Nick swam straight under the waterfall and, in a move that can only be described as incredibly hot, used his chiselled arms to effortlessly leverage himself out of the water in one fluid motion to sit down next to me on the ledge. He pushed back his hair, scrunching his fingers in it to get the water out and give it a tousled perfection he seemed unaware of. His body was lean and strong. There were abs, but they weren’t made with protein shakes or twice-daily gym sessions. Everything about him was natural, quiet, elegant and strong. He was beautiful.
I sat on my hands to stop myself from reaching out inappropriately. I looked up into his eyes, only to find them already locked on me. He moved his focus down to my lips and leaned tentatively towards me, giving me ample time to pull away before pressing the sweetest, gentlest kiss on me. Both of his hands reached for my jaw, keeping me where I was, and he grazed my lips in short kisses, his lips persistent, sometimes lingering for a second longer to tug at one of mine.
Those micro kisses were driving me wild. I reached for his angular jaw to gain some control. He opened his mouth to me, letting me explore him, deepening the kiss. His tongue tasted like a heady combination of champagne and salt water. I sighed into the kiss and felt his mouth move into a smile against mine. My mouth responded to mirror him.
I don’t know when I stopped enjoying kissing in my relationship, but I had not felt like this since Peter and I had first met and, even then, I’m not certain it had felt like this. I could have kissed Nick all day.
But my body was not listening to that thought, at all. It wanted more from him, and I fought the urge to straddle him on the rock after his hand started exploring my exposed skin. First, I was a little overwhelmed that our flirty heat had turned into heat-heat so fast. Second, I was not prepared to have sex on this rock. Sex in nature was always much better in theory than reality. I also wasn’t one-hundred-per-cent confident there weren’t snakes around, of the animal variety.
I kissed his mouth again, then reluctantly withdrew. ‘I need to eat,’ I said, diving under the water before he could talk me into staying. I swam back to the beach.
I was dried off, unpacking lunch supplies, before he left the lagoon. His desire under the waterfall had been evident, and the time he had taken to collect himself was flattering.
I flicked my circular towel down on the sand and topped up our glasses, using the lid of the esky to balance them on. Lunch was a delicious cold lobster salad, packed into dry ice to keep cool. It was perfect in the heat of the day, and we were silent as we took our first few bites, sitting cross-legged, knee to knee, like children.
‘I love holidays,’ I said, waving my fork around at our surrounds. ‘They are freeing. You can literally be whoever you want to be.’ Though weirdly, I felt more myself than I had in years. ‘Or you can convince yourself that you can do anything.’
‘What can you do on holidays that you can’t do normally?’ he said, sitting forward, interested in my philosophy. ‘What personality traits change for you?’
I started a list, counting them off on my fingers. ‘Well, I’m starting to relax. I can feel it in my shoulders and neck. Even after the boat! On holidays I eat with reckless abandon.’ I pointed to the demolished salad and licked the finger I held out, which was covered in dressing. ‘I drink with reckless abandon.’ I finished my glass of bubbles and held it up. Then I met his eyes. ‘On holidays, I swim topless under the moonlight and get rescued by gorgeous men.’
He grinned at that.
‘On holidays I have a personal valet, who’s a little overfamiliar and really, very bossy.’
He snorted, and I watched delighted as his proper smile emerged and lit up his face. He shook his gorgeous head, his hair doing miraculous things.
Moving onto my other hand, I continued. ‘On holidays I’m not a mum whose husband of thirteen years left her after meeting the love of his life at work.’
He looked at me with that searching, piercing look.
‘And maybe I’m someone who can sleep with someone without having feelings attached, because it’s all going to end anyway,’ I finished softly, looking into his eyes. I took another bite of my salad as he refilled my glass. ‘So, what about Nick Northby? Does he change on holidays?’
He started a list of his own. ‘On holidays I’m someone who eats and drinks with reckless abandon,’ he said.
I raised an eyebrow at him.
‘Okay, okay. On holidays I worry less about the people I’m responsible for.’
This insight felt as if it was a gift for how honest I had been so far. I smiled in gratitude.
Warming to it, he kept going. ‘On holidays, I can forget that I have chosen a career over so many other things in life. I can kiss a beautiful woman under a waterfall.’
Our eyes met and the look he gave me made me feel exposed.
‘On holidays, I can pretend I’m the kind of man who could fall in love.’
Ha!Oh, here we go.Typical men. This is what I had to look forward to as a single woman. I put down my salad and fork. ‘You can’t fall in love in real life, or you choose not to?’
He shook his head. ‘Both.’
‘Wow. I feel like if we spend more time together, I am definitely going to want to unpack that.’
He reached across and kissed me again, in a delicious lobstery, champagney kiss. ‘Say you’ll have dinner with me tonight?’
‘I don’t want to be around couples.’
‘Christ, me neither. Come to my room. We’ll get room service.’
