‘You may even find the whole experience to be very enlightening,’ I say, deadpan.
‘I hope it is,’ he agrees, stepping slightly closer. His eyes crinkle attractively. We still bloody fancy each other like mad. Fact.
I blink slowly and bite my lip, hoping it looks mildly seductive.
There’s a dark glint in Jackson’s eyes.
I’m flirting with him, big time. Silence is my secret weapon. Who knew?
I see him swallow hard. ‘The other night. The beach. The stars.’
A warmth shivers through me. ‘You said I was bright?—’
‘Like glitter and bubbly like champagne,’ he says, finishing the sentence for me. His eyes haven’t left mine throughout this whole conversation. ‘And hotter than a bushfire in the outback.’
It’s my turn to swallow. I can’t believe he remembers that bit. My chest is rising with every laboured breath. He is having a catastrophic effect on me. I feel way out of my depth here.
‘I just wish,’ he says, stepping in even closer to whisper in my ear. His breath is tickling my skin and making every hair on my arms prickle. ‘That we’d had longer.’ Gosh, he’s as good at flirting as I am. He sounds like a hot plumber who, instead of pricing up a kitchen refurb, has decided to check how often my husband is out at work. And I’m totally here for that. It’s sexy. Incredibly sexy.
I tilt my head in a coquettish manner and fiddle with a strand of hair. ‘Whatever do you mean?’ I know exactly what he means, but this moment has become turbo charged with sexual tension. I lean towards him, desperate for a kiss. The moon is throwing a romantic glow over the gulet. There’s a cool breeze wafting over us. Strings of fairy lights are flickering over the pretty marina, the bobbing yachts and the charming bars and restaurants that line the warmly lit promenade. The chink of glasses and cutlery, the low hum of chatter and the soft tinkle of music are drifting across the water towards us. We are virtually alone here.
He takes my fingertips lightly in his, his expression now serious. ‘I don’t want to make things awkward at the office if we acted on this… attraction.’
No. That’s not what I want to hear. No. No. No. NO! I’ve had half a bottle of merlot, an Appletini (apparently all the rage in Australia) and a couple of shots of paint stripper for God’s sake. I don’t care about the bloody office.
‘Listen.’ I place my hand lightly on his chest. ‘You won’t make things “awkward”.’Help. I’m doing air quotes like my mother.
I feel so empowered in the art of seduction right now. It’s all I can do notto jut out my breasts. Or maybe I am. I glance down. I definitely am. My nipples are poking out like two torpedoes aimed and ready to fire. It’s the drama and excitement and the thrilling adventure of it all. And Lord knows, I’m no expert but I’m pretty sure I won’t look back one day and thinkI’m so glad I didn’t have the best sex of my entire life with that Australian hunk of spunk.
Jackson’s eyes drift across my face and slowly down to follow my gaze. He begins to nod as though he is internally debating what I’m saying.
I continue in a much lower, much more seductive octave. ‘I’ve a tendency to really focus when I’m doing accounts. I doubt I’ll even realise you’re there half the time.’ It’s a flimsy argument, clutching at straws.Heknows it andIknow it but neither of us seems to care.
I part my lips, our mouths almost touching as he leans his forehead against mine. ‘We shouldn’t,’ he says, sounding agonised.
My pulse is racing. I can feel the heat from his body. All I want to do is clamp myself to him and feel his hot skin on mine. ‘Kiss me,’ I whisper huskily, keen to get this romantic exchange back on track. ‘Kiss me like you did on the beach.’
He hesitates just a fraction, before pulling me to him. When his mouth claims mine in a frenzied explosion of passion, I could literally die. DIE. Our lips are sliding against one another’s, our hands pulling the other closer. My head is swimming, dizzy with desire. The kiss seems to last forever, neither of us pausing for breath. I’ve never been kissed so thoroughly before. Ever. I drift in and out of the universe, glittering stars filling my mind, tingles covering every inch of my skin, and magical fluffy clouds are making me feel weightless. Wait. Iamweightless. Jackson has scooped me up into his arms and I’m straddling him. In the fading light, he walks me over to the double mattress sun loungers and we lie down in one easy movement, his strong arms holding me as he shifts his weight to settle on top of me, our legs entwined. Finally, he lifts his head to gaze right into my eyes, and I feel my heart skip a beat as he begins to grind against my pelvis in a slow, tantalisingly sexy dry hump. It has the immediate effect of producing a twanging sensation in my pelvis. My hands roam his spectacular torso before I slide them underneath his shirt. He groans with desire, a low, delicious sound that unravels me completely.
I’ve never felt so connected to another person, spiritually and emotionally… and sexually. It’s mind-blowing. I’m just about to suggest we take this dry hump down to my room to make it more of a – surely not awethump? – when we hear multiple footsteps on the gang plank.
Jackson springs up in one fluid motion, yanking me upright with him. ‘How is it midnight already?’ he says, eyeing his watch. ‘Best we don’t get caught together.’ We both pull down our respective tops and my skirt.
‘Where’s my bra?’ I gasp, flicking my eyes around the immediate decking. Jackson had removed the bra with the expertise of a TV magician and now it has disappeared. Hopefully, whichever guests are calling it an early night will not notice that I have two rogue boobs. A brief glance down informs me that my nipples are still protruding like a pair of button mushrooms ready to be stuffed.
In the dim light, Jackson drops to his hands and knees. ‘Sorry. It must be here somewhere. It can’t have gone far.’
As the voices get nearer, I frantically retrace our steps from the bar to the sun lounger, but it is nowhere to be seen.
‘There,’ Jackson whispers loudly. ‘Up there on the rigging.’ I follow his gaze to my bright pink bra dangling from the mast, just out of reach.How embarrassing.His head jerks from side to side. ‘I’ll climb up,’ he says, sounding like a sexy pirate. But as soon as he puts his weight on one of the support rods and heaves himself up onto the joist, there’s an almighty creaking followed by a zipping and unravelling sound to indicate the mainsail is about to be raised. Jackson grabs hold as the boom suddenly swings out from the gulet to dangle him precariously over the inky black water. He clings on for dear life as the sail begins to lift. ‘Shit!’ he yells. ‘You need to stop the rigging. Otherwise, it’ll chop me in half.’
‘Fuck. Fuckety, fuck, fuck.’
‘Not helping!’
I spin round, hoping something will catch my eye. A ladder. A lifeguard. A big button withpress in case of emergency bra retrievalon it. Nothing. Absolutely nothing of any use.‘Fuuuuuuuuck!’
‘Still not helping!’
