Cruise Control

by Sarah Mayberry

  “Marc,” she panted as he shifted gear, his movements becoming more urgent as desire tightened inside them both. She moved with him, rolling onto her knees so that he could take her more readily, each thrust perfection. His hand slid over her hip between her legs, and she felt the rasp of his hairy chest on her back as he reached for her clitoris. It was swollen with need, and he thumbed it skillfully. Within seconds she was crying out, arching back, welcoming his final deep thrusts as he came, also.

  They collapsed onto the sheets, both out of breath. She stared at the ceiling, basking in her recent release and a healthy dose of relief. She’d been worried about the whole staying-the-night thing. Silly, really. Except it had been one of the things that Danny had told her to avoid, and she’d religiously stuck to it. Until now. But this was good. Hell, she’d just woken up to instant, sensational sex. What was there to worry about?

  “Well. Good morning,” Marc said drily after a few moments of comfortable silence.

  Anna couldn’t help it; she got the giggles. “What’s so funny?” he demanded, but she could only shake her head and laugh some more. It was all going to be okay. They were going to have a great holiday.

  He shook his head, then calmly arranged her so that she was facing away from him again and he could curve into her back, just as they’d been when they woke up. His arm slid around her waist, and he nuzzled the nape of her neck.

  “Go back to sleep so I can wake you up again,” he said, his voice already drowsy.

  Anna smiled into her pillow, loving the feel of his body pressed so closely to hers. It wasn’t a sex thing, she realized. It was more than sex.

  Her eyes sprang open instantly. More than sex. More than sex? There was no more than sex with Marc. Sex was it. It was the beginning, the middle and the end. There was nothing else. That was the deal they’d made. More importantly, that was what they both wanted. He’d only hinted at his reasons for wanting to remain unattached, but she knew it had something to do with his marriage. The man was barely separated—of course he wasn’t interested in a relationship. And she didn’t want one. She needed to be free. It was very important to her that she not get involved. She’d just been looking for passion, that was all. She didn’t want commitment. Or…love.

  Did she?

  She waited until he was fast asleep again before easing away from him. She used the downstairs shower so she wouldn’t wake him, and pulled on her new red one-piece swimsuit. It was only 6:00 a.m., but there was no way she could sleep, body clock aside. Lying in Marc’s arms was far too disturbing to her equilibrium.

  She quietly explored the downstairs layout, discovering a second bedroom, a study complete with computer setup, and a fully equipped kitchen as well as the downstairs bathroom. She couldn’t imagine either of them mustering the energy to cook while they were here, and she figured that was just as well. The more time they spent in crowds doing touristy things the better. The whole villa was spacious, with high ceilings, clean lines and lots of simple yet classically designed Balinese timber furniture. Stone and wood, she was fast discovering, seemed to be the hallmarks of Balinese interior design.

  Villa explored, she tied a sarong around her waist and stepped out into the early Bali morning. The first thing she noticed was the heavy cloak of humidity settling on her, and then she smelled the incense burning on the morning air. Exotic and beautiful, she thought as she let herself out the gate. She almost stumbled over something on the doorstep, and she frowned down at what looked like a small box made out of woven banana leaf fronds, filled with flowers, rice and even a broken cracker and some sticks of incense. Her expression cleared as she remembered her travel agent explaining that the island’s population was mainly Hindu and that there were devout women who did nothing all day except prepare and distribute offerings to the gods. This must be what she’d been talking about. As Anna wandered around the hotel’s lushly landscaped grounds she saw dozens of the offerings—in stairwells, doorways, where paths met one another. She also saw dozens and dozens of lizards, tiny green and yellow geckos no longer than her smallest finger, their eyes bright black pinpricks that stared at her cautiously when she stopped to examine them. She’d never been a big fan of reptiles, but she decided that she liked these—as long as they kept their distance.

