«Island of Desire» by Alana Church

It seemed like a golden opportunity for siblings Brigid and Connor Flaherty: Jobs in an island paradise, far away from the modern world. But the sultry, tropical nights bring forbidden temptations. Will Connor join with Elenoa, the sexy priestess? Will Brigid find love in the strong arms of Tahu? Or will they break the ultimate taboo with each other? Find out in “Island of Desire.”

~~~~~ PG Excerpt ~~~~~

He was just turning to leave when a furtive gleam of sunlight on polished wood caught his eye. He bent forward to look, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Shoved into a corner was a statue of a nude woman, made of a wood that exactly matched the skin tone of many of the people he had met on the island. It was not life size, perhaps three feet long and two feet high, but it was extremely accurate, and exquisitely carved. She was on her hands and knees, her pert rear canted sexily upward. Her thighs were spread invitingly. As he turned it over, he could see the sweet curves of her breasts.

He set the statue on the table, grunting slightly with the effort, wondering who had made it, and why it was sitting neglected in a corner of a disused room rather than being displayed properly. The woman's eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted, and he could almost hear the rapid beat of her gasping breath as her lover approached. Her head was turned, looking over her shoulder, and he imagined her eyes would open, seeing him near, and she would smile in welcome. He ran his hand from the nape of her neck to the cleft of her buttocks, the wood warm under his fingers. Almost involuntarily, his fingers probed, then his eyes widened in shock. By some bizarre circumstance, the wood felt almost…wet.

A muffled gasp reached his ears, and he turned quickly, his face burning, hoping that whoever was there had not witnessed his…God, what could he call it? Molestation of art?

Kalele stood a few feet away, her eyes wide. Sweat beaded the line of her upper lip, and her skin looked flushed. She closed her eyes briefly, then smiled shyly, her large, dark eyes making her into some wary woodland creature, best approached carefully.

“Do you like it?” she asked, her voice low but achingly pure in the close confines of the room.

“It's beautiful,” he answered honestly. “Do you know who made it?”

She nodded. “My great-grandfather. He was a famous woodworker.”

“And the woman?” He hoped the question wouldn't be too revealing.

“My great-grandmother.” She walked across the room to join him. One small hand reached out and caressed the wooden cheek on the table, lingering fondly. “She died when I was a small girl. I only knew her as an old woman, but sometimes there was a look in her eye that told you of the woman she had been.”

“Were you close?”

She nodded, her face sad. “There are some who say I resemble her. Not…not my personality,” she stuttered, her dark skin growing darker. “She had a very rude sense of humor,” she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously, and Connor suddenly wondered how much of her shyness was merely an act. “It drove my poor mother, her granddaughter, crazy.

“But physically, they say we are almost twins.”

Connor swallowed. “Then she must have been amazingly lovely,” he said.

Kalele looked up, her eyes suddenly intent, though a gleam of humor danced in their depths. “Mr. Flaherty, was that a compliment?”

He swallowed. “It was. And now I am going to blush,” he said, already feeling his skin heat. “So could you do something to make this less awkward for me?”

“I might be able to think of something,” she breathed. He suddenly realized they were standing very close. A touch, and their fingers were entwined, gripping hard. A face like a tropical flower lifted, her lips opening invitingly. Her breasts brushed against the material of his shirt, and the touch burned. He leaned down, all his awkwardness blowing away, ready to join with her…