This time, as the alcohol threaded through her system and took away the remaining tension, she looked at him properly. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and he was trim and toned, from his neck, shoulders, and arms all the way down his torso to his thighs and calves. He didn’t quite have the six-pack of a bodybuilder, but she knew the muscles of his chest and stomach would be firm beneath her fingertips. An attractive layer of light brown, almost golden hair lay scattered across his chest, the happy trail leading to the curly thatch in his groin.
She let her gaze linger there. The guy was generously proportioned. It wasn’t his size that brought heat to her cheeks, however, but the sheer fact that he was naked. She’d read that Victorian gentlemen could grow aroused at the sight of a lady’s ankle because they were always hidden, and she comprehended why now. It wasn’t just that she could see his manly parts; it was his hips, his flat stomach beneath his navel, and his inner thighs. They were visible where he sat with his legs crossed, paler than the rest of his body which was usually exposed to the sun, and they were sprinkled with hair. Even though she’d understood when he’d said how people on naturist beaches managed to separate nudity from sex, sitting there looking at him, at the bare parts of his body that so few people were ever allowed to see, it was all so incredibly intimate and erotic.
“You carry on looking at me like that,” he said, “we’re going to have a problem.”
The look in his eyes was like a summer evening, hot and sultry, and sweat broke out over her body at its intensity. She had the feeling that, like her, he hadn’t expected this attraction to spark between them, but now it had started, he didn’t seem to want it to stop either.
The anticipation was so delicious, though, that she wanted to draw it out as long as she could. She pulled the tub of cheese and biscuits toward her, layered two crackers with cheese between them, and handed it to him before preparing one for herself. “Is that supposed to make me stop? If so, you don’t understand me very well.”
He crunched the crackers, keeping his gaze on hers, his lips curving as she ate and wiped delicately at the corners of her mouth.
“Are you trying to embarrass me?” He picked a couple of grapes from the bunch and popped them into his mouth. “Because it won’t work. I don’t get embarrassed.”
“We’ll see what we can do about that. I enjoy a challenge.” She chose a strawberry and bit into it, closing her eyes briefly as the summery sweetness filled her mouth, knowing he was watching her.
She licked the juice off her lips. “It must be difficult, being a guy.”
He made himself another cheese and cracker sandwich. “Why so?”
“Because you can’t hide when you’re turned on.”
He grinned. “It’s a good job I have iron control, then.”
“Iron control, huh?” She picked a couple of grapes, feeling a surge of mischievousness. “So…if I were to describe to you in great detail about the time I stayed at a girlfriend’s house and we…experimented, that wouldn’t affect you at all?” She popped a grape into her mouth and raised an eyebrow.
Niall stared at her, then looked out to sea for a moment. She had the distinct feeling he was counting in his head.
He turned his amused gaze back to her, drained the rest of his wine, and reached for a strawberry. “Nope.”
Reaching for the bottle, she unscrewed the lid and poured them both another cup. “So, anyway, we snuggled up under the covers one night. It was hot, so we took off our nightdresses. We were fifteen, so, you know, on the verge of womanhood, breasts beginning to fill out, innocent and yet not innocent, you know? All that potential, that hunger.”
She stretched out, not bothering to cover herself up, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop himself looking at her breasts. Her heart raced, and an ache was beginning between her thighs. Was this turning her on more than him? Surely he wasn’t the one man in the world who wasn’t turned on by girl-on-girl action?
But she hadn’t finished yet. “We’d heard about French kissing, how you were supposed to use your tongues, but neither of us had tried it, so we decided to practice on each other. We moved close to each other—I remember her breasts brushing mine, our soft, girlish nipples touching…”
“Genie…” His voice held a hint of warning. His eyelids had lowered and he positively glowered at her, but she pushed on relentless.
