by Madeline Ash
“Oh, it’s way too late for that,” he murmured.
“Parker. I’m not Emma. I don’t wear leather. I don’t wear knee-high laced boots. I’m not into programming and guns and spaceships. I’m not your fantasy, she is.”
“Alexia,” he said, giving her his full attention. Her pulse rocked in reaction. “I’m not hot for Emma. You’re the one who features in my fantasies.”
“Then why ask about the corset?”
“Certain costuming lends itself towards dominance.”
She hesitated. If it wasn’t one character getting in the way, it was another. “I don’t want to pretend to be Dani either. This is for me.”
“I’m all for that.” His words grew husky. “I don’t want you pretending to be someone else while I’m making love to you.”
She suddenly felt weak.
“But you still want the part,” he said. “It matters to you. Since you’re not getting into the character’s head, you’ve got to be the one gaining confidence, Alexia.”
She sighed. Parker balanced this situation so easily. She was fumbling around, unable to keep hold of her various goals at once, and yet without apparent effort he’d gathered them up and placed them in her hands, the career-oriented alongside the personal.
Keeping a tight hold, she said, “Describe your fantasy to me.”
That set a wicked twist to his lips. “I dare not sound crass in the company of a lady.”
Striving for the boldness she needed to master, she said, “Try me.”
So he moved closer. Dared her to maintain eye contact as he leaned in. “I’ve thought about you in my bed. Sitting there, twisting the covers because you’re nervous. Your feet are bare and your braid’s coming loose. You let me undress you. Touch you. Then you’re not nervous anymore.”
That was all too easy to imagine.
“I’ve thought about you above me, spread over my hips.” At that, he reached out, knuckles brushing the curve of her thigh. She shivered, holding his stare. “Your back arching.” His hand traced to her spine, moving in lazy strokes. “Your breasts bare.” She held her breath as his fingers followed the bend of her ribs around to her breasts; exhaled shakily as his palm cupped over the fabric of her dress. She leaned in, forehead finding his, and her eyes glazed over as the heel of his hand pressed down on her nipple and rubbed. “Your lips,” he murmured next, “hot on mine,” and pushed the demonstration into reality.
Arousal flooded her. She drew him close, pulling until she lay on her back with him sprawled above. He felt right. His hard body unyielding against her curves, hard kisses scattering her senses to the sky, and the hardest part of his passion nestled against her. Her pulse quickened, her breath, her need. She wanted this; wanted him. No time for nerves as he gripped the vee of her thighs, mouth tugging the skin of her neck. No time as she rocked against him, heat spilling outwards from his touch.
Plenty of time as he sat up suddenly, leaving her cold and convinced she’d done something wrong.
“Before you panic,” he said, “this is another lesson.”
Nerves consumed her. “I’m panicking.”
“The first thing to know about sex is the pain of wanting it and not getting it.”
She gave a nod. This desire definitely stung.
“The frustration,” he continued, hungry-eyed as he took her in. His voice dropped to a growl. “The all-consuming need.”
She swallowed. “Got it.”
“Not yet you don’t. This character you’ll play – why does she need to control sex?”
“She’s a loner. Single-minded when it comes to bounty hunting. She probably goes days, weeks, maybe months without sex when she’s on a job. So I guess she’s desperate and takes whatever she can from a lover.”
“We can work with that.”
Alexia sat up, tucking her legs to one side. Her skin still prickled. “I don’t have months.”
“You have a week or two.”
“Parker,” she said, her tone disagreeing with his plan.
“Sweetheart,” he countered.
That earned him a flat look. “Don’t pet name me.”
He quirked an unfazed brow. “Pet name me back.”
“It’s patronising.”
“It’s an endearment,” he corrected.
She wasn’t a fan of either right now, so she feigned surrender. “Okay. What about Ducky?”
Parker looked so affronted, he didn’t answer.
“No? It’s just that you like the water. All right… Pudding.”
Eyes narrowing, he shook his head slowly.
