“I will.” She walked up to him, placed her hands on his chest, and rose onto her tiptoes. “Thank you,” she whispered before pressing her lips to his.
His hand rose to cup her head, and the quick peck turned into a longer kiss that sent her heart racing all over again.
“Ooh,” she said when he eventually let her go.
“Sorry. Couldn’t resist.” He smirked and left the room, closing the door behind him.
Erin stared after him for a while, then turned and looked at the room again. Throwing her arms in the air, she laughed and twirled in the center. It was her birthday, she was staying in a palace, and a gorgeous billionaire was in the room next door. Life didn’t get much better than this!
Chapter Ten
Thirty minutes later, Brock knocked on Erin’s door. “Ready?” he asked when she opened it.
“Have you put sun lotion on?” she said.
“No, but I have a hat.” He tugged on a baseball cap.
“That doesn’t cover your ears. Wait here.” She disappeared and then came back with a bottle of lotion in her hand. Squeezing a little onto her fingers, she smoothed it into his ears, then massaged the rest into his face.
Brock let her, tingling at the touch of her fingers as they trailed across his cheeks and down his neck, and watched with amusement as her cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she scolded. “Sorry. I forgot you weren’t Ryan.”
He chuckled. “I’m not complaining.”
She kept her gaze fixed on his neck, but a smile touched her lips, and he was sure she was taking longer than was necessary to massage the cream in. She stroked across his cheekbone, around to his ear, then down to the neckline of his T-shirt.
“I’ll shave before dinner,” he said, conscious of the slight rasp of her fingers against his stubble.
She gave a distracted nod, spreading the cream around the back of his neck to cover the strip from his hairline to the edge of his T-shirt that always caught the sun. She’d changed into a pretty blue sundress, and one strap had slid off her shoulder leaving her skin uncovered from the base of her neck to her upper arm. It was hardly an intimate area, but he felt like a Victorian gentleman must have felt on seeing a lady’s ankle, turned on because the area wasn’t normally visible. That creamy brown expanse of skin bore a white strip like a bra strap, although she obviously wasn’t wearing one. Her breasts would be soft and unrestricted in his hands—he could imagine their weight in his palms, and the way her nipples would be relaxed in the warm sun, although they’d tighten if he brushed his thumbs across them.
His body responded, aroused by the thought as well as her tantalizing touch, and before he could stop himself, he moved forward, pinned her up against the doorjamb, and lowered his lips to hers. Erin laughed and returned the kiss, her fingers fanning into his hair, and they exchanged several long kisses before he finally forced himself to move back.
“Sorry,” he said. “But that’s what you get when you spread sun cream on an unsuspecting male.”
She chuckled, clearly enjoying herself, popped the bottle of lotion back inside, and came out with a small handbag. Brock held out his hand, and she lifted the long strap of the bag over her head so it could rest on her hip, and slid her hand into his.
Walking slowly, they headed across the courtyard to the signposted path to the beach. It was a gorgeous day—Brock couldn’t have planned better if he’d tried. As they turned the corner and took the path over the grassed area toward the sand, his heart lifted at the sight of the Pacific spread before them like a sparkling blue blanket. The light summer breeze that lifted the strands of Erin’s hair around her face teased the ocean into tiny waves that ran up the beach. It took the edge off the heat, but he knew they’d have to be careful not to burn in spite of the lotion she’d applied.
The path led down a series of sand-covered steps, and then they were on the beach. Brock toed off his Converses and Erin slipped off her sandals, and they carried them as they walked along the waterline, the sea warm in the shallows, refreshing to his feet.
Erin held his hand again, and Brock closed his fingers around hers while she started talking about the time she’d been to the Mediterranean, and how it was fairly similar to the Bay of Islands, although with a lot less people.
He was surprised at how much he was enjoying just touching another person again. Sometimes it felt as if Fleur had only died yesterday—at other times he felt as if he’d been alone for millennia. He’d started to wonder if he’d forgotten how to communicate with a partner.
