Emily Forbes – One Summer At The Beach: Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire / Not-So-Perfect Princess / Wedding at Pelican Beach (страница 13)
‘I don’t have my swimsuit on.’
‘Damn, I was hoping to get you in your bikini.’
Definitely not going there. ‘I don’t wear a bikini. Don’t want to get too much sun.’
He looked at her tanned legs, brows slightly raised.
Doh. She blandly stared him out.
Finally he shrugged. ‘Well, as it can’t be a swim, I’m going to go get us an ice cream.’
He rose, long limbs lazily moving with innate grace. She watched him walk towards the vendor over on the footpath, then lay back on the blanket, absurdly at ease in spite of the insane awareness. She enjoyed the faint scent of him left in the air, glanced down at the dent in the sand where his legs had rested. The warmth of the sun, the satisfaction from that delicious lunch, had a soporific effect. The sleeplessness of the night before had its after-effect now. Drowsy, she closed her eyes. Relaxed. She thought of him, of what could have been if things were different. Dreamed dangerously pleasant dreams.
‘Hey, sleepy.’
He’d returned. She smiled. Kept her eyes closed. Wanting to extend the fantasy for a few more moments. She heard the scrunch of sand as he sat. She felt something cold touch her mouth. She licked her lips, tasted the creamy ice.
‘Nice?’ His voice sounded very near, very low, very husky.
‘Yes.’ Her tongue traversed her lower lip again.
‘More?’ Even lower, even huskier.
‘Yes.’
His warm finger daubed cold ice on her mouth.
He muttered. ‘You mind sharing?’
She didn’t get the chance to reply. Only to sigh faintly as his tongue flicked the sweetness from her. She sent her tongue out to meet his. She couldn’t resist his kiss. Just a little more of a man who wanted her in a way she’d never been wanted before. His fingers went to her jaw, turning her face towards his. She opened her mouth. Let him in. Their tongues met and mated and a tempting touch became total turn-on. Deep, hungry kisses that felt divine and promised even greater pleasure could come. She didn’t want him ever to stop kissing her, didn’t want to stop kissing him. The sensual caresses drove everything from her mind. Only this, only him. She lifted her hand, combing fingers into his hair, holding him so she could kiss him back as fiercely as he was kissing her.
Her curves melted into his hard planes, her body instinctively recognising his muscles. The way they felt around her, their strength at holding her. Making her his prisoner and his keeper. His hot body lay close; he threw his knee across hers. Teasingly heavy. She wanted the rest of his weight over her. She couldn’t prevent the parting of her legs, couldn’t stop the arch of her pelvis towards him. She moaned into his mouth.
She wanted. Wanted, wanted, wanted…
His hand came to rest on her lower belly, pressing on her, the weight a tiny taste of the delight of having his whole body over hers. His fingers spread on the flat of her stomach. Smoothing upwards. Skin on…skin.
She pulled back sharply. Flashed open her eyes. Stared up at him in horror as she saw him looking down the length of her body. No, no and no again.
She wrenched out of his hold, sitting up and scooting away. His surprise was total.
‘Sienna?’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m really sorry.’ Her heart thudded. Her eyes threatened to spill tears of apology and frustration. ‘I really am sorry.’
Rhys watched her run across the sand and swore sharply enough for the family group several feet away to turn around and frown at him. He felt a vague flush, slid back under the shade of the umbrella and strove for control. Anger, frustration and plain shock hit him. She’d done it again. Run out on him. Hell, was she some kind of warped tease?
Instinct told him no. She’d felt genuine desire, genuine regret. Well, damn if she didn’t owe him an explanation—again. He packed away the remnants of the picnic with precise movements, then headed for the hostel.
He walked straight into the dorm room he now knew to be hers. There seemed to be a mass of women hanging there. They turned and stared at him as if he were an invading Martian. But Rhys was well used to walking into a room full of women—at the nurses’ stations, or the new interns. Addressing a bunch of women who were sending a variety of looks from under their lashes wasn’t something that intimidated or really even interested him. What interested him was that one woman.
‘Is Sienna here?’ He addressed them collectively.
‘Sure is.’ He recognised the speaker as one of the friends at the bar the night before.
