Bad Business / Under His Obsession

‘You thought I’d chicken out?’ He raises his eyebrows, laughter in his eyes. ‘I’m right where I want to be, Grace. Same as last night. Same as always.’

‘Fair point,’ I say with a breathy laugh. The release feels like a sneeze or, better, a mini orgasm, the tension I’ve been holding recoiling from my body and leaving behind a storm of fierce lust pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

We fall into silence.

He’s wearing nothing but board shorts and his tan, his arms relaxed by his sides. I’m reminded how those big hands of his held my face, my waist, my back while his sensual mouth delivered kiss after kiss, his bold tongue duelling with mine, pushing me to higher, more reckless heights until I witnessed the moment of his glorious climax like a woman starved. My breath catches in the back of my throat—nerves replaced by drugging arousal.

His stare slides down my body. My core clenches. Last night I fuelled his fantasies. Drove him to touch himself. I want that passion.

‘Sorry,’ he says, ‘no free show today.’

It’s only when he speaks that I’m aware I’m ogling him back, my focus paused on his lean hips and the bulge in his shorts.

I laugh again, my audible sigh laced with a hint of disappointment. As if watching naked strangers jerk off in outdoor showers is one of my regular pastimes.

‘Shame.’ I glance again at his crotch. ‘I kind of cock-blocked myself last night.’ I look up from his brightly coloured board shorts, a lump of need lodged in my throat. Who am I around him, here in this place? Certainly not the woman I recognise—too contained to rock the boat, too fearful of disappointing people, too scared to demand more than a relationship grown stale, forced and passionless.

Last night, strung taut with unfulfilled desire and the hollow certainty that running back to my room was the action of the old Grace, I made a promise to embrace this thing with Ryan. Properly this time. No more holding back from what I want.

His eyebrows dip in that sexy way he looked at me last night while he rocked into his own fist. ‘Well, today is another day in paradise. Anything is possible.’

He takes half a step towards me, and I look up, his eyes that intense blue of my fractured erotic dreams. At one stage I’d actually orgasmed in my sleep, waking up disorientated and far from fulfilled.

‘I almost chased after you,’ he says, ‘but two brush-offs in a row turns out to be my limit.’ His tone is light, teasing.

‘You have limits?’ I want to touch him so bad, to reach up and kiss him again, but I need to respect the teacher-student boundary.

He shrugs one broad, golden shoulder, humour dancing on his lips. ‘A few. Especially for women who interrupt a good wank, insist on watching and then scarper.’

Heat boils in my face. ‘Yeah, well, no one is sorrier about leaving than me…’ I say, emboldened to be honest by the way he’s still mentally undressing me as if his orgasm barely took the edge off. ‘I kind of…panicked. I was trying to…embrace the holiday-fling vibe, but I messed up, I guess. We should have gone for that drink, first.’

He watches with growing fascination, his eyes moving between mine and my mouth, staring as if entranced by my gobbledegook.

‘Thanks for not standing me up this morning,’ I whisper.

His shrug lifts those broad shoulders, reminding me of how it felt to be crushed against his chest.

‘It’s a small island, Grace.’ His sinful smile is contagious. ‘We were always going to bump into each other, but I’m glad you didn’t allow a little thing like lust ruin a good paddleboard.’

I take a shuddering breath and compose myself while my mouth burns to reunite with his kisses until neither of us gives a toss about paddleboarding. I glance back at the deserted equipment hut up the beach wondering if I could persuade him to rekindle where we left off last night.

Just then, two honeymooners emerge from the palm-tree-lined path that winds behind the hut. Each carries snorkelling gear and flippers in their free hands the other arms wrapped around each other. They stop so often to kiss they can barely walk.

My lungs grow tight with remorse. Greg and I would never have acted that way if we’d come here together. I look away, the comparison stealing my Ryan-induced high. Perhaps my brain is somehow convinced I’m betraying my ex by being intimate with another man, and that’s why I fled last night.

Ridiculous. But my eyes burn as I avoid looking at the couple in love. I want more than regret of my past actions and holding back the unknown. If I want Ryan, I’m the only thing standing in my way.

‘So…’ Ryan grabs the paddles. ‘You still keen for a lesson?’

