by Joss Wood
Because a couple of days did not a relationship make.
But it was one thing to make the mental shift to decide to have sex, but asking for one night, a step out of time, was something completely different.
Seriously, Brin thought as she stared at Radd’s gorgeous profile in the romantic light of the oil lamps, why can’t he read my mind? It would be so much easier.
But that was his point, wasn’t it? He wanted her to make the first move, to take the initiative because then she could never accuse him of pressuring her. But the fear of rejection, something she’d battled with her entire life, kept the words locked firmly between her teeth. Brin tipped her head back to look at the stars, crystals hanging in a pure black sky. It was so quiet, yet, at the same time, it wasn’t. She was used to the sound of vehicles, the hum of their noisy fridge, barking dogs, wind in the tree outside her window. The noise of the bushveld was unlike anything she’d experienced, a dichotomy of silence and noise, both at the same time.
It was the sound of the earth and its creatures sighing, sleeping, dreaming. Even if nothing happened between her and Radd tonight—and she hoped to find the courage soon to ensure it would—it was almost enough just to sit under the low-hanging sky and listen to the sounds of the African night.
She heard the rumble, a displacement of air and, because she happened to be looking at Radd at the time, she saw his attention sharpen, his body tensing.
Brin leaned forward and, needing a connection, placed her hand on his knee. “What? Is everything okay?”
A small smile touched Radd’s face and he held up his index finger in a silent request for her to wait. Brin looked around anxiously.
“Shh, relax. Just listen.” Radd slid his fingers between hers, gently squeezing. Brin immediately relaxed; he’d protect her, she was safe.
Scooting closer to him, Brin placed her temple on the ball of his shoulder, her thigh aligning with his. Releasing her hand, Radd placed his arm around her back, his hand curving over her hip. His touch felt right and it felt real. If she lifted her head, her mouth would meet his...
A deep sound rumbled through the air, sounding as if it were pulled from the center of the earth and raising the hair on Brin’s arms and the back of her neck. It smacked her soul, the deep roar settling in the pockets of her heart and lungs, and twisting her stomach inside out.
“That’s a big boy,” Radd murmured, his voice lazy.
“Lion?” Brin asked, though she knew it couldn’t be anything else.
“Mmm...”
How could he sound so relaxed, like he’d just heard the hooting of an owl or the backfiring of a car? “And he’s how close?” Brin demanded, her voice a little shaky.
“A couple of kilometers, at least.” Brin felt rather than heard Radd’s amusement. “And might I remind you that we are thirty feet in the air, and lions can’t jump that high?”
He was laughing at her, but his amusement wasn’t disparaging or patronizing; it was gentle. And kind.
“Feel free to climb into my lap if you feel scared.”
It was an offer she couldn’t refuse, a chance she had to take. “Okay.”
She felt the muscles in his arms and thigh contract, heard his swift intake of breath. Brin wasn’t sure how many minutes, or seconds or years, passed, but then Radd’s hand touched her jaw, turning and tipping her face up. His eyes were the color of the sky, his scent as earthy and primal as the African night.
“I’m going to ask this once... Are you sure?”
“Very.”
And she was. She wanted one night, a perfect night. A night with no expectations but only pleasure, hours of hot hands and wet mouths and for them to pretend that they owned the night.
Radd half turned, and Brin felt his hands on her waist, easily lifting her so that she straddled his thighs. She knew that he was trying to be gentle, but gentle didn’t suit this environment or what she wanted. She wanted primal, sensual, hot.
Radd’s arms tightened around her bottom and lower back. His eyes dropped to her mouth and his fingers tattooed their way up her spine to clasp the back of her head, to pull it down. Without a word, his mouth slanted over hers and his tongue slid past his teeth. A hot ribbon of lust rippled from her mouth to her breasts, to that secret, dark place at the entrance of her womb. Radd pushed his hand up and under her clothes to learn the shape and feel of her breast. Brin whimpered, twisting Radd’s linen shirt in her hand. Nothing mattered but his mouth and his hand and the stone-hard length of him pressed between her thighs.