“Gumdrop,” she suggested to more head shaking. “Kiddo? Button?”
“You’re missing the point. What about hot stuff?”
“Huggy bear,” she suggested innocently.
“McSteamy.”
“Tum-tums.”
He seemed insulted as his hand grazed across the flat plane of his stomach. “Sexy. Spunky.”
“Shorty?”
“I now see that I’ve underestimated your ability to stoop to new lows.”
“Okay, okay.” She grinned. “Because you seem genuinely put out, I might call you by one self-nominated pet name. Choose wisely.”
“My hero,” he said without hesitation.
She laughed. Not a dint in his ego after all these years. Then she caught the smile he was giving her, soft and almost private, as if he’d have said anything to make her laugh. As if he genuinely liked her and her happiness mattered to him.
Stomach knotting, she got back to the picnic with renewed vigour.
By the time Parker walked her back to Lullabar, the sun had set, leaving twilight to be swallowed by darkness. Alexia scanned the sky for familiar constellations, the Southern Cross and Orion, accidentally bumping into him time and again until he took her hand, his fingers sneaking into the spaces between hers, and kept her course steady.
He said goodnight at the venue door, taking her in his arms and surprising her with a kiss as sweet as a blush. She ached not for release, but the man himself, and in equal parts alarm and certainty, she knew he intended the effect such tenderness had on her.
“Parker,” she murmured, drawing back cautiously. “What did you mean when you said you wanted to get this right?”
His hand fell away. He turned to the dark sea. Then he ran a hand over his mouth and looked back at her, jaw set and expression serious.
“Meaning it.”
Chapter Seven
‡
Parker found Alexia at dawn. As he’d first seen her over a week ago, she was turning and cutting back through the waves, long hair slicked to her neck and chest. She had the beginnings of a good surfer, decent balance and an eye for when to catch a wave and when to let one pass. Lots to learn, but nothing he couldn’t teach her.
Eventually she spotted him. Raised an arm in greeting, before turning and paddling out for the next set. Parker smiled and made himself comfortable on the sand.
It should have unsettled him that he’d sacrifice these waves to watch her. It didn’t. He was captivated by the sight of this woman, enjoying the one thing he loved most.
Not everyone understood the lure of surfing. Lovers had complained of waking up alone – that he’d sneaked out to greet the waves. They’d also had issue with eating breakfast alone, and on weekends with sensational swell, lunch, too.
He denied the sneaking. A lover had his attention during the night hours, but from dawn to whenever he came ashore was his time. It was an unapologetic fact of his existence. And Alexia got that. Surfing wasn’t his life, but it filled a generous portion of his soul. It took him across the barrier between self and nature. In those hours, same as when he went hang gliding, he forgot that his feet ever touched solid ground.
As a lover, he knew Alexia wouldn’t complain. She’d be in the water with him.
“Not going in?” she asked a good while later, striding up to where he sat.
“Not worth it.” True enough, the swell had droppe
d to average.
“Enjoying the view instead?” She dragged the hair off her skin and knotted it up high. The movement put her entire body on display, and sure, he took a moment to admire. Then the sweet curve of her waist became home to a pair of hands, fingers tapping.
He met her amused stare.
“Oh, sorry,” he said quickly. “Yes. Yes, I’ve been enjoying the view.”
She rolled her eyes, but fought a smile. He rose to his feet and picked up both their boards, ignoring her sceptical look as they started towards Lullabar.
“So,” she said, voice a little quieter than usual. “What are your plans tonight?”
He planned on wringing as much frustration from her as he could – with the side effect of suffering greatly himself. “I’ve got work to catch up on.”
“Tomorrow night?”
“More work.” He gritted his teeth against the protest in his loins.
She paused, slanting him a sideways glance. “The night after?”
He pretended to think about it as the protest grew fiercer. “So much work.”
Her arms folded over bikini-clad breasts. “Are you teasing me?”