I grasp the lifeline, desperate to be away from the resort and what it represents—my failure—for a short while. ‘Yes. My sister raved about how she always wanted to try, so I’m definitely keen.’

He eyes me with curiosity so I march to the waiting paddleboards. ‘Shall we get started?’ I ask. The fierce attraction still hums through my veins but, no matter how tempted, I can’t jump a man I met yesterday before nine in the morning, not when I had my chance last night and blew it.

But I can change. Build on what I did last night. I can be honest and daring. Starting with standing on this damn paddleboard.

Face the fear and do it anyway.

That was Bryony’s motto. Every time she pushed herself to do things most people take for granted. Every time she faced surgery, or a prolonged stint in hospital.

Ryan holds up a life jacket, his eyebrow cocked in question. ‘How are your swimming skills? The lagoon is shallow enough for the first couple of hundred metres, but I recommend the jacket unless you’re a confident swimmer.’

‘I’m good—I used to do some lifesaving.’

He nods and drops the life jacket onto the sand.

‘Anyway I’m sure this is harder than it looks, so the chances of me actually standing up on this thing long enough to get out of waist-deep water are pretty slim.’ I scoop the board under one arm the way he picks up his and reach for my paddle.

But he doesn’t relinquish it, forcing me to meet his eyes. ‘What’s the worst that can happen? You lose balance and get wet? Big deal.’

I shrug, my stomach twisted just from being this close to him dressed only in a bikini. My nerves frayed because I want him so badly.

He steps closer, holding my eye contact so I’m aware of every touch of warm air between us, aware of his hand above mine around the shaft of the paddle.

‘You forget…’ his voice dips low ‘…I’ve seen you all wet,’ he says. ‘It’s sexy as hell.’

The ache in my clit returns, liquid heat pooling in my bikini bottoms.

His stare sweeps down my body to my feet. ‘Nice ankle bracelet, by the way.’ His lips twitch, the gesture making me want to kiss him again. Then I’m caught in the piercing beam of his bright blue eyes full of the knowledge that he noticed the delicate chain.

‘Thanks. I had a pedicure at the spa.’ A bonus of my sleepless night, which allowed me to snag the first appointment of the day. I don’t add that I thought of him when I purchased the silver chain now adorning my perfectly pampered feet, imagining his face buried between my thighs, my legs draped over his shoulders, the silver glinting in the sun while I claim everything I want from this man in one big sexual exploration.

Between studying, supporting Bryony and my parents through her multiple hospital visits and meeting studious, like-minded Greg, there wasn’t time for a misspent youth… But I can rectify that with Ryan.

He chooses that moment to release his hold on my paddle. I force myself to focus on his safety talk and technique tips. He applies the same confidence to teaching the nuances of paddleboarding as he did to his one-man al-fresco show last night, switching from flirt to teacher with easy relaxed competence so I almost forget about the wild kissing and the sexy way he stared at me as he came. I try my best to follow his instructions.

We wade out into the warm water and sit on our boards, side by side, Ryan watching me the way an instructor would.

‘Grace—you seem distracted. Are you sure you want to do this?’

Of course I’m distracted—that broad chest with a sprinkling of dark hair I can still feel under my palms, his sexy abs contracting as he kneels on his board the way they contracted as he pumped into his fist, the mussed flop of his damp hair looking exactly the way it did when I left him after twisting that hair in my hands so I could kiss him deeper.

The want inside me bubbles up in a rush so strong, every muscle below the waist clenches.

‘I’m good.’ I groan in my head. I’ll never get through this lesson without falling into a sexual-frustration-induced coma. ‘Just nervous that I won’t be able to do this and I’ll make a fool of myself.’

Now why did I say that?

‘Do you have to be good at it the first time? I’m the only person watching. I don’t care if you can’t stand up perfectly straight away. I fell plenty of times on my first attempt.’

I sigh. ‘That came out wrong—I don’t have to be perfect…’ Liar. ‘I just meant…it looks easier than it probably is.’ My justification burns my cheeks. Of course I have to be perfect. Perfect daughter, perfect sister. More old habits.

Ryan nods, accepting me at face value, and continues the lesson.

My first attempt at kneeling on the board causes a wobble and a squeal. Ryan abandons his own board to steady mine while I attempt the move once more. Even with him holding it, it shifts beneath my knees. ‘Ah…’ I laugh, reaching for his muscular shoulder to steady myself but then I find my balance and look up to find him smiling.