It wasn’t supposed to be this wild, this hot, this quickly. She wasn’t experienced, true, but this felt bigger, deeper, darker. Brin lifted her fingers to his jaw and nipped, her tongue making tiny forays into his mouth. She felt Radd’s hand slide under her top to unhook her bra and then, as his thumbs slid across her nipples, all hell broke loose.
And Brin welcomed the storm.
Their lips collided and Brin, strangely and uncharacteristically, found herself fighting for dominance of the kiss. Radd yanked her lightweight jersey over her head and, without hesitation, grabbed the hem of her button-down shirt and ripped the fabric apart, scattering buttons in every direction and baring her breasts to his mouth. Time stood still and the earth stopped moving as she bore down on his hard erection, desperate to have him inside her, around her.
Radd lifted his head from her chest and his eyes glittered in the moonlight. “You are so incredibly beautiful.”
For the first time in her life she felt beautiful, gorgeous, sensual, a goddess being adored by her mate. Unable to speak past the lump in her throat, she pulled his shirt up his chest and over his head, throwing it to the floor.
Brin, needing him and, unable to wait, hopped off Radd and shucked her jeans and panties. Barely giving Radd time to shed his own clothes, she climbed back on him, whimpering when her wet core met his heat and hardness.
Sighing, she tucked her face into his neck and inhaled, desperate to use every sense to experience the essence of making love to him, knowing that she’d need to commit this to memory because it was just one time.
The only time.
Brin felt the banked tension in his hand as he gripped her thighs, the urgency in his tongue as he looked for, and found, her mouth. She felt him quiver and knew that, with the slightest provocation, he’d spill himself. Needing more, needing everything, she bore down and clenched her internal muscles.
“Brin, we need a condom. I have some in my toiletry bag.”
It took a while for his words to make sense, even longer for her to respond. “I’m on the pill and if you are clean...”
“Physical a couple of months ago. No one since,” Radd muttered.
“Well, then...”
Radd touched her, expertly and intimately, and Brin released a cry that was part pleasure, all desire. His fingers lifted her up and up and, when she begged him to come inside her, he entered her in a smooth slide. Brin felt a sob build in her throat; he felt so right, the missing piece of her puzzle.
Riding a hot wave of pure sensation, and wanting to be an active participant in this tsunami-like ride, Brin grabbed his shoulders, swiping her breasts against his chest and seeking his mouth. Brin heard the deep moan in his throat and whimpered as he lifted his hips, burying himself even deeper inside her.
Higher, faster, harder, deeper. Their world receded, and the only question of importance was who was going to come first. Brin whimpered, and Radd shouted as their worlds collided and then exploded. Brin heard his harsh breath in his ear, his hot lips on the cord of her throat. She couldn’t tell where he started or she ended, as close as two people could be.
She could stay like this forever, hearts beating in unison, her hands on his back, his holding her hips. She wanted more of this, more of anything he could give her: time, affection, attention.
Love. Love most of all.
> Oh, God, no. No, no, no, no, no.
She’d done exactly what she promised herself she wouldn’t...
She was so close to falling in love with Radd Tempest-Vane. One more step, a quick slide and she would be there. Brin bit her lip, wondering if she was not confusing great sex with love, an amazing orgasm with affection. She wished she was, because if this was only sex, then walking away would be so much easier. But leaving Radd, carrying on with her life was going to be...well, hard. Different. A little flat and devoid of color.
But she couldn’t tell him her feelings, wouldn’t let him in on how she felt. Radd insisted on her making the first move to have sex, but Brin wanted him to be the first to breach the subject of feelings and love.
Because while she knew that she was there, or almost there, or something, she had no idea what Radd was thinking or feeling.
And, as she’d learned, people couldn’t be forced to give you what you needed, to love you the way you wanted them to....