“Only a little,” he said, smiling as she glared. “The work I’m doing on Thursday night involves hosting a beach party at Lullabar. That entire eastern wall folds open. Tourists love beach parties.”
“So that’s when I can see you next?”
“Yes.”
“That’s three days away.” He heard her disappointment.
“You’ve waited twenty-three years to have sex and now you can’t wait three days?” An unfair question, because he’d been having sex since age fourteen and three days seemed a death sentence.
She didn’t comment, but her arms didn’t unfold.
He shifted his grip as one of the surfboards started to slip. “Look,” he said. “This is an important part of understanding your bounty hunter.”
“Not some power play with you denying me?”
“Why would I want power that stops me from taking what I want?”
She frowned a little, cheeks reddening.
Parker brushed the fingers of his free hand over her elbow. She shivered. “You’re here for a reason and I’m trying not to be selfish and forget, okay?”
Except Parker knew he was being selfish. She’d told him this wouldn’t be the start of anything. He couldn’t assume he’d have her beyond one hot night, so he was drawing out the lead up. Keeping her by his side. Trying to make himself matter while he had the chance. “Sex alone isn’t going to get you that part. You said it yourself last week. It’s to do with mental state.”
She dropped her arms and let him take her hand. Her touch shot electricity through his blood. “You keep surprising me with how right you are for this.”
An untouched part of his heart swelled at the compliment.
“So, Thursday night,” she said as they made their way to the side of the hotel.
She dug out her swipe card from the waterproof pouch strapped to her arm, unlocking the storeroom that housed beach supplies for guests. Parker put both boards inside, noticing that she hadn’t continued that sentence.
“Thursday night,” he repeated quietly, closing the door.
Alexia was facing him. His pulse doubled at the look in her eye. This side of the hotel was partly secluded, not visible from the beach and obscured from the road by several large trees. She’d noticed and intended to take advantage of it. “I’d prefer not to wait.” She took a step closer. “I’m impatient, not pained.”
“You will be,” he promised, and then made it so.
A kiss so intense she came to life beneath his hands. Grasping, stroking, and enough grinding that Parker hoped to God no guest came seeking a bucket and spade. Lust slapped him, hard, dizzying, and a moment later he had her trapped against the wall. The flimsy barrier of her bikini top put up no fight as he sought her breast. His pulse spiked when her palm spanned the muscle of his butt beneath his board shorts, and kicked up to a canter when those tentative fingers climbed over his hip towards the stiff rod of his erection. No. She couldn’t touch that. He’d have her in the storeroom right here and now, hot and fast, and that wasn’t part of the plan.
In an almighty display of self-control, he pulled back.
“Not again,” she breathed, and cursed him.
Parker put a palm to the wall and made no apologies as he took in the sight of her. Cheeks flushed and pupils wide. Damp hair mussed and tangled down her back. Swim top askew, the coral-coloured edge of her nipple cresting the fabric. Desire burning in those brown eyes, and, with a surge of satisfaction, it struck him that she’d never wanted a man like she wanted him. Never been tempted to satisfy her needs with a lover. That desire was new and wilful, burning just for him.
With a steadiness he didn’t feel, Parker righted the fabric over her breast. Then he said tightly, “Thursday night.”
“No.”
He raised a brow.
“Tonight.”
A demand not backed up by action. It was a start, but she expected him to make it happen. It hadn’t been lost on Parker that she’d only initiated one kiss and at his instruction. She had to take matters into her own hands. Seize control. When she did, he’d be ready, but until then he wanted no risk of moving too fast, taking something she wasn’t quite prepared to give.
“It’s an open party on Thursday night,” he said in answer. “There’ll be a lot of people. You’ll have to find me.” And he turned his back, concealing the frustration that was climbing up the walls inside him, half-mad with restraint, because he knew intimacy with Alexia was going to shatter him to his bones, and he’d damn well wait until she was ready to shatter with him.
