To Love, Honour and Disobey (5 page)

He sighed. ‘People need saving from themselves.’

‘People like us, you mean,’ she chuckled.

‘Ugh.’ She heard movement and something landed with precision on her face. ‘Enough. Now go to sleep.’

It was his shirt. She scrunched it up and stuffed it under her head together with the fleece. Told
herself she was happier purely because of the comfort factor, not that she was getting giddy on the delicious pheromones.

A
NA
walked across the stretch of sand and looked to the horizon. The colour of the water was hypnotic and she felt her limbs go supple. Her falling for him again was as inevitable as the autumnal leaf falling to the ground. But this time she’d choose her landing spot. This time she would float herself down and not be buffeted about by the compelling force that was Sebastian Rentoul. This time, if there was to be a this time, it had to be on her terms.

She looked at the never-ending blue and knew what she wanted. And what she didn’t want. She was a different person from the naïve romantic she’d been back then. She had strength born of experience. And for once she wanted to have things her way.

She turned back up the beach. Sebastian was already involved in his usual displacement activity—had rallied the lads for a game on the large expanse of sand that spread ahead of the littlest of dunes that sloped down to meet the water.

It was truck-tour passengers versus locals. Ana sat in one of the old deckchairs in the shade and watched for a while. Until her thrumming body could no longer
keep still. She stared at the net strung between a tree and a pole. Beach volleyball. Now there was a way of burning some of her energy—she couldn’t watch him play a moment longer, not when he was running barefoot, bare-chested, clad only in shorts, his bronzed body gleaming in the hot sun.

She picked up a volleyball from behind the bar and went to the net, called to him as she went past the makeshift footy pitch. Instantly he walked from that game and came to her.

He looked at the net. ‘You want to play?’

Legs apart, she twirled the ball in her hands and grinned. ‘I should warn you—I’m quite good.’

‘I play to win, Ana.’ He met her challenge and then raised it. ‘The question is, what are we playing for?’

She inhaled through parted lips. ‘Not that.’At least, not yet.

‘Then what?’ His smile said it all.

‘Well, it doesn’t really matter because I’m going to beat you.’ Ana pulled her tee shirt over her head, remaining only in bikini top and short shorts, relishing the freedom from the bulky cotton, amused by Seb’s change in expression—from teasing to burning. Two could play at the distraction game.

She went under the net to the other side and served the ball over. His concentration was immediate—as was hers. Annoyingly they were evenly matched—was there no sport he couldn’t master? But the exertion of running to prevent the ball from landing on her side didn’t exhaust the pent-up energy in her body. Indeed her aggression manifested as their duel progressed. Frustration grew—and he became her target. She no longer aimed to get the ball on his ground; she wanted it on his
head—hard. She wanted to provoke—to see if the pirate still lurked beneath the surface. She walloped the ball over the net with a strong spike. Her height had made volleyball a natural choice at school. She’d tried basketball but hadn’t liked the up-close confrontation and contact—having the net between her and her opponent was better.

But now the net was in the way.

Seb was no longer smiling. The volleys became longer, more intense. Ana had no idea what the score was. She didn’t just want to win. She wanted to conquer.

There was some noise as another carload of people arrived and Seb turned his head to watch just as Ana was readying to serve the ball. She took advantage of his inattention and hit it over—
hard
.

The ball landed with a satisfyingly loud smack on his chest. He took a step back and swore.

Ana couldn’t help the giggle.

But half a second later he was under the net and running for her.

‘Volleyball’s a non-contact sport,’ she shrieked. Instinct told her to run but the last word was knocked out of her along with all her breath as he tackled. He went in low, his shoulder hard in her stomach; she crumpled. He tossed her straight up and over in the classic fireman’s lift and kept running.

His arm was a hard band around her thighs and it wasn’t comfortable as she bumped on his shoulder. ‘You need to cool down.’

Within seconds he was splashing through the waves, tumbling her in. She went under. His arm slipped from her and she twisted, swimming underwater,
stretching out her tension. The warm water washed the fight from her, seducing her with its deep blue saltiness. She opened her eyes and followed the way the light refracted, drawing lines on the golden sand beneath. She swam along their path for a while, deeper into the ocean. Until her lungs screamed for air and she could no longer deny the way the rest of her ached.