  The panicky feeling in her chest had subsided by the time she returned to their villa. It was impossible to stay tense when the very air itself seemed to embrace her with fragrant warmth. The delicate frangipani blossoms, the incense, the swish of palm trees moving in the breeze—it was all hypnotic and incredibly restful, and she’d found a new lightheartedness as she let herself in through the gate. She was in Bali with Marc, for good or bad. They had a week together. She refused to spend the time second-guessing herself and worrying. She knew what she wanted, and what he wanted. It was silly to even worry about anything else. If there was a problem, if things were shifting, they could just deal with it when they returned to Sydney. How much could things change in just a few days, anyway? There was still plenty of time to pull out before either of them got too involved.

  He was coming downstairs in his board shorts, chest bare, as she entered. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Been for a walk?”

  “Mmm. It’s so beautiful. The hotel grounds are beyond description. They even have lotus blossoms on a lake.”

  “Great. I’m starving,” he said, grabbing the room service menu with single-minded intentness.

  “There’s a pavilion down near the pool with a breakfast buffet. I think it’s included in our room charge,” she said.

  He looked up from the menu, eyes shining. “Cooked breakfast as well as continental?” he asked hopefully.

  Bemused, she shrugged. “I guess. I didn’t ask….”

  “Let’s go.” Stopping to grab a T-shirt, Marc pushed her ahead of him out of the villa.

  “There’s no rush. I’m sure there’s plenty for everyone,” she assured him as he hustled her through the gate.

  “I love hotel breakfasts. Especially the buffet kind. So many choices. It’s great.”

  He set a clipping pace, his long stride eating up the cobblestones as she gave directions to the pool.

  “Oh, yes,” he said reverentially as they surveyed the buffet. Cold cereals, hot cereals, fruit, cheeses, deli items, a selection of traditional Indonesian foods including nasi goreng and a huge range of breads, muffins and pastries was arrayed before them.

  “And you can order your cooked breakfast from the menu on your table,” the helpful waiter supplied in perfect English.

  Anna stifled a smile as Marc rubbed his hands together. “Okay, where to begin?”

  He went back a total of four times, as well as putting away an enormous cooked breakfast of hash browns, bacon and poached eggs on toast. Anna watched with amazement. It was just like the old joke where an impossible number of clowns pile out of a Mini at the circus.

  Finally he sat back and patted his belly. “No more room,” he announced with pride.

  “No kidding,” she said, eyeing his midsection with trepidation.

  “I love hotel breakfasts,” he said again, flashing her a winning smile.

  “No kidding,” she said, but she found himself grinning back at him. This was a side to him she hadn’t seen before. Indulgent. Fun. Endearing. Who would have thought that a multimillionaire like Marc Lewis would be obsessed with hotel breakfast buffets?

  When crunch time came, he found it hard to leave the buffet, however. Highly amused, she pointed out that he could launch an assault on it again tomorrow morning and at last he conceded that they could go laze by the pool.

  Surrounded by sandstone, it was crystal-clear and perfect, with a number of frangipani trees arching their branches over the aquamarine water. Padded lounges were scattered around the edges, and three open-sided shade pagodas, larger versions of the one in their villa, marched down one side of the pool.

  “Ohhh, the water is perfect,” Anna said as she stepped into the shallow end.


  Marc was busy eyeing up the shade pagodas. “I think we want to get ourselves one of those,” he said, appreciation in his tone.

  She wrinkled her nose at him. “Nothing but the best,” she teased.

  He glanced down at her, amused. “I am an arrogant bastard, aren’t I?”

  She couldn’t help herself. She leaned close and snaked a hand affectionately around his waist, then nuzzled his neck. “In a very nice way,” she agreed.

  His laugh rumbled through his chest, and she watched him saunter across to check out the pagoda, admiring the animal grace of his walk. It didn’t escape her notice that the other women around the pool also followed him with their eyes. He was that kind of man.

  She had sunk into the water up to her chin by the time he came back looking very pleased with himself.

  “Done,” he said smugly, and she splashed him playfully. She watched as the pool boy he indicated crossed to place two large towels in the pagoda, pulling the curtains shut to indicate it was taken.

