Crash Landing (11 page)

It was a monkey melee as they pelted Gibb and Sophia with passion fruit.

“Ouch!” Sophia raised an arm to protect her face. “Vicious little freaks.”

“C’mon.” Gibb grabbed her hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

Laughing, they ran through the trees, sticky with passion-fruit juice. Once they were out of range of the ill-tempered simians, they stopped running and paused to catch their breath.

“Boy, are monkeys sore losers,” she muttered.

He met her gaze and they started laughing all over again.

“You’ve got stuff on your ear,” he said, leaning in to flick away the glob of fruit seeds with his thumb.

She stared deeply into his eyes and he had the sensation that he was falling into her welcoming arms.

“What now?” he murmured.

“I don’t know about you, but I need to rinse off. Let’s see if we can retrace our steps and find the waterfall.”

Gibb glanced around them. “How can you retrace your steps in the jungle? I mean, plunk me down in Manhattan or Miami or Paris and I’m your guy. But this place?” He shook his head. “Your bailiwick.”

“We’ll try to follow the sound of the water. If worse comes to worse, we’ll eventually find the ocean. This is an island, after all.”

“Lead the way.”

It was odd, being the follower for once. He was normally a hard-charging dynamo, rampaging from one project to another. But he wasn’t too proud to admit when he was out of his league.

They tramped through the jungle for what seemed like hours but was probably no more than thirty minutes. He was more than ready to get back to the beach and into some clothes.

The vegetation started to thin and the sound of the waterfall was growing louder when Sophia stopped so abruptly, Gibb almost plowed into the back of her.

“Look,” she said breathlessly. “Oh, Gibb, just look!”

He peered over her shoulder to see what she was pointing at, but he was too distracted by her scent to pay much attention. Her breathing was coming in quick little inhales and exhales of air, her sensual lips were parted, her gaze transfixed, the blue vein at the hollow of her throat pulsed rapidly.

She was excited.

And her excitement excited him. Everything about her turned him on.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Ghost orchids,” she whispered.

“Huh?” Finally, he wrenched his gaze from her and looked to see what she was talking about. Dazzling white flowers hung suspended from a thin network of vines wrapped around the base of a number of bald cypress trees.

“One of the rarest orchids in the world,” she said. “Do you know how special this sighting is?”

“Pretty unique?”

“It’s a once-in-a-lifetime find.” Legs shaking, she edged forward. “The ghost orchid.”

Gibb examined the flowers with new respect. Anything that had the power to reduce tough little Sophia to trembling deserved his reverence.

The luminous white flowers had no leaves and hardly any stem. In fact, they seemed to be suspended in midair. He’d never seen flowers shaped quite like this. They resembled albino frogs with long legs extended.

“Magic,” Sophia murmured, running her fingertips over the slender petal. “Pure magic.”

As the twilight deepened, the flowers took on an ethereal glow. From the shadows descended a flurry of giant moths almost as big as hummingbirds. They fluttered about, from flower to flower, hungrily drinking sweet nectar.

“I can’t believe we are lucky enough to be here to witness this! Amazing. Sharing this moment with you is something I will remember for the rest of my life.”

She was going to remember him for the rest of her life? Exaltation swelled Gibb’s chest, made him catch his breath. Impulsively, he reached for her hand, squeezed it.

For the longest time, they stood there, holding hands and watching the flying ballet. Breathing in the calliope of fragrance—an effervescent aroma, fresh and clean with undertones of grapefruit, moss, vanilla and the barest hint of star anise. The hot, steamy jungle night enfolded them. Insects chirped. Unseen creatures rustled through the foliage. The queenly orchids glowed, beguiling beacons in the sultry darkness.

Suddenly, Sophia giggled.

“Wanna share?”

“The nickname of the sphinx moth.” She kept giggling.

“What is it?”

“The flying tongue.”

“Oh, ho?” He grinned at her.

“Only the sphinx moth can pollinate the ghost orchid. They have six-inch tongues.”

“Only six inches?”

She giggled again. “Trust a man to make that comment. The sphinx moth follows the scent of the ghost orchid like bees involved in a pollen orgy.”

