British Bachelors & Conveniently Bedded Bundle

by Helen Brooks, Maggie Cox, Natalie Anderson, Anna Cleary

  ‘But last time—’

  ‘I was naïve. I mistook lust for love. I have it straight now.’

  Still he hesitated.

  Last time he had driven everything. And now he was holding back—despite the effort she could feel it was costing him. But his rigidity, his restraint only made her want him more. It was her turn to push it now. ‘I just want you, Seb. As a lover. For one night. Nothing more.’

  One night to indulge—and to expunge—the attraction. Maybe then she would be utterly free to move on. And now she didn’t want to think—just wanted to feel.

  He looked at her, eyes lingering on her lips. Lips that she licked—not to deliberately provoke or manipulate his response, but because they were so dry, felt so swollen with her fast-beating blood. He slid one hand round her waist, kept the other in her hair and pulled her closer against him.

  She closed her eyes against the brilliance of the blue sky, the blue water.

  And then she felt it—his lips on hers. Warm, salty and yet so sweet. She felt his body leap harder and the passion that had simmered for so long boiled over.

  They kissed, broke apart, kissed again. His fingers threaded more tightly in her hair, tilting her so he could kiss her jaw. She arched further, encouraging him to kiss down her neck. Moaned at the delight of the hot, fast caresses and the urgency with which he curved his hand around her bottom.

  ‘Ana.’

  She liquefied just with the way he muttered her name.

  ‘Inside,’ she breathed. ‘I want…inside.’ She wanted to be inside the hut; she wanted him inside.

  Hands clinging to skin, they walked up the sand, went to their banda. Seb pulled the door closed behind them and secured the simple latch.

  It was cooler inside, dim and suddenly silent.

  He moved ahead, picked up his sleeping bag. The whirring was loud as he unzipped it. Then he tossed it wide so it floated open onto the sand creating a place for them to lie together.

  ‘Do you have contraception?’ Her voice was a mere thread.

  He turned, speared her with an unflinching gaze. ‘Yes.’

  Of course he did. She blinked, refused to mind that he’d brought it. That he was always prepared. Instead she was glad—because now she had double the protection. Pregnancy was never happening to her again. But with her on the Pill and him with a condom, she would stay safe.

  This would be sex purely for the pleasure. And no fear.

  She wanted him so incredibly badly. In a step he was beside her, turning her towards him, seeming to read her mixed emotions—fleeting though they were.

  The kiss was the lightest brush. So gentle, nothing like the wild passion she’d expected. It had always been so wild and fast between them before. But something had changed. Now it was as if he was savouring every single moment.

  She kept her eyes closed, holding still as he slowly explored her mouth, the tip of his tongue tracing her lips before he moved to cover them with his own. So soft, so sweetly roving. His fingers slid down her neck, the tips stroking down her pulse point to her most sensitive skin. And his tongue swept into her as his fingers firmed, holding her face up to his.

  She felt the heat inside her; no longer was it just her skin burning, but deep within her belly too she was warming—to softness, wetness, wanting. She shivered as he kissed down the length of her neck, nibbling the delicate skin.

  ‘You have such a sensitive neck.’ He tilted her chin higher with his fingers, getting greater exposure to the vulnerable, and, yes, super-sensitive stretch of her body.

  Sensation rushed, overwhelming her. His near nudity, sheer size and closeness made her head spin. She couldn’t quite believe he was here, touching her once more—certainly not so gently, so carefully. She locked her muscles, trying to stop her all-over-body shaking, but her legs weren’t going to hold her up anymore.

  His hands caught her round the waist; gently he lowered them both to the ground. And he set about slowly, so slowly touching every inch of her. Light hands trailed over her arms, working in symmetry; the tips of his fingers slid across her shoulders, along her collarbones to meet in the middle, and then continued a path down. And then his mouth joined the exploration.

