by Anne Oliver
‘Fine. Should I take a shower first?’
‘No.’ She smiled. ‘Told you you’re considerate.’ She liked the way he smelled: warm and slightly sweaty but not unpleasant. A primal masculine smell that beckoned and aroused her feminine instincts. ‘I want it—I want you—as you are. I want to feel your sweat on my skin. Now.’
He smiled back. ‘First move’s all yours.’
‘Mine?’ Her trembling fingers tightened a little on the soft terry lapels. She knew how to initiate sex … but with a man like Nic? Except she didn’t know Nic, not really. So what did she mean: ‘a man like Nic’? What did Nic-who-she-didn’t-know want or expect?
‘You could start by taking off that robe,’ he suggested after a few seconds of silence ticked by. ‘Or you could come over here and let me do the honours.’ Still he didn’t move. ‘I’ll leave that decision to you.’
Eyes fastened on him, she pushed up off the chair. The few steps she took seemed like miles while her blood drained to her legs. She was glad of the background music because it covered the sound of her heart thumping its way out of her chest. Not with fear but with the illicit, dizzying prospect of having sex with a man who was, by anyone’s standards, a stranger.
She was the one in control—because Nic had given it to her. She was the one with the choice. And she wanted this night with this man.
Coming to a stop in front of him, she loosened the looped tie just enough so that the robe’s front edges parted slightly. As she was standing, his head was tilted back a little, eyes focused on hers, and it was her first chance to look down at him. She reached out and smoothed a strand of his hair off his brow. ‘Decisions, decisions …’
He slid his fingers behind the loop in her belt and drew her closer, between hot, hard thighs, and she had to drop her hands onto the chair’s metal arms either side of him to keep her balance and stop herself from collapsing onto him.
His breath, his scent and his heat mingled with hers as they continued to stare at each other. ‘You like being on top, then.’
She started to laugh but her throat was dry and it came out husky and low and slightly desperate. ‘I like being any way.’
Oh, my God. Had she really said that? And was that smoky, seductive voice hers?
‘So …’ he untied her belt and slipped his hands inside to lightly circle her waist, surprise in his eyes when he found bare flesh ‘… swinging naked from the chandelier’s a possibility?’
Her breath hitched at the feather-light brush of skin on skin and she arched forward, her breasts aching to be teased and stroked. ‘No chandelier here …’ Only recessed lighting and a desk lamp …
‘Pity.’
‘But whatever we get up to, do you have protection?’ Her mind was hazy, but not that hazy.
‘We’ll get to that. Eventually. Or are you in a rush?’
‘I thought you were. Didn’t you just say—?’
‘I’ll survive a little longer.’
She wondered if she would. Spot-fires were breaking out all over her body; it was a miracle she wasn’t glowing. Or perhaps she was but right now she was too distracted watching Nic. His expression: part pain, part pleasure and all for her. ‘Nic …’
‘Charlotte.’ he teased back and his tone left her in no doubt he was as turned on as she. But he withdrew his hands from her waist, put them behind his head. ‘What are you hiding under all that towelling?’
She pushed up off the chair’s support and straightened, then, with a boldness she’d never felt, she shrugged off the robe. Its coarse texture tickled her bare skin on the way down.
Nic watched, his breath snagging on a growl of approval. Who’d have thought? Conservative Charlotte liked sexy underwear. Skimpy shimmery panties and bra, spattered with starbursts of silver rhinestones and so sheer she might as well have been naked. But so much more erotic with her dark, peaked nipples pushed up against the fabric, her breasts spilling over the top like an offering of abundance. The strand of pearls still luminescent at her neck.
‘Aren’t you full of surprises,’ he murmured in absolute appreciation. ‘Gorgeous.’
But not too voluptuous. Not too slim either; just long, strong, clean lines and curves. Perfect. Exquisite. It was a crime against mankind to hide such beauty.
But she wasn’t hiding it from him.
She resumed her earlier position, hands on the armrests, leaning over him. Her breasts were at eye-level and with any other woman that was where he’d be—mouth busy right there on that creamy skin, teasing the fabric aside with his teeth, tongue exploring.
