Dead Over Heels by MaryJanice Davidson Page B

raw,” she muttered. “Stupid Con.”
    “I love your little pet names.” He was leaning back in the sand, picking his teeth with a fish bone. “God, isn’t this great? A friggin’ island paradise with a beautiful woman who brings me food and cooks and has a great set of—never mind.”
    “Are you talking about my ‘rack’ again?”
    “Uh, yeah. Sorry.”
    “ I don’t mind. I am the one breaking your nudity taboo. Besides, you have a nice rack, too.” And he did. Shirtless, she could see the tanned skin, the firm muscles, the light fuzz of chest hair that tapered down to a straight line leading to his groin.
    He laughed. “Oh, darlin’, you’re gonna get in trouble if you keep talking like that.”
    “You mean you might like to mate with me?”
    He choked on the fish bone.

Chapter 12
    I t’s all right,” she hastily assured him after pounding him on the back and extracting the bone. “I don’t expect you to mate with me. Why would you ever want to?”
    That was enough of that crap, he decided, and seized her by the back of the neck, yanked her close, and kissed her. She was so surprised her mouth popped open, which delighted him, and he plunged his tongue inside. Given that he hadn’t brushed his teeth in a few days (and who knew if mermaids did?) the kiss was amazing.
    He eased her down on the sand and did what he had been longing to do since he’d first seen her: pounced on her breasts. The breath popped out of her lungs (gills?) as she laughed, and then gasped when he sucked a pale pink nipple into his mouth.
    He lavished attention on her creamy mounds, licking, nibbling, sucking, and even (very, very gently) biting. Beneath him she wriggled in the sand and clutched his shoulders with surprising strength. In fact, he was fairly certain he’d have bruises. Not that he gave a good damn.
    He slipped his hand between her cool, chubby thighs and she parted her legs and pulled him to her as he thrust into her moist warmth. Her thighs gripped him, again with that astonishing strength, and she rose to meet him. Now they were both gasping and groaning in each other’s arms, and he cut his tongue on one of her teeth and didn’t care.
    “Oh—you’re—bleeding—”
    “Don’t—care,” he gasped.
    “Sorry—sorry—maybe we—should—stop?”
    “Shut. Up.”
    This time he didn’t think it was an accident when his tongue got punctured, but he had it coming so that was all right. In fact, it was so all right he laughed into her mouth, a noise which was instantly cut off as she tightened all over ( all over) and shivered with the force of her orgasm.
    That sent him right over the edge, and he knew it was going to be no use thinking about baseball or saying the alphabet backward. He came so hard he actually shuddered from heels to throat, and then unceremoniously collapsed over her.

Chapter 13
    A fter about ten minutes had passed, Reanesta worried he had passed out, or was bleeding to death from a punctured tongue. So she tapped him on the shoulder.
    “Sleepy,” he yawned against her throat.
    “I am a patient woman, as I think you have noticed. But you’re squashing me.”
    He snorted, but rolled off her—and yelped when he nearly rolled into the fire, which had burned down to embers. He tossed a few more sticks on, then said, “Where the hell did my jeans go?”
    “Oh. I, uh, was, um, anxious to, ah, mate with you before you changed your mind.” She held up denim shreds. “I do apologize.”
    “You did this with your hands ? Jesus!”
    “I apologize,” she said again, blushing.
    “No, shit, it’s impressive as hell, I’m not bitching. About this, I mean.”
    She giggled. “A welcome change.”
    He stuck his tongue out at her. “Ith it ee’ing?”
    “Not anymore.”
    “We’re going to have to practice French kissing.”
    “We are?” she asked, delighted.
    “Shit, yeah. Otherwise it could get downright dangerous. You don’t see a blood bank on this island, do you?”
    “Very