In this modern version of the fairy tale classic, The Frog Prince, heiress Darcy Haverford and ex-military beach bum Daniel Colvin find themselves shipwrecked on a desert island together.
Daniel may have the skills to keep them alive—but after living alone with Darcy for a week, he’s not sure he has the patience to keep from wringing her spoiled neck.
But the longer they spend together, the hotter it gets on the island, until the friction between the two of them rises to a fever pitch.
What neither of them knows is that a storm is coming and the key to their survival may involve both discipline and surrender.
Warnings: This title contains elements of bdsm.
Word Count: 27,237
He was having a very pleasant dream when he felt her straddling him, her weight a delightful surprise, her hands on his shoulders, shaking him. His island girl had come to visit earlier than he’d expected.
Without even opening his eyes, he grabbed her hips and shifted his so she could feel the heat of his erection through his boxers. Then he slipped one big hand up her back, making a fist in her hair to pull her mouth down to his. She tasted both sweet and salty, like she’d been swimming in the sea, and he liked the way she squirmed in his arms as he rolled her onto her back beneath him.
That’s when she bit his lip and, when he broke the kiss, pushed at him, crying out, “What the hell?”
Daniel opened his eyes to see Darcy trapped beneath him and he scrambled off her, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His lip was bleeding.
“Jesus. Sorry,” he croaked. “I was dreaming… I thought…”
“No, you weren’t thinking.” She crawled out from under the tent. “Or if you were, you were obviously only thinking with one particular part of your anatomy and it sure as hell wasn’t your brain.”
“Okay, I said I was sorry,” he apologized again, sitting up under the tent, seeing the light had changed considerably. It had to be going on noon. “What in the hell were you doing, anyway, climbing on top of me like that?”
“I was trying to wake your ass up.” Darcy pointed one of her perfectly manicured nails starboard. “So you could see that.”
“Is it a ship?” he asked hopefully, ducking his head out to see what she was pointing at. It wasn’t a ship—but it was land. Ho!
“That’s land, right?” She leaned on the edge of the boat, shading her eyes with one hand and squinting. “It’s not a mirage? I’m really seeing it.”
“Yep.” Daniel grinned, relieved to see the current was taking them more or less in the island’s direction. They were going to have to row a little in order not to be carried right by it, but they would make it to shore.
“Come on, princess, time to get to work.” The RHIB was a little too wide for one person to man both oars easily. “Grab an oar.”
“I’ve never rowed a boat in my life.” She looked at the oar he handed her, aghast, as if it were some kind of personal insult in the form of a paddle.
Her response made Daniel want to smack her ass with that paddle. He stood there for a moment, actually imagining it before he bit his tongue again—he could still taste the blood from her assault on his lip—and managed to keep his cool.
“Well…” Daniel settled himself beside her, fitting his oar into the lock. “We could always let the current take us past the island. I suppose that’s an option. That would mean drifting around on thousands of square miles of ocean. In a month or two, if we’re really lucky, there might be another island. Of course, that would mean paddling again.”
She glared daggers at him, but she flounced down into a sitting position, fumbling to fit her oar into the lock. Finally, she got it in place and began to row half-heartedly, completely out of rhythm.
“Hey.” Daniel leaned over and nudged her with his bare, brown shoulder. “Match my rhythm.”
“How?” She pouted, but she studied him pulling on the oar. He saw her gaze lingering over the flex of his biceps, the tautness of his forearms.
“Nice and easy,” he instructed. “Slow and steady. You can do it.”
She made a face but grabbed her oar in both hands, trying to match him. Of course, she didn’t have his strength, but she began to catch on to his rhythm.
“That’s it,” he murmured, nodding his encouragement, even giving her the flash of a smile. “Pull…”
Darcy gave a little grunt with the effort.
“Pull…” He met her eyes, nodding.
“Like this?” Darcy bit her lip and pulled hard on her oar.
“Yes, pull…” he encouraged softly. “Just like that…”
They were sitting together, hip-to-hip, both of them working hard against the ocean’s relentless resistance.
“Good job, princess,” he teased. “May make a sailor out of you yet.”
She turned her head to look askance at him with those glittering green eyes and asked casually, “How’s your lip?”
He laughed. “I don’t go down that easy, princess.”
“Neither do I.” It was the first time he’d seen her smile.
Together, they rowed toward shore.
This book was added to our catalog on Friday 23 June, 2017.