In the distance, a hyena’s mocking laugh pierced the night.
CHAPTER NINE
SEX ISN’T NORMALLY that good, Radd thought as he pulled his vehicle to a stop at the stairs leading up to Kagiso’s main reception area. It was a biological function, they were hardwired as humans to want to procreate and to have fun while they did it.
It wasn’t supposed to make your soul jump, your heart settle and your stomach tie itself into a complicated knot.
Radd looked at Brin sitting in the passenger seat next to him. Although she was dressed simply, blue jeans and a white T-shirt, her face free of makeup, and her hair pulled back into a sexy tail, she could rival any supermodel. And he should know, since he’d dated a few...
He couldn’t wait to take her back to bed.
But sex, great sex, bed-rocking, moon-howling sex, was all they could ever have. He didn’t believe in love, commitment or happily-ever-afters; they were a myth, a fairy tale. He wasn’t interested in being anyone’s husband or significant other.
But if there ever was a woman who could change his mind, Brin would be that person. She was refreshing and without artifice, unimpressed with his wealth, success or looks. She looked past all of that and saw him, saw the man beneath the Tempest-Vane surface. When he was feeling mushy—vulnerable was a word he refused to use—he could imagine laying all his fears, and dreams, at her feet, knowing that she wouldn’t trample on either.
But that was impossible; he wouldn’t see her again after he delivered her to her house tomorrow. He’d kiss her goodbye and walk away and return to the real world. In time, he’d start thinking of her as just another passing ship in the night.
But the thought of never seeing her again sent his stomach plunging to his toes, quickly followed by waves of anger and frustration. He shouldn’t be thinking like this, shouldn’t be allowing his thoughts to drift in that direction.
And God, he couldn’t help wondering if any of their deep conversations would be repeated, if what he shared would end up in the public domain. He didn’t think they would, but that familiar dread, so adept at twisting his innards in knots, settled down and made itself comfortable. He knew better than to let his mouth run, if he’d kept his thoughts to himself he wouldn’t have anything to worry about.
Damn Brin for burrowing under his skin, worming her way into his heart and wiggling into his soul. Brin, damn her, yanked feelings—good, bad and ugly—to the surface and made him not only confront them but also face who he was, to question what he was doing with his life.
As Radd pulled up to the lodge, his phone dinged with an incoming message. He picked the device up off the flat dashboard and swiped his finger across the screen. It was a message from Digby.
Heads up: Shanna was tanning topless on my balcony and some paparazzi scumbag caught some very mild action from me. I was, mostly, dressed. Photos published online today.
Radd read the message again, trying to make sense of the words. Shanna was Digby’s on-off girlfriend and an aspiring actress. And the balcony he was referring to had to be his suite at The Vane and was supposed to be access-controlled and exceptionally private.
Radd felt his blood pressure rise.
How the hell did that happen?
Not sure but suspect Shanna had something to do with setting it up.
Holy Christ.
Don’t overreact, for God sake, Radd. It’s not that big a deal and it comes with the territory. Oh, and Shanna and I are over, obviously.
He should bloody well hope so. Radd gripped the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger and tried to push the anger away. Radd fought his instinct to fly home, demand a retraction and thump the photographer. But his younger brother was thirty-five and fully capable of fighting his own battles.
They had a right to privacy and the lack thereof shouldn’t come “with the territory,” it certainly wouldn’t with his. This was a great reminder of why he shouldn’t make personal connections.
“Good morning, John. How are you?”
Radd looked up to see his concierge, who was about to open Brin’s passenger door.
John, elderly and dignified, gave her a regal nod, but Radd saw the hint of pleasure in his eyes at her question. “I’m very well, thank you, Miss Brin. How did you enjoy The Treehouse?”
Brin’s under-her-eyelashes look, directed at him, was a little audacious and a lot naughty. “It was lovely, thank you. Some bits were better than others. The food was divine. And the setting magical.”
