South Beach: Hot in the City Page 2

Holly certainly hadn’t come here with catharsis on her mind. Or what probably also amounted to revenge. But she wouldn’t mind leaving with it. This little trip back to South Beach had just gotten a lot more interesting.

  Chapter Three

  Trey Kennedy sat at the posh outdoor bar watching couples at tables in the dark lean their heads together over tea-light candles to talk privately. There’d been debate at the hotel over whether the place should be better lit, but Trey had pushed for letting the sunset decide when it got dark. There was something sexy and sultry about the fall of darkness over a beach, over the night itself—when it came to romance, or a possible sexual liaison, the coming of true night was the time that decided if you were in or out; it was a time to say goodnight or to…lean a little closer, talk a little quieter.

  As he sipped on a rum runner, he remembered the first time he’d ever laid eyes on Holly Pettit. She’d been as natural and homegrown as the cornfields she’d come from, but as cute and vibrant as any girl he’d ever met. “Kennedy?” she’d repeated when he’d introduced himself. “Are you related to the dead president?”

  He’d just laughed and told her no, he wasn’t that type of Kennedy.

  “What type of Kennedy are you?” she’d asked.

  “The type you’re gonna go for a walk on the beach with tonight,” he’d said as smoothly as a slightly drunk college boy could. And a romance had been born. More than just a romance, though—it had been love, no two ways about it. And in the end, he’d been a coward and he’d spent a long time wondering if he’d made the right call.

  At the moment, he was thinking no.

  Just then, she entered the bar area—even as dimly lit as it was, he knew it was her. Her blond hair fell to her shoulders in soft waves and her petite body filled out the sexy, silky, pink-and-gold dress she wore just right. Cut low, it provided more cleavage than he ever remembered Holly showing back when they were kids, and a split in the front revealed plenty of thigh, too. Then again, the bikini she’d worn today had been the same way—fire-engine red, skimpy, bold, sexy as hell. He guessed his first love had grown up. And he couldn’t deny that he liked the adult her so far. In fact, he was downright turned on by her, merely on sight.

  “You look like a sunset,” he said to get her attention as she drew nearer, in case she hadn’t spotted him in the dark. But he wondered if the rum in his drink had brought out the cheesy line.

  That was when he realized she was headed straight for him, and he was relieved to see his comment had made her smile. “Trey Kennedy,” she said. “I still can’t believe it.”

  As she smoothly lifted herself onto a bar stool next to his, he reached out, taking her hand to help balance her. It was the first time they’d touched—and damn, he was surprised to find that even after ten years that hot spark was still there. He felt the touch in his cock, which instantly began growing harder. All for this brand new, grown-up version of his sweet little Holly.

  “You couldn’t be more surprised than I am,” he told her, not bothering to weigh his words. That wasn’t an MO—honesty and just being himself had always worked well for him with the opposite sex. “I mean, I’ve watched countless thousands of people come in and out of this hotel over the years—so many that I almost don’t even really see them anymore. So when I was doing the hospitality thing on the pool deck today, it just never occurred to me that I’d find the first girl I ever loved sitting there looking like a centerfold in her bikini.”

  When she paused for a beat before answering, he wished that he’d had some damn lighting installed out here after all—he wished he could see her face, read her expression. But he couldn’t. “A centerfold? I thought centerfolds didn’t usually bother with old-fashioned things like bikinis. Which is how they get to be centerfolds in the first place.”

  He laughed, because she was still cute and perky, even if in a much more adult way than he recalled. Then he caught the shadowy movement as she crossed one leg over the other, her knee slipping out of her dress, same as when she walked. Since they faced each other next to the bar and he sat casually, the move placed her knee subtly between his. And as she slid her palm smoothly out over the flesh she’d just bared, his dick stiffened further.

  If it hadn’t been so dark, she’d have been able to tell. He was that hard. That fast. Damn. “What can Danny get you to drink?” he asked, motioning vaguely toward the bartender who lingered at the other end of the otherwise empty bar, seeming to have sensed he should stay away until summoned.

