The Castaway Bride by Kandy Shepherd Page B

could hear rustlings—was that the skirt coming off? The sound of fabric slithering on fabric—was that her underwear? And then an exasperated sigh. “Darn! I can’t manage the buttons. I wonder could you give me a hand?”
    Matt forced himself to take a deep, slow breath before he turned around. She was asking him to help undress her? How much more of this could a guy stand?
    “Sure,” he managed to choke out.
    The bodice of her dress was twisted around where she’d vainly tried to open the row of tiny buttons that ran down her slender back. Her right breast was revealed enough so he could see a hint of pink nipple. He suppressed a groan.
    “The buttons have swelled with the water and I can’t get them to budge,” she said, her voice tinged with annoyance. “See what you can do.” She presented her back to him.
    For crying out loud! Did she realize what she was asking of him?
    He lifted her tangled mass of hair and pushed it away from her neck. Her long, slender creamy neck with the fine blonde hair tendrils feathering into the nape was just begging to be kissed.
    The round fabric buttons were fastened into fabric loops that were stiff with salt but slipped off without too much resistance. Matt forced his breathing to stay steady as, one by one, he unfastened the row that went all the way down to the small of her back.
    She clutched her dress to her as it fell away to reveal another row of hooks and eyes of some substantial piece of underwear. He felt lightheaded from the smell of roses blended with salt and Cristy’s own womanly smell. He couldn’t stop himself from hardening.
    “Will that do?” he asked, unable to keep the irony from his voice. He dropped his hands before he gave into the temptation to caress her.
    “Hold on,” she said in a high, strangled voice as she tried to twist her arms back around herself and attempt the hooks and eyes while clutching the remnants of her wedding dress to her chest.
    The dress slipped lower. Matt was treated to the sight of her creamy, curvy bottom, clad only in a lacey thong where the corselet ended.
    “I can’t quite manage—”
    He growled, took her by the shoulders and spun her around to face him. “Don’t ask me to undo anything else,” he said and pulled her to him. He kissed her, hard and hungry, forcing her lips apart with his tongue, crushing her body to his.
    With a gasp she stiffened in his arms. Then kissed him back with equal hunger, her arms twined around his neck to pull his head closer, her breath coming in little whimpers of need.
    He cupped her bottom with both hands and pulled her closer, let her feel his arousal, pushed her thighs apart with his knee. He started to walk her backward toward the bed.
    She stopped, resisted, pulled her mouth away from his. “Matt. No.” He held her tighter for a moment then, with an effort, let her go. The dress slid right down.
    She reeled away from him, her face flushed, her eyes bright. She was panting and when she spoke she stumbled over her words. “I… uh… thought we agreed that… that wasn’t a good idea.”
    She crossed her arms across her chest but it did nothing to hide the swell of her breasts or her long legs or the delta of her sex covered only by a tiny triangle of lace and satin.
    Fighting for control, his breath coming in painful gasps, he glared at her. “Yeah, well don’t keep tempting me like that. Hasn’t anyone ever told you not to start anything you don’t intend to finish?” He threw a sheet at her. “Cover yourself up.”
    He turned on his heel and stalked towards the door, slamming it so hard behind him that the walls of the hut shuddered.
     
    C risty stared after him, clutching the sheet to her. Her breath came in great, heaving gasps. She wanted him. How desperately she wanted him. And now he thought she was nothing but a cheap tease.
    She hadn’t meant to taunt him.
    For heaven’s sake, they were on an uninhabited island. Who else could she have asked to help her