*
The beach party started before nightfall. People gathered below Alexia’s balcony, talking and laughing, dressed up in swimsuits, shorts, and sarongs. Neon zinc tracked across cheeks and hats covered salt-tangled hair. Beach umbrellas were scattered halfway to the water’s edge, marking the bounds of the event, and guests wandered out of the bar with beer and foldout chairs.
Dee insisted they primp together. Alexia pinned her friend’s fringe in a vintage roll and Dee spent almost an hour returning the favour.
“Long curly hair’s impossible,” she finally exclaimed, stepping back to analyse her work. A large pin curl at the front, beat into submission with a fine-toothed comb and hairspray, and a headscarf tied behind. The rest was piled high, bouncing down her right shoulder in curled layers.
“Then you’ve achieved the impossible,” Alexia commented as she turned in front of the bathroom mirror. She’d bought a red bikini for the occasion and, after learning Dee’s plans to go pinup girl style, gone out and found a pair of red heels to match. Spying her friend’s lipstick on the vanity, she applied and stepped back, suddenly feeling like she should be walking onto a 1950’s film set. “You don’t think it’s too much?”
“We’re on holiday. We’ve got to dress up at least once.”
Alexia emerged to find Dee sitting on the edge of her bed, pulling on cherry-patterned pumps. She warned, “You won’t be able to walk on the sand in those.”
“Josh’s band is playing before the DJ set. I don’t intend to reach the sand.”
Alexia wolf whistled.
“Are your plans equally seductive?” Dee winked and adjusted her glasses. “The anticipation’s leaving me breathless.”
“Why, you want to tell Josh more about my sex life?”
Her friend grimaced. She’d apologised about that, but deserved to have it rubbed in. “No, I promise. Even if he does puppy dog eyes again.”
Alexia shook her head, fighting back a smile. “I’ll see him tonight. We’ll see what happens.”
If nothing happened, she’d go wild. She suspected Parker had worked from home these last three days, because she’d seen no trace of him. Nervous excitement had gripped her gut the few times she’d been mistaken while scanning her surroundings for his blond head. Memori
es of his touch fought off sleep with toe-curling efficiency. His hands on her hips, his taste on her tongue… she’d taken to rising before the sun, preferring to spend the last hour of darkness on the beach, preparing to douse the fever of sexual frustration in the surf.
Unfortunately, lack of sleep wasn’t her biggest problem. An ache had settled deep beneath her ribs, unreachable and relentless. It alarmed her to realise that she was missing Parker. Just as her body burned for his, some part of her yearned to be beside him. Listening to his voice. Laughing at his cocky jokes. Feeling warmth and safety in the hold of his hand.
She told herself it was hormones, but the ache didn’t believe it.
Downstairs, she and Dee joined the party. People were everywhere, pressed up at the bar, dancing to Josh’s band, and clustered on the sand outside. The smell of beer mingled with sweat and brine, and within minutes, someone had spilled their drink down Alexia’s leg. She ignored it, just as she dismissed the hopeful glances of partygoers seeking a pinned-up pickup. After several songs, she met Dee’s eyes and received silent permission to ditch her for Parker.
She moved through the crowd, inside and out, craning her neck as she murmured apologies. It was only when she stopped beneath an umbrella, heels sinking quick, that she realised. He expected her to find him. Knowing Parker, that didn’t simply mean spotting him in a crowd.
And so she hunted.
No sign of him under the now starry sky. She stalked her way inside, through loud conversations and dance circles. She managed a lap of the room and eventually shadowed up to the bar. Waiting in line, alarm struck at the thought that he’d stood her up. But no. Parker wouldn’t do that, not these days. She just had to find him.
“What can I get you?” The woman behind the bar looked at Alexia with recognition. She’d been tending the bar the night of the picnic.
“Nothing to drink,” she answered. “I’m after Parker.”
The woman looked amused. “You won’t find him out here.”
Disappointment crushed her. “Oh. He mentioned he’d be here.”
“Yeah, well. He won’t stop working.”