  He untied her bikini top, lifted it away and then cupped her breasts. She opened her eyes, saw the intensity in his as he held her—thumbs circling the jutting peaks as he gazed down her body. He was good. He was so good and she’d tried so hard to forget. But now the memories rushed, her muscles both slackened and strained—knowing the delight that was to follow. She shook as he took her hard nipple in his mouth. His tongue sluiced over the sensitive nub and he sucked more of her into his hot mouth and she couldn’t contain the strangled sound of delight.

  His hands dropped to her waist and he finished stripping her, slipping her shorts and bikini bottoms all the way down her legs. And although the last of her covering had been removed she now felt hotter than if she were unshaded out in the heat of the African sun.

  He took the arches of her feet in sure, steady hands and pushed them wider apart, spreading her before slowly sliding his hands up her calves, to her knees and then even more slowly up her thighs. And his mouth, his full sensual mouth marked the way with kisses, his tongue accentuating each pleasurable pause.

  And as he inched towards her core she moved, the tiniest rocking of her hips. She wanted him to get there. All the way to where she was wet and burning. She groaned. Unable to hold back the incredible need she had for him, the elemental, raw instinct that was driving every caution, every reason from her head.

  Suddenly he moved fast, rising above her and pressing onto her body, and she shuddered under his magnificent weight. Mouth open and hungry, she pulled him closer as she let her hips writhe under the wonderfully hard heat of his.

  This kiss was utterly erotic—intimate and shamelessly aggressive and she plundered as deeply as he did. She could feel him shaking now too and she swept her hands over him, seeking to touch as much skin as she could. Spreading herself wider beneath his rock-hard body, straining to take him in hand and maximise both their pleasure.

  She nipped his wonderfully full top lip. ‘Why are you still wearing your shorts?’

  He laughed and pressed harder against her, the wet fabric delightfully stimulating against the soft skin of her inner thighs. ‘Because I don’t want this over too soon.’

  ‘Haven’t we waited long enough?’

  But his weight had gone and his hands gripped hers, holding them to her sides as he knelt over her, kissing his way from one breast to another, teasing her painfully tight nipples with his hot mouth and wickedly sexy tongue. And then that tongue went lower, circling her belly button and its decorative silver ring and then lower still. He lifted a hand and slid that south too, delving fingers into her curve, parting her so he could kiss that most secret, sensitive part of her.

  He gripped her hips now, stilling her writhing enough so he could extract more from her—more tension, more longing, more need.

  But the need to touch him rose, too. She lifted her shoulders from the ground, reaching for him and yanking his shorts down. He groaned as he sprang free and she took advantage of his momentary stillness to move—to explore.

  She stroked his silken, rigid length with her fingers and heard him swear. She kissed him and felt him shudder. Then he twisted in her hold, moving so he could touch her as intimately as she was him.

  He matched his strokes to hers and she revelled in the freedom of giving her hunger free rein. She breathed in the scent of him, licked the salty taste of him, pressed the hardness of him beneath his smooth skin. She savoured the tension she felt rolling off him. Yes, she could torment him too and she relished it. Her actions grew bolder still, more aggressive, faster, frantic—she was desperate for the pleasures of the flesh and for the white-hot orgasm she knew was almost hers. But suddenly he was gone. Half a metre away from her.

  ‘Ana.’

  She whimpered, body trembling with loss. ‘Why have you stoppe
d?’

  ‘Because I want more than this.’ He tore the packet, sheathed himself with fast, jerky movements.

  What more did he want? Mutual pleasure, physical fulfilment—what more was there?

  ‘I want it all.’ He rose above her, aligning his length to hers as he looked into her eyes. He laced their fingers together and she could feel him there, thick and heavy against her. So close.

  Yes, there was more. There was intimacy, there was that baring not just of body, but of soul. That sharing of the most inner self—and the vulnerability that came with it. And he was seeking it—his ice-blue eyes on fire and searching deep into hers.

  He thrust deep, sure, hard. She closed her eyes, tried to absorb the hit of feeling as they locked together again—but she couldn’t. Her breath shuddered from her lungs, catching her cry. And in those few moments he regained his control, but hers ebbed. She’d ached for this for too long.

  ‘Please, oh, please.’ Her fingers pulled at him, nails curled into the hard muscles, and her hips lifted, forcing the rhythm she so desperately craved, wanting him to drive into her.

