CHAPTER FOUR
DOWN on the sand the breeze lifted and the drop in temperature checked Bella.
‘Where are you staying?’ Owen asked, his voice oddly gentle.
‘One of the studios round the back.’ She wasn’t in one of the luxury villas, but a tiny unit in a building with several other tiny units. It was still nice. It didn’t quite have the view and door opening directly onto the beach that the villas did, but it didn’t have the price tag either.
‘Show me.’ Still gentle.
But her mind teased her with what it was that he wanted her to show him. It took only a minute or so to wind around the back of the building, to where the units were. At her door she stopped. She gazed at the frame of it, suddenly shy of wanting to look him in the eye. ‘Thank you for seeing me through that.’
‘No problem.’ He loomed beside her. ‘It was fun.’
Fun. Disappointment wafted over her again. Stupid, when he’d given her a victory she’d mentally relive time and time again, but there was something else she wanted now. Something she sensed would be much, much better.
He gestured towards the door. ‘Are you alone in there? Not twin sharing with your great-aunt Amelia or anyone awful?’
‘All alone. Just me.’ She chanced a look up at him then, saw the hint of the smile, the gleam of teeth flashing white in the darkness.
‘Want me to come in and make sure there are no monsters in the wardrobe?’
Confidence trickled back through her. She stepped a little closer. ‘Quite the gentleman, aren’t you? Are you going to turn down my sheet as well?’
‘If you like.’ He matched her move, stepped closer still.
‘Would you like, Bella?’
Such a simple question. It needed only the simplest of answers. And she already knew what he was asking and what her answer would be. There was no way she could ever say no to him. Probably no one had ever said no to him and she didn’t blame any of them.
‘Yes.’
His head bent. His smile was no wider, but somehow stronger. ‘Good.’
His first kiss was soft, just a gentle press of lips on lips. No other contact. Then he pulled away—just a fraction, for just a moment. Then he was back. Another butterfly-light kiss that had her reaching after him when he pulled back again. And as she moved forward he swept her into his arms. Strong and tight they held her and the next kiss changed completely. Deep, then deeper again. The awareness that had sizzled between them all night was unleashed. Her hands threaded through his hair, his hands moulded over her curves. Together they strained closer, lips hungry, tongues tasting. Bella was lost. He felt better than she’d imagined—broad, lean, hard. Her eyes closed as his lips left hers, roving down to her jaw, down her throat, hot and hungry. The fire in her belly roared.
And then he was kissing her sunburn stripe, undoing the top few buttons on her blouse, pulling it open so he could follow the path of reddened skin with lush wet kisses that did anything but soothe. The red stopped on the curve of her breast—where her bikini cup had been. But he didn’t stop. He pulled the lace of her bra down until her nipple popped up over it. And then he took that in his mouth too.
She arched back as sensations spasmed deep inside. His other arm took her weight, pulling her pelvis into the heat of his hips, and she could feel his hardness through his jeans. She gasped at the impact—and at the pleasure ricocheting through her system. He lifted his head, his hunger showing in the strain on his face and in his body. The air was cool on her bared skin but she was still steaming up.
Breathless, she pulled back, her blouse hanging half open, breast spilling over her bra. ‘I think I better get the door unlocked now.’
‘I think you better had,’ he teased, but her confidence surged higher when she heard his equal breathlessness. ‘Because the thing about sex on the beach,’ he added, ‘is the sand.’
Giggling, she slipped her hand in her pocket, closed her fingers around the key. Turning, she fumbled to get it into the lock. He stood behind her, ran his hands over her hips and then pressed so close she could feel everything he had to offer. Her hand lurched off course completely. He put his fingers over hers and guided the key safely home.
Pressing even harder against her, he spoke in her ear, hot and full of sexy humour. ‘We are having screaming orgasms though, OK?’
‘OK.’ She just got the door open and the answer out before he spun her around and his mouth came down on hers again. He backed her in, kicking the door shut behind them with his foot. He kept backing her, but angled her direction so after only a couple of paces she was up against the wall. Relief flooded her as she felt it behind her and she half sagged against it. She didn’t think her legs were strong enough to hold her up all on their own any more. When the man kissed, all she could think of was a bed, and her desperation to be on it and exploring and feeling and being kissed like that everywhere.
