Cami’s Georgia Patriots Romance Collection Read online

  “Ally.” He broke away and leaned back. “We need to stop. I have to tell you about number three …”

  “Why would we stop?” She kissed him again. Number three could wait. She wanted to kiss him all night; what could possibly be wrong with that? They were both rational and in-control adults. They wouldn’t go farther than kissing.

  Preston’s mouth hungrily moved against her own, and she lost all track of time and accountability. She only wanted to keep kissing him and experiencing these incredible sensations. Then he did something that shocked her but also set her body on fire: he rolled her onto her back and pressed his body on top of hers. The kiss continued, taking on a life of its own, and her body responded to the pressure of his. She’d never known desire for a man existed like this.

  Preston yanked away from her and said, “No! I can’t.” He pulled away from her and rolled completely over, turning his back to her.

  Ally’s stomach was still full of heat and her breath was coming in fast gulps. What had just happened? She lay there for a few seconds, trying to register how he could’ve kissed her so hungrily and then torn away from her like that.

  She leaned up and put a hand on his upper back. He sucked in a loud breath. “Preston?” she questioned timidly. “What’s wrong?”

  “Please, Ally. You don’t understand ... men.”

  What in the world did that mean? “No, I don’t,” she agreed, but she thought she understood him. What had yanked him away from her?

  “You’re so innocent.” He pushed out a breath. “I’ll explain … tomorrow. Please don’t touch me right now,” he said in a controlled voice that terrified her. He was pulling away from her emotionally as well as physically, and it hurt.

  Ally pulled her hand back. She rolled the opposite way and faced the tent wall. What had happened? She’d been consumed with his kiss one second, and then he’d turned from her and didn’t even want her to touch him? Her world was spinning. She knew Preston was a good man, an honorable man, and she’d kept making him kiss her when he wanted to stop. He’d probably realized it wasn’t fair to lead her on when he’d never want to be with her outside this island. A voice in her head reminded her of the painful reality of her teenage and college years. Men like Preston didn’t want a woman like her. Her softer, bigger shape had disgusted Preston or maybe him saying she was innocent was only code for her not knowing how to kiss correctly. He’d let himself kiss and hold her, and now he was regretting it and was shutting her out.

  Squeezing her eyes shut tight, she couldn’t keep the tears from sliding out of the corners of her eyelids. She cried silently, hugging herself and praying desperately that they’d be rescued tomorrow. She couldn’t stand to see the rejection in Preston’s eyes in the light of day.

  Chapter Twelve

  Preston spent an absolutely miserable night curled away from Ally, cringing every time her soft, irresistible body brushed his from behind. He’d almost lost control, and with the most amazing woman he’d ever met. His parents had drilled it into him that if you loved someone, you loved them more than your selfish desires and waited for marriage to be intimate, and you never, ever took advantage of a woman. He didn’t know if what he felt for Ally was love, but it was definitely stronger than anything he’d ever felt for a woman. He wanted to protect her, laugh with her, explore and make memories with her, and touch and kiss her. Only her. He thought she might be the woman for him, and he’d almost pushed her too far physically last night. It was even worse because Ally was both innocent and vulnerable, obviously inexperienced with dating and ignorant of how attractive she was to him. As soon as she woke up, he’d explain to her how irresistible and impressive she was, and that he’d turned away last night to stay in control.

  Even with the sun shining bright and a new day upon them, he was still worried he would lose control again. How long could he sleep in this tent with her and never take it further? Not long at all if they kissed like they had last night.

  They needed to make some rules. That was it. This morning. He’d get out of this tent fast, and then, over breakfast, he’d explain how tempting she was to him and how they could only kiss in the daylight, standing up. That would be good. And he’d pray hard that he wouldn’t be such a weak fool ever again. He’d pray even harder that they’d get rescued soon so he could date her properly, see where these feelings for her could go. She was the complete package to him and he wanted more time to get to know her funny personality and watch her succeed at her career and simply be there for her.