She pulled her feet under her and stood, looked around for him.

He suddenly surfaced alongside her. Tall, fast, all muscle, all attention. They stood waist deep and stared at each other.

His body gleamed as the droplets sheeted from his golden skin. His muscles were bunched from the exercise. His jaw was shadowed by the light stubble, even more chiselled by the way he was gritting his teeth. And while his eyes were hooded, his pupils were huge.

And she knew. As crazy as it was there was no longer a choice, no reason to fight it. She knew what she wanted. She took a step towards him. And then another.

He stood. Watching, not moving—except for his chest, which rose and fell fast. She heard him panting—more breathless than when he played football for hours in the midday heat. But he said nothing.

She took another two steps, until only an inch or so separated them. As she relentlessly searched his expression his gaze dropped as if he didn’t want to see what it was she was thinking. She leant closer still. So she could feel his breath on her cheek, his heated body only a millimetre away. She dropped her head so her mouth hovered above his skin.

‘Doing this again is a bad idea,’ he muttered.

‘A very bad idea,’ she agreed, moving so her words were muffled against his shoulder. His salt was delicious, and so was his tiny groan. And her mouth parted wider, hungry for more.

‘Crazy.’ His lips brushed her forehead as he spoke.

‘Stupid.’ Her tongue touched his collarbone, tracing the ridge.

His breath gusted out. ‘Foolish.’

His head rested on hers for a moment; she nudged closer.

‘Mad.’ She lifted her hands, placing them, oh, so carefully on his chest, felt his heart thundering.

‘Absolutely insane.’ He dropped the whisper into her ear.

She closed her eyes, angled her head to let him nuzzle the side of her neck. ‘Irresistible,’ she breathed. ‘Inevitable.’

He froze. So did she. It was the moment. The decision would be made.

Had been made.

‘Inevitable.’
He lifted his head, looked right into her eyes. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Is there a choice?’ she asked.

His hands lifted, his fingers sliding into her hair, holding her face up to his. ‘There’s always a choice.’

She tipped her head back further into his hold, deliberately letting her breasts press into his chest, her mouth part under his gaze. ‘Just once.’

‘For old times’ sake?’

She shook her head slightly. ‘I’m not the person I was back then.’

‘Nor am I,’ he answered, sounding so serious, yet
he seemed to be devouring her features. ‘So it’s a one-night stand?’

It would be fitting. ‘That’s all it ever should have been.’

He nodded. ‘Our getting married was a mistake.’

‘Huge.’

‘It’s not something I ever meant to do. I can’t offer anything more than—’

‘You’re a good-time guy. I understand,’ she interrupted.

‘That’s all I want.’

‘But last time—’

‘I was naïve. I mistook lust for love. I have it straight now.’

Still he hesitated.

Last time he had driven everything. And now he was holding back—despite the effort she could feel it was costing him. But his rigidity, his restraint only made her want him more. It was her turn to push it now. ‘I just want you, Seb. As a lover. For one night. Nothing more.’

One night to indulge—and to expunge—the attraction. Maybe then she would be utterly free to move on. And now she didn’t want to think—just wanted to feel.

He looked at her, eyes lingering on her lips. Lips that she licked—not to deliberately provoke or manipulate his response, but because they were so dry, felt so swollen with her fast-beating blood. He slid one hand round her waist, kept the other in her hair and pulled her closer against him.

She closed her eyes against the brilliance of the blue sky, the blue water.

And then she felt it—his lips on hers. Warm, salty
and yet so sweet. She felt his body leap harder and the passion that had simmered for so long boiled over.

They kissed, broke apart, kissed again. His fingers threaded more tightly in her hair, tilting her so he could kiss her jaw. She arched further, encouraging him to kiss down her neck. Moaned at the delight of the hot, fast caresses and the urgency with which he curved his hand around her bottom.

‘Ana.’

She liquefied just with the way he muttered her name.

‘Inside,’ she breathed. ‘I want…inside.’ She wanted to be inside the hut; she wanted him inside.

Hands clinging to skin, they walked up the sand, went to their banda. Seb pulled the door closed behind them and secured the simple latch.

It was cooler inside, dim and suddenly silent.

He moved ahead, picked up his sleeping bag. The whirring was loud as he unzipped it. Then he tossed it wide so it floated open onto the sand creating a place for them to lie together.