“That’s erotic imagery.” He was already aroused.

“The ghost orchid is erotic,” she purred.

He lowered his lashes, studied her through the fringe.

Sophia spun in a half circle. Like a sprite among the sexy jungle plants, arms extended wide, she lifted her face to stare up at the thick canopy of trees and murmured again, “Magic.”

Gibb could not take his eyes off her. Yes, yes it was. Magic unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He had to agree. The scent was as intoxicating as the finest wine. It swelled and surged on the night breeze like symphony music, a heady rush of exuberant notes.

Sophia had stopped spinning and was staring at him now with heavy-lidded eyes. Gibb caught his breath, knew she felt it, too—this headlong craving to be joined.

He gave her the most sensuous look he could muster and the one she sent him in return smoldered with sexual intensity. He aimed a notorious smile at her.

Her answering grin was just as deadly, reaching straight through to his heart.

What a woman—sexy, beautiful, compelling! He loved the way she loved life. He thought he’d known how to enjoy what he had. He drove fast cars, dined in four-star restaurants, traveled to places around the globe, but now he knew that he’d experienced it all wrong. Money had buffered him from true, honest living. And he’d missed so much—exploring new places, finding rare orchids in the wilderness, and the simple things like catching fish and showering under a waterfall. He would have experienced none of this without her.

Admittedly he could not think of another person on earth he’d rather share these experiences with.

When he looked at her he saw all the things he had not realized he needed. A woman who liked him for who he really was, not the wallet or the image or what prestige they thought they could get from being with him. He wanted to keep Sophia near his heart night and day. But of course, even if he could do that, he would not. Sophia was like a butterfly. She had to be free to shine.

How she’d lit up his world when he’d never even known he was in the dark.

And that expression on her face. It was a come-to-me look if he’d ever seen one.

“Sophia,” he said. “I want you so badly I can’t breathe.”

“I want you, too,” she murmured.

“I don’t want you to regret this. Are you sure you’re just not intoxicated with the joy of finding the ghost orchid?”

“I am intoxicated. With
you.
”

“But see, that’s the thing. Intoxication wears off and you wake up the next morning hung over and full of apology.”

Her eyes met his. “I won’t regret this. In fact, if we
don’t
make love, that I will regret.”

“How can you know for sure?”

“Because passion like this only comes along once in a lifetime. I’ve been fighting the attraction tooth and nail since you climbed into my plane.”

“I know,” he said huskily, “so have I.”

“But being here.” She held her arms wide again. “Among these rare and beautiful flowers, you realize you can’t pass up once-in-a-lifetime opportunities when fate presents you with them. I want to grasp the brass ring, Gibb.”

“You’re absolutely certain?” he rasped.

“I’ve never been more certain of anything ever.”

Gibb couldn’t keep his hands off her any longer. He forgot all the reasons why this was not smart and he simply acted. He moved toward her.

Eyes sparkled impishly, and her smile was smug. She stepped toward him, too.

Oh, she knew full well what she did to him.

She toed off her sneakers.

He kicked out of his loafers.

She grabbed hold of the hem of her skimpy little crop top and wrestled it off over her head.

He stopped breathing.

When she dropped her shirt to the ground, giving him a stunning view of her gorgeous breasts filling a pretty pink bra he’d guessed was under there, his heart leaped.

He gulped.

“Are you planning to stand there and stare at me all evening or are you going to unhook my bra?” she whispered in a sleek voice as lovely as the ghost orchids surrounding them. She touched the tip of her tongue to her upper lip and gave him a look that said,
Mister, I’m gonna turn you inside out.

Part of Gibb wanted to fall to his knees and worship at her beautiful feet, but the alpha male in him rejected the idea and pulled her into his arms.

Thoroughly, ravenously, he kissed her and she kissed him back with the same starving wildness. It had never been like this for him.

Ever.

He wondered if it was special for her, too, or if it was just sex.

She made a low noise and arched, exposing her neck to him. He planted his lips to the sweet spot, while his hands slipped around her to find the clasp of the bra.

