Heart's Paradise Read online

  Then he broke the kiss, cupped her cheek, and stroked his thumb over her bottom lip. She forced her eyes open and stared into his face. If he rejected her, made her leave, God knew it would be salt to her wounds.

  “Phoebe,” he said on a ragged breath. “I… We… I’m not sure if this is right.”

  She moved her hands over his chest, exploring his nicely defined pecs, before resting a hand over his pounding heart which echoed her own. She met him squarely in the eyes. “At twenty-one I think I know my mind, Jonathon.”

  His hand drifted down to rest on her shoulder, his other on her hip. “But why now, tonight? With me?”

  “Because…” I’m not Cybil, that’s why I’ve waited. I wanted my first time to be something more than recreational fucking. Because I’m hurting, and you can soothe the ache. Because, because, because… “I’ve never in my life simply lived in the moment. Enjoyed things on a visceral level, because I always have to analyze my decisions to death. So I’m here, with you, because I want to have an experience. Something I can look back on, smile, and think ‘I can’t believe I did that’. Isn’t that reason enough?”

  His molten eyes looked deep inside her, and she felt sure he could see every little insecurity she tried so hard to repress.

  “Damn alcohol. I should be a stronger man.” He blew out a breath. “Come here, angel.” He pulled her lips to his again.

  The kiss ignited fireworks inside her once more, putting to shame the one preceding it. His mouth was confident, his lips firm as his tongue slipped between her teeth. She tasted mint and hops, and sucked his tongue. He groaned, tangling his fingers in her hair, pulling her to the bed then down on top of him. His lean body was hard beneath her as she straddled his hips, feeling the length of his erection between her thighs. She wanted more, needed more as she melted into his arms.

  It seemed like a dream as he removed her clothes. First her shirt landed on the floor, followed by her pants. Her bra ended up dangling over the bedside lamp, and she didn’t care what happened to her panties once he’d tugged them down her legs. Jonathon looked her over, studying every inch of her physique, and to Phoebe’s surprise she didn’t feel the least amount of shame. Not with the way his worshipful gaze came to rest on her face.

  “I’m the luckiest man on Earth right now.” He lowered down and his lips brushed the top of her breast. “I’m not sure if I deserve you, angel. I can only hope I don’t disappoint.”

  She moaned as the tip of his tongue traced around her areola. His teeth caught her nipple and she arched her back, clawing her fingers through his hair. He suckled until it tightened into a painful peak, before he lavished the other with the same attention. His hand slipped down, wedging between her thighs. She opened to him in a wordless plea, and his finger slipped within her wet lips.

  “Oh God.” She writhed as a second finger joined his first. “Please, please, please…” He centered his attention over her throbbing clit. “I want you so much.”

  He lifted from her nipple, his eyes heavy-lidded, his smile charged with wicked lust. He pressed a finger inside her walls. She squeezed around his digit, gripping him tight as he worked in and out of her.

  “I’m going to taste you now,” he said.

  If he did, Phoebe knew she’d shatter. She grabbed at his shirt, wanting to see his naked flesh. He pulled away, turned to face her knees and grasped them, opening her wide.

  “Damn.” The word passed as a mere breath from his lips.

  He lowered down and took her with his mouth. The position seemed awkward, sort of like a one-sided sixty-nine, but God did his tongue feel like heaven. Her eyes rolled back, and all Phoebe could do was swim in sensation as she gripped the blanket.

  She’d never gotten past second base with a guy, and suddenly she understood why Cybil would write a song about what they were doing. His firm, wet tongue slid within her labia, lapping and licking, slipping and sliding, until her head spun and she couldn’t get enough air into her lungs. She whimpered, wanting to squirm away from the delirious pleasure. The sloppy sounds of his mouth filled her ears, while far off in the distance a girl was giggling hysterically in the hallway.

  She opened wider to Jonathon as his lips pressed over her clit. He circled his head, wrenching sharp cries from her throat. He balanced a knee on the bed near her head, and she ran her hand over the curve of his ass, desperate to touch him. The muscles clenched, and he moaned as she dared slip her hand between his legs to find the bulge of his cock. She traced its long outline, exploring its size and girth through his clothing. Jonathon sucked her clit between his lips, sending a shockwave through her that tightened into a pinnacle.

