Linda Gayle (8 page)

Watching them sleep, devouring their masculine nudity with her gaze, she realized she could have stepped back in time, to before white men came to these islands bringing death and destruction, and only mighty warriors ruled the waves. With their primitive tattoos, bronzed skin, and war-hardened muscles, they seemed like two feral angels. Even in sleep, their strength and beauty left her breathless, and something about the way they held each other, with utter trust and love, moved her. That was what she’d thought she’d had with Jack. How many nights had she lain in his arms, listening to his promises of forever and always, only to find out he’d been using her all along? Whatever Rahiti and Moana had together was precious—and not for her. They deserved better than a broken girl. They deserved someone as beautiful and innocent as the legendary Mohea.

As if hearing her thoughts, Rahiti opened his eyes. “Mohea? Is that you?”

* * * *

Not Mohea but Lyric. Joy spread through the haze of sleep dulling Rahiti’s thoughts. He reached out to her, and she sank to her knees beside him.

“Just me,” she said.

He touched the fall of her dark brown hair where it tumbled over her shoulder. Brown, not black like Mohea’s, but just as beautiful, the rich brown of the earth struck through with golden sunlight. He slid his fingertips over her lightly freckled cheek. His brows lowered. “Why are you sad?”

She offered a clearly forced smile. “I’m not. I ran back to find you. I was worried.”

Abruptly, he realized Moana still lay by his side. With a jolt, he pulled his fingers from Moana’s hair, and his friend woke with a snort, rubbing his eyes. His trademark grin soon lit his sleepy face. When he stretched his arms above his head, he startled, then looked at his hands. “We are still men. Rahiti. We are still men!”

Rahiti sat up. “Yes. And Lyric has returned.”

“Lyric!” Moana practically glowed with happiness.

Her expression inexplicably gloomy, she threaded her fingers through her hair and swept it back from her face. “I’m so glad you guys are okay. I wasn’t sure…what I’d find.”

Moana thumped his chest with his fist. “Your magic is strong, Lyric.” He slapped Rahiti on the shoulder. “I told you. You must admit, I was right.”

“Yes, yes, you’ll never let me hear the end of it.” Even as he rolled his eyes at his friend, though, he remembered how Moana had touched him—
where
Moana had touched him. He’d touched Moana back, and it had been good. Very good. His cock began to rise again, and he turned his gaze to Lyric, who had put her small, cool hand on his sunbaked shoulder. Desire pulsed through him—strong, hot, human desire, along with something he hadn’t felt in a very long time: hope.

Could it be he could have both, share himself with both, without jealousy? Could the three of them truly have the bond Kanaloa had demanded?

“You lost your towels, I see,” Lyric said, her cheeks turning that pretty sunset pink he’d seen before. Her pale skin was a palette for all her emotions. If she’d been Mohea, she would have turned away, shielded her face with her hair in modesty, but she was their brave and bold Lyric, and he was glad.

Moana chuckled, coming up on his knees, his up-thrust penis pointing rudely toward Lyric. “We are very happy to see you.”

Lyric gave a strangled laugh and averted her gaze. “I can see that.”

Rahiti twined his fingers through her soft hair and stroked her cheek. “Something is troubling you, Lyric. What is it?”

She sat back on her heels, her hands on her thighs. “I talked to Henri and found out more about your curse. Hey, hang on just a sec.” She reached over and grabbed their towels, which were lying in a heap behind their heads, and held them out to them. “Sorry, you know. It’s just a little hard to concentrate.”

Moana gave a disappointed scoff, and Rahiti held back from hitting him. How could he not see the storm clouds on their woman’s brow? He took his towel and draped it over his lap then shoved the other one at Moana’s chest. “Lyric has something to say. We should show her respect and listen.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Moana wrapped the towel around himself.

“Thanks, guys.” When they were covered, she was able to look each of them in the eye, and her seriousness stole the joy from Rahiti’s heart.

“You discovered something…bad?” he asked.

“I’m not sure. It’s confusing. Henri said that to stay men, you have to find a woman with a pure heart. I almost get the feeling this woman would have to be maybe a reincarnation of your Mohea because Henri said she defied the gods or something by not marrying like Kanaloa wanted, and she’s got a lesson to learn, too. She’s as tangled up in this curse as you are.”

Moana tilted his head. “You do look a little like Mohea.”

She gave a dry smile. “It’s not me. Whoever this girl is, I’m sure I’m not her.”

Rahiti glanced at Moana, who gazed back at him with troubled eyes. Moana said, “Of course it is you. You are the one who drew us from the sea.”

“But I can’t be.” She sank onto her heels farther and fisted her hands on her thighs. “I–I’m only here for a few more days. I’ve got to go home. I’ve got a job, an apartment. Okay, well, I’m just renting a room right now, but you know… I’ve got a life outside this island. I can’t stay here.”

“Then we will go with you,” Moana insisted.

“You can’t. I mean, what would you do? Do you really think you’d be happy living off the island, trying to fit in with modern people?”

“We can do many things,” Moana said, his chin raised stubbornly. “Fish! Fight! Guide boats into harbors!”

While Moana and Lyric debated possibilities, Rahiti’s thoughts flew like spears. This was a disaster. Before they’d even had a chance to try, Lyric was giving up. He’d known several women in his before-life, had four sisters, and recognized the signs. Women rarely said what they really meant. Their words were like twisting paths through the jungle, meant to lead you astray, while only one truly led to the heart, and that one was frequently hidden. Without doubt, Lyric protected the true path to her heart, but the way she’d responded to their touch gave him a sliver of hope. Clearly, their desire was mutual. All they had to do was convince her that her heart should follow the path her body traveled, and all would be well.

He interrupted his friend, who was babbling, desperate to keep Lyric with them, with a raised hand. “Moana, it is possible that Lyric is right.”

Moana shook his head, and even Lyric looked somewhat disappointed, as if she’d hoped Rahiti would try to talk her out of it. He prayed he was not mistaken that she felt that way, for if she did, it would make his plan easier.

“Instead of convincing Lyric that we would fit into her world, let us show her ours.” He stood and brushed the sand from his back and thighs. When Lyric’s gaze dropped briefly to where the towel covered his penis and she sucked softly on her lower lip as if in anticipation, he felt confident he had read her correctly. He glanced behind him and lifted his hand to indicate the interior of the atoll. “The island looks much as it did when you and I left it. Remember the trail to the top of the hills?”

Standing beside him, Moana nodded. He might not be the swift thinker Rahiti was, but Moana knew how to follow a lead. “Yes—and the waterfall and the pool.” As Rahiti had hoped, Moana remembered the glen that had become notorious as a lovers’ meeting place. Moana reached out and held Lyric’s hand, speaking earnestly. “The most beautiful red flowers grow around the edge of the pool. The water is sweet to drink and so clear you can see all the way down to the bottom. The palms are alive with colorful parrots. You must let us show you!”

She gazed from Moana to Rahiti, shifting her feet in the sand. “I don’t know. Do you think it’s still there after all this time?”

Rahiti smiled and took her other hand, her small fingers disappearing within his large ones. “Let’s go see.”

Bringing her palm up against his chest, Moana stepped closer to her, capturing her gaze. “If we are to be men for only a few more days, we must drink in as much life as possible, before…” He trailed off, and Lyric’s eyes grew wide before he continued softly, “This is our island, our home. And there is no one we want to share it with more than you, Lyric, you who saved us from the sea.”

He was laying it on a bit thick, but even though Rahiti would have laughed in the face of anyone who tried so obvious a tactic on him, Lyric’s shoulders softened, and she swayed toward Moana. “I guess it would be okay,” she said. “It’s not like I had anything else planned for the day. I mean, before you guys showed up, I was just going to lie on the beach and catch up on my reading. I have to admit, this sounds like a lot more fun.”

Huh. Even if he lived another four hundred years, Rahiti would never understand how Moana charmed women so. Still, all that mattered was that it worked.

“There’s only one problem,” she said, her grip tightening on Rahiti’s hand. “You’re, uh, kind of naked to be running around the island. Since it’s the off-season, there aren’t many people here, but…”

“Do not worry.” Moana kissed her knuckles then gave her hand a pat. “There are plenty of palm fronds. We will make our own coverings.”

