TroubleinParadise

Cindy
Jacks

Meeting and marrying in one of the most romantic places on
earth, Clarissa and Mika seem to have it all—promising careers, plans for the
future and passion that burns bright enough for everyone to see. But all is not
as it seems.

Family is central to Mika, and he’s ready to start a brood
of his own with the woman he loves. A
haole
from the Mainland and from a
broken home, Clarissa isn’t as eager to jump into parenthood. When Mika’s hunky
cousin Sione declares he’s always had feelings for Clarissa, crystal-blue
waters turn cloudy and stormy.

Drawn to Sione and his rebel-without-a-pause ways, Clarissa
struggles with her love for Mika and her desire for freedom. Mika sets her
aflame, body and heart, but Sione seems to see into her soul. Unless Clarissa
and Mika can find a way to bridge the divide, it’s trouble in paradise for both
of them.

A
Romantica®
marital heat erotic romance
from Ellora’s Cave

Hot breath and lips on her skin roused Clarissa. Her eyes
fluttered open.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, kissing down her neck.

“Mika, I’m tired.”

“Am I keeping you awake? I’m sorry, baby. I’ll stop.”

But he didn’t. He skimmed his lips along her bare breasts,
down to the sensitive curves of her rib cage, belly and hips, flicking his tongue
over her skin. The shiver darting through her and the pulsing of her pussy
overrode her desire to go back to sleep. She turned into her husband’s kisses
and snaked her arms around him. No more invitation needed, he freed himself
from his boxers and pressed between her legs. As the head of his cock teased
her open, she grew warm and moist against his erection. One slow push and he
was inside her. Clarissa moaned, grasping handfuls of Mikaela’s thick, dark
hair.

No need to adjust his technique, no coaching necessary. With
ease, he found the spot deep inside her that shook her to the core. He’d always
been able to do this, as though he’d kept a map of her body in his heart and
soul. She pushed her pelvis up to meet his forward thrusts. His mouth engulfed
one breast, sucking at it with playful bites to the nipple. She tightened her
grip on his hair but Mika didn’t complain. Attention and gaze focused, body
pressed to hers, in this moment he owned her. Every ripple of muscle and every
whisper of breath moved through her very center.

Growing more urgent, he drove his cock deeper into her. She
spread her legs wider to take all of him in, his sac tickling her ass. Their
bodies shook together, a climax just on the horizon. A few whimpers at first,
then unintelligible exclamations from both of them. Clarissa squeezed her eyes
shut, tensing her body to hold on to the pleasure coursing through her. Ragged
gasps and violent spasms rocked Mika as well. He pulled her closer, his strong
arms flexing.

His body came to rest on top of hers. He kissed her
forehead. Her cheeks. Her eyelids.

She opened her eyes and looked up at him, noting the smile
of satisfaction on his face. “Mmm. Can’t a woman sleep around here? Waking me
up in the middle of the night and ravishing me.”

“You’re the one sleeping in the nude, it’s not my fault.” He
laughed and combed his fingers through her hair.

He withdrew then slid onto the mattress, spooning next to
her, his deep bronze skin a stark contrast to her paler, golden complexion. She
traced his
pe’a
with one finger, letting it meander from the bands of
tribal tattoos around his waist to the extension of those patterns on his hips
and thighs. Smaller versions encircled each of his arms.

Meeting his gaze, she asked, “How was work?”

“Hot and exhausting. One cool thing―they interviewed me for
the sous-chef position.”

“You know you got it on lockdown.”

“Shh, don’t jinx me.”

“You shouldn’t worry. You’re the best cook in that kitchen.”

“Being the sous isn’t just about cooking. They’ve gotta feel
like I can run the kitchen, manage the staff.”

Clarissa stroked his brow, studying the lines of concern
around his dark-brown eyes, and then kissed the top of his head. “You’ll get
it, sweetheart. Stop worrying.”

“It’s just with that job we can get a bigger place, move out
of Kaimuki to where the schools are better.”

“Uh-huh,” she murmured. She didn’t feel like going down this
road tonight. Let Mika plan for kids they didn’t have yet—and wouldn’t have for
a couple more years. He didn’t understand why she wanted to wait and she didn’t
understand why he was in such a damn hurry.
Just let it slide
, a little
voice inside her head warned.

“How was class?” he asked, yawning.

“Long and exhausting, but my students got to break out their
plaster investments today so they could see how their bronze castings came
out.”