“Her lips were so soft, and her tongue slipped against mine, slick and hot. We kissed for ages, until our lips were sensitive and swollen, and I remember being puzzled as to why I had this ache between my thighs…”
Niall huffed a sigh, rolled onto his front, and rested his head on his folded arms, looking away from her. “I’m not listening. I’m going to have a snooze now.”
She stifled a giggle and moved towards him, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat from his skin. God, she was desperate to touch him, to see how hard those muscles were beneath her fingers, but she forced herself to lie still.
“I can’t remember who made the first move, but suddenly we were touching. Her body was young and tight, and she moaned when I stroked my hands over her breasts. I couldn’t help it—I bent my head and covered one of her nipples with my mouth. It was like sucking a chocolate truffle, soft and sweet, and I was amazed at the way it hardened on my tongue.”
He rested his forehead on his arms. “Genie, seriously…”
“I had to touch her. Down there. I slid my hand between her thighs, and she was swollen and wet. My fingers slipped easily through her folds, and as I stroked her, she sighed with pleasure. I continued to stroke, fascinated with how I was making her feel, and eventually I slipped my fingers into her tight virgin body and felt her clench around them as she—”
“Enough!” he snapped.
She stopped and bit her lip, taken aback by his gruffness. Had she shocked him? Heat filled her face—she’d got carried away. She was only playing, but not all guys were into dirty talk. She hadn’t taken him for one of them, but he’d said Tamsin hadn’t been into anything kinky. If she had been a bit prudish, maybe he wasn’t used to that kind of sex play.
“I’m sorry…” she said. Clearing her throat, she pushed herself up to a sitting position. Had she ruined everything? “Did you want to go back to the lodge?” Please, don’t let him say he wanted to go home.
He lifted his head to look at her. To her surprise, his eyes didn’t hold anger, just a nice mixture of amusement and exasperation. “After that? I’m going to need a few minutes.”
She stared at him, realization slowly dawning. He’d rolled onto his front because he had an erection.
She grinned. “That worked, did it?”
He rolled his eyes. “Where on earth did you learn to talk like that?”
“School for sluts.”
He laughed and bent his head so he could sink his hands into his hair. “Jesus.”
Delighted it had worked, she lowered herself back down, checking along the beach to make sure they weren’t being watched. They weren’t—everyone was much too busy with their own business to pay attention to the two of them.
Aware that getting too sexy on a nudist beach was a big no-no, nevertheless she didn’t see what harm a little teasing would make. She plucked a long blade of grass from the bank beyond where they were sitting and trailed it down his back. “Sure you don’t want me to carry on?”
“Not here. I’ll end up embarrassing myself, and we’ll get reported for indecency.”
“I would love to be reported for indecency. I should have put that on my bucket list.”
He laughed and turned his head to look at her. “You’re incorrigible.”
“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” She continued to trace the blade of grass over his back for a while, then when he didn’t complain, decided it was pointless to pretend she wasn’t dying to touch him and threw the grass away.
This time she touched the pad of her forefinger to the nape of his neck. Slowly, she drew it across his shoulders, th
en down his arm, following the muscles and bones, enjoying the feel of his damp skin. She traced over his shoulders, around his ribs and down his spine, then across to his hips. Down the outside of his thigh, up the back, across his butt, and up his spine to his shoulder.
“Want me to stop?” she murmured.
He sighed and closed his eyes. “No.”
So, smiling, she didn’t, taking her time to explore him, keeping her touch light. He had such a beautiful body. Strong, lean, taut, the skin tanned and unblemished, enough hair to be manly, not too much to turn her off.
She wished she was brave enough to ask him to turn over onto his back so she could do the same to his front. She’d trail her fingers over his pecs and abdomen, then follow his happy trail down to where she could take his erection in her hand and give him long, slow strokes. The skin would slide over the head, velvet over steel, then expose the swollen tip, where a drop of moisture would bead on the end. She’d feel every vein and ridge beneath her fingers, and she’d continue like that, faster and faster, until he shuddered and came, spilling silky fluid over her hand…
She’d been circling her fingers over his butt, and now raised her gaze to his face to see him watching her.