“Wait,” she said suddenly, pushing him back. “Do you have a condom?”

“In my boxer shorts?”

She gave a high cry of frustration, fisted her hand and pounded lightly on his chest. “In my fantasies, I didn’t even think about condoms.”

“You’ve been having fantasies about me?”

“What do you think I’ve been doing for the past two weeks while I stared at you? Guessing your balance sheet?”

Maybe women before her had, but he was so pleased to hear that she’d been fantasizing about him that he almost panicked because they had no condoms. But then he said, “Sweetheart, there are all kinds of ways we can pleasure each other.”

Her smile went sly and she brought up an index finger to stroke his cheek. “Back up.”

His mind was so addled it wasn’t sure what she was asking of him. “What?”

“Back up against the tree.”

He took a step backward, felt the bald cypress at his back, and when he turned his head, he found himself staring at a ghost orchid. “Now what?”

“Hang on. It’s going to be a helluva ride.” Then she dropped to her knees in front of him, tugging his boxer shorts down around his ankles as she went.

Holy—

He couldn’t even finish the thought, he was so aroused and crazy for her. It was completely selfish of him to go first, but he promised in return he’d make her feel so good that she’d always remember him. He’d take his time pleasing her, wanting her to fully experience the moment. Meanwhile, he clenched his hands into fists and closed his eyes.

Her soft fingers took hold of him and his shaft became titanium beneath her touch. All the moisture evaporated from his mouth. Blown. His mind was completely blown.

And she was just getting started.

When the tip of her tongue touched his skin he unraveled. All thoughts flew from his brain and he knew nothing except the feel of her silky mouth on his hot cock.

What an incredible woman she was and how lucky was he. No doubt about either of those two thoughts. He opened his eyes and glanced down at her and his pulse stammered.

Even pressed against the tree, he was knocked off balance. The smell of ghost orchids filled his nose and his knees trembled. Now he knew what the saying “feel the earth move” meant.

She spread her palms over his bare buttocks to steady him, and when she drew him fully into her mouth, Gibb’s eyes rolled back in his head. She was licking and stroking and teasing as if she couldn’t get enough of him.

He certainly could not get enough of
her.

Systemically, she dismantled him with her mouth, leaving him breathless and immobile. Someone could have yelled, “Fire!” and he wouldn’t have been able to move.

The heat built inside him. Gibb groaned. So good. So damned good.

Her hands slid all over his body. It felt as if she possessed a hundred fingers and ten tongues to do all those amazing things to him.

His chest expanded, tightened. It was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. He touched her head. Such beautiful hair.

“Yes,” he hissed, her hair a silky glide beneath his fingers. “Yes, yes, yes.”

Sophia worked her magic, with her fingers, and her tongue, leading him somewhere new. He’d been with his share of women, but none had ever made him feel this way. He was consumed. Overtaken. It felt like the most erotic dream in the world.

But this wasn’t a dream.

This was really happening.

She was beyond beauty. She was pure life, pure joy. Her mouth moved over him without caution or fear. She pushed him past his knowledge of himself. He had never before been so physically possessed. She rocked his world.

In the haze, Gibb heard the soft beating of moth wings as they suckled at the ghost orchids.

Relentlessly, Sophia sent him beyond the boundaries of his endurance. He was aching, throbbing. He threw back his head and let loose with a primal cry, pleading for release from this magnificent torture, for the ecstasy he could almost touch.

Soon. Please, please let it happen soon. If it didn’t, he feared his heart would explode.

He tried to hold back, tried to resist but he could not. She was too damned wonderful.

A bolt of fire rolled along his nerve endings to lodge in the dead center of his throbbing shaft. And then he left the earth, gasping and trembling into the delicious darkness. Lost. He was completely lost. She made it happen.

He blinked, looked down. Finally, he saw her through the haze.

Sophia was sitting at his feet, smiling coyly.

Gibb pitched forward onto his knees and the cushion of soft moss, and then collapsed onto his side. He shuddered, panted for air and tried to wrap his mind around what had just occurred.

Sophia curled up on nature’s carpet beside him, rested her head against his back.