But, as delectable as they were, it was her eyes that captured him most. Wide and aware with smoke and secrets shifting like shadows. Her fragrance, the cool, light signature perfume, drifted over him like evening mist. And in his mind’s eye he saw that calm lake at sunset. If he believed in enchantment, he imagined it would be like this.
Behind his head, his fists tightened. He put them on his thighs to stop himself from reaching up and pulling her mouth down to his and plundering. He sensed her willingness but this wasn’t the moment for fast. Rather a moment for reflection.
She hadn’t admitted it, but Nic knew this wasn’t something Charlotte did casually and often. He didn’t linger on the reasons why she’d made an exception for him. ‘You’re not used to this, are you?’ he murmured, and heard her quick exhalation, felt the tension thrum through her body.
‘What do you mean? Sex?’
‘One-night sex.’
‘Is it that obvious?’
‘No, no.’ He kept his voice low and slow and soothing. ‘I mean that in a good way. Keep doing what you’re doing—you’re fantastic.’
He shook away the unsettling thoughts and concentrated on what he knew well. How to enjoy no-strings, uncomplicated sex. And the easy pleasure of having a woman initiate it.
Smiling, she lowered her lips to his, a slow sultry kiss that soothed and smoothed and seduced. Her hair was a curtain of silk around them and the bluesy pulse of the music beat a lazy syrupy rhythm. He thought of languid afternoons by a pool and hot skin and cold, creamy sunscreen.
He lifted his arms then, fingers spread to mould around her slender shoulders and draw her closer. Her fingers stroked through his hair, then cupped the back of his head. Still watching his eyes. There was a glide of silk as she parted her long, long legs and slid them over his thighs to twine herself around him. She hooked her feet behind the back of the chair, the sultry heat of her feminine core snug against his burning erection.
Still holding his head, she leaned forward and kissed him again, her sparkly bra snagging his T-shirt as she settled closer. A groan erupted from deep in his gut. Her smile was smug as she found the worn jersey’s hem and tugged upwards. Suddenly his T-shirt was gone, flung somewhere over his shoulder.
Her fingers danced over his chest, twirled around his nipples, then slowed to a gliding waltz and headed south, dead centre. To the waistband of his shorts. Hands diving beneath, she rocked once against him, her fingers tightening on their captured prize. ‘Nic …’
‘Okay, now you’re playing dirty.’ He reached behind her, snapped the catch on her bra and peeled it away. Creamy flesh, dark, ripe peaks. Greed hazed his vision but she didn’t give him time to feast, surging forward to rub the hard little nubs against his chest as she watched him.
‘I like playing dirty, don’t you?’ Her laugh was low and sexy as she massaged and squeezed. ‘Fast and dirty even better.’
He tried to laugh too, but it snagged in his throat. His control was fraying, his whole body one throbbing ache. ‘You’re a wicked woman.’
‘Too wicked for you?’
‘Not possible.’ He cupped her damp heat and watched her eyes smoulder, her playful smile fade to serious. Her hands stopped being busy and he grinned. ‘Pay-back time.’ He slid a finger along the edge of her panties and felt her shudder. He slipped beneath to stroke her slick flesh and heard her moan. Arousal heightened, breathing quickened.
&nb
sp; Somehow he managed to reach over his shoulder and drag his trousers off the chair, fumbling for his wallet and a condom in the rumpled folds while he thanked the stars his clothes were within reach.
Impatience, desperation and demands and needs. He freed himself, rolled on protection. A quick tug and her panties shredded beneath his fingers. No laughter now, no teasing wordplay. Just pure passion and dark desire and every fantasy he’d ever had. He plunged deep, thrusting up into silky heat and willing delight.
He held her silvery gaze long enough to see that her response matched his own. He gripped her hips, her hands fisted in his hair. They found their rhythm. The world evaporated leaving only speed and greed and heat.
The chair rocked beneath them. He thought he heard the tinkle of a glass as it toppled and rolled but maybe it was the sound of his sanity shattering.
She came on a stunned gasp, her inner muscles clamping around him. He gave himself up to glory and followed.