  “Wow. Today Bali, tomorrow the world,” she mocked lightly.

  He grinned, then splashed her mightily as he dove in beside her. They swam lazily for twenty minutes, then made their way, dripping, to the pagoda to grab their towels. Anna finished drying herself off first and crawled onto the pagoda’s cushioned base, spreading her towel out. Marc followed suit, fussily arranging his so that there were no wrinkles to annoy him. She hid a smile, amazed at all the little idiosyncratic things a person could find out about someone while on holiday. As Marc prepared to roll over onto his back, she noticed he’d collected a dried leaf on his foot.

  Wanting to be helpful, she leaned across to brush it off, then paused, frowning.

  “Oh,” she said, frowning.

  He froze. “What?”

  “Well, I thought you had a leaf stuck to your foot. But it’s a frog,” she explained, fascinated by the dried flat, leaflike frog carcass stuck to his instep.

  “What?” he asked, face paling.

  “Yep, it’s a frog. A dead, dried-up old frog,” she confirmed.

  He moved like lightning, rolling to the edge of the pagoda, dangling his leg off it and shaking it furiously. “Has it gone? Has it gone?” he demanded, hamming it up shamelessly.

  Very much amused, she moved forward to check. “Nope.”

  He swiveled on his back, waving his foot in her face now. “Get it off!” he insisted, his eyes wide with mock panic.

  Laughing now, Anna flicked the dried frog with her fingernail and it fluttered to the ground. Marc collapsed back onto the mattress, one hand pressed to his forehead dramatically.

  He was so funny. Whimsical even. And she would never have known any of this if they hadn’t come to Bali together. And right at that moment, right then, as he was pretending to be scared of a tiny, dried-up frog, his handsome face pulled into an expression of boyish fear, she fell down the last stretch of the slippery slope from lust to liking to love. For good or ill, she loved Marc Lewis.

  11

  SOMETHING HAD CHANGED. He wasn’t sure when it happened. But it had definitely happened. After that first panicky night, he’d been determined to be cautious, careful. He’d even gone so far as to inquire about an earlier flight back, using the Internet connection in the villa’s study. But he hadn’t gone.

  He could put some of his decision down to the fact that Bali was beautiful, a true tropical paradise. Its people were welcoming and warm, and even if the streets were filled with opportunistic hawkers, it was all part of the experience. The hotel was perfect, and their villa an oasis.

  But most of his reasons for staying were down to Anna. He’d nailed it that first night as he watched her brush her teeth. She was adorable. And he was beginning to suspect that he wanted to adore her.

  It should have sent him into a freaked-out, get-me-the-hell-out-of-here spin. But it didn’t. It kept him exactly where he was—by her side, enjoying his first holiday in years.

  Their first day they spent by the pool, lounging and swimming and reading trashy novels they borrowed from the hotel’s “library”—a collection of books other guests had left behind. They had lunch there, sitting cross-legged in their pagoda, then they dozed, the curtains drawn around them for privacy. He’d wanted her then, but even drugged with lust he’d been able to see that making love within five meters of the hotel swimming pool was probably pushing it. They’d gone back to the villa and lazed the afternoon away pleasuring each other.

  On Monday, they ventured out into the busy streets and encountered their first hawkers. He was sure he would remember the look of consternation on Anna’s face forever as she tried to find a polite way of easing away from the persistent street vendors. She’d been anguished, torn between giving them short shrift and understanding that this was the way they made their living.

  It was impossible not to feel incredibly privileged as they moved along the popular Rasa Legian shopping district. Australian dollars bought an enormous amount in Bali, and Anna was constantly shaking her head over the disparity.

  By the time they returned to their hotel, they’d been footsore, dusty and starving. Anna was the one who spotted the vouchers that had been delivered while they were out. As honored guests, they were being gifted with two complimentary Balinese massages. She looked up from the vouchers with the light of anticipation in her eyes.