‘You’re going to conquer this—I can tell by that determined look in your eye. Trust your instincts.’ He releases his hold on the board and miraculously I stay in place, no embarrassing face plant into the ocean.

I mimic his paddling actions and try not to notice his beach-perfect body and how he could probably advertise water sports, or anything else, for a living.

When my heart rate settles and we’re gently paddling side by side, I risk conversation. ‘How long have you been doing this?’ I ask.

‘Oh, a few years. I find it very relaxing.’ His lips press together and he doesn’t elaborate on how long he’s worked on the island. ‘The conditions today are perfect, hardly any wind.’

‘So is it time to stand up?’ I say, because I can never go easy on myself. Push, push, push.

‘So impatient. We’ll master kneeling first. There’s a small cove just past the lagoon. Let’s head in that direction.’

Ryan must adjust his pace to paddle next to me, because I’m certain he can go faster than the snail’s pace I’m keeping, but every stroke feels more certain, my paddle planted a little more surely, adrenaline seeping away to make way for euphoria. I’m out of my comfort zone but doing it anyway.

Twice in twenty-four hours.

‘So do you live here, on the island permanently?’ I ask. He’s a conundrum of a man—competent and confident, but laid-back and patient. Plus he’s a gentleman. He could so easily have made this morning awkward, but he’s professionally providing the lesson, with only a few inappropriate heated looks.

‘No, I’m new here, like you. I’m filling in until the regular instructor returns from visiting his family on the mainland. To be honest, I travel around so much, I’m not sure where I call home.’

So he’s a professional beach bum… ‘Do you have family back in Ireland?’

He shakes his head, his easy smile dimming. ‘My grandma is my only family, and she lives in London. What about you, Dr Grace?’ he says, expertly shifting the focus my way. ‘It’s a fair distance to come to teach first aid and learn how to paddleboard.’

My titter of laughter sounds evasive. I can’t confess I should have been on my honeymoon to a man I’m contemplating having casual sex with—he’ll know I’m an amateur. I don’t want to scare him and his strings-free offer away, and if he’s in his thirties and still single, he’s clearly anti-commitment.

Or perhaps he’s had his heart broken…

Familiar regret at the enormity of what I did—the bills, the disappointment, the broken promises—shuts down my bout of curiosity. Admitting why I’m here means admitting that I settled for so long in a relationship I knew lacked vital elements. I should have simply enjoyed the view, of both Ryan and the ocean, and canned the conversation.

Now I have to brazen it out. ‘It is a long way, but Fiji is a place on my bucket list and Taito made me an offer I couldn’t refuse.’ Not a lie. ‘The hospital is a fair way away and he wants all the staff to be able to manage emergencies, including CPR, basic first aid and use of the very expensive new resuscitation equipment. You included, I’m afraid, so don’t try and get out of my first class tomorrow.’

‘I’ve told you before, I do what I want.’ He grins, winks and I wobble again, so dazzling is his hotness.

‘Your life must be one long holiday,’ I say, glancing at a neighbouring island lined with palms in the distance. ‘I can’t imagine a more idyllic location.’

‘I’m not complaining.’ But his eyes don’t carry the same degree of contentment as his words. ‘Plus the company is great.’

I smile but the sense he’s being as cagey as me tenses my shoulders. But this is how casual must work—superficial facts only. No talk of everyday life or real feelings…

‘Look at the fish.’ He points down at the crystal-clear water.

I look where he points, give my eyes time to adjust, wait for the surface ripples to settle and then gasp. The clumps of rocky reef below us teem with brightly coloured tropical fish darting this way and that as silver ribbons of sunlight highlight the surface currents. ‘Wow. That’s amazing.’

‘I know, right. We have snorkel equipment back at the resort. This is the best spot if you want to give it a try.’

I watch the fish dart and dive for a few minutes, my face aching from my smile. ‘Is this where you cut your ankle? Is it okay, by the way?’

He stares and I grow uncomfortable at my fussing over a graze. ‘I, um…only ask because it’s easy for cuts like that to become infected.’

‘It’s fine, thanks for asking. You don’t have to worry about me, you know,’ he says.