She stopped, embarrassed by where her thoughts had taken her. “What?”
He smiled. “You look as if you’re enjoying yourself. Your eyes have glassed over.”
“I am.”
“What are you thinking?”
She nibbled her bottom lip, letting her fingers play in the dip at the base of his spine. “Not sure I should tell you. I think I did enough damage with the girl-on-girl lust.”
“Oh, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Give me a hint.”
Chuckling, she traced down over his butt to his thigh. It was far too wide and solid for her hand to circle, but she curved her fingers around the muscle and stroked, up and down, keeping her eyes on his.
He said nothing for a moment, his green eyes surveying her, thoughtful and intense. Once she knew he understood, she returned her fingers to his spine, feeling down the vertebrae.
“I’m shocking you,” she observed.
His gaze slid down her body before returning to hers. “A bit.”
She paused, guilt fluttering through her. “I’m sorry.”
He smiled. “Don’t apologize. It’s not a criticism.”
“Then…”
“I’m just not used to a girl being so…direct.”
She was right, then—Tamsin had obviously been uninspiring in the bedroom. “Does it make me a loose woman?”
“I’m sure in some parts of the world it would. Not in New Zealand though.”
They both smiled.
She lifted her hand to his hair and slipped her fingers through it, tracing the curve of his skull around to his ears, then down his neck. Men’s necks were divine—solid and muscular, especially when they led to delightfully short hair up the back like Niall’s, which prickled her fingers like a hedgehog.
“I like that you say what’s on your mind,” he said. “And that you’re not ashamed of it. I’ve never understood why some women think it’s shameful to feel sexy, or to enjoy sex.”
Genie brushed her thumb and forefinger down either side of his spine. “Is that what Tamsin was like?”
He hesitated, and she cursed herself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry. I know you don’t like talking about her.”
“It’s not that—I feel disloyal. I don’t know why. We’re not together anymore.”
“No, you’re not.” She said nothing more, but hoped her words gave him permission to talk. She wasn’t the sort of woman to laugh at another for being reserved or prudish. Nobody had any control over how they were brought up, and she wouldn’t mock anyone for the way they were. But she did want to understand him. And she did want to show him that not all women were the same. He deserved to be admired, to be loved.
And she thought she knew the perfect woman to show him.
Chapter Sixteen
Niall’s eyelids fluttered shut as Genie traced over his buttocks and down the backs of his thighs.
He honestly didn’t know what to say to this sexy, sensual woman, who’d spoken so openly about her fantasies, and who very clearly was interested in doing unnamable, erotic things to his body. When she’d stroked up and down his thigh, he’d struggled to keep it together, more turned on than he could say by the notion of her taking him in her hand and teasing him until he came.
Her fingers had returned to his back and were exploring his muscles there again. There was no way he’d be able to dispel his erection while she was touching him, but he was loathe to tell her to stop. He opened his eyes to survey her. She didn’t look impatient; she wasn’t looking out to sea or daydreaming about her shopping list or what to have for tea. Her lazy, sexy gaze was studying him, devouring him, maybe, enjoying his nakedness, and possibly conjuring up other things she’d like to do to him.
He shivered at the thought, and watched her lips curve up at the corners.
She was waiting for him to reply, and he considered what to say. The truth was that she had shocked him. Ultimately, his sexual experience was very limited—the occasional backseat fumble with his first girlfriend, a voyage of discovery with his second that featured a few moments he wasn’t very proud of including one that had earned him a slap around the face. And then there was Tamsin.
The red-haired Aussie had intrigued him from the moment he’d met her. Tamsin had been wafer-thin, ambitious, and determined, in both love and work. She’d gone to the same university as him but had studied nutrition, and as a vegetarian, who worked out constantly, she was confident in her own skin, albeit slightly preachy and superior to those who weren’t as careful with their diet or exercise. He remembered her coming across Genie, aged sixteen, halfway through eating an extra-large pepperoni pizza after school one day. Tamsin had told her that if she continued to eat like that she’d be the size of an elephant with skin that looked like the very item she was eating. Genie had told her to fuck off.
