Crossing the Line

by Nicola Marsh

  "The shower's all yours if you want it," he said, gesturing at the bathroom. "I'll make us something to eat."

  It all sounded so normal, so nice, if not for the fact he could barely look me in the eye.

  I could take the easy option and scuttle for the bathroom, drown out my thoughts beneath the showerhead, then pretend like we hadn't had mind-blowing sex.

  But what I was feeling? A confusing jumble of awe, affection and serious lust—the latter most of all—meant I needed to confront Kye before things got really awkward. Besides, I was hoping for an encore later.

  "Kye?"

  He paused at the door to his bedroom and glanced over his shoulder, his expression shuttered. "Yeah?"

  "That was amazing."

  The tension compressing his lips eased and they curved into a semi smile that made me feel warm and gooey inside. "So I lived up to your Hemsworth fantasies?"

  "The only person I was thinking about that whole time was you." And I meant it. By the shock widening his eyes, maybe articulating it wasn't such a good idea, but I'd never been a game player.

  I didn't flirt or simper or pretend. When I liked a guy I told him. Which probably accounted for my pathetic track record with men.

  "Same here, babe."

  Our gazes locked across the room, sparking the air between us with something indefinable, before he turned away and strode into the bedroom.

  Thankfully, he didn't close the door and I watched him drop the towel and pull on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. Damn, if Kye looked hot in clothes, he was stunning naked. The muscle definition, the hardness, the tan … that didn't extend to certain parts I'd been privy to see.

  I'd had sex with a tennis jock I barely knew.

  Freaking hell.

  I pressed my palms to my hot cheeks. Yeah, like that would cool them down. Maybe a shower wasn't a bad idea. A cold one.

  I leaped off the sofa and headed for the bathroom, needing to restore some normality to this otherwise crazy night. I loved hot showers, the longer the better. I did some of my best thinking under the spray. And that's what I needed to do now, come up with a flippant yet genuine way to extricate myself from Kye's villa before I did something stupid: like move in.

  "Lame," I muttered, stripping my dress off and fiddling with the taps until the water temp was just right.

  I stepped inside the large cubicle, specially built for the tennis jocks that stayed in these villas, closed my eyes and tipped my head back under the water stream. Bliss.

  Humming some soppy ballad from a rom-com I'd seen last semester, I turned my face to the spray, the sharp peppering of the water giving me the wake up call I needed.

  You've just had a one night stand.

  You should leave, not hang around showering and eating a meal he's whipping up out of obligation.

  I groaned and resisted bashing my head against the tiles, just. And that's when the shower door creaked open and I felt a pair of hands clasp my waist, before sliding upward to rest under my breasts.

  "Need some help getting clean?" Kye whispered in my ear, pulling my back flush against his front.

  Wow.

  Banishing my sensible, good girl thoughts of leaving ASAP, I turned in the circle of his arms. "Don't you mean dirty?"

  The wicked quirk to his lips made my heart pound in anticipation as he lowered his head and kissed me. Slow. Sensual. Deep. The type of kiss that could make a girl forget everything but being naked and wet with a guy like Kye.

  I was on sensation overload, with his hands massaging my ass, the water pounding my back and his mouth wreaking havoc. When we came up for air, I could barely stand.

  "I thought you were cooking?"

  "I couldn't stay away." He stared into my eyes and rested his forehead on mine. "I don't do this usually."

  "Shower?" I wrinkled my nose. "Euw. Now you tell me."

  He didn't smile, his solemnity at odds with the passion darkening his eyes to indigo. "I'm not a man whore but I've had my fair share of sex. Sex that ends the minute we finish fucking."

  A sliver of something akin to jealousy lanced my gut. "Is that my cue to leave?"

  "No." The monosyllable exploded out of him.

  "That's just it." He closed his eyes, dragged in a breath and ducked his head under the water spray before refocusing on me.

  "I want you to stay." He cupped my face in his hands. "I want to fuck you in this shower and in the kitchenette and in the bed." He searched my face, as if looking for answers. "Does that sound insane?"

