Read Online The Castaway Bride by Kandy Shepherd - Free Book Online

desire. Her breath coming in urgent gasps, she was beyond thinking about what was happening. All she wanted was the sensation of Matt’s hands and mouth on her body.
    Matt freed her hands so his own were free. She shuddered with pleasure as he stroked the bare flesh of her thigh and moved with exciting relentlessness toward the triangle of the white lace thong the girls in the office had given her—accompanied by much ribald laughter—as a wedding gift.
    She wrenched her hands free so she could caress his back, urge him closer, reach for his buttocks, knead their muscular strength. She sought his mouth, craving more of his kisses, pressed her body to his, wanting more, wanting everything.
    Then gasped in shock as a wave hit her—cold water gushed, rushed around, and knocked them both sideways.
    The water washed over her face, blinding her. Panicking, she struggled to sit up but Matt’s weight was still on her, pinning her down. As he rolled off of her, the force of the wave dragged her with it toward the sea but Matt jumped up and hauled her to her feet.
    She wrenched her hands away from him. They were shaking as she pushed her streaming wet hair away from her face, and wiped the stinging water from her eyes. What the heck had happened there?
    Matt didn’t say anything for a long moment and all Cristy could hear was his ragged breathing and her own out-of-control efforts to drag air into her lungs.
    “Whoa,” he said finally, shaking the water from his face, “Talk… talk about King Neptune’s idea of a cold shower.”
    Cristy scarcely heard him. She was barely able to stand from the trembling in her legs, knocked out not just by the power of the wave that had doused them, but by the insane passion that had possessed her. Her nipples ached and she throbbed with unsatisfied need. Her heart raced at a million miles an hour. She dared not meet Matt’s eye.
    What had she done? Or nearly done? He’d given her a friendly, hug—just the thing you do when you’ve just saved someone from drowning—and she’d thrown herself at him. No, thrust herself at him. Practically begged him to bed her.
    She couldn’t bear the embarrassment of it. Never, ever had she even initiated a kiss let alone knocked a man down on the sand and then jumped him.
    She sent fervent thanks to King Neptune—or whatever had sent the wave that had douched them. Otherwise she might right now be rolling around in the shallows having passionate sex with Matt, right in full sight of anyone walking onto the beach. If only another convenient wave would just roll up and sweep her far, far away from here.
    Frantically, she pulled her bodice up over her breasts, but there wasn’t much of her wedding dress left. She felt exposed and vulnerable, her nipples taut through the wet, silky fabric, the flush of arousal staining the creamy skin of her chest.
    She dared a glance up at him. Despite his attempt at humor, Matt looked as uncomfortable as she felt. His eyes echoed the shock she knew he must see in hers.
    He cleared his throat. Twice. “That shouldn’t have happened,” he growled.
    She looked down at the sand, anywhere rather than at his face. “No,” she panted, “not… not a good idea.”
    “Let’s forget it ever—”
    “I usually don’t—”
    This was only making things worse. A flush of humiliation warmed her cheeks. How could she possibly explain what had happened?
    Matt wasn’t exactly rushing into the conversation either. He appeared as anxious to avoid her eyes as she was his. They both stared intently at the two flotation jackets bobbing around in the shallow waves, eager to look anywhere but at each other.
    Matt lunged to grab one at the same time she did. Her hand grazed his and she snatched it away. Flushing deeper, she waded toward the other one, rescued his fanny pack and handed it to him at arm’s length.
    She was still too shaken at the force of the passion that had overcome her to think straight. She prided herself on