It was like the parting of the Red Sea. He looked where they separated and to where she sat on a bottom bunk, quiet and red-faced. Her annoyance and embarrassment were obvious and, yes, her upset. What was she afraid of? Surely not him?
She stood. ‘Rhys, you can’t come in here.’
‘Bet you want to, though, don’t you?’ The South African again. Caustic delivery.
Rhys ignored the stifled giggles. Time to turn on the charm. He was a Maitland—had the genes, the upbringing. He might loathe it but public speaking was a skill he could call on.
‘I’m sorry to butt in on you ladies, but I need to explain something to my friend here.’ He didn’t take his eyes off Sienna, but sensed the slight hostility in the room. It was as clear to them as it was to him that she was feeling edgy and that he was the cause. He needed to claim back some points—penitent man would be a good start. ‘You see—’ he gave a small shrug ‘—I owe her an apology.’ He didn’t know what for yet but they didn’t need to know that.
All seven heads swivelled to Sienna. He felt the atmosphere soften.
‘You want to say sorry?’
‘Yeah. I’d say it all right now but I need some time with her to explain things properly. Alone.’
He swallowed his smile at her obvious discomfort. Her big blues were fixed on him and the incredulity warring with anger was unbelievably amusing.
‘This is way better than any movie.’ A different South African this time, she got a low murmur of agreement.
Sienna’s cheeks were redder than a fire engine. ‘Stop it, Rhys.’ She addressed the girls. ‘It’s me who owes the apology. Again.’ Contrite eyes pleaded with him and the rest of the room. Hmm. She was good. A little honesty mixed in with a sidestep.
She turned back to him. ‘I’m sorry, Rhys.’
He heard the finality she was striving for and tensed. He wasn’t about to let her go. ‘Let’s get coffee and talk.’
‘I can’t now. I’ve promised to go to an art gallery with Brooke this afternoon.’
He was not letting her slip away a third time—he’d have his answers. ‘That’s OK. You can make it up to me later.’ He studied the now silent audience. They could be more of a help to him than her if he played it right. ‘Don’t you think she should?’ He cast a soulful gaze around; it wasn’t much of a stretch to play the part of crushed suitor—not hard at all given he actually felt it.
‘Oh, yeah, Sienna. You must.’
He had them now, eating out of his palm.
‘Give the guy a break.’
‘She’ll see you later at that bar.’ Caustic South African again. More on his side than he’d realised. ‘We’ll make sure she’s there. Six p.m. Have her drink waiting.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
He didn’t stick around to let Sienna try to argue, but her eyes flashed her thoughts in the final moment he met them. Anxiety, anger, reluctance—and, at the bottom of it all, desire.
SIENNA didn’t go to the gallery. She went shopping. She was pathetic. But she wanted him again so badly and she wanted it to be as good as the night before. So she was on a mission for a new top—anything that might work. She stopped at the make-up counter. Stage make-up could create a fabulous scar—couldn’t it hide one too? She tried on a variety of in-season style tops. There was none with a polo neck. Everything was summery—low-cut and revealing. Exactly what she didn’t want.
In despair she went to the lingerie section of the department store. New frillies were supposed to help with confidence, weren’t they?
‘How was the gallery?’ Rhys was waiting. Clad in jeans and a different shirt. Cool beer in a glass, half empty already. Steely eyes lanced her with questions that she knew he wouldn’t hold back on. That she knew she was going to have to answer. Honestly.
‘I didn’t go. Went shopping instead.’
‘Buy anything interesting?’
‘No.’ A new bra. She was wearing it now. Figured if she was going to go down she might as well do it in a hot outfit. And her sensible travel numbers didn’t have the requisite lace ratio. This one did. She could feel her budded nipples pressing against the slightly scratchy stitching even now.
‘Sienna—’
She didn’t want to be here. Didn’t want the pretence. Didn’t want the girls from the hostel, whom she hardly knew, watching and wondering. This was going to end in tears—for her anyway. She might as well just get it over with right now.
She grabbed him by the hand. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
He let her lead, walking beside her but in the direction of her choice. She marched down the street not having a clue where she was headed. Just wanting away from eyes and those memories only recently made but that were going to be the best of a lifetime. Right now she was going to ruin them.