Australia: Wicked Mistresses
He hesitated in pouring. “I’m not sure. Maybe I should put it on my ‘to-do’ list.”
He raised his glass, she raised hers, and they sipped. The wine was mellow, and trailed warmth from her throat to her belly. Repositioning her weight, she leaned back on one elbow and sipped again.
“So,” he said, getting comfortable beside her, “you dance?”
She screwed up her nose. “I was awful. I just liked the costumes.”
Grinning, he grabbed some peanuts from the bowl which he’d set between them. “What else do you like?”
“You’ll laugh.”
“All the better.”
“I like boxing.”
He spluttered, and hit his chest to help clear his throat. “Didn’t you see Million Dollar Baby?”
“Not competition boxing. Just mucking around.” She protected her chin and jabbed the air. “At the gym.” She shrugged. “I’m improving.”
Her ankle throbbed once, and pain spiked up her shin. Careful of her wine, she manoeuvred back until she lay on her side, her cheek resting in one palm.
Better.
“What about you?” she asked. “Ever put on the gloves?”
“Nope. But I’ve tried practically every other sport.”
“A figures man crossed with an athlete? I’m seeing that turbo-blasting calculator guy again.”
“Ballet and boxing. We all have another side.”
She took a long sip. We sure do.
“How’s the ankle?” he asked, shaking some peanuts in his palm and throwing them back into his mouth.
“Much better.”
Chewing, he evaluated the weather through the window. “The rain’s set in.”
She finished his thought. “And we should bunk down here for the night?”
“Don’t know that there’s an alternative. The resort doctor can check your head and leg tomorrow.” His grin was crooked, and criminally sexy. “I think you’ll make it past dawn.”
“Thanks to you.”
When she smiled over her glass at him, a double-knot in Gabriel’s chest yanked tight.
More than ever before he was head-down, needing to ensure that the professional gamble he’d taken turned into a goldmine. Nothing at any point in his career had mattered more, and he’d learned that success meant keeping your eye on the ball. Always.
But as he watched his mysterious Nina in the fireglow—shadow and light playing over her heart-shaped face—a distracting something tugged inside of him. Something intense and pleasant and real.
She was beautiful, certainly—although he doubted she was aware of the power of her smile or how expressive and bright her eyes were. Her body was strong, yet wholly feminine. Sensual. She was all woman.
As she looked up from her glass and back towards the crackling fire—her drying hair splayed over her shoulder—more than physical attraction spoke to him. Even as he instinctively hardened in anticipation of enjoying another kiss or three, an added influence whispered in his ear.
He wanted to put a name to it, but the only word that came to mind hardly fitted. Trust was earned over a lifetime. Something he didn’t ask for and rarely gave away.
Still, whatever it was that stirred him up about Nina, it felt good. Even if straight-out lust was way less complicated.
He prised his gaze from her lips and found his feet. “More wine?”
She made a purring sound in her throat, and her heavy-lidded gaze met his. She stretched her good leg straight along the mattress and replied, “Half a glass. Any more after that bath and I might go to sleep.”
Relieving her of her glass, he skirted the bed and found the bottle. He poured her half, filled his up, then found a handtowel to mop up the few drops spilled on the cedar table.
“There’s a creek out the back of here, filled with fish and some platypus. Or is that platypi?” He rounded the bed and, keeping an eye on his over-full glass, sat carefully down. “I was thinking this afternoon when I first saw you that this place reminds me of a spot my aunt took me on vacation once when I was a kid …”
His words trailed off.
Her arm was stretched out over the quilt, one cheek lying on that inside elbow. Her lips were slightly parted. If he spoke loudly enough she would rouse, but her breathing said she was already on her way to dream-time. An experience like the one she’d endured today would knock it out of anyone. Couple that with a relaxing soak and glass of good wine …
Still, he was disappointed sleep had taken her so quickly.
His gaze slid down her tranquil form and he gnawed his lower lip. What should he do about those legs? The wolf inside wanted to leave them exposed, but the reluctant gentleman said she might catch a chill.