His hands held her face up to his, warm fingers stroked down her neck, but he stood back so his body didn’t touch hers. She wanted it to touch again—all of it against her. The kisses grew deeper as she opened more to him—inviting him in with the sighs of pleasure she let escape and the way she sought him with her tongue.
But her confidence came in waves—ebbing again as his caresses became more intimate, as he undid the last buttons and hooks. Shyness overcame her as her blouse and her bra slipped away completely.
He looked down at her, sensing her stillness. ‘You’re sure?’
She nodded, but explained. ‘It’s been a while.’
‘Me too.’
She didn’t believe that for a second. But it was nice of him to say it.
Then her shyness melted as he whisked his shirt over his head and she saw the beauty of his body beneath.
Her hands lifted instinctively, and she spread her fingers on his shoulder, slowly letting them trace down the impressive breadth of his chest and then lower, over the taut upper abs down to where his jeans were fastened. He lifted his head at that, grinning wickedly. ‘Stop that, sweetness. It’ll all be over all too soon. As it is it’s going to be a close one.’
‘Very close,’ she agreed, letting her fingers walk some more.
‘Stop that.’ His smile only widened.
‘I can’t. You feel fantastic. You really do have muscles.’ She marvelled at it. How the hell did a computer geek grow muscles like these?
But then her own actions slowed as she became acutely aware of his—of the kisses dulling her sense of initiative. He was taking the lead and increasingly all she could do was follow. Slowly, so slowly, he was stripping the skirt off her. Dropping to his knees, he eased it down, pressing kisses to her thighs and legs.
Then he stood again, him still clad in jeans, her in nothing but knickers. Their shoes had been kicked off somewhere outside the door. He took her face in his hands again, searching her eyes and then smiling. Then kissing. And with every moment of the kiss her need grew. Until, pressing her shoulders against the wall for support, she pushed her hips forward towards him—aching for closeness.
‘Something you want?’ he asked.
‘You know.’
He slid his hands from her shoulders all the way down until he curled his fingers round hers. Then he lifted them, swinging her arms up above her head, pinning them back to the wall with his hands. The movement lifted her breasts, her hard nipples strained straight up to him.
He paused and took advantage of the view. Looking into his eyes, she saw the passion and simply melted more—shivering as she did. Swiftly he kissed her and transferred the possession of both her hands to only one of his. He glided his other hand down her throat, then lower. Cupping her breast, he stroked the taut nipple with his thumb. She whimpered into his mouth. His hand moved again, fingers sliding down her stomach, and then they slipped inside her panties, right down, curving into her, feeling the extent of the warm wetness there as she moaned.
‘Mmm.’ He lifted his mouth from hers, looked into her eyes as another moan escaped her. And any embarrassment dissolved as she took in his pleased expression.
‘That’s what I want,’ he muttered, kissing her eyes closed, one and then the other. Gentle. His fingers started to work. So slowly, gently. And his mouth pressed to hers again, his tongue exploring, just as his fingers were. Slow and gentle and tormenting. Insistent. And the giddiness was back. She kept her eyes closed, lost in the feeling, utterly at his mercy, until she was writhing and arching and wanting harder and faster. But still he kept it slow, teasing her. And then she was panting, pleading in the scarce moments when he lifted his head to let her take breath.
And he listened, watched, altered his actions. Not so gentle. Faster and deeper. Passionate kisses that bruised her lips and then roved hard over her face and then down. His mouth was hot as he nuzzled his way down the side of her throat, to her breast and back to her starving mouth.
He lifted his head to watch as her panting grew shallower, faster, louder. She started to shake, was begging for him not to stop, for him to give her more.
His eyes gleamed with satisfaction. ‘Screaming, remember?’
But he didn’t need to tell her. She couldn’t stop it anyway, the cry that came as she came—hard and loud.
His fingers loosened on her wrists, her arms dropped down to her sides and he braced his hands on the wall either side of her. He brushed a gentle kiss on her nose.
She shook her head. ‘I can’t stand any more.’
‘Yes, you can.’
‘No, I mean literally. I can’t stand any more.’ And her feet began to slip out in front of her, a slow slither to the floor.
He scooped her straight up.
‘Oh, thanks. My legs just didn’t want to be upright any more.’
‘What do they want?’ He chuckled.
‘To be wrapped round you. Like this.’ She hooked them round his waist and felt her desire for him surge back stronger than before.
