13
“You bastard,” Christian sounded more impressed than angry. “How is it that you get Zoe and I do not?”
Luke had no idea. It was like a DeMille-sized bomb had been dropped on his position and he still hadn’t recovered. Taking her against the car parked a hundred kilometers from anywhere was a tropical-beach fantasy that still didn’t seem real. Going down on her last night in her bed had simply been downright awesome.
Christian, who they should have easily beaten back to Dakar, had returned and been put to bed by his wife hours before he and Zoe returned.
He hadn’t remembered holding her for so long in his lap after they’d made love, but when he’d sat down in the sand and she’d curled up there, it was hard to complain. She made no attempt at explaining or apologizing for her crying. M