Setting down the glasses, he eased the quilt over her body, covering her legs and those peach-tipped toes. Then, so as not to disturb her, he placed the chair before the fire, which had grown to a vigorous state. Stretching the cranky muscles in his legs, he threaded fingers behind his head and clicked his thoughts over to its usual fare. To work. To that crucial venture.
To this island.
After investing so much in this project, his efforts to set this place back well on its feet couldn’t fail. Anything that didn’t work towards the reestablishment of a healthy profit margin would be culled. Nothing that worked against success would be tolerated. His involvement here must have one outcome and one outcome only.
Absolute success.
He filed figures through his mind—advertising budgets, staff payrolls. Where to cut, where to spend …
But his gaze kept wandering to his slumbering kitten, to the gentle rise and fall of her chest beneath that chequered shirt. He had to let her sleep, and yet with every passing moment—with every whisper at his ear—that new tug inside of him kept willing her awake.
CHAPTER FIVE
NINA dreamed of a tidal wave, a colossal giant that made this afternoon’s rollers look like dwarfs.
The wave in her dream curled up, throwing its enormous shadow over her, before crashing an inch behind her running heels. Having thought she was clear of danger, she cried out when its cold fingers coiled around her ankles and dragged her back. She screamed, but she knew no matter what she did, however hard she tried, this time she was a goner.
As the wave overcame her she was drawn down into the churning, bubbling wash. The motion jerked and pushed her. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t find the surface. Then something gripped her shoulder, trying to lift her out. Needing precious air, she groped above her head, reaching for the wavering reflections dancing on the water’s surface and the shadow waiting beyond that.
Nina’s eyes popped open at the same time as she sucked down a desperate gulp of oxygen.
She felt pressure on her shoulder, took in her shadowy surrounds, then heard her name murmured in a gravelled voice. The floating pieces of the jigsaw clicked together and, heart thumping, she rolled over.
In the dying firelight, Gabriel sat on the edge of the bed, one knee angled over the sheet, concern lining his handsome face. As his gaze roamed her brow, her cheek, she remembered her scream from the dream and knew she must have cried out.
Emptying her bursting lungs, she touched her forehead and patted the damp away. “I dreamt I was drowning and you saved me.”
A sultry grin sparkled in his eyes. “That wasn’t a dream. Here—push up.” He helped her to straighten higher on the bed, eased the sheet up, then pulled the quilt around her neck. “You’re safe now. Go back to sleep.”
In her mind Nina relieved the moment he’d dragged her out of the wash and laid her upon that sandy knoll. Thank God he’d been there.
She hugged the quilt tight.
Thank God he was here now. For the first time in weeks she did feel safe and certain.
Lighter rain pattered on the roof. She rubbed one eye, then glanced out of the window. Still dark, but no morning bird calls echoed through the bush outside. How long had she slept?
Gabriel had moved to the fireplace to stir the embers. The room smelled of firewood warmth—the kind electric blankets and heaters couldn’t compete with.
Over one broad shoulder, his gaze hooked hers. “You’re wide awake now, aren’t you?”
She nodded and shifted higher.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, replacing the poker. “Thirsty?”
She wasn’t hungry in the least, but … “I’d love a glass of water.”
He brought a large glass over, and she drank it down without stopping.
“Better?” he asked when she handed the empty glass back.
“Much. Thank you.”
She wiggled and got more comfortable. She felt positively toasty. A little sore from her struggles earlier, but also beautifully rested. This unpretentious atmosphere certainly helped.
“Why did you rent this place?” she asked as he slid the glass onto the side table.
She’d already surmised that he must like to rough it, and she was aware of this cabin’s charm, but what deeper reason did he have for preferring bare essentials to the luxury available down the way? Had he played Davy Crockett as a boy? Perhaps he longed to be a social hermit, like Howard Hughes? But then why come to this island at all? Australia’s isolated Outback might be a better choice.
He shrugged, and in a trick of the fading firelight his chest seemed to grow before her eyes.