‘Mmm.’ He nodded. ‘Feels good to me.’
‘Does this feel good?’ She slid one hand down his chest, eager to feel his muscles respond.
His arms tightened. ‘Thought I told you to quit it.’
‘Afraid you can’t handle it?’
‘Sure am.’ His teeth flashed white and she knew he didn’t mean it. This guy could handle anything—especially her.
The bed was unmissable and in four paces he had her on it, following immediately. She opened her arms, her mouth, her legs. Ready for everything.
He groaned as he pressed close. ‘Condoms?’
She shook her head.
‘You don’t have any?’ He paused and she shook her head again. Then he grinned. ‘I do.’
Of course he did. She lay still beneath him as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, pulled a small square from inside that and then put it beside her.
‘Quite the Boy Scout.’
He met her snark with an unapologetic look. ‘Accidents are best avoided, don’t you think?’
She nodded. She knew he was right to be prepared—to protect both of them. And then, as he kissed her, she decided his experience was something to celebrate—because nobody had kissed her like this before. No one had known how to turn her on like this. She’d never known such raw lust, or had such an ache for physical fulfilment.
He worked his way down her body, peeling her panties from her, stoking the fire within with caresses and whispers and kisses. Her hands grappled with the fastening of his jeans—she could wait no longer. But he took over, rolling to his back, tearing the denim from his body and quickly sorting the condom. Then he was back, settling over her, and the level of her anticipation almost had her hyperventilating.
He held back for a second, humour twinkling in the dark desire. ‘Happy birthday, Bella.’
She closed her eyes. The first person to actually say it today. And now he was—oh! She gasped. Opened her eyes again—wide.
‘Birthday girls deserve big presents.’ He was watching her closely. ‘That OK?’
‘Oh, yes.’ She squealed as he moved closer and a smile stretched his mouth. Air rushed out from her lungs in jagged segments as her body adjusted to his—to the glorious delight of it.
And then, when she was able to revel in the feel of him, he moved, rolling her over, lifting her so she was sitting astride him while at the same time arching up into her so the connection wasn’t lost.
‘Let me see how beautiful you are, Bella.’
She looked down at him, marvelling that she was astride such magnificence. His chest tabled out before her and she spread her hands over it, leaning forward so she could slide up his length—and back down. Her eyes closed as she slowly hit his hilt again. And then again and again.
Shuddering, she opened her eyes to see him watching, with his head on the big pillows, appreciation apparent as he roved over her body, taking in her reaction. His hands spread wide, sliding up her thighs, lifting to cup her breasts and then take them in a ripe handful.
‘Beautiful Bella,’ he muttered, thumbs stroking. His heat fired her to go faster. And then he moved to match her.
‘Oh, God,’ she gasped. ‘You really are a tiger.’
He growled in response.
Her giggle was lost in another gasp as he moved more, encouraging her to take more. And the sensations grew—overwhelming everything. Until there was nothing left in her mind—no thought, no humour, recognition of nothing but this wild passion that was all-consuming. Tension seared through her, until it could tighten no more, making her body rigid as she was thrust to the brink of madness.
His arms encircled her as he surged up with more force and depth than ever, and his hands clenched, supporting her as her orgasm tore through her, taking her strength with it. But he held her hard, making her face the intensity of it, squeezing every last sensation from her until she screamed with the exquisite pleasure of it.
She collapsed forward onto him, his shout still reverberating in her ears. Every muscle quivered—hot and bubbling, seeming to sing and so sensitive she could hardly believe it. She’d never felt anything like it.
‘In about half an hour or so,’ he murmured as her lids lowered, ‘we’re going to do that again.’
‘And more,’ she mumbled. She had plans for him, oh, yes, she had plans … in about half an hour …
There was a strange buzzing sound. As if an oversized bumblebee had made its way in and was trapped inside. Her warm pillow jerked up. Startled, she rolled away, and he quickly slid from the bed. Blinking rapidly so her eyes adjusted, feeling cold, she watched as he found his jeans. He swore crudely as he struggled to find the right pocket in the dark. The screen cast a cold blue glow on his face. He studied it for a moment, then his fingers pressed buttons, fast, frantic.
He glanced up, distance reflected in his eyes. ‘What a nightmare.’
She wasn’t sure what he was referring to—the message, or the situation. After another minute or so the phone buzzed again. He read the message.