“We will?” Rahiti shook his head, but Moana was already tugging Lyric toward the hut. He had no choice but to follow.

Walking behind the pair, he had to admit they were suited. Lyric’s creamy, pale skin and curvy form complemented Moana’s lean, dark body, and he had her laughing already over something Rahiti couldn’t hear, trailing behind as he was. Moana and his charm. He scraped his nails across his scalp as an almost physical pain thrummed through him. The fear that he’d lose her to him as he’d lost Mohea pierced him like a dagger.

He struggled against the darkening of his thoughts.

Chapter Six

The palm-frond loincloths were a bust, so Moana and Rahiti ended up improvising with the beach towels and a couple of belts and pins Lyric had brought with her. Moana’s attempts at fashion had her laughing to the point of tears as he sashayed in front of the hut. “Oh my God, Moana. You should totally be a model.”

“I don’t know what that is,” he said, thrusting out a hip and striking a pose, “but one time Rahiti and I saw some sort of bathing-suit competition on a dock, and this is how they stood.” He pushed out his chest, dropped his chin, and pouted dramatically, and even Rahiti, who had been pretty stone-faced, had to smile.

“Is a model like a village crazy person?” he asked.

“Yeah, sometimes.” Lyric shook her head, snickering. “What about your feet? Can you make shoes?”

“Our feet are tough.” Rahiti showed her the callused bottom of one of his.

Hitching up his makeshift loincloth, Moana joined them. “It does seem that we have returned with exactly the bodies we left behind.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” Lyric said. “It would suck if you came back hundreds of years old, all wrinkly and whatnot.”

“Suck?” Moana asked, an unabashedly hopeful note in his voice.

She quirked a smile. “Nowadays that means it would stink—be a bad thing.”

“Sucking is not a bad thing where we come from.” He none-too-subtly nudged Rahiti, who shrugged, although she could see a muscle in his jaw tighten, and beneath his bronzed skin, a flush rose. Hmm, interesting. They seemed awfully tight. Maybe they did more than take a nap while she was away? She wished she could have seen that. Lyric squirmed a little as erotic images floated through her mind. What got her the wettest was thinking of somber, in-control Rahiti losing it while Moana swallowed his cock down his throat.

Jesus! Where were these thoughts coming from? She’d never so much as watched gay porn. Not that the idea of these hotties wrapped around each other didn’t do it for her. If her damp bikini bottoms and heavy breasts were anything to go by, she’d discovered a new fantasy for herself.

Fanning her burning cheeks, she turned away. Guess she couldn’t be near these two without her brain diving into the gutter. It sure seemed happy wallowing around down there because it started conjuring images of her on her knees before them, lapping first at one cock, then the other, then taking each one deep. With her back to the guys, she brushed her fingertips across one tight nipple, felt the sensation spiral all the way to her belly, and bit her lip to stop a groan. Fuck, she’d never been so horny.

“We better get going,” she said, sounding breathless. “Sooner the better.” Before she burst into flame.

Part of the problem was that, during the couple hours they’d been trying to perfect their loincloth design, besides being largely naked, they’d never missed a chance to touch her. Moana was especially fond of kissing her hand, the tender underside of her wrist, and brushing his fingers up from the small of her back to her nape whenever he passed by her. Rahiti wasn’t quite the flirt, but he stood near her so his body heat and delicious sea-breeze-and-man scent wrapped around her like a protective cocoon, making her want to lean into him and feel all those rippling, hard muscles against her skin.

On top of that, they made her laugh. Just their amazement at the indoor bathroom and flushing the toilet had her in stitches, and best of all, they laughed right along with her. God, it’d been months since she’d felt anything close to happy. Since she’d even smiled. That was pitiful, but it was what her life had become. Damn it, she didn’t need to remember the mess still waiting for her at home, especially when she had her dolphin-men to cheer her up, and to make her needy and achy. Ugh, her pussy had developed a mind of its own. At least the walk into the hills would take her overactive imagination off their bodies. A good hike would wear her out physically.