The Devil and the Deep - By Amy Andrews Page 0,63

waded into the ocean. He levered himself up, turning to sit, papers still in hand, watching as the warm tropical waters slowly swallowed her up.

He realised after looking up for the tenth time in ten minutes he was too distracted to read. The reef was close to the shore so she was only a couple of metres out and he could see the bobbing of her naked bottom as she lazily circled back and forth across the surface, occasionally duck diving and blowing water out of her snorkel when she reappeared.

When a coconut fell beside him, missing him by about an inch, he decided it was time to give up and just enjoy the view. He absently picked up the coconut and shook it, hearing the swish of milk inside. He grabbed his diver’s knife out of his backpack and, being an old hand at husking coconuts, quickly did so.

By the time the outer shell was peeled away and he’d removed the stringy bark, revealing the hard smooth surface, Stella was emerging from the ocean like something from a James Bond film.

Except nude. Her blonde hair slicked back from her face, clinging to her naked back like a sheath of honey-gold silk.

Like a mermaid.

He brought the bald nut to his face and inhaled the sweet earthy aroma as he watched her walking towards him. The fragrance was pure Stella.

A fragrance he’d become quite addicted to.

Her bell tinkled as she drew closer, his erection increasing with her every footfall. When she threw the snorkel and mask down beside him his mouth was as dry as the powdery sand beneath him.

‘Do women practise that little hip swing or is it just part of their DNA?’ he asked, looking up into her face. Water droplets clung to her eyelashes and ran down her body.

Stella laughed as she deliberately reached behind her to wrap her hair around her hand and squeeze out the excess water. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ She grinned.

‘Oh, yeah?’ he growled as he threw the coconut down and gently tumbled her to the ground.

Stella went down laughing, clinging to his shoulders as she settled against the soft sand. He straddled her, looming above. The grains felt warm and powdery beneath the cool skin of her back, as did the sun on her face, their formerly shaded position now mostly in light as the day grew later.

‘I’m going to have sand everywhere,’ she grouched good-naturedly.

‘That’s the plan.’ He grinned as he lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips and the curve of her waist were cool to touch. ‘Water cold?’ he asked as his tongue lapped at the water droplets still clinging and cooling her throat.

Stella shut her eyes and angled her neck to give him wider access. ‘A little.’

Rick smiled against her neck. He sat and groped around beside him. ‘Let’s see if we can’t warm you up.’

Stella opened her eyes just in time to see him holding a coconut and his diver’s knife over her abdomen. As a teenager she’d often watched him husk a coconut, the muscles of his back and arms way more fascinating than they should have been.

She quirked an eyebrow. ‘Been busy?’

He grinned as he struck the coconut with the handle of the knife right between the eyes. It capitulated easily, cracking in half, clear fluid running out over his hand and dripping onto her cool belly.

He eased it apart, gratified to hear her gasp as he poured most of the warm milk over her belly and breasts. Her nipples ruched before him and his erection surged. He groaned as the aroma of ocean and her wafted up to him and he bent his head to her.

‘I want to taste you here,’ he muttered. His hot tongue swiped over puckered nipples and she arched her back. He removed every trace of the warm juice before moving on.

‘And here,’ he said, going down, following the trail of liquid that had puddled in her belly button. He heard the suck of her breath as he lapped it up. She tasted sweet and salty. Like the ocean, tropical breezes and the soft sugary nirvana of coconuts.

He sat back on his haunches, watching her, waiting for her to open her eyes. When her eyelashes fluttered open he picked up the half-coconut that still had a little milk remaining.

‘And here,’ he murmured, trickling it between her legs, as he had done with the mango, supressing a groan as she licked her lips and panted, her thighs parting, the