Now, it made him smile. At the time, he’d pulled Tamsin away, embarrassed at her self-righteousness, and they’d argued, one of their most memorable rows, where they’d both said harsh and bitter things. Not for the first time, she’d accused him of being soft on Genie—he’d denied it vehemently, his anger born out of a seed of guilt that she spoke the truth. He’d ended up irritated and fraught; Tamsin had cried. It was just one of many similar arguments.
Genie slid her fingers up his nape and into his hair, and he stifled a groan as she raked his scalp lightly with her nails. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his shoulder before pulling back to continue her exploration of his body. His skin burned, though, where her lips had touched. He wanted them elsewhere on his body. He wanted to kiss her back, and he wanted to make love to her.
“It wasn’t that she wasn’t into sex,” he said eventually, needing to make Genie understand. “She enjoyed it—I think, unless she faked it every time. I guess that’s a possibility.”
Genie laughed. “I’m sure she’s not that good an actress.”
“I hope not. In the beginning, anyway, it was fun. You don’t know any different, do you, when you’re eighteen? It was fast and furious and there was lots of it, and I didn’t feel any need to complain. But as the years went by, I suppose things became…staid. I’d hear the other guys talk occasionally about things they’d got up to, and I am a bloke for Christ’s sake—I’ve watched enough porn to get some ideas.” He felt odd admitting that, but he guessed that Genie wasn’t the sort of girl who was shocked to discover that guys watched and enjoyed porn. “But if I ever suggested anything, she always made me feel… I don’t know. Dirty, I suppose, and not in a good way.”
Genie smiled, but there was pity behind the humor. “She wasn’t interested in trying other things?”
“Not at all. She made me feel out of order for not being satisfied with what I had. I felt that was unfair, but I could never seem to exp
lain myself. Time went by, but when she finally started talking about marriage, I kept thinking, is this it? I wanted more.”
He met her eyes. They studied each other for a while.
“I’m not expecting anything,” he said. “I know you love your career and I wouldn’t stand in the way of that. And I would never assume that you…” He couldn’t think how to phrase it.
“Are up for it?” she suggested, and grinned.
He smiled. “Maybe. I’m not doing this very well. I can only be honest. I have feelings for you, Gin, I always have. Tamsin guessed, although I always denied it. She accused me once of having an affair with you.”
Genie’s fingers stopped on his back and her eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“Yes.”
Hurt flitted across her features. “Charming. As if I’d do that to someone. I could be accused of many things, but I would never take someone else’s boyfriend.”
He smiled. “You’re a strange one, Genie Sharpe. Strong and yet vulnerable. You’ve been dealt a shit hand, and yet you still find something to smile about.”
Her fingers resumed their trail across his back. He closed his eyes and shivered. Tamsin had never explored him like this. Sex had always consisted of him arousing her until she was ready, at which point he’d make love to her. She’d seemed to assume he’d just get aroused by being naked with her, and luckily that had happened, but even so, it was nice, for once, to have someone pay him some attention, to have someone who believed lovemaking should be a joint effort.
“I know you’re not expecting anything, and that you’d never assume,” she said. “But I think you probably know that I have feelings for you too—always have had. Like you, I suspect, I’m not looking for anything long term. But if you want to go back to the lodge and fool around this afternoon…I won’t say no.”
He sighed. “I would love to fool around with you, Genie Sharpe.”
She grinned, showing her neat white teeth, her eyes sparkling. Shuffling forward, she leaned in close and pressed her lips to his, just a quick kiss, but coming straight after her offer it sent blood racing around his body, and he stifled a groan as she pulled back.
A Secret Between Friends: A New Zealand Sexy Beach Romance (Treats to Tempt You Book 6) Page 12