  He sat up and glanced at Ally. Her back was still to him and she was curled against the other side of the tent. Could she still be asleep? He didn’t want to wake her if she was getting some much-needed rest, but she looked amazing in that too-big T-shirt, her dark hair spilling around her and onto the smooth skin of her neck. Maybe he could just lean around and kiss her cheek and still keep things chaste. Brush the hair away and sample the curve of her neck.

  No! He couldn’t even keep his own self-imposed rules. No kissing in this tent, ever again. Crouching, he looked out the window of the tent, prepared to see that snake again, but what he saw wasn’t a dangerous reptile. What he saw sneering at him was much, much worse.

  One of the men from Carlos’s yacht—the one who spoke English, if he remembered correctly—was glowering at him with a pistol pointed at the mesh window. “Come out nice and slow, mi amigo,” the man said.

  Preston nodded, hoping he could keep Ally out of this. But she stirred quickly next to him, and he realized she hadn’t been asleep at all. Her eyes were wild as she jumped to her feet and took in the man and then turned to Preston, fear evident in the beautiful lines of her face.

  “Preston?” she whispered.

  “It’s okay,” he said.

  “Hola, mujer hermosa,” the man murmured. “Happy to see you. Unzip the tent,” he growled at Preston.

  Preston didn’t know what else to do but obey. Maybe he could jump the guy and knock the gun from his hand. He unzipped the tent, then slowly eased outside. Reaching for Ally, he held on to her arm and helped her out of the tent, keeping her behind him.

  “Don’t hide, mi bella,” the man crooned.

  “What are you doing here?” Preston asked, his eyes flitting to the gun aimed at his chest.

  “Your brother come.”

  Preston’s stomach hopped. Gunner had come for them? Thank heavens. Preston would dismantle this guy, then go find his brother. “Is he close?” he asked.

  “He kill Carlos, big fight on the yacht last night. I escape in little boat. Nobody come. I know this island. I come to take the woman and kill you.”

  Preston’s palms dampened. He could throttle this guy if he could get around the gun. “Well, that sounds simple, and nasty,” Preston said. Had this guy escaped pursuit? Was there any hope Gunner would come for them? After he took this guy out, Preston would have to figure out which direction to travel in whatever boat the man had come on, or maybe get the stupid branches to do more than smoke when he twisted them.

  Ally eased around to Preston’s side. He pulled her back.

  “Let me go,” she whispered.

  “No.”

  She rose up on tiptoes and whispered into his ear. “Tackle him when I distract him.”

  Preston’s body trembled. It was a simple plan, but so many things could go wrong. He didn’t have much to lose, as the guy had already said he was going to kill him; the bullet could hit his chest any moment. But what if Ally got hit in the crossfire? Yet would Ally want to live with what this man would do to her? Preston had to protect her, and her distraction would up his chances of succeeding in taking the guy out. He squeezed her arm, then released it.

  Ally stepped around Preston and made the most seductive look he’d ever seen in a woman’s eyes, and it was even more appealing because it was Ally. Yet it wasn’t directed at him, but at the man pointing a gun at him. His stomach boiled with jealousy, even though he knew she wasn’t really after this guy.

&n
bsp; “I’m so glad you came,” Ally said, all sweet and irresistible. “I’ve been thinking of you and wanting to get away from him.” She pointed at Preston and took a large step away from him and toward the man. Touching his face, she murmured, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  The man hung loosely to the gun as his eyes focused on Ally. Preston hated that she was touching him, and then the man used his free hand to trail his fingers down Ally’s arm. “Muy bella,” he said.

  Ally was Preston’s girl, and no one had the right to touch her but him. The fierce protectiveness he felt toward her swelled until it was almost overwhelming. He blinked, knowing he had to keep a clear head and not let the jealousy overtake him.

  The man’s eyes were fixed on her as she kept talking about how she’d noticed him on the boat, how handsome he was, etc. Preston waited until the man’s grip on the gun loosened and it was no longer aimed at him. He leapt, putting his 4.3 40-yard combine skills to the test. He rammed the man from the side, knocking him into the ground and away from Ally. The pistol went off, and he was terrified that a stray bullet might have gotten Ally.

