my sarong. “Still got the food?”
I nodded.
“Still trust me?” He searched my face, a little anxious. “Because you’re not going to like my suggestion.”
I gave him a faint smile. “This involves our pancakes, doesn’t it?”
Dean winked at me, and my heart sank when he said, “If we share with Lana, it’ll cement our alliance. I’ll buy you pancakes every morning if one of us wins the millions.”
Yeah, but only one of us could win and it wasn’t going to be me. Still, I was full from dinner and the breakfast this morning, and Lana was starting to look downright bony. I wouldn’t have been able to eat in front of her anyhow. So I just gave Dean’s hand a squeeze and nodded.
We approached the others and Lana gave a happy squeal of delight at the sight of us, extending her arms out and crossing the beach to hug us. “Dean! Abby! Look at you both! You’re so clean!”
Leon followed a few steps behind her, clearly not as comfortable, but willing to fake it. He held a hand out to Dean and they shook, clapping each other on the shoulder in a warm greeting. Lana hugged me and when Leon moved forward to do the same, I took a step backward and began to fish the pancakes out of my top.
“Abby brought food back for you,” Dean explained, glancing over at me. “She smuggled it in.”
Lana’s hands flew to her head. “Oh my god.” Her eyes went wide. “You’re kidding me. Food?”
I pulled out the pancakes and handed two to her, the other two to Leon. It was a little bizarre, since the pancakes were still warm from being cradled against my skin. “This is the only way we could think to smuggle them out,” I said, but my words fell on deaf ears. Both Lana and Leon had crammed their mouths full before I could even finish the sentence.
Of course, if I’d been in their position, I’d probably have done the same thing. What was a little body rubbing when you were starving?
I thought their eyes were going to roll out of their heads when I reached under my sarong and pulled out the second package—sausage links and cold bacon, quadruple-wrapped in fabric napkins from the table.
“Was that where I think it was?” Leon asked in-between bites of pancake.
“I wrapped it nice and tight, so it’s not like it really touched me,” I said, pulling the fabric layers away to demonstrate.
“If you guys don’t want to eat it, I will. I certainly don’t mind where it’s been,” Dean offered.