Being on his own had more disadvantages than advantages, but there was no doubt that after time, even though sometimes he hated his lonely, cold apartment, he had grown used to being the only one there. When alone, he only had to concentrate on himself, and he was conscious he’d become selfish. Relationships were often about compromise, he thought, looking down at where the clear water covered his toes. People watched TV programs they wouldn’t normally watch because their partner liked them. Wore the clothes their partner liked because they wanted to look nice for them. Ate the food their partner preferred and saw people their partner liked. It’s what people did to keep a marriage happy, and while Fleur was alive he’d had no issues with it, but he’d come to like having to please nobody but himself over the past two years.
Part of him had wondered whether, if he started to date again, he’d feel irritable and resentful for having to think about someone else, but for now he felt nothing but pleasure at the notion of spending the day with the woman by his side.
“Penny for them,” she said, causing him to look at her in surprise. She wore dark sunglasses that hid her eyes, but she was smiling, suggesting he’d been lost in thought for a while.
“Sorry. I was just thinking how much fun this is.”
Her smile spread. “I know what you mean. It’s nice to just… be, isn’t it?”
He nodded. She was right. Maybe it was because they were older, or perhaps because they’d talked for a long time online before they’d met in the flesh, but he didn’t feel any need to impress her or force the conversation.
“You’re very easy to be with,” she said, confirming his thoughts.
“You don’t feel nervous anymore then?” he teased.
She laughed and swirled her feet in the water. “No. I feel better after our talk in the car. I hope I didn’t come across as rude because I was hesitant about accepting your gift. I understand your family has always had money?”
“Yes, my parents are wealthy.”
“Not having money, it’s a bit difficult to understand the motive behind giving it away. My parents manage, but they’re hardly well off. When I started work, I was well paid for a while, but then I met Jack and got pregnant, and since then it’s been hard. Every penny I have goes towards clothes and toys for Ryan, and saving for birthdays and Christmas. There’s rarely any left for treats. I can’t imagine having so much money that you don’t notice if you give it away. Every cent is precious, and giving it to someone carries meaning. Does that make sense? I’m not explaining myself very well.”
“Yes it does. I do understand. You don’t want to feel beholden. But that’s the thing about a gift—it doesn’t require something in return. I mean it, Erin. If we have a lovely dinner tonight, share a bottle of wine and a glass of Lagavulin, maybe have a walk in the moonlight, I’ll have considered it money well spent. Although I arranged it because it’s your birthday, I also wanted to spend time with you, don’t forget. Like I said, I don’t have a day off very often. This is a treat for me too! A day without the phone constantly ringing, without having to worry about anyone but myself and a pretty girl. It doesn’t come much better than that.”
Erin blushed and looked up at him with a shy smile. “You think I’m pretty?”
“I think you’re stunning. And as it’s your birthday, I’m very happy to tell you at least once an hour.”
She stopped walking, and Brock stopped too and turned to her,
surprised.
“You’re very sweet,” she said. Still holding his hand, she moved closer to him.
“Don’t think I’ve ever been called that before.”
In typical New Zealand fashion, the beach was empty save for a couple walking right at the other end. Brock felt like a teenager, his stomach fluttering with a mixture of excitement and nerves at this innocent, gentle exploration of each other, and at the promise of a pleasant evening and night to come, whatever it held in store.
“Thank you,” Erin said, lifting a hand to cup his cheek. “For being so kind, and for being prepared to take this slowly.”
He inhaled at her touch, a shiver descending his spine. “I’m just thrilled you chose to come at all.”
“It means a lot to me. Jack hurt me badly, and honestly there was one point where I didn’t think I’d ever date anyone again.”
He leaned his cheek into her palm, letting a smile curve his lips. “I’m glad you changed your mind.”
“You changed my mind,” she corrected. “You make me feel alive again.”