“Mmm…”

“Yeah. There’s this one girl who’s really talented. I’ve
been talking with her about switching her major from English to art. I think
she could be a good artist if she applies herself. You should’ve seen the
casting she made. The delicate work in the wax really came through in the
bronze.”

Silence.

“Mika?”

A light snore.

“And you’re asleep,” she muttered.

He’s not trying to be rude or inattentive
, she told
herself. It was the long hours he kept, she knew that, but still…why didn’t he
seem to care about the things that interested her? Why did he even ask if he
had no intention of listening to her answer?

“You’re overreacting.” She sighed. But was she? This wasn’t
the first time and she knew it wouldn’t be the last. He’d come home, have sex
with her and then roll over and go to sleep without any concern at all for her
feelings. Was this it? Was this the way it was going to be for the rest of
their marriage?

Tamping down her annoyance, she draped herself over his body
and snuggled into the crook of his neck. He smelled of citrus body wash. It was
the only thing that could get rid of the scent of garlic and mahi mahi that
seeped into his pores.

Work, work, work. It seemed like that was all they did.
Well, work and make love. That wasn’t so bad, was it? It showed he hadn’t lost
interest in her. But sometimes, in the far recesses of her brain, something
niggled at her. Had she lost interest in him?

No. Absolutely not. Every day wasn’t supposed to be a thrill
ride. This was life. Plain and simple.

“I love you,” she murmured.

She did, of course she did. She just didn’t love the
routine, the rut they’d fallen into. But that was life. Right?

Of course it was.

She melted against him and allowed a blanket of sleep to
fall over her.

There are lots of blue Honda Accords in Honolulu
,
Clarissa reminded herself. Still, a flutter of excitement blossomed in her
stomach. An inappropriate and scandalous blossom of excitement. But if she ran
into him here… Well, it would be a chance meeting. Kismet, right? Then maybe
they could steal a few hours and grab a coffee. She could cancel her classes.
Maybe they could hang out at the beach all day.

She strained to look inside the gas station mini-mart
window, but saw only the backs of people’s heads, none of which looked like
Sione’s. As often as he dropped by the house, she should have his license plate
memorized. Then again, the thought itself made her feel like a stalker. Hell,
she hadn’t even memorized her own license plate, much less that of her
husband’s cousin. And why the hell was she so excited at the prospect of
running into him?

It’s just a little crush
, she told herself. It was.
No harm in it. She didn’t intend to do anything about it. It would pass. It had
to.

The gas pump clicked off, pulling Clarissa from her
thoughts. She wiped a bead of sweat from her forehead. Eighty-seven again
today—already eighty this morning—a light shower expected this afternoon on the
Windward and Mauka sides of the island, as usual. She toyed with the idea of
cutting her hair short, but Mika preferred it long so the mane of sandy blonde
locks hung down her back in a sloppy ponytail, a few soggy tentacles clinging
to her neck.

She replaced the gas cap and climbed into the belly of her
Easy-Bake Oven-on-wheels. No AC in the VW Vanagon. Cranking down the windows,
she caught a glimpse of the blue Honda’s owner. A short, skinny Japanese man
climbed into the vehicle. Definitely not Sione. Broad shoulders, full lips,
golden skin over sinewy musculature, chocolate-brown eyes—
that
was
Sione.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she asked her reflection
in the rearview mirror. Whatever the cause of these feelings, she had to get
over them and right quick.

When she twisted the key the van grumbled a bit, but finally
the engine turned over. Clarissa wiped another droplet of sweat from her face.
Back to reality. After all, the bronze sculpture in her studio wasn’t going to
finish itself.

Early morning in the University of Hawaii Art Building found
the structure devoid of its usual hustle and bustle. Sure, a few hungover grad
students staggered to the coffee machine, having slept in their studios. A
gaggle of freshmen milled around the halls of the first floor, too low on the
registration totem pole to avoid the 7:05 a.m. Intro to Fine Art slot. But for
the most part the classrooms and studios sat peacefully deserted. It was this
quietude that drew Clarissa in so early each day.