“I had the wedding to come to here, and some business to attend to, but in between I wanted to take the opportunity to really get away. I haven’t done that since I was a kid.” He nodded at the bed. “Mind if I sit down?” He rubbed his butt. “That chair’s not meant for catching zeds.”
Without a second thought she moved over, and the mattress dipped as he joined her. He stretched one denim-clad leg down over the quilt; the other foot he rested on the floorboards.
“What kind of kid were you?” she asked, snuggling back down into the pillows, hands clasped under her cheek.
“Typical, I guess. Sometimes lonely. What about you?”
Definitely not lonely. She’d had plenty of friends. Plenty to keep her occupied. Singing and dancing lessons. An interest in art. “You could’ve probably summed me up as confident.” She wouldn’t say cocky.
His chuckle warmed her more. “I have no trouble imagining that.”
She recalled her idyllic past, how she hadn’t wanted for a thing, but couldn’t settle on the feeling those memories gave her. “It seems so long ago now … like that girl was someone else.” Her mouth tugged to one side and she sighed. That Nina had been someone else.
“Sounds as if you’d like to go back.”
“Yes. And no.” She pushed up onto an elbow. “What I’d like to know is who I’m meant to be now. Who I’ll be in the future.” She relaxed the tension biting between her shoulders, and almost succeeded in keeping the embarrassment from her voice. “Too much information.”
“I’m all for honesty.”
Nina blinked over, and watched him watching the firelight. He liked the truth? Maybe she should give it to him. There was something about the intimacy of being surrounded by lush, tropical vegetation, that gave her the courage to try.
“Those questions never bothered me until recently,” she ventured. “I had a set of goalposts in my mind—” to be a huge success in publishing “—and I was headed straight for the middle.”
“Then something knocked the wind out of you?”
“Exactly.”
She’d lost her job, but she might as well have been ploughed down and kicked in the gut. She’d never felt insecure before that, even when her mother had blown the Petrelle money. She’d been angry, yes, and disappointed at such waste. But ultimately she’d known she had her own abilities to rely upon.
Then her livelihood had been ripped out from under her and her confidence had been shaken to her core. She’d felt physically winded for days. But she’d forced herself out from beneath the covers, had mailed résumés off and returned to the gym. She’d promised herself things would work out. She would get back on her feet and eventually kick a winning goal right through the centre of those posts.
Only those posts seemed so far away now.
“Worse things have happened in my life,” she continued, peering into the flames and remembering her brother’s and father’s deaths. “But I’d always held it together—”
Stinging emotion filled her throat and she had to stop and swallow. She felt his gaze on her.
“Want to tell me about it?”
Her cheeks hot, she shook her head. She’d said enough. If she said any more she might cry, and that wasn’t something she liked to do too often.
“It’s nothing that a million other people haven’t faced.”
“Maybe you’re trying too hard not to disappoint other people?” he said. “Or trying too hard not to disappoint yourself. Cut yourself a break. Give it time. I see a strength in you I don’t see in too many people.”
She coughed out a laugh. “You saw that strength when? While I was trapped and screaming for help?”
He slid down a little. With his forehead near hers, their noses all but touching, he mock-frowned at her. “Did you hear the part about cutting yourself a break?”
Her gaze lowered to his mouth, and her own lips tingled with want. His scent was so intoxicating … the temptation to taste him again so strong …
But he moved away and, resting against the bedhead, threaded his fingers behind his head. Man, he had the best set of biceps.
“You said yourself,” he told her, “most people face a crisis. More than one. But no one knows what their most vulnerable spot is until fate uncovers it. Recovering from a meltdown can take time, but then you shape up even stronger. Whatever it is you’re facing—” he winked across at her “—you’ll be okay.”
It sounded as if he knew what he was talking about, and, despite feeling low a lot of the time here, this experience had toughened her up. She’d found new ways to adapt. New qualities to admire—in others as well as herself.
Still, she couldn’t help wincing as a prickly knot formed low in her stomach.
You’ll be okay.
She sighed. “I wish I could believe that.”
She must have sounded pathetically in need of TLC, because next she knew his arm was around her shoulder and he’d urged her cheek to rest against the slope of his hot bare chest. His fingers trailed up and down her arm before he gave her an encouraging squeeze. “I’ll believe in you.”