His eyebrows rose, as they were the exact words he could have said to her. But before he could say as much, she lifted up to press her lips against his, and everything fled his mind.
This time, she lifted her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss. Brock rested his hands on her hips, then slid his arms around her and tightened them, enjoying the feel of her soft body against his. She murmured her approval, a low purr deep in her throat, and the sexy growl fired him up, pushing him to take it to the next level.
Opening his mouth, he touched his tongue tentatively to her bottom lip. Erin inhaled, her lips parting, and he lifted his head. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment he felt as if they were teetering on the edge of something. If she moved back, she’d be saying this was just a friendship for now. If she didn’t…
He held his breath, conscious of the crash of the waves, the cry of seagulls overhead, the smell and taste of the ocean. Behind Erin, on the edge of his vision, the blue sky was framed by a magnificent array of pohutukawa trees, their bright red flowers bringing a Christmassy, magical feel to the moment.
Her breasts were soft where they pressed against his chest, her body warm through her thin dress. Brock felt as if it was already Christmas Eve, the air sparkling with anticipation and hope. Stay, he thought, hoping his desperation didn’t show in his face. Please don’t move away.
To his relief, her lips curved up. Exultant happiness washed over him, warm and refreshing as the water on his feet, and he lowered his head and kissed her again.
Erin opened her mouth to him, and he touched his tongue to hers, then slid it into her mouth, the sensation so incredibly intimate to his sex-starved body that it flooded him with heat. Crushing her to him, he deepened the kiss and let his passion flow, his internal thermostat continuing to rise when she returned the thrust of his tongue with one of her own and pressed her hips to his.
He moved his hands down her back, enjoying the womanly curve of her waist and the flare of her hips, then tightened his fingers on her bottom and held her to him, pressing his now obvious erection against her mound. Erin gave an unmistakable rock of her hips, pushing against him, and suddenly the sensation of being innocent teenagers on their first date vanished. A very mature, passionate heat burst into flame between them, and it left Brock gasping, his body tight with desire, aching for release.
Lifting his head, he released his grip on her, and she moved back, straightening her dress with self-conscious hands as she glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone had seen them.
“Don’t worry. There’s nobody else on the beach,” he said. The couple at the other end had disappeared, leaving the stretch of pale gold sand empty.
“Is it me or has it just got incredibly hot?” She fanned her face.
He smiled and held out his hand. “Happy birthday.”
She slid hers into his and grinned. “Thank you. That gift was even better than the hotel room.”
Laughing, they continued along the sand. Brock squeezed her fingers, pleased to see her face alight with a happy glow. That was all he wanted for her—to relieve the pressure of motherhood for a day, to make her feel beautiful for a while.
Yeah, right, the little devil on his shoulder whispered in his ear. Kissing her had nothing to do with the fact that he wanted to see her naked. That he wanted to strip the sundress from her and cover her breasts with his hands. That he wanted to slide inside her, and find his own pleasure in her soft body.
He closed his eyes momentarily against the brilliant sun, unable to argue, and mentally gave the finger to the grinning devil.
Chapter Eleven
They walked to the end of the beach and back, taking their time and talking while they splashed through the shallows. Erin listened while Brock told her about his job at the hospital. She was full of admiration for his dedication and the number of hours he devoted to making children better.
“What job did you do before you became pregnant with Ryan?” he asked.
Erin told him about the publishing company she used to work for, editing and writing features for magazines, and by the time she’d finished they were back at their rooms.
“So I’ll call for you just before seven?” Brock said.
“Sure. I can’t believe I actually have ninety minutes to myself.”
He laughed. “Make the most of it. See you in a while.”
He walked to the door of his own room, gave her a wave, and disappeared inside.
Erin let herself in, feeling oddly disquieted. Was it her imagination, or had he been a little… distant since their kiss on the beach? He’d mentioned the difficulty of moving on after the death of his wife. Did he regret getting intimate with Erin now?
