Читать книгу Paradise Nights: Taken by the Bad Boy - Kelly Hunter, Anne Oliver - Страница 9

PETE BENNETT lived to fly. Nothing could change that. Nothing ever had. It was simple fact that he was at his happiest with one hand on the throttle and the other on the joystick of a helicopter that responded to his slightest touch. Oh, he had his favourites, everyone did, and luckily old Tomas’s Jet Ranger was one of them. She was no Seahawk—equipment-wise she was a purely civilian fit—but she had a light touch and he was close to the sea, and for now that was enough.

And if at times skimming low across the water put him in mind of other far more dangerous flights and missions, well, that couldn’t be helped. A man like him did his damnedest to ignore the insistent knocking of the past in favour of whatever else was in front of him.

A man like him took great pains to ensure that whatever was in front of him had a certain basic appeal.

Island-hopping with a cargo of two tourists looking to overnight on a sleepy Greek island, for example, had enough basic appeal in the shape of meeting up with Serena again to drive every unwanted memory from his body.

He touched down at Sathi, Varanissi’s picturesque seaport, just on three in the afternoon, unloaded his passengers, and herded them towards the hotel, their bags slung over his shoulder with his own.

The fiery Chloe was nowhere to be seen as he saw them checked in and arranged to meet them again at nine the following morning. He wasn’t as lucky when it came to the boy, Sam. The kid had appeared in the foyer as he’d arrived and had been hovering ever since. When Pete made to leave, young Sam ventured forward.

‘You’re not staying here?’ he said.

Pete shook his head. ‘I’m staying up at Nico’s. In Tomas’s room.’

‘Oh.’ Sam paused, as if weighing his options. ‘I’m heading up that way too. To see Nico. I could show you a short cut if you want.’

He knew the path the boy was talking about. He’d taken it before, with Nico. And opened his mouth to say so.

But Sam had already read him. Pete watched, eyes narrowing, as bleak resignation flashed across the kid’s face, just before he lifted his chin and looked away. How the hell did a kid get to be so streetwise and still be so soft? He didn’t know. But it got to him. ‘Fine,’ he said, perversely pleased by Sam’s surprise. ‘I figured I’d head on up to the Vespas and say hello to Serena after that. Join me if you want. I could use the company.’ This much was true. He’d be far less tempted to reach for Serena within moments of seeing her if he had Sam with him.

Given the wildness of his fantasies about her, that was probably a good thing.

* * *

Four days. Four endless summer days. That was how long Serena had been waiting for that damn helicopter to fly over and land on the island and even then she waited another hour for the pilot of the cursed machine to put in an appearance at her brand-new blue beach umbrella by the rusty Vespa shed. By that time Serena had replayed the memory of Pete Bennett’s kisses at least a thousand times and every cell in her body was screaming for more. The man was a genius.

But he wasn’t alone. Sam tagged alongside him, wary and silent but nonetheless there. So much for wrapping herself around Superman right then and there.

Make that evil genius.

‘Hey, sailor,’ she said, smiling at Sam who’d finagled a morning out on Nico’s boat tomorrow. Tomorrow being Saturday, and that being the deal he’d made with Chloe if he went to school all week. ‘Got a message for you. Nico said he’ll swing by on his way down to the dock at around four-thirty a.m. