Page 8 of Lost At Sea With A Billionaire (Billionaire Row #5)
“Let me check that bandage again,” Janet said, turning back to me. She paused, her eyes tracking across my bare chest before quickly returning to my arm. “The rain soaked through it.”
She moved closer in our cramped shelter, her knee brushing mine as she knelt to examine the wound. The slight contact sent heat racing through my body straight to my dick.
“I think it’s finally stopped bleeding,” she said, her voice softer now. “But we should keep it covered until it starts to heal.”
Her fingers traced the edge of the bandage, sending shivers across my skin. When she looked up, our faces were inches apart.
“Janet,” I said, my voice rough.
“Don’t.” She placed a finger against my lips. “Don’t say something logical about why this is a bad idea.”
I took her hand, moving it from my mouth but not releasing it. “I was going to say that I’ve wanted to kiss you since you told me off about making an ‘audition’ dish on the yacht.”
Her eyes widened. “That long?”
“That long.”
A smile curved her lips. “And here I thought billionaires always took what they wanted.”
“Not this billionaire. Not with you.” I released her hand. “But if you want me to keep my distance?—”
She cut me off, closing the space between us and pressing her lips to mine.
The kiss was tentative at first, a question more than a demand.
I answered by pulling her closer, one hand cradling the back of her neck and heat burst through our space.
I dragged her on top of me, her legs straddling on either side of me.
The storm outside faded to background noise as Janet’s mouth opened under mine. Her hands slid up my bare chest to my shoulders, sending electricity through every nerve ending. The towel fell, forgotten, to the floor of our shelter.
I deepened the kiss, tasting her, exploring her with a hunger that surprised us both. A moan mixed with a purr escaped the back of her throat, strengthening the tightness in my dick. With fingers digging into my shoulders, I traced her lips, sucked her tongue, and tightened the grip on her neck.
“Jonathan,” she whispered against my mouth.
My pulse rocked in my neck as I pulled back just enough to look at her, to ensure she wanted this. Her eyes were dark with desire, her breathing as ragged as mine.
“Are you sure?” I asked.
In answer, she kissed me harder this time, with passion that matched the storm raging outside. Her body pressed against mine, her curves fitting perfectly against my harder angles.
I ran my hands down her sides, feeling her shiver beneath my touch. When my fingers found the hem of her dampened shirt, I hesitated, again waiting for permission.
She nodded, breathless, and I slowly lifted the fabric, revealing inches of smooth skin. My hands skimmed her waist, learning her contours and memorizing every reaction.
“Your turn,” she murmured, tugging at my belt.
My heart hammered against my ribs as her fingers worked the buckle. This was happening. Here, in our shelter on a deserted island, with rain pounding overhead and thunder crashing in the distance.
Her hands slipped inside my waistband, and I groaned, capturing her mouth again in a kiss that deepened and sent tingles crashing through me. I rolled her underneath me onto our bed of salvaged blankets, bracing myself above her with my uninjured arm.
“You’re beautiful,” I said, meaning it more than any compliment I’d ever given.
She smiled up at me, her hand cupping my cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
I kissed her again, slower this time, savoring every lick, suck, and taste of her wet mouth.
Janet’s hands explored my back, tracing the muscles that had grown more defined during our time on the island.
When she wrapped her legs around my waist, pulling me closer, the world narrowed to just this moment, just us.
My lips traveled from her mouth to her jaw, then lower to the sensitive spot where her neck met her shoulder. She arched beneath me, a soft moan escaping her lips.
“Jonathan,” she whispered, her voice urgent, needy.
I raised my head to look at her, taking in her flushed cheeks and parted lips. At that moment, she was more beautiful than anything I’d ever seen.
“Janet, I want?—”
A tremendous crash interrupted us, the sound of a palm tree falling nearby. We both jolted upright, our survival mode kicking in times one thousand.
“That sounded close,” Janet said, her breathing still uneven.
Another crash, this one accompanied by water suddenly pooling at the edge of our shelter. The storm had intensified, threatening our temporary home.
“The drainage trench,” I said, recognizing the problem immediately. “It’s overflowing.”
Reality intruded with brutal annoyance. If we didn’t act quickly, our shelter and supplies would flood.
Janet was already moving, pulling her shirt back down and running a hand through her tousled hair. “I’ll get the tarp from the supply pile.”
I grabbed my wet shirt, yanking it back on even in discomfort. “I’ll dig the trench deeper,”I said.
We exchanged a look—regret, desire, and practicality all mixed together. What was building between us would have to wait. Survival came first.
I ducked into the storm to protect our camp with the thoughts of moments ago on a high reel in my mind. For the first time since we’d been stranded, I was grateful for the isolation that had brought us together, even as I recognized the impossibility of what we’d started.
As rain pelted my skin and mud caked my hands, I realized I desperately wanted Janet Banks, but would she want me in the same compacity? I wanted the answer to be yes. I needed it to be.