I laugh. ‘Sorry…habit. And you may as well benefit from my being here.’

‘Don’t apologise. I’m just not used to the attention. So, ready to stand?’

‘Sure.’ But his cryptic response fires my curiosity—what happened to the rest of his family? Why is he single? And am I one of a long list of women to watch him masturbate in the shower?

He pushes up from his kneeling position to standing, making it look effortless. I copy his moves, follow his instructions, desperate now to master this for Bryony and to prove to myself that I’m more than a woman willing to settle, a woman who sticks out like a sore thumb on an island full of couples, a woman who runs from the offer of easy, commitment-free and probably amazing sex.

The wobble of the board under my feet intensifies, shunting my pulse sky-high, but before I know it, I’m standing.

‘Okay, keep your eyes on the cove, not down at the water,’ he says.

Flooded with adrenaline, I focus on the horizon, as he suggests, making small pushes with the paddle as I head for the beach.

The cove is little more than a patch of white sand nestled among the palms. I almost comment on how romantic it is, but then I remember who I’m with—casual and romance don’t go hand in hand. I would know this if I’d actually had full-blown strings-free sex rather than the one-sided, frustrating encounter I orchestrated last night.

Ryan rests his paddle on his board without so much as a wobble. ‘Do you want to explore the cove, look for coconuts? Or if you prefer, I can leave you to your own devices now that you’ve mastered paddleboarding.’

Disappointment pinches under my ribs. I want him to stay. I want to kiss him again, to touch all the parts of him I didn’t get to explore because I held back, and not stop until we’re both sated and spent. If I allow him to go back to the resort alone, I’ll send a message I don’t want to send.

I stare at the deserted beach for a couple of beats, my mind racing with his unspoken subtext and what I want.

I’d love your company if you don’t have somewhere else to be.

I want to kiss you again…pick up where we left off.

The words should be easy after what we shared, but instead I hear myself saying, ‘I should let you get off to your next lesson.’

Bugger. Why is this such a hard habit to break?

‘Should you?’ he says, deceptively soft.

I’m focussed on staying upright so I can’t see his expression but I feel his eyes on my skin as I paddle into the shallows, his words from last night in my ears.

Just do what you want, not what you think you should.

In my peripheral vision I see him step from his board and pick it up. I do the same as he wades in my direction, fine tremors skating down my legs to my toes as I meet him at the water’s edge.

I look up.

His eyes burn bright blue with intensity. ‘I’d like to stick around if you want the company, but it’s your call.’

‘I’d like you to stay,’ I say, sticking with the honesty that served me so well in the shower. ‘I’m enjoying your company.’

‘Great. That’s decided, then.’

I barely notice the breathtaking cove, fringed with palm trees, as Ryan carries his board up the beach and lays it on the sand. I place mine next to his, releasing the ankle strap while I grow hot and hyper aware that he’s close. Before I can turn to face him, he grips my fingers, the shock intimacy of the gesture enough to jerk my head up into his line of vision.

I don’t know what I’m expecting, but his face is relaxed, as if holding my hand is no big deal. And it shouldn’t be, because we’ve kissed. Touched. But the wobble in my legs and the catch of my breath makes it a big deal. It feels as if we’ve been propelled from strangers to something full of possibility. Something tantalising, promising the kind of passion I hoped to find.

When he moves to walk further up the beach I tug him to a standstill. I step closer, my nipples aching against the fabric of my bikini top. I crave the heat and desire of last night as he pleasured himself and stared at me with challenge, or this morning when his eyes raked my body from my head down to my ankle bracelet. I want it all.

‘Thank you.’ My husky voice sounds sexy and sensual.

‘What for?’ he says.

‘For being such an awesome instructor. For not making this morning awkward… If I knew you were such a gentleman, I would have gone inside in search of that condom. I’ve regretted it ever since.’ I reach for his shoulder, stand up on tiptoes and press my mouth to his before he can speak. If I can stand on that paddleboard, I can do anything.

The kiss tastes salty from the ocean spray and still foreign, but it instantly transports me back to that moment in his shower, where I was too turned on to think straight, too boneless to act on anything other than instinct. And brave. So wonderfully brave.

Ryan grips my upper arms and pushes me away so our lips part before I’ve had a chance to devour him the way I want, but he holds me firm, still close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body, which douses the sting of what feels like rejection.