  “Um, sex on the beach?” It rolled so smoothly off her tongue that it almost made him laugh. But not quite. Instead, it just intensified his hard-on.

  “That’s a strong drink, Holly,” he warned her with a grin.

  “I can take care of myself, Trey,” she answered, returning the playful smile.

  “I’ll bet you can,” he told her. “I’ll just bet you can.” Then he summoned Danny and placed her drink order, after which he took another sip of his rum runner. He needed a drink suddenly.

  “So tell me about your life,” he said.

  She tilted her head, still smiling. “Didn’t I do that earlier?”

  “No details,” he pointed out. “I’m looking for details.”

  “What kind?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure exactly, but…you seem different, and I guess I’m intrigued, wanting to know what makes Holly Pettit tick these days.”

  Just then, Danny placed her sex on the beach on a napkin in front of her and she leaned down to take a sip. “It’s been ten years, Trey. I’m not the same little girl you knew back then.”

  “That much is clear to me already. But if you’re not her, then…who are you? And how did you get to be her?”

  “Let’s just say I’m a more…evolved version of the person I was when you knew me. Las Vegas is a good place for…discovering sides of yourself you didn’t know about.”

  “You’re a lot more confident, that’s for sure,” he told her. “And a lot more…outwardly sexy. I like this side of you.”

  “There are other sides you might like, too,” she said, bending over to close her lips provocatively around her straw. Not that the mere act of seeing her drink through a straw should add to his arousal. And not that he could really see her doing it all that well anyway, given the lighting. But it still turned him on a little more.

  And on top of all that, his drink was definitely getting to him. Making him…uninhibited. “What sides?”

  “Be patient and maybe you’ll find out.”

  Damn, this was Holly? His Holly? Once upon a time it had been her innocence that had lured him—now it was the opposite. The simple fact that she was capable of the opposite.

  “So tell me about you, Trey. Tell me about the last ten years of your life.”

  He didn’t mind being an open book for her. Hell, he probably owed her some openness. Not that she seemed to even remember the shitty way he’d let things end between them, and he was grateful for that. But had their relationship meant so little to her? “What do you want to know, fishie?”

  Something in Holly’s throat caught at hearing the silly old nickname. “Because there are a lot of fish in the sea, but you’re my fish,” he’d told her the first time he’d called her that.

  Still, she managed a laugh. “I’d almost forgotten about that.” Almost being the key word. But it would take more than a cute pet name to knock her off her game.

  He chuckled softly. “Yeah—me, too. Just slipped out.” He smiled at her then, and even though she could barely see him in the darkness, she began to remember. How sweet he could be. How genuine. It was a gift to never put on airs, never wear a mask, and it was one Trey had possessed and which had drawn her to him back in the day. “Now, what do you want to know? Ask me anything.”

  He was getting a little drunk and she liked it. But not because it makes him even more honest and cute and endearing—only because it will make it easier to get my way here. “Loves, losses, triumphs, defeats—that sort of th
ing,” she said easily.

  And again he laughed. And began to tell her about the part of his life she’d missed.

  When he spoke of his career here, he beamed with pride, and despite herself, she couldn’t help being glad things had worked out for him. Except then she realized how much simpler, how much more according to plan, his adult life had gone compared to hers, and it reminded her that she wasn’t really here to catch up with him—she was here to finally conquer him, and then rid herself of him once and for all.

  And…why did it sting a little when he told her about the other two women he’d cared for deeply after her. Tiffany—who’d just ultimately wanted other things out of life than he did. And Mariah—who hadn’t felt the same about him as he had for her. But I bet you had normal breakups with them—I bet you didn’t just disappear from their lives or vice versa. You cared enough about them to be a man about it. And then the sting crystallized into something more satisfying: a little bit of old, leftover anger tinged with some determination.