‘I have to go,’ he said, pushing more buttons.
It wasn’t light yet. Not even close. And this was summer in New Zealand when it got light near five a.m. Hell, he was running out in the middle of the night.
‘It’s so early.’
He had his jeans on and was still pressing buttons. ‘In New York, it’s nine a.m. and my client needs help right now.’
‘But it’s Saturday.’ He wouldn’t even look at her.
‘No such thing as Saturdays, not for me. I have to get back right away.’
But what about the wedding? Devastated, she envisaged the hours to come. But she wasn’t going to remind him. He’d probably had too much to drink to even remember. The idea of him being her date had only ever been a joke. Except her family knew. Everyone knew. She was on the train to humiliation central.
She drew her knees up. Face it, she was already there. Mortification spread over her skin and she was glad it was dark and her blush hidden. He could hardly wait to leave her. Silently, quickly, he found his top, pulling it over his head. His mind had already left the building.
Frowning at the screen, he spoke. ‘Give me your number.’
He was taking the control—not giving her his details, but trying to make her feel better. As if he’d ever call.
‘Bella.’ He spoke sharply. ‘Tell me your number.’
She recited it, with a cold heart and a determined mind.
He nodded, still pressing buttons. ‘I’ll call you.’
He made it sound sincere. But she knew for a fact he wouldn’t.
Thirteen hours and no sleep later, Bella watched Vita and Hamish walk around the beach wearing their cheesy flip-flops that left ‘Just Married’ imprinted in the sand. She really wished she had a hangover. That way she could blame the whole escapade on booze. Say she’d been blind drunk and shrug the thing off with the insouciance of an ingénue.
But while she was aching, the pain wasn’t in her head—it was deep inside her chest and she tried to tell herself it wasn’t really that bad. Fact was, she’d never had a one-night stand before. She’d had boyfriends that hadn’t lasted long—OK, so all three of her ex-boyfriends would fall into that category. But she’d never had a fling that lasted less than ten hours … And she’d gone and done it in front of her entire family—who thought she was a hopeless case already. What had she been thinking?
And there was Celia, hanging on the arm of Rex, flashing victorious glances her way at every opportunity. Thank goodness he hadn’t arrived until this morning and hadn’t been witness to last night too. And now everyone was thinking she couldn’t hang onto anyone—not the fabulously suitable accountancy star that was Rex or the laid-back, coolly casual sex god that was Owen. Thank heavens her father had spent the night talking business with his brothers—hopefully he wouldn’t have heard a thing about it.
She felt a prickle inside as she saw the sheer joy on her sister’s face. Maybe Owen had been right—she was a little jealous. But who wouldn’t want to be loved like that? And little sister Vita seemed to have it all—she’d been the one to embrace the family profession—as all four of their elder brothers had. Vita had been the one able to do everything the way the family wanted. Even down to marrying one of the partners in the firm. She’d worked really hard to get her degree and her charter. And to cap it off, she was nice. She deserved to be happy.
But Bella worked hard too. Damn hard. Didn’t she deserve to be happy? Didn’t she deserve some respect too?
She was jealous. How nice it would be to have someone look at her the way Hamish looked at Vita. To have the career and the lover. But she’d yet to get the job she wanted, and she couldn’t even have a one-night stand last the whole night.
As if Owen had really had to get up and go to work at three in the damn morning? On a Saturday. He’d probably programmed his phone to buzz then and the talk of the client in New York was just for believability. It was probably his standard modus operandi—enabling him to make that quick escape and avoid the awkward morning-after scene.
The morning after had been unbearably awkward for Bella. And it wasn’t just because of the questioning looks of the younger members of the family—the ones who’d been in the restaurant last night. She’d gone to Reception and asked which room ‘Owen’ was staying in—only to be told there was no Owen staying at all. And no Owen had checked out recently either. Then she’d asked to check her tab, bracing herself for a huge bill from the bar. But she found it had been paid in full, including the accommodation cost. She’d asked whose name was on the card—but apparently whoever it was had paid in cash.
It had been him—she was sure of it. What was he doing—paying for services rendered?
She stood, brushed the sand from the horrendous dress. She wasn’t going to sit around and be the object of mockery or pity any more—and certainly not her own self-pity either. It was time for action. Things were going to have to change.