‘Ever since I saw you on the beach on your first day wearing this bikini, ever since that mind-blowing hand-job, my thoughts have been anything but gentlemanly. Don’t make me out to be something I’m not.’

‘Okay, I won’t.’ My body incinerates so I’m certain the droplets of seawater clinging to my skin must be evaporating. ‘Why don’t you tell me about those thoughts, just so I’m clear?’

His eyes narrow. A tiny twitch of his decadent mouth. He looks as if he’s about to drag me in for more kissing, but he holds back. ‘Are you sure you want to do this? Because I can tell you that I wish I’d tasted your hard nipples last night. I wish I’d peeled off your bikini and seen you naked, touched every inch of you, tasted every inch, even after I came so hard it felt like the back of my head blew off.’ His expression is pained, as if he can’t quite believe he’s talking instead of ravishing me on the sand. Or allowing me to ravish him, as I planned.

‘I’m sure. I want you to do those things.’ I slide my arms around his waist, the heat of arousal burning through any self-recrimination I feel at applying the brakes. ‘I was stupid last night. Overthinking.’ But he makes me feel invincible, challenges me to be honest and demand what I want. Or perhaps it’s this place. The pact. Bryony, my guardian angel. Who knows? All I know is that, with him, I’m reminded that my heart beats, that I’m breathing fresh air and that the sun warms my skin.

I slide my hands up his back, crushing my breasts and sensitised nipples against his firm, warm chest. ‘Have you changed your mind?’ I can barely utter the words for fear of his answer.

He offers me that lopsided grin of his. ‘Feck, don’t be daft.’ He lowers his mouth to mine in a rush. He groans. I slide my fingers into his hair. His arms tighten around my waist, hauling me up so I’m crushed to his hard chest.

I surge into his heat, into the kiss with the same abandon of last night, pressing as much of my body to his as I can, the skin-to-skin contact adding rush after rush of arousal to my frenzied bloodstream so I can barely stand.

Kissing him here, on a deserted beach with only the sound of the lap of the waves onto the shore, releases a pressure valve. My heart climbs into my throat, its wild thudding robbing me of the ability to think, leaving me with only sensation. A place I want to wallow and linger until everything about my life feels this right.

I’m aware of movement and then my back hits the warm, dry sand. A sigh of almost painful relief leaves me. Ryan’s thick thigh slides between my legs and I spread them wider, rocking my pelvis to rub myself and relieve the worst of the fiery tension burning my clit.

He breaks free, looking down at me, a halo of bright sun behind him. ‘You’re so sexy. This bikini, watching you move all morning…torture.’ His mouth covers mine once more and then slides down my neck, the scrape of his stubble on my skin making my toes curl.

‘I couldn’t get you out of my head all night.’ His lips glide over my skin as he talks.

‘Me neither. I dreamt about you.’ I grip his shoulders as if I don’t want him to get away, riding his thigh with abandon while I pant to get oxygen, because need has enslaved me until I see a glimpse of the woman I was last night, a woman I fully intend to embrace. But then my mind blanks as Ryan peels the triangle of fabric from my breast, plumps the flesh in his palm with slow thoroughness and covers my peaked nipple with the heat of his mouth.

I cry out, not caring that, distance-wise, we’re not that far from the resort. That other holidaymakers could at any time happen upon this tiny cove from the land or the sea. That I’m half naked on a beach with a man I barely know… But I’m done overthinking. I know enough—his integrity in seeking my consent and his concern about protection.

I’m about to ask him if he has a condom in the pocket of his board shorts when he releases the tie of my bikini top and shifts his mouth to the other breast, which is achy and impossibly more sensitive than the first.

Spontaneous combustion threatens. I’m drugged on the hormones raging through me. Paralysed. Cries trapped in my throat.

All the while he’s laving and sucking, his hand rubbing the other breast, fingers toying and tweaking, his eyes are open and either glued to the attention he’s lavishing on my breasts or watching my reactions to his touch. When I moan aloud, my hips jerking against his thigh so I rub both myself and his hard length, he repeats the soft stroking touch of his fingers on one side while he adds extra pressure to the other nipple by pressing it between his tongue and the back of his teeth. I’ve never been so turned on, every part of me tingling. An out-of-body experience.