  He talked more. About his family, some of whom she’d even met when they’d come for a visit that summer. About his dog, a black lab named Rex. About his house, which he described as a nice little bungalow situated on one of the intercoastal waterways that laced the Florida shores.

  The truth was, if she’d just met him here on vacation, if she’d had no past with him, she would have…liked him. Maybe even a lot. But life wasn’t that simple. Her life wasn’t that simple, and part of that was his fault. And in reality, she wasn’t trying to do anything too horrible to him here. She wanted to seduce him, for heaven’s sake—she wanted to fuck him. And he would love it. So there was nothing to feel even remotely guilty about, nothing to do but proceed with her plan.

  “Now you, fishie,” he finally said. “Tell me all the personal stuff about you that I just told you about me.” Their glasses were empty now and they’d both opted not to have a second. And she certainly felt the alcohol she’d taken into her system, but fortunately, she’d grown to be as skilled at drinking as she was in bed, so she still had command of the situation.

  “Let’s go for a walk on the beach,” she replied.

  He drew back slightly, slanted her a teasing grin. “You trying to put the moves on me, fishie?”

  Her smile stayed confident, in control. “What if I am?”

  “Then I’m flattered.”

  “Then let’s walk.” And with that, she reached out and took his hand.

  Like before, when he’d helped her up onto her stool, the touch was electric—she hadn’t expected it then and she hadn’t expected it now. But the sensations skittered up her arm and down into her breasts, turning her nipples hard. And the spot between her legs spasmed slightly at the full realization of what she was preparing to do.

  They left their shoes at the edge of the bar’s patio, sinking their feet down into cool evening sand. For the first time—maybe it had taken her eyes this long to adjust, or maybe it was the moonlight beginning to illuminate the beach—she noticed that he’d dressed much more casually than this afternoon, in khaki shorts and a more-stylish-than-silly tropical shirt. And that he looked good. He’d looked good this afternoon, and he looked just as good now, and having sex with him again wasn’t going to be a sacrifice.

  Feeling powerful and more aggressive than she usually did in her everyday life, she pulled him across the wide beach and down toward the water. Compared to the daytime hours when this stretch of sand was packed with sun worshippers of every ilk—from topless girls to happy families—the beach was quiet, though dotted with other late-night walkers, too.

  “Okay, you’re up. Start talking,” he said as they strolled hand in hand along the shore, warm Atlantic waters washing over their toes with every surge of the tide. “I want to know exactly how my little corn-fed farm girl became this bold, sexy, take-charge woman.”

  Holly took a deep breath and considered how best to reply. The truth was, maybe a little liquor plus old memories—added on to Trey’s likable openness—made her want to be open, too. And real. Even if she didn’t come right out and blame it on him, she could tell him the truth about her life—that she’d gotten off the path she’d intended to take. That she’d sought refuge in wild times, wild people.

  But…wait, no. That only made her sound vulnerable, like a woman with regrets. And she couldn’t risk him even wondering if he was the reason why. Stick to the plan.

  “I guess somewhere along the way I just decided to try a different sort of life than I’d always thought I wanted. You only live once, after all.”

  “And…” he prodded her.

  “And…I moved to Vegas and made a lot of new friends. Did a lot of new things. I guess that builds a girl’s confidence.” Yeah, just leave it at that.

  But he wasn’t buying. “That’s all I get, Holly? Come on, that’s not fair.”

  “That’s all there is,” she insisted.

  That was when he stopped walking, the move drawing her to a halt as well, and turned to face her in the dark. He still held her hand and now gripped it tighter, squeezing. “What are you about? What makes you happy? What do you love, baby?”

  God, such deep questions. Holly thought about the many answers she could give. I love my family. I love my friends—the oldest ones the best. I love cats, old Frank Sinatra records, warm nights, and…possibility. I love the way it feels when possibility stretches before you in some moments, like anything could happen, like your dreams could be only a heartbeat away.