  And then he did, thrusting deep again, again, again.

  Her hands swept over his broad, slick shoulders, revelling in the bulging muscles, savouring the incredibly hard body riding her, rocking into her with a faster, more powerful rhythm than she’d ever dreamed of. This couldn’t be wrong. It had to be right. Nothing had ever felt so right.

  It didn’t take much; it was never going to take much when she’d been so on edge for him for so long. She panted, more audible, more hysterical until all too soon he caught her mouth with his and contained her scream, adding his own groan to it as they shook, reaching the summit and freefalling through the sensations.

  CHAPTER SIX

  ANA rose before the sun, slipped on a tee shirt and shorts, not bothering with a bikini underneath—just wanting to escape while he slept. Seconds later she left the banda and went for a walk along the beach, eventually succumbing to the temptation and wading into the warm water. She floated for an age, looking out to the horizon where the sky was lightening, and waited for the sun.

  She sensed something, looked over her shoulder and saw him watching from the water’s edge. The splashes were gentle as he walked in. His arm curled around her, pulling her back against him before she had any chance of escape—not that she wanted to.

  His hands spread wide, smoothing over her wet shirt, and then cupped her breasts. She couldn’t help herself, leaned back against him. One hand slipped lower, beneath her waistband to where she was really wet. It was mere moments, the fewest of seconds, but it wasn’t over. His mouth was hot on her neck, pressing passionate kisses between the words he whispered again, again. ‘One night is not enough.’

  Until finally she answered him, acknowledging the truth of it, and offering the only answer she could. ‘The rest of Africa. We can have the rest of Africa.’

  ‘Yes.’ He hauled her closer, touched her more deeply, and, as the sun rose, made her come.

  A bit over an hour later Ana was enjoying fresh fruit and toast for breakfast, relieved to see Seb disappear with one of the island guys for a while. Instead of feeling any kind of release, she was now tenser, more aware than she’d ever been. It had been amazing. His body was that much leaner, stronger and his patience had filled her with awe. Because after those snatched moments in the sea she’d been begging as the void inside had needed to be filled again and he’d happily obliged. Twice.

  But now the others were dotted over the beach—either reading in the shade by the restaurant, or soaking up the sun’s rays. She sat in an ancient lounge chair and watched the scene, almost drowsy after the total lack of sleep the night before and yet restless—aching for more. She didn’t know how long it was later that he appeared, but he pulled her from the seat and kept hold of her hand. Silently he led her across the sand to the water.

  The kayak looked way too small and unstable.

  He looked at her expression and laughed. ‘I’ll paddle.’

  For the second time that day saying no to him was beyond her. He held the kayak steady and she sat in the front seat.

  ‘How can you do this in the heat?’ She pulled her hat lower on her head and felt him push the boat out. ‘You’re amazingly fit, Sebastian.’

  ‘Why, thanks.’

  ‘No, I mean really. Abnormally fit.’

  He laughed. ‘I’ve been working on it.’

  Carefully she twisted her head to watch him. ‘You really did stop hanging out in the city?’

  ‘I was the epitome of the faithful husband.’

  She gave him a long look. ‘Are you honestly trying to tell me you’ve been celibate this whole time?’

  ‘It’s not something I’d joke about, Ana. Not ever.’

  No sex for the best part of a year?

  ‘But what have you been doing with yourself?’ she spluttered. ‘I mean…come on, Seb.’

  ‘It wasn’t that difficult really.’ He pushed the paddle faster through the water. ‘I did sport. Multi-sport events.’

  ‘As in triathlons?’

  ‘Yes, something to wear me out.’ He nodded. ‘Something to focus on outside of work.’

  Well, it sure explained the heightened definition his body had.

  She sat still and quiet, listening to the water, looking back at the golden sand and the brilliant blue sky. Eventually she relaxed enough to let her fingers trail in the water, watching the island spread wide before her, until she couldn’t contain her rapture a moment longer. ‘It’s incredibly beautiful, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  She glanced at him. ‘You’re not even looking.’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  Right at her.