She blew out a quiet breath and, happy to surrender, curled in. With him holding her, his warm breath stirring her hair, anything seemed possible.
Now she’d shared so much, would he open up too?
She hesitated then asked, “Can I ask what your crisis was?”
He exhaled slowly. “I lost someone close. Someone who had faith in me when he didn’t need to.”
With his voice rumbling against her ear, her heart squeezed for him. Was there anything more difficult than saying goodbye for ever to someone you loved?
“For a long time I felt stuck, wanting to go back and change things,” he said, and his hand unconsciously tightened on her arm. “I let that person down.”
“I can’t imagine you ever letting anyone down.” Her palm skimmed higher, to rest where his heartbeat boomed. “You should try to remember why that person had faith in you.”
“I never quite worked that one out. But I’ll never forget it.”
His tone was low and painfully earnest. As far as confessions went, that was a doozy. He seemed so capable; someone to rely on. So where had such an admission come from? Had he confessed that to anyone before? Instinct said not.
She pressed her ear to his heartbeat and, closing her eyes, willed her belief in him to soak through.
Then she smiled. “I might have a solution.”
“Tell me.” His words were patient, amused.
“Let someone have faith in you again.” The same way he said he’d believe in her.
But when he stiffened, a shrivelling feeling fell through her middle. He’d opened up, but clearly she’d overstepped the mark. She hadn’t meant to imply he was in any way unreliable, if that was how he’d taken it. So many people must count on him every day in his business life, for starters.
But then he breathed again, deeper than before, and when his arm moved higher his fingers brushed hair away from her face.
“What does having faith mean to you?” he asked, as the embers flickered lower and the room darkened more, cocooning them in their own little world.
“Loyalty,” she replied, relieved he didn’t sound defensive. “Commitment. Trust.”
“Trust …”
When his mouth brushed her crown her pulse quickened, and her nipples hardened beneath the stiff fabric of her shirt. His arm urged her closer, and the growth of his day-old beard rasped over her. As her heart galloped high in her chest his mouth touched her hair, and anticipation sucked through her veins like a thousand-degree backdraft.
“I’d like for you to trust me,” he said, and he turned her slightly in his arms. But she felt so overwhelmed, her pulse was racing so fast, she couldn’t meet his eyes.
They’d kissed on the beach, but that had been different; she’d been swept up in the high-risk animation of the moment. But now every cell in her body was acutely aware of what lay beyond this caress. With each word and enticing touch he’d let her know his intentions. He wanted her to trust him. Enough to take this next step.
A thumb strummed an inch below one shoulder-blade. When his chin made its way with an agonising lack of speed across her brow down her cheek to her jaw—when the delicious contrast of his lips whispered over hers—Nina felt so light-headed and doused with desire she wondered if she might faint. Then his mouth parted, feathering over hers, and her core caught light.
More than anything she’d ever wanted, she wanted him to kiss her now. Intensely.
Completely.
“I want to make love to you,” he said, and that thumb travelled down the dent of her back. He kneaded the dip at the base of her spine as his teeth nipped and tugged her lower lip. “I want to make love to you like I’ve never wanted to make love to anyone before.”
The gravelled timbre of those words pulled a final trigger. Mouthwatering hunger flooded her centre, and her body reflexively bowed towards his. But the nerves in her throat were convulsing so badly she couldn’t trust herself to speak. So she combed her fingers over the sandpaper of his jaw and let her eyes and her trembling want speak for her.
He turned his head slightly to kiss her palm, then, cupping her bottom, scooped her in while his lips slowly circled over hers. When the thick ridge of his erection ground against her belly, creamy warmth dampened her inside thighs.
“I want all of you,” he told her, and then his mouth claimed hers and the velvet heat of his tongue pushed deep inside.
He kissed her for heady, blistering moments, breaking off briefly to murmur again, “I want to feel all of you, taste all of you.” His fingers curved around the back of her thigh, between her legs. “Every inch and all night.”
