She made a good-naturedpshawnoise and slid back on to her stool, taking the opportunity to move it six inches from him.
‘Watching you bending over the dishwasher, then, I had a little fantasy of my own.’
She poured coffee.
‘Ace—!’ began Martyn.
Ace refused to be diverted. ‘Come on, Honor, satisfy my curiosity. Rape?’
She looked at him over her coffee cup.
‘Bondage? Chocolate sauce? Animals?’
‘Stop it, Ace.’ Martyn’s brows had curled blackly over his eyes, reminding Honor of the fake tattoo Lily had applied to the small of his back. His stillness spoke of tension.
Ace smile’s slipped. She could almost see his mind ticking away behind his glassy eyes. ‘C’mon. Put me out of my misery and tell me what women want.’
‘OK.’ She let her voice drop like she used to do when she had told Jess and Zach stories at Halloween. ‘Right now, my fantasy is about a guy who doesn’t speak. Why don’t you try it? It’s particularly appropriate for assholes.’
Sweat bubbled afresh on Ace’s wine-flushed face as he totally missed the point. ‘And you’ve never found a guy who could do that? Well, my little American Hot, why don’t you try me? You can do anything you want to me and I won’t say a word—’
‘She’s telling you to shut up, Ace.’ Martyn was on his feet. ‘I’ll walk you home, Honor. No, don’t argue. It will give Ace the opportunity to drink a gallon of coffee, just in case DrZoë’s wrong and it will sober him up.’
Outside, the gulls had gone to bed — or nest or roost or whatever gulls did at night — and even the noise from the traffic had eased. The air smelled fresh off the ocean and Honor shivered as they rounded the Starboard Walk shops and turned into Marine Drive. Martyn strode silently beside her, hands jammed into his pockets but otherwise not showing any signs of feeling the chill up on the clifftop.
Maybe he was pissed with her because she’d been rude to his buddy. It was bad manners not to get along with a fellow guest. She could almost hear Karen: ‘Really, Honor. I did my best to raise you as a lady. A lady wouldn’t let some creep rile her. Couldn’t you have just quietly excused yourself, without the attitude and the cursing?’ She sighed as they turned into the drive of the bungalow. She could have. But the word ‘asshole’ had popped out. She never had been diplomatic with men who suddenly turned into slimy, scumbag sleazeballs.
She trod up the concrete steps to the patio, fishing out her door key. But Martyn’s long arm descended over her shoulderand his hand closed over hers before she could fit it to the door. She glanced up at him.
‘I’m sorry Ace insulted you.’ He gave an almost smile.
She made a face. ‘And I’m sorry I called your friend an asshole.’
‘I don’t think he even noticed, and he was. He’s not usually like this or I wouldn’t have invited you to meet him. I don’t expect my friends to hit on my other friends.’
‘Even best friends can be assholes.’ Stef — perfect example.
He laughed. ‘I hope the night air has helped cool you off. I certainly needed it — or I might have booted Ace off the balcony.’ He breathed in deeply.
Silence. He was frowning heavily. She peeped up at him from under her lashes, toying with her key. ‘So. Here we are.’
His frown lifted slowly. ‘“Here we are.” I’ve always wondered whether that actually means anything.’
She considered. ‘I guess it can mean a whole range of things. It can draw your attention to my presence, or that we’ve got to where we’re going. It could be an acknowledgement that it’s time to say goodnight. When my grandma says it, everyone just seems to get what she means.’
‘Right.’ He rocked back on his heels. ‘I know you’re here. I know we’ve got where we’re going and I suppose I’d better say goodnight and check that Ace doesn’t need a stomach pump.
‘So, goodnight.’ Pulling her jacket around her.
‘Yeah.’ He sighed, not going anywhere. ‘I hope that at least you enjoyed the shoot?’
‘It was an education. I had no idea what being a model was about or that guys like you did it. In fact, if I thought of it at all, I guess I thought all male models were gay. You know, the make-up, the posing, the interest in fashion — woop!’
His arm hooked her by her waist and yanked her up against the firmness of his body so that her toes just touched the ground.She gasped and his mouth found hers. Hot mouth, hot body, heat flooding her. He adjusted his stance, cupped her buttocks and picked her right off the ground, letting her feel his hardness against her through the thin cotton of her dress.
His velvet tongue stroked hers and her breasts tightened against his chest, his heartbeat, and he made it something longer, deeper, hotter. The kind of kiss she and her high-school friends had called a ‘soul kiss’ — like your souls were communicating through your mouths. They used to giggle and hypothesise over how it would feel. And, wow . . . It felt like heaven — if you were allowed to feel this turned on in heaven.
Slowly, slowly, he put her down.