  “Let’s go this afternoon,” she said.

  They navigated their way to the hotel’s spa complex, and sipped curiously at cups of incredibly sweet ginger tea while they waited for their masseurs. A very demure young Balinese girl led them to a changing room, and handed them two plastic packs and a dressing gown each before leaving them in privacy.

  “What are these?” Anna asked, examining the plastic pack. Her expression cleared as she opened it to reveal a pair of shapeless, sexless disposable underpants.

  “No! They do not expect us to wear these!” she asked, a wide, incredulous grin on her face.

  “I think they do,” he said, indicating a sign on the wall explaining that they were for reasons of hygiene and safety.

  Giggling uncontrollably, Anna pulled hers on. “Oh yes, these are going to be all the rage on Bondi beach next year,” she said, striking a mock sexy pose.

  She was in absolute fits by the time he’d pulled his on, and in the end he had to tie the robe of her gown for her and push her ahead of him out of the changing room.

  “It’s just that you’re so…and they’re so…” she tried to explain as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “I get it,” he assured her, very much amused.

  They were led into a large, attractive room with twin massage beds, and welcomed by their masseurs—in Balinese tradition, he had a male masseur, Anna a female. He drowsed his way through the first half hour of the treatment, enjoying the slick, practiced movements of his masseur’s hands. Halfway through, he reluctantly roused himself enough to roll onto his back. Any and all relaxation evaporated, however, as he saw that Anna was doing the same thing—and her masseuse was not covering her breasts with a modesty towel. He frowned, not liking the idea that his masseur was able to look at Anna any time he liked. Okay, the guy probably saw hundreds of tourists a year. But this was Anna. He didn’t want another man looking at her, even if it was incidentally.

  She was very quiet afterward as they thanked their masseurs and began making their way back to the villa, their skin fragrant and still slippery with scented oils.

  “Good massage?” he asked, wondering at her silence.

  “I think so. Yes, I guess,” she said thoughtfully.

  “What kind of answer is that?”

  “Well…maybe you didn’t notice, since your eyes were mostly closed,” she said. “But when she got me to roll onto my back, she didn’t cover me up.”

  “Oh, I noticed,” he growled. She shot him an amused look.

  “At first I was a bit self-conscious, but it’s like being at the doctor’s, right?”

  “No, but carry o
n,” he said. She punched him playfully on the arm.

  “Stop it. Anyway, the long and the short of it is that she felt me up,” she finished in a rush.

  “What?” he asked, stopping in his tracks.

  Anna nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. She was massaging my stomach, and her hands were kind of moving up, and I was thinking, no, surely not. But then she just did it—she massaged my breasts.”

  Her eyes were sparkling with amusement at herself. “Goodbye relaxation, let me tell you!” she joked. “I swear I almost ran from the room!”

  They pushed through the gate and into the villa, Marc trying to get the image of Anna having her breasts massaged out of his head. He couldn’t work out if he found it erotic or disturbing.

  “I need a shower,” she announced as she slicked a hand up her arm. “I’m as slippery as a greased pig.”

  “But a lot sexier,” he murmured, all rational thought dissolving as he eyed her glistening breasts and torso as she stripped off her clothes. Moving close, he slid a hand across her skin.

  “Mmm,” she said, eyes closing seductively. Within minutes they were naked, sliding erotically against one another, their skins smooth and oiled, their movements languorous. She smelled of cloves and vanilla and frangipani, and they made love slowly, infinitely attentive to one another’s needs, mouths and hands and fingers probing, teasing, touching. They came together, his face pressed into her neck, inhaling the smell that was uniquely Anna.

  Now it was Wednesday. They were halfway through their holiday, and he couldn’t think of a time when he’d enjoyed himself more. He’d booked a table at a popular local restaurant for dinner. Gado Gado was just two minutes walk up the beach, and it came highly recommended. As he ran gel through his hair carelessly, he realized he was looking forward to spoiling Anna some more. She was so open to everything, so ready to engage. He found her…captivating.