CHAPTER FOUR
SHE hadn’t been able to get enough of him, Nic thought hours later as night moved inexorably towards dawn. Nor he her. And why not? Making the most of the time limit she’d imposed. He turned his head to watch her sleep. Hair in disarray around her face, over the pillow. The gentle sound of her breathing as her breasts rose and fell. Her cool blue fragrance was going to tease his nostrils and his memory for quite some time.
He felt entirely too relaxed to worry about the curious little niggle that it had never been quite like this with anyone before. That connection he’d so casually mentioned to entice her? It had been … well … more than he’d expected.
He shifted onto an elbow for a better look at her bathed in the gold of dawn. His fingers itched to stroke the side of her face, her lips, her hair. He wanted her again. Wanted to feel her tight, hot wetness clench around him as she cam … Wanted to look into those haunting eyes she had and—He frowned. Maybe he wasn’t as relaxed as he’d thought. But it would pass, he assured himself. Of course it would. And she’d made it clear enough: one night. He’d been happy with the arrangement. More than happy.
Okay, he decided on a slow breath of relief, sanity still intact after all. They’d shared a fantastic few hours but it was time to make a move towards getting out of here.
Careful not to disturb her, he rose and went to the bathroom, checked his mobile for updates to flight schedules, then showered and left her sleeping while he went in search of breakfast.
Charlotte woke to the hum of air conditioning and the sound of water running in the bathroom. She didn’t move for a long moment, reliving the night and all she and Nic had done together. She’d lost count of how many times he’d made her come.
But his side of the bed was empty now, the sheets barely warm to the touch. She felt a vague disappointment that he’d not woken her earlier, then stretched. Aah … She’d expended more energy than she’d realised, she thought as her eyes slid open on a clear dawn sky, steadily lightening with gold and aqua. She should include sex in her exercise regime.
‘Rise and shine.’ Nic appeared freshly shaved and dressed. ‘The ash cloud’s shifted. Flights resume in an hour or so. We need to get moving.’
‘What time is it?’ she murmured, without moving. She was way too naked beneath the sheet, and her underwear—she had no idea where it was.
‘Six-thirty.’
She groaned into the pillow.
He had a way too cheery wide-awake voice. Obviously he was raring to get to Hawaii and begin his surfing vacation, that basic sexual drive they’d talked about last night satisfied for now.
And he’d satisfied her too but it was finished.
In one way she mourned the fact, in another, she was so, so relieved. Because last night Charlotte Dumont’s body had been invaded by a nymphomaniac. In fact, now she was almost too embarrassed to look him in the eye, and a warm blush suffused her entire body.
She tried her best to ignore it. ‘Is that coffee I smell? Real coffee?’
‘Cappuccino or latte?’ Still managing to look crisp in yesterday’s clothes, he lifted a couple of paper cups with lids from the desk. ‘I didn’t know what you liked so I bought one of each.’
‘I’d love the latte, please. You’ve been out already?’
‘Organisation, babe.’ He moved to the bed, held out a cup and a small plastic shopping bag from one of the terminal’s tourist shops. ‘You might need these too.’
Propping herself up on one elbow, she peeked inside. She glimpsed a pair of lolly-pink panties with a map of Australia imprinted on the front. Oh, dear. And the reason she was going to be wearing tacky nylon souvenir undies for the rest of the day spun through her mind like hot-pink candy floss. ‘Um. Thanks.’
‘It’s for my own peace of mind as much as yours. I’d go nuts with the mental image of you buck naked under that skirt all day and not being able to take advantage.’
The candy-floss colour bled into her cheeks. She sat up, winding the sheet up around her torso as she did so.
‘Oh … well, then …’
Head on one side, he studied her a moment. ‘There’s something intriguing about a woman reclining naked in bed wearing only pearls. You’ve got me wondering: why pearls?’
‘They were my mother’s. And I’m not reclining. Now.’ Sentimental secrets were not up for sharing. Setting the cup on the night stand, she scrunched the sheet higher. ‘Um …’
He must have known what she couldn’t ask because he picked her bra up from the bottom of the bed and tossed it to her. The glint in his eyes dissipated as he studied her. ‘Everything okay?’