Radd ignored her flirtatious innuendo and impatiently waited for her to join him at the bottom of the stairs. Feeling irritated and off-balance, he placed his hand on her lower back to usher her up the steps leading into the reception area. He steered her toward the deck, away from where they could hear the voices of the Radebe party.
Radd saw the question in her eyes, knew that she’d picked up on his change of mood. He felt his Adam’s apple bob, tasted emotion in the back of his throat. He desperately wanted to gather her to him, bury her face in his neck and hold on tight. He wanted to make plans with her for the rest of his life, starting with not letting her go when they touched down in Cape Town tomorrow afternoon.
But because that was impossible, because he didn’t trust anybody, couldn’t believe in love and commitment—he refused to, love led to hurt and loss, and why would he do that to himself?—he pushed that thought away. Digby’s text messages were a fantastic reminder that this was a moment out of time, not the beginning of something real, something lasting. That he could only control his words and actions.
It was way past time to backpedal. And to do it hard and fast.
“Are we on the same page, Brinley?” he demanded.
Brin frowned, obviously confused. “I don’t understand.”
“We had sex last night—” he couldn’t call it making love; that was too intimate “—but nothing has changed between us. This can’t go anywhere.”
Brin blanched at his harsh tone, the softness in her eyes fading. Then, needing to put some distance between her and the verbal blow he’d dealt her, she stepped away from him. Hurt jumped into her eyes but he couldn’t let her feelings distract him.
They were on a runaway train and he had to hit the brakes, to stop this madness in its tracks.
“Excuse me?”
Radd raked his hands through his hair. “You, us, nothing is going to happen when we get back home. I hope you know that.”
Brin took another step back as pain settled on her face and in her eyes. He noticed a faint tremble to her chin and her suddenly pale face. Too hard and too bold, Radd cursed himself, fighting the urge to apologize. No, he was being cruel to be kind, she had to know that whatever was bubbling between them would expire in less than twenty-four hours.
Then she straightened her shoulders, pushed steel into her spine and her eyes met his. Brin’s unexpected and withering glar
e made him feel two feet tall. But before she could respond, Naledi called his name. For once, it was a welcome interruption.
“Your tribe awaits, my lord.”
Radd didn’t appreciate Brin’s sarcasm.
“Radd! Look who arrived while you were away!”
Radd turned and saw Naledi, wearing an eye-poppingly brief bikini and nothing else, standing a few feet from him, her arms around the waist of her fiancé Johnathan Wolf. It took all of Radd’s willpower to pull a welcoming smile onto his face, to hold out his hand for the groom to shake. Radd then turned to Brin and placed a hand on her back, silently urging her stiff body forward.
“Johnathan, meet Brinley Riddell.”
“Oh, Brin and I know each other,” Johnathan cheerfully replied. “But I didn’t realize you were acquainted with Radd, Brinley.”
Radd turned to look at Brin, watching as the last of her color faded from her face.
Oh, God...what now?
“And how do you know Brinley, Jon?” Naledi demanded in that hard-as-hell voice that made Radd, uncharacteristically, want to run for cover.
“She’s Kerry Riddell’s sister, darling.”
Judging by Naledi’s harsh scream and Brin’s white-as-a-ghost face, her being Kerry’s sister was, in Naledi’s world, the equivalent of a plague of locusts or a runaway groom.
This... Radd gripped the bridge of his nose and squeezed.
This was why he hated secrets and surprises. And personal connections. And why he kept his distance from people.
* * *
A few hours ago she’d been lying in Radd’s strong arms, completely at ease in her nakedness, exploring what it meant to give and receive pleasure. They’d made love over and over—three times? Four?—and with each pass she’d grown bolder, more confident in her power as a woman, tapping into that age-old power to make a man burn and squirm.
Radd had taken her to new sexual heights, far beyond what she’d experienced and even more than she’d imagined. In between their bouts of lovemaking, they’d talked, swapping stories about their childhoods, their favorite places, foods and movies.