Free Karibu Heat (Sequel to Kabana Heat) by Titania Ladley

and Jager seemed
impossible: Jager was determined to see her behind bars.
    Dang it, what a
shame that he was her number one enemy at the moment, because despite them
being incompatible, the guy sure got her juices flowing like a freaking volcano
eruption. Huh, and strangely, knowing she didn’t have all the right parts to
satisfy him, made her hornier and hotter than hell. Her center tingled even as
she jogged. The man-on-man issue plaguing both men really spiced the scenario
up for her, something she never would have guessed about herself before her
trip to Kabana.
    She imagined
Keefer and Jager together in a tub just like she’d seen Mitch and his man, with
Mitch’s new wife right there watching. Mmm…
    Takes one to spot one.
    “Oh, gawd.” She
snatched the towel and blotted her perspiring face. “What a mess.”
    “A mess? Oh,
yeah. You’re in a hell of a pickle.”
    She shrieked.
How could that be? His voice echoed so close behind her, and yet she still
jogged on the treadmill. She glanced down and saw that Jager’s feet were
planted on the stationary side rails on either side of the belt just behind
her. Her gaze jerked up to see that his hands now gripped the rails, caging her
in.
    “Get away from
me.” She started to stumble but grabbed the machine’s bar just in time. One
hand slapped the back of his for support while the other threw the towel aside.
    He reached
around and yanked the emergency rope. The machine came to a gradual whirring
stop. “How can I?” His nose probed her ear from behind. She heard him inhale
over the sound of Shaggy on the overhead speaker rapping about banging on the
floor. “I think you look more scrumptious in sweaty clothes than you do in the
nude getting screwed by Keefer. Besides, I adore the smell of your fear. It’s
hard to resist.”
    She whirled
around and leaned her back over the treadmill’s paused computer screen in order
to put some distance between them. “You can’t keep doing this.”
    “Doing what?”
His eyes glittered, more gray than hazel at the moment. They probed her with
adept precision and callous intent. They held her hostage just as his arms and
big body were.
    Her hands went
up to ward him off when he leaned closer, offering her a whiff of his enticing
cologne. Holy crapsake alive, he wasn’t wearing a shirt. The heat from his
smooth, hard chest permeated her trembling palms. “Following me.”
    Ironically, on
the overhead, Shaggy sang, “It wasn’t me.”
    Jager shrugged
and grinned. “Can’t help it. Your hot little ass makes me pant like a virgin
schoolboy. And seeing you getting totally, thoroughly ravished by a
muscle-packed guy, well, it makes me hungry as a starved dog.”
    “Huh, a rabid
wolf, more like,” she retorted on a snort and shoved him without success.
    He set his feet on
the belt and stepped closer. His gaze zeroed in on her lips. “Mm-hm, a hungry
wolf sounds more like it.”
    “Jager, no,
I—“
    He swooped down
and covered her mouth with his. The flavor of spiced rum, and some other
ingredient she couldn’t place, burst in her mouth. His tongue slipped warm and
silky between her teeth. It swirled and explored her mouth like that rabid wolf
she’d accused him of. But he’d been wrong on one count. This was no virgin
schoolboy. Despite his other penchant for men, Jager knew his way around a
woman’s body. He molded her hips to his, and ground his cock against her
enflamed pussy. While his mouth pummeled hers with devastating, enticing
prowess, his hands worked their magic, tangling in her hair and gliding into
the back of her shorts to knead her sweaty ass.
    Eh, the hell with it.
    She surrendered
and groaned into the kiss, sliding her hands up and over his collarbones. Her
fingers grazed through the short hair at the back of his head, and when he
broke free of the kiss to trail a hot, suckling path down her jaw and neck, she
dug her fingertips into his skull and tipped her head back to hold him there in
the crook