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significant amount of time on the
periphery of the Charles family, he felt he understood Lydia even
more. An ache that had been there from the day she left only grew
here, fostered and nurtured by the soil where she’d been raised by
the people who loved her and had helped to shape her into the woman
she’d become.
    He’d
left her to hang out to dry, hadn’t he? Never his intent—sending
her to Iceland was a hasty move, and one he now regretted. The
undoing of the European operations setup meant that her position was
tenuous at best, and he’d done as much as he could to help her, but
now he’d been completely untethered from technology for over a
week, enjoying going back in time to a childlike state in some ways.
Still a man, he had only that which was in front of him—a newspaper
and the ocean—and now, as he walked steadily toward the shore, he
would hop into a sea kayak and roam the shore for hours, powered only
by his own arms, by his core, by all of the small muscles that made
up the push of his body over the water, of his own volition.

Chapter
Two
    The
brush of a man’s unshaven face startled her, the movement so
unexpected between her thighs that she felt a flush begin not in her
face, nor across her breasts, but in the skin just above her mons,
spreading down and across her hipbones, the feeling illicit and
exhilarating, a moan coming forth from her mouth as the sandpapery
feel of his chin against her lips morphed into a very different feel,
tongue stroking her sensitive, wet self in such a sensual motion she
couldn’t do anything but moan.
    Two
strong hands slid under her ass, grasping flesh as if savoring it,
and then—the heat of another body, this one against her chest, two
hands taking in her breasts, a second mouth against her earlobe,
teeth nipping, coarse skin making her shiver as hot breath whispered
her name.
    The
tongue on her clit took its time, as if it were lazy and indulgent,
in no hurry to finish its work, choosing instead to linger and love.
An orgasm accelerated from a dull fire to a flaming pillar inside
her, core superheated and body bucking against his mouth.
    And
then—one muscled cock inside her, sliding against her slickness as
he plunged in, the room tilting as pleasure exploded through her, the
timing so perfect she tightened and couldn’t ever imagine letting
go as he pumped into her, Lydia suddenly in his lap and controlling
the movement as another body stroked her clit from behind, making a
trail of her juices up to each nipple, using her own wetness to add
the right amount of pinched pain to make her clamp down even more on
the other man’s hardness, her body all rhythm and flow as four
hands claimed her, the man behind her unseen yet known.
    Looking
down, her breath hitched with each thrust, the man’s eyes closed,
features blurred and unfocused. And then he opened his eyes.
    China
blue.
    Turning
sharply, she sought to see the man behind her, the room a faded,
misty, glowing orb around them. No scent but their combined musk, no
sound but their fevered breath, no touch but the clarity of each hand
on her mons, her clit, her ass, her breasts, one hand now holding her
hair over her shoulder, creating a curtain around the man she impaled
herself against, the other man—those eyes.
    Sapphires.
    Mike
and Mike? Warmth poured over her as wave after tight wave of climax
hit her, waking her—
    Waking
her.
    Before
she even opened her eyes, the sounds outside told her exactly where
she was: tucked away in one of the guest cabins that her mother had
likely scrambled to set aside for her when she let them know that she
was coming. Keeping her eyes closed, she reached across the rough
sheets, her hip aching on the lumpy mattress. A ray of sunshine shot
through the tiny little window as if aimed directly at her face, and
she turned, squinting one eye, flinching in pain. A deep breath, and
she felt the crisp autumn chill. These cabins were barely heated, and
she and Jeremy, in the