  In response, I hooked a leg around his waist and rotated my hips against him, real slow. "Let the madness begin."

  And we did go a little nuts. My first fully-fledged sexathon. We did it in the shower. On the lounge room floor. On his bed. On the tiny island bench in the kitchen. Insatiable. Hedonistic. Beyond memorable.

  I didn't sleep. I couldn't, not with my body humming from overuse and my mind buzzing with so many questions, the main one being would Kye be open to continuing this fling for the duration?

  I was under no illusions that this was nothing more than sex, but somewhere between shoving popcorn into each other's mouths after our bench-top performance and cuddling beneath the sheets, I envisaged this being the grand vacation romance I'd never had.

  At dawn, I gave up trying to sleep. Instead, I watched Kye: the way his eyelashes created fan shadows on his cheeks, the way he puffed out air every second breath, the way he looked young and carefree, at odds with the carefully controlled tension he'd exhibited last night.

  I liked this guy.

  But was the feeling mutual?

  Too wired to watch him and ponder any longer, I slipped out of bed, got dressed and headed for the door. Besides, I needed to make it back to my villa before the early risers started heading for the courts.

  Not that I was ashamed of hooking up with Kye but I knew how the rumor mill worked in this place. I'd lived here long enough to see girls' reputations shredded, no matter if they were groupies or not.

  The last thing I needed was for my dad to give me grief. Or worse, give Kye grief.

  For now, I'd keep this under wraps.

  And figure out what the hell I was going to do about my crazy crush on a sexy Aussie I hardly knew.

  Chapter 8

  KYE

  I followed my usual warm up routine. Calf stretches. Hamstrings. Quads. Hip flexors, before moving onto my back, my pecs, triceps and biceps.

  Usually I was one hundred percent focused on my body during a warm up, deriving comfort from the familiar sting of muscle that eased away as it elongated.

  Not today. Today, all I could think about was Mia.

  The sounds she made when she came. The way she'd tasted. The way she'd looked with her mouth wrapped around my cock.

  Fuck.

  I dropped into a squat and breathed deep, evenly, willing my hard-on to vanish.

  When I'd envisaged icebergs for a full two minutes I stood, to find Miles, my workout partner, tapping his palm against his racket, testing string tension.

  "Hey, Down Under. Ready to get whipped again?"

  I'd never had a nickname before, one that wasn’t douchebag or prick from the lowlifes that frequented Mum's club, so I didn't mind Miles constantly ribbing me about everything from my accent to Vegemite to shrimps on the barbie.

  "Big talk to compensate for a little dick perhaps, mate?" I picked up my racket and bounced it from hand to hand, taking comfort in the familiar feel of it. "Because by the amount of crap you spout, Miles my man, you must be about this big." I held up my thumb and forefinger an inch apart.

  Miles guffawed. "I'm going to whip your Aussie ass good."

  "Bring it on, little fella." I wiggled my drooping pinkie under his nose.

  I joined in his laughter as we chose balls and headed for the court. Maybe a good hit out would clear my head. And boy, did it need to be cleared.

  All I could think about was Mia. About what we'd done and what I'd like to do again. And that's what was
throwing me the most. Bad enough I'd spent the entire night with her. I wanted more. More nights like last one. Laughing and teasing and feeling good about myself for the first time in forever.

  I should've been glad she'd bolted when I woke. Instead, I'd acted like some needy chick, rolling over and burying my face in her pillow just so I could smell her.

  Yep. I definitely needed to smash a few balls around to work off this antsy feeling that made me want to ditch Miles and go find Mia.

  "What did you think of the party?" Miles paused to lace up his shoe.

  "Not my scene."

  Miles straightened, his smug grin grating. "Saw you leave with Mia."

  I stiffened, not liking the way Miles said her name. How crazy was that? "So?"

  "Be careful there, bro." Miles slapped me on the back. "Dirk may be a pretty cool guy but fuck with his daughter? He'll castrate you."

  I stared at Miles as the truth detonated.

