Private 02 - Private Paradise

arrived. Him and Carla naked, skin to skin, kissing, touching, his fingers sliding between her legs to find her pussy soaked with a need that matched his. Him sliding his cock against the smooth skin of her inner thighs as she spread them, the pink folds of her pussy parted and wet, waiting for him to come inside.
    He always woke up at that point, his dick in is own hand as he writhed in an agony of lust and the need to get inside of her, to know once and for all what it would feel like to have Carla's tight, wet pussy take him all the way inside.
    He felt the familiar stirrings at the memory and dropped the hand holding the towel in front of his crotch before he sprung a full tent pole in his shorts. He found her watching him, color high on her cheeks, her plump bottom lip caught between her teeth as her eyes tracked him from the top of his sweat damp head, down the front of his sleeveless work out shirt, now drenched from exertion.
    Lingering on the towel draped oh so casually in front of the raging hard on he'd sprung the second she walked in the room.
    Her dark eyes went hot, just for a second, but it was just enough to let him know that maybe she wasn't as indifferent as she wanted him to think.
    “ I―I don't want to disturb you,” she said, her voice a little breathless like it used to get when she was about to come.
    Sam smiled and walked to the water cooler, in the opposite direction of her and the door. “The place is a thousand square feet,” he said. “I can't imagine how you'll disturb me.”
    Still, she hesitated, and though she tried there was no hiding her discomfort. He walked over to a leg extension machine and started a set, surreptitiously watching as she seemed to draw herself up. Flashing him a tight smile, she stalked over to the line of elliptical machines that overlooked the clear blue waters of the sea. She propped what looked like an e-reader on the front, put her ear buds in and fiddled with her iPod. Within seconds, her legs and arms were pumping in a steady rhythm.
    Sam's arms and legs were already twitching with exertion, but he finished his leg lifts and did three more full treadmill-pull up-push up-sit up circuits. He watched as the wispy hairs on the back of her neck curled up as the skin there got damp with sweat. He could see droplets of sweat beading on her upper back, above the scoop of her tank top and on her shoulders. He wanted to pin her to the mat and chase every single one with his tongue.
    She did a good job of pretending to tune him out, but Sam could feel the heat of her gaze on him as he worked through his routine. Finally she got off the elliptical and went over to the racks of hand weights lined up against the wall.
    Carla was as no nonsense about her workout as she was about everything else in her life, Sam noted as he watched her work her way through a series of exercises that targeted her arms, shoulders, and back. She treated her workout with a quiet intensity, and the sleek muscles undulating under smooth skin were evidence of her dedication.
    Sam wandered over in her direction, his reflection visible in the mirrors lining the walls. Carla stared straight ahead, seemingly focused on her own form as she lunged to the side and rested her elbow on her knee for a set of bicep curls.
    Sam had left his towel draped over the railing of the treadmill and he tugged the hem of his shirt up to wipe his face.
    He knew Carla was watching when she let out an audible gasp. He lowered his shirt and met her shocked gaze in the mirror. She straightened up, the dumbbell momentarily forgotten in her right hand. “Oh my God, is that from a bullet?”
    He knew she was referring to the thick, puckered scar that stood out white against the otherwise tanned flesh of his chest.
    “ Yep. Took a hit when I was on a job in Colombia.”
    Carla turned to face him and took a step toward him. The blank expression of the past week was gone as her dark brows drew together in a look of deep concern.
    The same look she'd worn, he remembered, the day his father had shown up, insulted Carla, and then demanded money from Sam. Back then, it had made him feel sick to his stomach, convinced as he was that she was pitying him.
    Now, it brought a rush of warmth and a pinch of regret to see the sincere concern in her eyes. For all her ball busting and type A focus on moving ahead, Carla had the same big heart and generous spirit as her cousin Chris. She'd cared about him once, and now he wanted to go