‘Do you have contraception?’ Her voice was a mere thread.

He turned, speared her with an unflinching gaze. ‘Yes.’

Of course he did. She blinked, refused to mind that he’d brought it. That he was always prepared. Instead she was glad—because now she had double the protection. Pregnancy was never happening to her again. But with her on the Pill and him with a condom, she would stay safe.

This would be sex purely for the pleasure. And no fear.

She wanted him so incredibly badly. In a step he was beside her, turning her towards him, seeming to read her mixed emotions—fleeting though they were.

The kiss was the lightest brush. So gentle, nothing like the wild passion she’d expected. It had always been so wild and fast between them before. But something had changed. Now it was as if he was savouring every single moment.

She kept her eyes closed, holding still as he slowly explored her mouth, the tip of his tongue tracing her lips before he moved to cover them with his own. So soft, so sweetly roving. His fingers slid down her neck, the tips stroking down her pulse point to her most sensitive skin. And his tongue swept into her as his fingers firmed, holding her face up to his.

She felt the heat inside her; no longer was it just her skin burning, but deep within her belly too she was warming—to softness, wetness, wanting. She shivered as he kissed down the length of her neck, nibbling the delicate skin.

‘You have such a sensitive neck.’ He tilted her chin higher with his fingers, getting greater exposure to the vulnerable, and, yes, super-sensitive stretch of her body.

Sensation rushed, overwhelming her. His near nudity, sheer size and closeness made her head spin. She couldn’t quite believe he was here, touching her once more—certainly not so gently, so carefully. She locked her muscles, trying to stop her all-over-body shaking, but her legs weren’t going to hold her up anymore.

His hands caught her round the waist; gently he lowered them both to the ground. And he set about
slowly, so slowly touching every inch of her. Light hands trailed over her arms, working in symmetry; the tips of his fingers slid across her shoulders, along her collarbones to meet in the middle, and then continued a path down. And then his mouth joined the exploration.

He untied her bikini top, lifted it away and then cupped her breasts. She opened her eyes, saw the intensity in his as he held her—thumbs circling the jutting peaks as he gazed down her body. He was good. He was so good and she’d tried so hard to forget. But now the memories rushed, her muscles both slackened and strained—knowing the delight that was to follow. She shook as he took her hard nipple in his mouth. His tongue sluiced over the sensitive nub and he sucked more of her into his hot mouth and she couldn’t contain the strangled sound of delight.

His hands dropped to her waist and he finished stripping her, slipping her shorts and bikini bottoms all the way down her legs. And although the last of her covering had been removed she now felt hotter than if she were unshaded out in the heat of the African sun.

He took the arches of her feet in sure, steady hands and pushed them wider apart, spreading her before slowly sliding his hands up her calves, to her knees and then even more slowly up her thighs. And his mouth, his full sensual mouth marked the way with kisses, his tongue accentuating each pleasurable pause.

And as he inched towards her core she moved, the tiniest rocking of her hips. She wanted him to get there. All the way to where she was wet and burning.
She groaned. Unable to hold back the incredible need she had for him, the elemental, raw instinct that was driving every caution, every reason from her head.

Suddenly he moved fast, rising above her and pressing onto her body, and she shuddered under his magnificent weight. Mouth open and hungry, she pulled him closer as she let her hips writhe under the wonderfully hard heat of his.

This kiss was utterly erotic—intimate and shamelessly aggressive and she plundered as deeply as he did. She could feel him shaking now too and she swept her hands over him, seeking to touch as much skin as she could. Spreading herself wider beneath his rock-hard body, straining to take him in hand and maximise both their pleasure.

She nipped his wonderfully full top lip. ‘Why are you still wearing your shorts?’

He laughed and pressed harder against her, the wet fabric delightfully stimulating against the soft skin of her inner thighs. ‘Because I don’t want this over too soon.’

‘Haven’t we waited long enough?’

But his weight had gone and his hands gripped hers, holding them to her sides as he knelt over her, kissing his way from one breast to another, teasing her painfully tight nipples with his hot mouth and wickedly sexy tongue. And then that tongue went lower, circling her belly button and its decorative silver ring and then lower still. He lifted a hand and slid that south too, delving fingers into her curve, parting her so he could kiss that most secret, sensitive part of her.