  A scream burst from her chest as the orgasm seized her. She sucked down gulps of air as Jonathon moved away. She watched him, feeling drugged, as he tugged his shirt over his head, kicked off his shoes and socks, then shoved his pants down his hips. The last to follow was his boxers, and he was standing next to her in all of his glory. He was broad shouldered with lean, cut muscle. Smooth chest, ripped abs, and she followed the trail of hair beneath his bellybutton all the way down…

  She inhaled sharply. His cock looked delicious, and she reached for him, wrapping her fingers around his girth. She tugged him forward and took him into her mouth. He tasted salty, but not unpleasant as she stretched her lips around him. He cupped the back of her head, muttering nonsensical things as she moved up and down his shaft. She’d never given a man head before, but instinct guided her well enough she felt his legs tremble. Which gave her courage and she sucked harder, moved faster…

  Jonathon placed his hands on her shoulders and gently pushed her back. “You’re going to make me come, angel.” He yanked open the top drawer of the nightstand. “God, I hope Liam isn’t the prude he passes himself off to be.” He withdrew a condom foil. “I have to remember to thank him for this.”

  She lost herself to the lust in his gaze as he rolled the latex down his shaft and rejoined her on the bed. He parted her thighs with his hips, and the tip of his cock pressed inside her tight walls. She felt a stinging pressure that mounted as he entered her. He stopped when she tensed and sucked air through her teeth.

  “Are you okay?” he asked near her ear.

  She nodded, and he kissed her gently on the lips as he took shallow thrusts, stretching her body. Discomfort quickly heightened to pleasure and when she moaned, he deepened the movement, taking her harder until the bed rattled beneath them. She climbed desire higher and higher, meeting him thrust for thrust, saying his name over and over. He reached between them and brushed his fingertips over her clit. That was all it took. Stars burst within her, and she laughed with disbelief when the second climax hit.

  He shuddered, growling out her name. He remained on top of her, braced on his elbows. He dropped a kiss to her nose. “Phoebe.” He said her name as if savoring something luscious. “I believe I’ll always carry your name in my heart.”

  And slowly he withdrew from her, leaving behind wetness where he’d been. She stretched her legs, wincing with the new tenderness.

  He moved next to her, his arm draped over her middle, and nuzzled her ear. “I hope to see you again when I’m sober,” he said. “I’ll be a much better lover I think.” He yawned. “More attentive. Promise me you’ll be here when I wake up in the morning.”

  She didn’t answer, and shortly after Jonathon rolled onto his back and fell asleep. The magic evaporated. The borrowed room glared back at her in judgment, making her feel guilty for using someone’s bed without their permission. It felt tacky, wrong. In the back of her mind Cybil clapped her hands in delight her daughter shared her wild streak. Which made Phoebe feel ten times worse.

  It was time to go. When she sat up and swung her legs off the bed, she spotted something lying on the blankets that made her heart stall. A tiny little bit of off-white which brought with it the cold shock of fear.

  “Oh God no,” she whispered, leaning closer. She snatched a tissue from the tissue box on the nightstand,
and picked up the item. “No, no, no.”

  The condom they’d used had split open and slipped off at some point, and what was left of the useless prophylactic dangled from the tissue.

  Chapter 1

  “I think it’ll be bloody brilliant!”

  Shawna stared at her cohort. Of course Mark would think his idea brilliant. He believed that about all of his suggestions. Then again, he may be on to something. She tapped her finger on the bench top. Above them a bird quarreled, not appreciating the two interlopers beneath its tree.

  “How would we make it work?” she asked, needing to pick through his brain before agreeing to this new scheme.

  Mark lifted his shoulder. “How do we make anything work, love? By flirtation and force of will if need be. I think our investors will jump at a show involving some spoiled, rich playboy stranded on a desolate island with only his wits to save him. Just picture it, the ratings will be through the roof.”