Passing by the bamboo garden that surrounded the University
Art Gallery, she cut through a corridor of lockers to the sculpture courtyard.
The center of the space had no roof, displaying a cross section of the
building’s three floors like the layers of a triple-decker sandwich. The first
floor housed the 3-D artists—sculptors, ceramicists and glassblowers. Often
clad in leather and utilizing sharp, hot and heavy objects, they were seen as
the “jocks” of the art department. The intellectuals—the art history majors—
made their home on the second floor, viewed by the studio majors as their own
personal groupies. On the third floor, painters, photographers and graphic
artists sulked and brooded over fine art’s loftiest ideals and then attempted
to express those ideals in their chosen media. Whatever.

On autopilot, Clarissa flipped a series of light switches,
illuminating her workspace, and then pulled on her leather apron, dust mask and
face shield. A bronze replica of a bird skeleton lay on her table. Each casting
required a little finishing work before she could weld the pieces together.
There’d been some flashing during the pour—cracks in the mold that left ridges
of metal along the edge of each piece. She’d already cut off the sprues and
other superfluous bronze that had once been pathways for the molten metal
through the plaster investment.

With a push of a button, her grinder whirred to life. The
coarse grit of the wheel made short work of the delicate bits of metal.
Clarissa repeated the process for each piece. Before she knew it, two hours had
passed.

Damn. Time to head to class. Not that she minded the
teaching responsibilities that came with being a grad student but sometimes,
when she was in the zone, she resented the intrusion.

After she stripped off her gear, Clarissa picked up a hefty
binder. It held lesson plans and files on each of her students. Today she had
Intro to 3-D, a sculpture course for freshman would-be sculptors and non-art
majors. They required little effort to impress or inspire. Still, she did her
best to give each of them the personal attention they wouldn’t receive in the
typical introductory class. Passionate about sculpture, she enjoyed sharing the
art form with novices.

She hurried out the door and paused to lock it behind
herself. When she turned around she recognized an all-too-familiar gait.

“Hey, Sione.” Clarissa looked up at his tanned, angular
face.

“Kala. Howzit?”

The sound of his baritone voice gave her goose bumps,
especially when he used the Polynesian version of her name—Kalalika. Kala for
short.

“Rushing off to babysit?” he asked.

“C’mon, it’s been a pretty good class this semester,” she
replied.

“Whatevahs. See you at the Gardens tonight?”

“Yeah, I’m sure I’ll need a beer by this evening.”

“Later, sistah.”

“See you later.” Clarissa watched Sione saunter away, his
ass jiggling ever so slightly in his board shorts. A jolt of attraction shot
through her, settling between her legs.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.
She shook her head.

Finally she broke free of the ass-induced hypnosis and
hurried off to the second floor. After wandering with her head in a fog for two
minutes, she realized she’d taken the wrong stairway to get to her classroom.

Idyllic in many ways, the perpetual sunshine and cooling
breezes of the Hawaiian Islands kept the temperature in the low to mid-eighties
year-round. In the foundry, however, the warm weather made the suede insulated
safety gear damn near unbearable.

Clarissa trotted down the concrete stairwell to the
sculpture courtyard in time to watch Sione strip off his leather jacket and
apron. His white undershirt clung to the ripples of his muscular chest and
abdomen. Like that male model in a diet soda commercial, he grabbed the water
hose and turned it on himself, wetting his head and neck.

Clarissa looked skyward.
Why, God, why?

Rivulets of water ran down his dark skin, his hair forming
loose curls around his face. He unhitched his overalls and let them fall around
his waist. Working the pants over his boots, he revealed a pair of shorts
underneath. Next the shirt came off, exposing part of Sione’s tattoos, which
were similar to Mika’s.

Again he soaked himself with the hose. His dark nipples drew
into tight buds, making it known that the water indeed had cooled him.

“Kala,” he called to her. “Come look.”

She jogged the rest of the way down the stairs, trying to
ignore her throbbing pussy. After he ducked into his studio to grab a towel and
a fresh t-shirt, he led her to the foundry. Lying to cool on a workbench in all
its glory was a sword like those carried by samurai in feudal Japan. Though it
had not yet been sharpened or polished, the elegant curve of the blade was
already apparent.

“It’s gorgeous. Did you forge this yourself?”

“Shige helped some with the folds, but yeah, it’s coming
along.”

“Hell yeah. It’s incredible. Hey, could you make one for
Mika’s birthday? I’ll pay you, of course.”

His gaze wandered over her, but he seemed to bite back his
initial response. “Nah. Since you’re family, I’ll let you have this one after
my thesis exhibit.”

“Sounds like a deal. We’ll swap for it. You can have
anything of mine you want.”