  She rolled her eyes. OK, so the out-for-fun Seb was back in full force. ‘You’d say anything to get a leg over, wouldn’t you, Seb?’

  ‘Why don’t you believe you’re beautiful?’

  Because she wasn’t. And she’d had years of her aunt emphasising the point. She didn’t fit in with the family’s perfect, petite, feminine form. She was the prune in the peanut jar. She was going to roll her eyes again but suddenly realised how far away from Zanzibar they’d gone. ‘You’d better turn back, Seb. I don’t care how fit you think you are, I don’t want to be adrift in the ocean for days.’

  ‘We’re not going back,’ he said. ‘We’re going there.’

  ‘What?’ She turned and saw how close they were to another, much smaller island.

  Seb’s words were wicked. ‘You didn’t think I was going to spend another night on the ground or squashed up on one of those hard bunks, did you?’

  She sat up so quick the kayak rocked. ‘But our packs—’

  ‘Are being transported by another boat. They’re probably there already. We came the slow, scenic route.’

  ‘You’re unbelievable.’

  ‘Oh, admit it, secretly you’re thrilled.’

  She looked at the beach they were about to wash up on. Oh, yes. Not even secretly. ‘What is this place?’

  ‘This is Mnemba, an exclusive little island. We have our own luxury banda, our own bit of beach and our own butler.’

  They had their own butler? That was crazy—what was the guy going to do all day? Besides her Africa trip was all but over. ‘Seb, we’re supposed to go back to Dar tomorrow.’

  ‘I’ve changed the bookings.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We have another few days.’

  Another few days? Oh, no. Another night she could cope with, but not more. ‘But I didn’t even get to say goodbye to the others on tour.’

  ‘They know my plan—at least, Bundy did. He’ll have told the others.’

  ‘But I have to catch my flight back to the UK.’

  ‘Give me the details and I’ll get it changed. We’ll fly back together.’

  She hesitated. That wouldn’t be a good idea. But then she looked across the water to the beaming man waiting for them, evidently their butle
r, and beyond to the buildings dotted in the trees. As if anyone could say no to this?

  Hamim, their butler, greeted them with true finesse and a wide smile. He offered his hand to Ana as she splashed through the shallows and led her straight to their private apartment. ‘You are a model?’

  ‘No.’ She shook her head and laughed.

  ‘We get a lot of models stay here. And you have the height, you are as beautiful—if not more so. So I thought…’ His smile was even wider.

  Oh, please.

  ‘Actually—’ Ana smiled brightly back at him and pointed to Seb ‘—he’s the model.’

  The butler took that one in his stride, inclined his head and left them to discover their accommodation alone.

  Ana turned to face the laughing Seb. ‘How much did you pay him?’

  Seb held his hands up in innocence. ‘Nothing.’

  Yeah, right.

  ‘Come on,’ he challenged. ‘Let’s check out the facilities.’

  In other words go straight to the bedroom.

  The view out over the Indian Ocean was open and stunning, and yet there was complete privacy. The furniture was intricately carved and there was comfort in everything. But her bones melted at the sight of the bed—so wide and big.

  But it could barely be halfway to midday. As if Seb cared. He ripped off the beautiful white coverings, leaving just the pure cotton sheet on the bed. He looked at the sheet, looked across at her.

  ‘What do you say, Ana?’

  ‘I say there’s still a bit of the pirate in you, Seb.’ But she couldn’t stop the smile. ‘Race you to the water.’ She flew out the open door down the small strip of sand and splashed into the water, uncaring about her shorts and tee getting another complete soaking. She heard his laugh and dive and licked her lips. Saltwater Seb was a flavour she adored.

  Uncaring of the water streaming from her clothes, she walked back inside, peeled off her wet tee shirt and shorts and rubbed the sand from her feet—refusing to ruin the whiter than white linen on the magnificent bed. The sheets smelled so fresh and the bed was soft but not saggy and so easy to stretch out on. Irresistible. She closed her eyes, spread her arms wide and enjoyed the sensation as the faintest of breezes teased dry her damp skin.