  Mark shook his finger skyward to emphasize his statement, his blue eyes glittering the way they always did when he was excited. His infectious attitude brought out her own smile. True, audiences would love to watch a billionaire win or fail in a survival situation. She nibbled her bottom lip, her gut told her they needed more, and she mulled over the idea.

  “Why don’t we dig up some chick to join him?” she said, after a minute. “Some tough as nails Rambo-type. We’ll need some estrogen to balance the testosterone.”

  “Good, good.” Mark nodded. “I like it.”

  “Or…hmmm…” Shawna tossed the idea around a bit more, tapping her fingernails on the wood.

  Her partner and co-producer waited with wide eyes. Their partnership worked so well because he came up with the grand plans and she fleshed them out.

  She finally had her eureka moment. “I got it! We’ll let our billionaire and the chick think they’re on some survivalist show, but it’s actually a matchmaking show. Only the audience will be in on it.”

  Mark slapped his hands down on the picnic table and jumped to his feet. “Brilliant! Yes, as always you’ve come up with the most delightful twist. And I haven’t seen anything like it, so people will jump on it.” He ran around the table and planted a big kiss on the top of Shawna’s head. She laughed, he was such a big kid.

  “Think the network will go for it?” she asked.

  “They’d be bloody stupid not to. Now we have to figure out who our lucky duo will be.”

  “Oh, I already have our rich playboy picked out.” Shawna let Mark dangle in his curiosity a moment before continuing. “Jonathon Breck, the tabloids have been eating him up like candy lately. He shines in the spotlight.”

  “Yes, yes, love it. How about our lady? She’ll have to be gorgeous of course, if we’re hoping for romance. And capable, we don’t want her backing out after three days.”

  This brought them both to a standstill. They sat for a long time coming up empty on possibilities. Shawna pulled up an internet search on her phone for survival training. Only one female name popped up on the first page of the search. She opened the website and grinned. A woman with enviable curves smiled from the webpage. Modest length shorts nonetheless showcased well-toned legs, and she had arms that made Shawna curse her own personal trainer.

  “Biceps like those belong in Hollywood,” she mumbled.

  Mark jabbed his finger at the screen. “Her! Let’s get her.”

  Shawna read a brief biography highlighting the woman’s qualifications on the ‘about’ page. She recognized the name. “Phoebe Heart. That’s actually a pretty good idea, she’s the daughter of that eighties and nineties popstar legend…Cybil Heart, isn’t it?” No mention was made of the connection as she scrolled through text and photos. “Though it doesn’t look like Phoebe has taken an interest in exploiting her mother’s fame. I’m not sure if she’s TV material.”

  Mark shrugged. “Never hurts to ask. She does work as a wilderness guide, and with her looks and killer body, I think Jonathon will be all over her within hours.”

  Shawna eyed a photo of Phoebe in a modest two-piece swimsuit and lifejacket as she paddled a canoe through rapids. Definitely physically fit. Shawna nearly drooled with the idea of how audiences would eat her up. And if things worked out, so would Jonathon.

  Mark took her cellphone, studying the photos closely. “It looks like she’s single, I’m not seeing a ring in any of these pics. And we’ll hope she’s into guys.” He played with the phone for another minute. “I can’t dig up much on the internet outside of a few released baby pics and her business website.”

  Shawna dug a notepad out of her lucky handbag and jotted down a bunch of notes. “Let’s get started on specifics. Title for the series, location, etcetera.”

  “I like an island myself, a paradise. Beautiful tropical sunsets always have a positive effect on the libido,” Mark said.

  Shawna put it down on her list. “But we can’t make it easy. How about we dump the two on different parts of the island, and leave them a map instructing them to the first day camp location. Only then will they know of the other person. It’ll be a huge surprise for them both.”

  “Wonderful.” Her partner rubbed his hands together, and his face lit up in a wicked way. “And we’ll stick them on the island in only their underwear.”

  Shawna laughed. “Oh, you’re an evil man, Mark. This just gets better and better.”

  * * * *

  “Cheer up, friend,” Jonathon Breck said. “Down a couple more of those then go shake a leg on the dance floor.”