  He grabbed the man’s hand and slammed it into the ground as he jammed his own forehead into the side of the man’s head. The man howled in pain and released the gun.

  Preston was seeing stars from hitting the man so hard with his head. How had that not knocked the guy out?

  Ally’s hand darted in and she grabbed the gun.

  “No, Ally!” Preston didn’t want her anywhere near this man or the gun.

  The man bucked his body and slammed his free hand into Preston’s temple; there was something solid in his grip that had Preston swaying and hardly able to keep his head. The darkness was encroaching on Preston, but he wasn’t going to pass out and fail Ally. He rolled his body weight on top of the guy and punched him in the side of the head. The man’s hand came up to hit him again just as Preston saw the rock in his palm. He hit Preston in the temple with it. Stars exploded and the world started going black. Preston slid to the side, nausea threatening as he tried to hold on to consciousness. The rock was coming at him again. This hit might finish him off.

  “Stop!” Ally yelled. “Or I’ll shoot.”

  The man’s fist stopped in midair, and he looked at Ally in surprise. “You won’t shoot,” he said snidely.

  “Move, Preston,” Ally commanded.

  Preston slid off of the man and onto his knees. How could he protect Ally when he couldn’t even see straight?

  The man sprang up and was raising the rock to smash it into Preston’s head again. The gun went off, and the man screeched in pain and sprang away from Preston.

  Preston stared through bleary eyes at the man and Ally. She stood, shaking slightly, with the gun still aimed at the man. “I told you I’d shoot.”

  She was so incredibly brave. Preston couldn’t believe she’d actually shot the guy.

  Blood spurted from the guy’s shoulder. “Loco señorita,” he cursed.

  “I’ll do it again,” Ally warned. She came close to Preston and knelt down next to him, still clinging to the gun. “Are you okay?”

  “Dizzy,” he admitted. He was going to pass out or puke. They needed to … tie the guy up and go to the beach and make a signal fire or something. Gunner was close by, but Preston could hardly keep his nausea down or his head clear. He’d had concussions before, but nothing had felt this debilitating.

  “You’re incredible, Ally,” Preston whispered. His ears rang from a roar and another shot, and his head exploded as the rock caught him in the temple again. Then everything went dark.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ally was panicking hard-core. Preston was passed out, and she had no clue how much damage the guy had done to his head. She’d shot the man again, this time hitting his leg. The man was glaring at her from not far enough away, as she’d yelled at him to get back or she’d finish him off this time. Yet she had no clue how to keep him under control, even with a bullet wound to his shoulder and leg. She had no rope to tie him up with. With her luck, another snake would appear. Maybe the creature would go after the wounded man. Did snakes sense blood? No, that was sharks, right?

  Last night had been horrible as she’d felt confused and basically rejected by Preston, but today was even worse. He had said she was incredible before he passed out, but his safety was the bigger concern right now. She felt for a pulse, and luckily, he still had one. He’d taken more than enough hits to the head as a football player. How long would he be passed out? How did she treat a head injury? What if he didn’t wake up? Her heart constricted at the thought. She needed Preston, in so many ways.

  The man groaned in pain and she clung to the gun, pointing it at him. Thank heavens the gun had been loaded with no safety on and all she’d had to do was aim and fire. She shook slightly, realizing she could’ve killed the guy instead of hitting his shoulder, but thankfully she hadn’t. No matter how vile he was, she didn’t want that on her conscience.

  “You.” She pointed the gun at the man. “Go get in that tent.” She gestured toward it with her head.

  He nodded, stood with a grimace, and shuffled toward the tent. The look in his eyes was murderous, but he appeared compliant. He reached the tent, and she suddenly realized she was telling a bleeding man to get her safe spot all dirty. She needed to get Preston in there and nurse him back to health, without the worry of a snake slithering over him.

