Bad Business / Under His Obsession

She looks up, her expression earnest, reminding me of the way she looked at me last night in the shower. ‘I wanted more than he did.’ Truth blazes in her pretty eyes, stilling me, even my heartbeat.

‘More?’

‘Yes. We’d been together a long time, but we’d both lost our way somehow, as if both of us were no longer feeling it but still going through the motions. We prioritised work over our relationship, rarely making time to connect. It began to feel like a friendship. An obligation. And I realised I was more committed than him.’ She swallows hard and I want to hold her, but instead I force myself to listen.

‘Then one day I had an epiphany, and I knew that staying with Greg was the easy option, but I’d always wonder if I’d settled. I wanted to be braver than that, open to the possibility of finding more, not that I’m in any hurry.’ She takes a huge gulp of her drink while I stare.

It’s the most fearless, honest thing I’ve ever heard, and I’m struck dumb for a few seconds. Then curiosity wins out.

‘More of what?’ If I wore a collar I’d be running my finger under it. On the beach earlier she said she only wanted sex—that I can do. And I quashed her idea that I’m a gent or chivalrous.

Grace shrugs, drains the remnants of her drink. ‘I don’t know… Sparks. Passion. Something extraordinary. Something that makes me feel alive. Something my future partner and I prioritise as first in our life. Isn’t that the way love should be?’

I shrug, dumbfounded. ‘I wouldn’t know.’

‘That’s right—well, that’s how I think it should be. Just like my sister’s romance novels.’ She laughs. ‘Don’t look so worried—you’re not in any danger.’

The pounding in my head feels dangerous. I’ve never met anyone so fearless, not afraid to admit what she wants and to risk everything to find it. Is she scared of nothing?

She leans closer, her stare dancing with mischief and sensuality. ‘You see, I want all the feels, and the ring, and the romance,’ she whispers, quoting me again, her hair brushing my neck. ‘So you are perfectly safe.’ She glances at the dance floor, swaying to the music.

Panic courses through my veins—I knew the first time I saw her that she wasn’t my usual type, yet I wanted her anyway. But, reality check. Despite her recently leaving a relationship, we’re on the same page. And wanting what she wants isn’t a character flaw, no matter how much our core beliefs differ. We’re on holiday for all intents; by nature this is a fling. And then we’ll go back to our real lives…

I ignore the way my skin seems to prickle, hollowness in my gut. ‘That’s good to know.’

‘And when I’m ready,’ she says, ‘I’m sure I’ll find it. But for now,’ she stage-whispers, ‘I have a condom hidden in my dress and I want to dance.’

Her sexy smile sends my blood thrumming enough to distract me from the irrational and entirely selfish spikes of jealousy for some future guy lucky enough to be the answer to Grace’s dreams.

But dreams are pointless; I know first hand. Hope, wanting something, relying on someone for your happiness, rips out whatever heart you had, over and over again until all you can do is patch the ragged hole left behind.

Perhaps I should counsel her on her folly. Give her the benefit of my jaded wisdom…

She stands, takes my hand and heads towards the tiny dance floor. Her hand feels small, but sure and steady. Reliable and competent. I can’t wait to see the doctor in action tomorrow.

We attract a few looks as I pull her close—the staff know my identity and the mushy newly-weds probably think it’s cute that we, the island’s only singles, found each other.

Another victory for true love.

My ribs pinch again, despite her assurances. I swallow, strangely livid. Irrational, because all she’s done is accept my usual commitment-free spiel in her understanding, forthright way. I should be relieved. But, why do I feel I’m running but can’t get ahead of myself?

After a few minutes of swaying together to the beat of the music, she looks up, hesitant. ‘I feel I should tell you something. You’ve been honest with me about what you want… So I want to be honest with you.’

I wince; I’m a cagey, untrusting bastard who hasn’t yet confided my true identity…but now’s my chance. She’ll tell me her secret and I’ll confess mine. We’ll laugh and then fuck and I’ll shake off whatever spell Grace cast and be back to myself.

‘And if you want to, you know, stop carrying things around in your shorts, then I’ll totally understand.’

‘What are you talking about? I’m totally happy with the contents of my shorts.’ The foil packet may as well be radioactive; it’s burning a hole in my pocket. I’m so aroused, so blown away by this surprising woman and all her contradictions, I can’t think straight, let alone concentrate on the riddles coming from her kissable mouth.

She lifts her chin. ‘Well, I’m sure you’re…used to casual sex.’ She whispers the last words in an adorable display of respect for our privacy. I want to tear her out of here right this minute and hide her in my bungalow until the end of the week.

‘I know how holiday resorts work,’ she says. ‘Fresh bodies delivered every two weeks… The hunky paddleboard instructor must see quite a lot of action.’

I bristle. I have seen a lot of action; I’m thirty-six, for fuck’s sake. Yet for some reason I can’t get my head around, I want to shock her, to make her as unsettled and knocked sideways as I feel every time I’m with her. ‘It’s not Ibiza, Grace. It’s a honeymoon destination.’

For now.

‘Oh, yes.’ She laughs. ‘Well, I’ve only had one sexual partner and that was my ex. So I just wanted to be upfront about it, like you’ve been with the “no relationship” thing, so that our expectations are aligned.’

My face goes slack with shock. The fact she’s a serious relationship person and that for some reason she’s chosen me to test out a fling with should send me running. Instead, my mouth wants to twitch into a smile, while heat builds in my gut. She seems to think she’s somehow lacking because of her…lack of partners, rather than the sexiest woman I’ve met. No wonder I’m completely enchanted.

I stoop lower, press the side of my face to hers, until the smell of frangipani fills my nose. My lips hover near her ear, but I don’t make contact the way I want. ‘You can orgasm from nipple stimulation alone,’ I murmur. ‘I’m not remotely worried about how good sex is going to be between us, so no need for the heads-up.’

The air around us feels like a furnace. I’m inebriated on Grace, my head actually light with need to slake every impulse I’ve had since we met, free and unfettered. I’m lost in her eyes, the scent of her hair, the memory of her pleasure-racked body splayed out on the golden sand…

‘Neither am I,’ she whispers, her eyes heavy-lidded with desire and sexy determination, a baser version of the way she mastered the paddleboarding this morning…before she shattered in my arms and called my name. Her voice is husky, arousal a palpable force around her when she asks, ‘Wanna get out of here?’

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