  His longtime buddy, Nicholas DeLuca, sat nearby, staring at his beer with a dark look on his face. Beyond them laughter filled the artfully decorated outdoor space. A wedding had taken place, a political match which had, as usual, drawn his father in. And when his father wanted to collect new friends of influence he always insisted Jonathon go. Being the dutiful son, he had made his perfunctory appearance—with Madison and Chrissy as his dates. Identical twins who happened to be runway models.

  His father had nearly choked on his champagne when the three of them had shown up, arm in arm. The friends he was hoping to make had given Jonathon looks mixed with astonishment and disgust. Except for one old man who’d given him a sly grin and salute.

  Nicholas remained mute, even when his sister, Natalie, rejoined him. Jonathon couldn’t blame the guy for being depressed. Though tight-lipped about his situation, the gossip hounds had spread the truth. He’d gotten strapped with a kid from some short-term fling. The woman had denied him visitation rights one day, then dumped the kid on his door the next and disappeared.

  Damn, I couldn’t do it. Jonathon shook his head. The last thing he wanted was to be tied down. Especially to a five-year-old boy with emotional issues. He gave his friend one final pat on the shoulder, nodded to Natalie, and took his two dates to the dance floor.

  High-end champagne flowed through intoxicated guests like water, while waiters offered nibbles of caviar and escargot on tiny, tasteless crackers. Why rich people always insisted on eating salty fish eggs and snails was beyond Jonathon. He preferred a good American cheeseburger at a greasy spoon. Though, admittedly, when he had the craving he’d been known to fly to London just to have fish and chips at an out-of-the-way shop by the Thames. The owner’s daughter had a charming accent and an even more charming way of—

  “Jonny, let’s go somewhere else.” Chrissy giggled and leaned heavily on his arm. “I think I’m a bit drunk, and I can’t dance in these shoes.”

  “Of course you’re drunk,” Madison snapped, glaring at her flushed sister. “You ruin every event like this we go to.”

  “Ladies, ladies, let’s be civil now,” Jonathon interrupted, wrapping one arm around Chrissy’s waist to keep her upright and the other around Madison’s shoulders to soothe her ruffled feathers. “I think I agree with Chrissy, let’s ditch this joint and see what trouble we can find, eh? I for one am starved and have a craving for cheap Chinese food.”

  Chrissy gave him the sloppy formation
of an eager smile, while her mirror image only wrinkled her delicate, freckled nose in an adorable way. She was harder to please, and seemed to have a taste for the wealthy lifestyle. Jonathon decided he liked Chrissy more, and perhaps he’d show her how much more later tonight. If he could get her to sober up first...he’d left drunken groping behind with his college days.

  He waved off the waiting valet and led the women into the parking lot, wanting Chrissy to get some fresh air. Two men jumped from between parked vehicles, and lights flashed from their cameras. Paparazzi loved him as of late, and he gave them his biggest grin as he passed. They dogged along behind, shouting his name and asking questions he ignored. Madison waved and blew kisses over her shoulder, while Chrissy tightened her hold on his waist and stumbled along.

  He helped Chrissy into the cramped confines of his BMW’s backseat, and Madison took shotgun. He closed the passenger door and patted the top of the sports car, a recent purchase and one of the company’s new electric models. His father had come undone when he’d spied it, which had been a silly temper tantrum in Jonathon’s opinion. They were an old Texas oil family, making their living for generations on drilling, and the money they had now would last him and his four older sisters indefinitely if invested wisely. If his old man knew he’d taken a chunk of his own share long ago and put it toward green energy interests, he’d probably be disowned.

  He weaved through heavy Saturday night Dallas traffic until he spotted a questionable restaurant close to the outskirts of the city that seemed absolutely perfect. The area neared where gang activity had picked up, which of course added much more to his interest. A degree in cultural anthropology had left him fascinated with people outside of his inherited social circle. Those he’d grown up around all seemed cookie-cutter after a while, just like the obnoxious homes they lived in clustered around exclusive golf clubs.