  “Wait,” she said. “Go sit under the waterfall. The water will wash the blood away.” It sounded like an okay theory, and with him in the water, it would be harder for him to rush her while she checked on Preston.

  “Loca,” he muttered again, but he walked toward the waterfall.

  As he approached, he wasn’t looking at her, but he was getting too close. She started to back away. He ducked low and dove at her legs, knocking her off her feet and against the hard ground. The breath whooshed out of her, and pain radiated through her back. Ally clung to the gun and smacked him in the head with it. He shouted in pain and reached for the gun.

  A snake slithered from the undergrowth and struck the man’s shoulder with his teeth. The man cried out and Ally screamed. He grabbed the snake and hurled it into the jungle. Ally hit him in the temple as hard as she could with the grip of the gun. He sank down to the ground. Ally scrambled to her feet. He wasn’t out cold, but he was definitely stunned. She scurried away from him and toward Preston. “Please be okay. Please wake up.”

  Preston didn’t stir. He was completely out. She rested a hand on his shoulder, drawing comfort from his warm flesh, and kept an eye on their attacker. Her gaze kept darting around for that snake. How could she keep the man under control and somehow doctor Preston? Would she have to kill the man to keep him from attacking them again?

  Crashing noises from the bush startled her. She gasped and stood in front of Preston, aiming the gun at the new threat. Had more of Carlos’s men found them? “Stop or I’ll shoot!” she yelled in what she hoped was a threatening voice.

  The footsteps stopped, but a man yelled, “Preston? Alyandra?” He sounded American.

  “Who are you?” she demanded, her body trembling as she clung to the gun, wishing Preston would wake up.

  “Gunner Steele,” the man said.

  “Oh, thank heavens.” Ally sank to the ground next to Preston. She cradled his head against her chest, and his eyelids fluttered open. “We’re saved,” she told him. “Are you okay?”

  “Can we proceed?” Gunner called.

  “Yes!” Ally yelled back.

  Preston blinked up at her. “You’re so incredible,” he slurred.

  She couldn’t resist kissing him quickly, but pulled back when he didn’t really return it and she heard chuckles. The men filtering into the clearing looked like a tough bunch of military dudes. Two men led them: a guy who resembled Preston, and a tall, regal-looking man who looked like James Bond.

  “Secure him,” James Bond said.

  Preston’s brother hurried to him and
Ally, staring seriously at both of them. “What happened to him?” he asked.

  “He got hit in the head with a rock … a few times.” Ally suddenly felt embarrassment swoop in. Preston had rejected her last night, and here she was acting like they were a couple because they’d gone through something terrifying. She was thrilled to be rescued and that he’d awoken, but it meant real life was back, and part of real life was the reality that she and Preston weren’t a match. Not in the hard, cold world she lived in, and not with the way he’d turned his back on her last night.

  Preston gave her a loopy smile. He looked groggy and not like himself. “I’m good.” He was still slurring his words. “I’m used to hits in the head. I’m a football player.”

  Gunner arched his eyebrows. “Yeah, you sound good, bro. Let’s get you two out of here. We’ve got to get him to a medic.”

  Another man offered his arm to Ally. She took it and happily handed over the gun. Gunner, along with a guy burlier than any football player, helped Preston to his feet. Preston leaned heavily on his brother.

  “Blimey, looks like the two of you got yourselves into a dodgy mess.” James Bond came over and extended his hand to Ally. “Sutton Smith.”

  She shook his hand. “Nice to meet you. Ally Heathrow.”

  “I know who you are. Kim’s sister.” He gave her a kind smile. “Are you ready to go home?”

  “Yes, sir,” she said, but inside she was churning. Home. A home without Preston. Glancing over at him, she cringed when his head lolled to the side. She hoped he was okay. She knew their futures wouldn’t coincide—no more than professionally, anyway. She’d known it even when he’d been holding her and kissing her last night, but she pushed that pain and longing away and concentrated on praying that he’d be okay.

  Chapter Fourteen