  But why on earth would she ever, ever let herself be that vulnerable with him? What on earth was there to gain? No, she had to stay tough here. Holly-from-Indiana was only a distant memory; newer, bolder, Las Vegas Holly was in charge tonight.

  So it seemed like a good time to move past all the catching up and just cut to the chase. “I love sex, Trey. I love sex like I love nothing else in life. And I’m damn good at it, too. And if we were the only people on this beach right now, I’d drop to my knees and give you the best blowjob you’ve ever had.”

  Chapter Four

  “Jesus,” he murmured.

  And she said, “No, it’s only me.”

  Which made him let out a short, stunned laugh—even as her pussy went warm in her panties at the realization that she really wanted this, really wanted to seduce him. Not just for the power, but for the pleasure, too. She’d never imagined she’d get the opportunity to be with Trey again, and now, here it was before her on a proverbial silver platter. And he looked good enough to eat.

  He must have been able to read the lust on her face because that was when his expression changed as well, fading to something more intense, aroused. She was thankful that the nearly full moon now shone like a spotlight on her old lover, illuminating what had been shrouded by darkness at the bar: his warm eyes, his handsome face, his athletic, leanly muscled frame—and the depth of her desire.

  Should that make me nervous? Really wanting him?

  But no, it shouldn’t—didn’t. You can want him and still have your way with him. The wanting would just make the whole experience better.

  “Where can we go?” she asked, breathless. She was that sure now, that confident, that he would be into this, too, despite the fact that they hadn’t even kissed.

  Looking a little feral in response, he answered simply by taking her hand and leading her back up the beach toward the hotel.

  Fortunately, they hadn’t gotten very far. As he pulled her up into the softer sand untouched by the ebb and flow of waves, she murmured, “Where are we going?” She had no idea—to a guestroom in the hotel? A pool house of some sort? Though she couldn’t even remember if the Imperial Palms had such a place. Her mind spun with the anticipation of being alone with him; her breasts swelled with need and her inner thighs ached.

  And for a moment, as her bare toes sank into the cool, brown South Beach sand, she let herself simply feel…the fun knowledge that she was about to let herself go, let herself have some fabulous sex with the man she now r
an with toward the grand, art deco hotel. She let herself quit thinking, quit plotting—she let herself just be. Yes, she’d been trying to change her wild ways, but at the moment, she was glad she’d let her guard down when Trey had come along.

  He led her to a small row of white canopied tents high on the beach, near the pool area. Inside each rested four cushioned lounge chairs. Trey jogged past them, still tugging her along, until he reached the last—and that was the one he pulled her beneath. They could still be seen here if anyone passed close by, but it was much more privacy than they’d had on the open sand or down by the water.

  It surprised her a little when Trey then grabbed her, kissed her, passionately. She’d been the aggressive one so far, after all. But Lord, he still kissed good—and she remembered these kisses, she remembered them far more than she’d expected. They swept her back, in a single heartbeat, to that sweet, wild eighteenth summer on this very beach. Some things never changed, she guessed—and the way a guy kissed could be one of them.

  She sank into it, pressing her palms against his firm chest, and when their hips came together…mmm, God, he was rock hard. She had to stop kissing, bite her lower lip, let out a breath. This…this felt too good, too fast. This wasn’t…normal lust. But don’t be afraid. You can handle it. You can handle anything. Just be the woman you’ve been with him so far—tough, ready…emotionless.

  And then she remembered what she’d told him she’d do if they were alone. And even if putting herself in a subservient position right now might not sound like the wisest move…well, to go down on him, this fast, would show him exactly how bold she was, and remind him of the strong, sturdy chick she’d become.

  “Take your shirt off,” she said, voice soft but demanding.

  And as he removed it over his head, she didn’t hesitate to reach between them and unbuckle his belt, then undo the button on his shorts, then the zipper. The khaki shorts fell to the beach. And a brisk pull made the silk boxers underneath follow.