She sighed. If he did, there was little she could do about it. She went into the room and wandered across to the deck. A high fence separated her deck from the others so she couldn’t see if Brock was out there too.
Leaning against the post, she looked down at the beach, thinking of how she’d felt when he’d kissed her. It made her sad to think he might be feeling regretful. Two years was a long enough time to grieve, wasn’t it? It wasn’t as if he hadn’t even got past the first anniversary of his wife’s death. Erin wondered what it must feel like to think you’d found your soulmate and married them, only to lose them at such a young age. It was difficult for her to imagine the depth of grief he must be feeling.
She touched her fingers to her lips, feeling the smile there. His desire for her had been evident, his kiss gentle but passionate. His body wanted her, whatever his heart thought. Caitlin’s suggestion of a one-night stand lingered in her mind and wouldn’t be banished. Would Brock be interested, or would he decide he wasn’t ready to move on?
Erin checked her watch. She liked the idea of trying out the hot tub on the deck, but she decided it would be more fun to use in the dark and instead decided to have a lie down for a while to refresh herself for the evening. The thirty minutes turned into forty-five after the long walk and the fresh sea air, but she still had plenty of time for a shower and to get ready for dinner, and a quick call home to her mother to make sure Ryan was okay.
By the time Brock knocked on the door, she was ready, and she opened it with a smile. The smile turned into an open-mouthed stare at the sight of the gorgeous guy standing on the step. He’d been leaning against the post, looking out across the courtyard, but turned as the door opened and pushed off to stare back at her. So far she’d only seen him in shorts and T-shirt, but tonight he wore smart, dark jeans and a sexy, light-gray shirt that had a contrasting dark-gray strip where the buttons were and along the edge of the collar.
“Wow,” she said, unable to hide her admiration.
“I second that.” His gaze slid down her, then back up to return to her face with generous warmth.
Erin looked down at herself. Disliking black, and not sure whether to go for smart or casual, she’d followed Caitlin’s advice and treated
herself to a new summer dress that could fit both categories. A beautiful aqua color she knew complemented her eyes, it reached just above her knees at the front but fell to her ankles at the back in a light gauzy fabric that lifted in the breeze. The bodice wasn’t as revealing as she’d intimated, with thin straps and a wide dark belt at the waist, but she knew it drew attention to her curves, and she’d purposely not worn a bra beneath it. Pretty high-heeled sandals completed the look, and she’d washed her hair and left it to bounce around her shoulders, adding a touch of makeup to give herself confidence.
She felt like a million dollars—a perfect complement to a billionaire—and for the first time in three years she felt like a woman first and a mother second rather than the other way around.
“You look fantastic,” he said, his eyes filled with admiration.
“Thank you.” Picking up the small clutch she’d left by the door, she stepped out and pulled the door shut, then took his outstretched hand.
“You looked beautiful before, but you look amazing tonight,” he said, his fingers tightening on hers.
Erin bumped her arm against his as they walked. “I feel amazing. Funny what half an hour on your own without someone constantly wanting you to feed him or play with his dinosaurs will do for a woman.”
Brock laughed and pulled her close so he could put his arm around her, and they walked together to the restaurant in the main block.
This was even more impressive than the rooms, if that were possible. Round tables covered in white cloths bore shining silver cutlery and sparkling wine glasses. A waiter showed them to their table, which nestled in a private corner in prime position on the deck overlooking the bay. A deck heater stood nearby in case the sea breeze picked up as the sun sank below the horizon, and a pretty row of tea lights in glass holders were strung on tinsel along the glass barrier.
“This is wonderful,” Erin said as she took the seat the waiter held out for her. She reached out to touch the glittering table decoration made from a red candle surrounded by scarlet pohutukawa flowers with deep green leaves and tiny golden baubles. “I feel really Christmassy all of a sudden.”
The Perfect Gift: A Christmas Billionaire Sexy Romance (Three Wise Men Book 1) Page 8