‘Yes. Fine. Why wouldn’t it be?’
‘You look—’
‘I’m going to take a shower,’ she said, all casual and carefree. But she didn’t move. Her fingers couldn’t seem to let go of the sheet. She’d not given a thought to the morning after the night before. Whatever would he be thinking of her?
And why did it matter? In less than an hour they’d say goodbye and that would be it. She just had to get through this awkward time, then she could relax and enjoy her holiday.
‘Better make it snappy.’ Checking his watch, he rose, picked up his bag and headed towards the door. ‘See you in the lobby in fifteen minutes.’
She was grateful for his sensitivity to her unspoken need for privacy despite the fact that he’d seen, touched and tasted nearly every naked inch of her, but the blush still hadn’t cooled when she found him downstairs amongst the swirl of people. Her hand dived into her bag for her sunglasses.
He swung his pack onto one shoulder, setting a cracking pace across the sky bridge with a trail of other passengers and leaving no breath for small talk.
They arrived inside the terminal. ‘Thanks for everything,’ she said, well before they reached her check-in desk. ‘Um … I meant rescuing me and all…’ She trailed off. All, indeed.
‘My pleasure.’ His dark eyes twinkled in the harsh down-lights.
Mine too. She rolled her lips together before she said too much. ‘So … I … guess it’s … goodbye, then.’
‘Let’s just say au revoir, babe.’
He bent to brush a chaste kiss across her lips. There was something about his expression when he straightened that sent a little shiver down her spine, but then before she could look into his dark velvet eyes one more time he turned and walked away, disappearing into the crowd.
Biting down on her lower lip, she fought an urgent impulse to call him back. Memories of his heat-slicked body against hers, their fevered moans and air ripe with passion swarmed through her mind. But more than that, he’d come to her assistance when she’d needed it, no questions asked. Why was she letting this man walk out of her life with almost no possibility of finding him again?
She started after him, but a couple of steps on she realised it was too late. The terminal was teeming with chaos and commotion; she’d never find him and she ran the risk of missing her flight. And even if she caught up with him, what could she say? What was there to say?
They’d shared one fantastic night. But the probability of him wanting more wasn’t a probability at all or he’d have tried harder to get her contact details. If he’d wanted to, he’d have persisted, found a way—men were like that. But he’d not asked her once. Not once. Happy to walk away. She told herself she was not disappointed.
Charlotte was grateful for the comfort and relative privacy of the spacious Tabua Class window seat at the front of the aircraft. She didn’t have to look at other passengers, and the seat next to her was vacant. She plugged in her music player, closed her eyes and drifted …
Cold … Charlotte rubbed her arms against the aircraft’s air conditioning, fighting sleep and the images that had plagued her for the past six weeks.
Flynn in her kitchen, impossibly handsome, and telling her, ‘I’ve decided to stand as a candidate for the next state election.’
‘You what …? Politics?’ She struggled to process his announcement. ‘I thought you were just networking at the electorate, volunteering your skills. That it was part of your business plan for our wine and cheese place …’
‘There’s not going to be a place, Charlotte.’
A chill swept down her spine. ‘But your viticulture course …’
‘I switched courses last year.’
‘And you didn’t tell me?’ Everything was spiralling away. ‘You didn’t bother to tell your fiancée you were considering a career in politics?’ Who was this man she’d thought she knew? ‘What happened to sharing? How could you shut me out that way?’
‘I know how you feel about being in the public eye.’ He shrugged. ‘And frankly, being married to a little grey mouse isn’t going to work for a future politician.’
And she felt herself shrivel beneath his critical scrutiny. The guy who’d seduced her at sixteen with his flashing green eyes, his smooth words and good looks stared at her now with chauvinistic intolerance.
‘Take a look at yourself, Charlotte.’ His gaze crawled up her body once more. ‘Take a good look at this place.’ He waved a disparaging hand around her kitchen. ‘You’re living in a damn time warp. I need a wife who’ll stand by me into the future. A woman who knows how to make a fashion statement. One with some backbone who’s not afraid to speak up in public.’