  Mia was Dirk Cresswell's daughter.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  The familiar fury bubbled up at the injustice of every single thing in my life going wrong.

  What made this worse? Being with Mia felt so right.

  I wanted to smash something. My racket. The net. The fence. Kick and pound and belt out the frustration making my insides clench with the unfairness of it.

  But I did none of those things.

  No more outbursts from me, not any more. I might not regret busting that pansy-arse's nose back in Sydney, but seeing his blood on my knuckles had been a wake up call.

  I couldn't let the anger beat me. So I had to beat it.

  Forcing a smile that felt like my face was cracking, I gestured at the court. "Thanks for the tip, mate, but isn't it time you stopped gossiping like an old woman and let me teach you a lesson?"

  "You're all talk, Down Under," Miles yelled, as he jogged to his side of the court and flipped me the bird.

  I wish I was all talk. Instead, last night I'd been all action and what I'd done with Mia may have cost me my final chance at having a tennis career.

  I was so screwed.

  Chapter 9

  MIA

  "I sussed out your bad boy," Dani said, topping up her OJ. "The rumor mill is working overtime."

  My heart froze. How could anyone know about last night? I'd been so careful doing the walk of shame back to my villa. No one had seen me. Had they? Shit.

  Channeling disinterest, I poured more coffee. "What are people saying?"

  Dani waggled her finger at me. "Uh-uh. No way am I telling you a thing 'til you spill what happened last night when you left the party."

  She leaned close. "Did you do him?"

  Unable to keep the smile off my face at the memory of how well I'd 'done' Kye, I shrugged and feigned nonchalance. "Maybe."

  Dani squealed and slugged me on the arm. "You did! I'm so proud of you, hon."

  Slathering peach jelly on my toast, I said, "I'm not telling you another thing 'til I hear these rumors."

  "Fine." Dani slumped in her chair and fake pouted. "Apparently he was a wunderkind in Oz. Big things expected of him. 'Til he got into a fight with another player at their top academy, beat him to a pulp and was kicked out."

  My heart sank. Kye may have given off bad boy vibes initially last night but to be that aggressive? He'd mentioned breaking his hand by smashing some dude's windshield too. Didn't bode well that he'd been expelled from his tennis academy for violence also.

  Dani slipped a silver flask out of her carry all and added a dash of what I knew to be vodka to her OJ. "No one wanted to know him in Oz but your dad somehow heard about him and offered him a place here." She sipped at her vodka-pepped OJ and sighed with pleasure. "It's his last chance."

  Ah hell.

  Kye would freak when he found out the guy who'd given him another chance was her dad.

  "Which makes me wonder …" Dani tapped her bottom lip with a crimson manicured nail. "If you slept with the bad boy, it means you like him. And presuming the sex was phenomenal by the glow and goofy grin you can't wipe off your face, you want a repeat. But is loverboy happy doing the boss's daughter?"

  That's what I intended to find out.

  I grimaced and Dani clapped a hand over her mouth. "Oh my God. You didn't tell him!"

  "It didn't come up," I said, knowing that wouldn't cut it with Kye.

  I'd deliberately omitted my last name when I'd introduced myself to him because I knew he would've ditched me the second I uttered Cresswell as my surname.

  It had happened too many times before, unless the guys trying to chat me up were Dad's suck-ups, jocks who'd do anything—including play nice with me—to get in the good graces of their boss and idol.

  "I bet that's not what you said to the bad boy later." Dani winked and downed her doctored OJ in four gulps. "I'm sure he got it up—"

  "Stop it." My rebuke came out harsher than intended and Dani's over made-up eyes for this hour of the morning widened.

  "What's biting your ass?"

  "I just don't want to dissect what happened with Kye, okay?" And particularly not in the lewd, crude way Dani expected.

  I loved my best friend, I really did, but after not seeing her for a few semesters, her brash, in-your-face innuendo for all things sexual really grated.

  I thought Kye and I had really connected last night. And I wanted to see him again. If anything, to have a chance to explain why I didn't tell him who I was. But it was more than that. Simply, no guy had ever made me feel how I felt with him.