Turned inside out, she shook with maddening need. If he wanted her—wanted her all night—she wanted him more.
As they slipped further down the bed he systematically released each button of her shirt. When the last was undone, and she was quivering from head to foot, the backs of his fingers brushed up the curls at the apex of her thighs before drifting higher to trace over her belly.
His eyes found hers, and as his gaze glowed across he wound fabric around two fingers and slid one half of her shirt fully open. His head cocked as he examined the swell of her breast in the firelight, then he rolled her on her back and drove down both sides of the shirt, until the sleeves hung halfway down her arms. His gaze burned over her breasts, then ran a deliberate line of fire all the way down. When, as if more than satisfied, he raised his chin, her lips parted to take in more air.
Where would he kiss her next? The sensitive sides of her waist? The smouldering tips of her breasts? Or would his mouth caress the intimate folds that ached for so much of his touch? Every inch of her begged for the caress of his mouth, the skilled flick and curl of his tongue.
His palm traced up her side and found her breast. The pad of his thumb circled the areola before he gently pinched the tip. She writhed against the sheets and her hand automatically reached to hold his. His hand folded hers back at the same time as his mouth came down, tasting and then laving her nipple, as if it were dipped in thick honey.
Her breathing ragged, she held his head and slipped her good leg around the back of his thigh. His teeth clamped her nipple, and as he drew slowly back she arced with him until he released her to move off the bed.
He unzipped, denim fell, and her eyes rounded. She was more than ready for him; her body was a hopscotch of lit firecrackers waiting to explode. But the sight of his heavy rigid shaft dried her mouth. Everything about Gabriel was larger than life.
Joining her, he eased her up slightly in order to peel the fabric completely from her arms. He tossed the shirt, then lay beside her. In the dancing shadows he searched her eyes. A lazy finger trailed down the side of her ribs, over her hip, and drew a leisurely circle around her navel before his hot palm flattened against her belly. She bit her lip and shut her eyes as his touch delved and slipped between her thighs. When his fingers rode back up and stroked her with just the right pressure, to create just the right burn, she focused inward, concentrating on the rising tide.
With her mind filled with bright darting lights, his mouth covered hers—not gently this time; his tongue probed so thoroughly she wondered if he needed more from her than she could give. But to know the unbridled depth of his desire felt intoxicating. Felt wickedly, wonderfully right.
Her fingers combed up the back of his head, flexing through his hair before sculpting down the sides of his face so she could lock his kiss to hers. She wanted to sear these emotions in her mind … the feel of his jaw working with hers … his magnificent chest grazing her breasts.
She was perched on the teetering brink of release when the kiss ended, a second too soon. He took her wrist, kissing the inside before he moved to position himself above her. Holding her eyes with his, he eased in the tip of his erection, and reflexively her muscles clenched to draw more of him inside.
He began to move, filling her, caressing her. Surrendering to sensation, she fanned her palms over his shoulders as her head rocked back, driving into the pillow. The intensity left perspiration on her brow … left her brilliantly, blissfully out of her mind.
Her nails dug in as she craned up to kiss his chest, so steamy and strong, and all hers for the night.
I knew it would be like this, she thought. This was more than two bodies joining … this was so much more than just sex.
He nipped her chin, thrust again, and hit a spot so high and deep the jolt and thrill tore a sob from her chest. The tremors building in the base of her belly quickened as her throat ached and moisture filled the corners of her eyes. The intensity of pleasure was too much to contain.
She held the hair either side of his temples and, teetering on the edge, thought again, Are you real?
He answered her by taking her lips, and when the stroke of his kiss melded seamlessly with the rhythm of his hips the ticking time bomb at her centre compressed and shone, supernova bright.
She began to fold in on herself. With all the world fading away his body braced above hers and the muscles in his big shoulders bunched. When his head craned back, and he bared his teeth at the sky, she felt him shudder and empty his energy inside of her.
Her own tremors rose higher … soaring, spiking.
Peaking.
The instant a thousand waves crashed in at once he groaned, and drank his name from her lips.
CHAPTER SIX