He wanted her out of those shortie pyjamas. No, that was wrong. He wanted her out of those pyjamas,andinto something thoroughly more all-encompassing. But he was sick of arguing with her. ‘Just do it,’ he said, and stalked from the room.
God, if it wasn’t bad enough that he’d been awake since she’d ambushed him, afraid to fall asleep in case she tried something again. Afraid that next time he might not be strong enough to turn her down. It had been eight years since Sophia had died, and despite plenty of women trying, he’d felt nothing for any of them. But last night that had changed. Last night he’d wanted a woman.
This woman.
The wrong woman, in every way.
And yet still he hungered for her. Found himself almost regretting the fact he’d come to his senses before the unthinkable had happened. The unthinkable—and yet—the very muchwantable.
What was that about?
Unless his body was finally rebelling about the long drought that had followed Sophia’s death? A shame, if that were so, to randomly pick this woman to awaken his desire. She was a rescue. Attraction wasn’t an option.
He heard her footfall going up the stairs. At last. He returned to the kitchen and helped himself to more coffee, and just as quickly drained the cup as he paced the suite and watched the rain coming in bursts against the windows. He was going to need all the caffeine he could get before he got on that plane.
He heard the pad of her bare feet coming down the stairs and turned, relieved to know she’d be out of those shortie pyjamas at last. Except… ‘What the hell? I thought I told you to get dressed.’
She held out her arms and looked down at herself, as if he were crazy. ‘I am dressed.’
Not in his book. She was wearing a bikini, a tiny bikini that left little to the imagination. It was strapless and red, with a little ruffle at the top of the bandeau. If it had ruffles anywhere else, he didn’t want to know. And he’d thought her shortie pyjamas were provocative. He closed his eyes and sent up a silent prayer for strength.
‘Where do you think you’re going in that?’
‘I thought I’d take a swim.’
‘Outside? Where it’s blowing a gale?’
‘But it’s not cold, Lord Howe Island is a subtropical island so it’s not cold, is it? Just a bit windy. And it would be a crime to waste a plunge pool like that, don’t you think?’
He didn’t think. He couldn’t right now. Instead, he rubbed his whiskered jaw with his hand. He needed to shave. He needed more coffee. He needed this woman gone. Out of his sight. Out of his life.
‘Go then,’ he said, his voice sounding rough and gravelly, unrecognisable even to his own ears. ‘Go have your swim.’
She smiled and gave a little curtsy. ‘I wasn’t actually asking your permission, but thank you anyway.’
He didn’t dare look at her as she walked to the door, didn’t want to see the sway of her hips or the curves of her body so open to his gaze, didn’t want to be reminded of how close he’d been last night. But when the door opened and the storm front gusted in, his eyes found her paused in the open doorframe. For a moment she hesitated, as if she were having second thoughts. But then her shoulders lifted, and she pushed into the swirling air and tugged the door closed behind her.
It was wild outside. The wind swirled around her, tugging at her hair, threatening to blow her sideways at times, but no way was she retreating. Not until she’d wound him in so many knots that he couldn’t untie himself. She lowered herself into the plunge pool, exaggerating the sway of her hips as she made her way one slow step at a time. She could feel his eyes on her. She could feel their heat.
And she was determined to stoke it.
What was wrong with the man?
She knew he hadn’t been unaffected by her.
And he was all man. So strong. So firm. Even in sleep his body was hard, his belly taut with muscle. And she hadn’t imagined the impact of his heat. One touch and her senses had surged, like she’d plugged herself into a battery pack and felt the energy flare inside her. This man was neither stone nor metal. No robot. This man was made of flesh and blood, the same as her—and yet so very different.
It was almost a shame that he’d woken before she’d had the chance to experience more. But even in her limited experience with men and with this man in particular, she recognised that she’d planted the seeds of desire, and now it was her job to nurture them. If only she could get him onside. If only she could create some kind of rapport between them that wasn’t based on his job description and her situation. Then she might have a chance to reason with the man.
What else could she do?
Which was exactly why she was here.
She lay in the pool, her arms beside her on the edge, her legs kicking the surface of the spa as they floated free. The wind buffeted her face, tugging at her hair. She didn’t care. The water temperature was perfect, and the wind was the least of her problems. She wondered instead at the words Theo had uttered in his sleep. Wondered what would have happened if he had tumbled her over and finished what she had begun. Her body had been trembling with excitement, she’d felt herself pulsing in places she didn’t know could pulse. He was big. And she might be inexperienced sexually, but she knew enough to know that size mattered. Instinctually she knew that sizehadto matter. What must it feel like, to havethatinside you? To feel that move inside you. Even now the memories of last night had her belly quivering anew, triggering an ache deep between her thighs that she didn’t understand or know how to ease. Only that it had something to do with Theo.
She needed more time to explore these new sensations. She wanted more time. But there was no more time. Today she would leave the island, and he would take her back to Rubanestein and into the grasping clutches of her brother Rafael.
If her brother got his way, she’d be married off to Count Lorenzo di Stasio before she’d got off the plane. Love would never come into it. Money ruled her brother’s life. Cruelty ruled her so-called fiancé’s.