  Kye may be tough on the outside but I'd seen glimpses of an inner softness that drew me to him on some weird, intrinsic level.

  "Fine," Dani said, but I glimpsed the fleeting hurt in her eyes and damned if I didn't know how to make it better. "Though this guy isn't one of your fixer-uppers. Sounds like he's way past that."

  I bristled. "You don't know anything about him, bar a few shitty rumors."

  "And you do?" Dani arched an eyebrow, managing to look superior and condescending at the same time.

  I bit back my first response of 'I know a lot more than you.'

  Like how he liked his ass gripped when he was inside me. Like how his eyes turned almost black the moment before he came. Like how he made me feel like a woman for the first time in my life. A feeling I'd give anything to recapture.

  "In case you hadn't noticed, I'm here on vacation," I said, doing my best to remain cool when I wanted to leap from the table and stalk back to my villa. "So I'm having a little fun. No harm in that."

  Dani tsk-tsked. "Sweetie, I've known you a long time. Long enough to have seen you want to nurture wounded birds, stray dogs and moody dudes." She tapped me on the nose. "You're a fixer upper. It's what you do. It's sweet but delusional, because with some guys, no matter how many hard yards you put in, they'll never change."

  "You make me sound like a gullible idiot," I muttered, twisting the napkin in my lap to prevent from wringing my BFF's neck.

  Her expression softened. "That's not what I'm saying."

  "Then what?"

  "You're a pushover, sweetie. Too soft-hearted for your own good and I don't want you investing time and effort in any guy who doesn't deserve it."

  I could've accepted Dani's advice if not for one salient fact. She was the queen of wasting time on guys who didn't deserve her attention let alone anything else.

  I nodded. "Wise advice." I tempered what I was about to say with a smile. "You should adhere to it some time."

  She waved away my statement. "Doesn't apply to me, because I don't feel anything for the douchebags. Not in here." She pointed to her heart. "You, on the other hand?" She picked up the butter knife and pretended to stab it into her chest. "Broken heart just waiting to happen."

  I shook my head. "You're wrong."

  Now if only I believed it.

  Chapter 10

  KYE

  After whipping Miles' arse on the practice court, I went in search of Mia.

  We had to talk.

&
nbsp; And she sure as hell wouldn't like what I had to say.

  I didn't have to look far. When I headed back to my villa to change out of my sweaty gear, I saw her perched on the back step. And damned if my heart didn't give a betraying leap.

  My heart? What the fuck was wrong with me? So we'd had sensational sex and talked a bit. Didn't mean I had to go all loopy.

  The sooner we cleared the air and got things straight between us, the sooner Daddy's little princess could go back to her chino-wearing jocks and leave me the hell alone.

  She stood as I neared, her eyes lighting up. Man, this was going to be tough.

  "You shouldn't be here." I glanced over my shoulder, though I'd already scoped the surrounds to make sure no one was watching us.

  "Good morning to you too," she said, the spark in her eyes fading. "Got beaten at practice?"

  "Not bloody likely." I opened the back door and gestured her to enter in front of me. "We need to talk."

  "You know," she said, her tone flat as she stepped past me and I gritted my teeth against the urge to bury my face in her fruity scented hair. "About my dad."

  "Yeah." I flung my workout bag in the corner of the kitchenette. "What the fuck were you thinking?"

  She spun on me so fast I backed into the wall. "I was thinking maybe you wanted to cut loose for a few hours last night."

  She jabbed me in the chest with her index finger. "I was thinking you were attracted to me as much as I was attracted to you."

  She stepped in real close, almost treading on my toes. "I was thinking you were the type who wouldn't give a rat's ass about a person's parents."

  She stuck her face into mine, mere inches away. "Guess I was wrong."

  I couldn't think with her so close, the tantalizing strawberry scent of her body wash or shampoo teasing my nostrils and making me want to imprint that smell on my skin again, the way it had last night.

  I needed to push her away, to ensure she wouldn't come hanging around again and to do that, I'd need to give her some semblance of the truth.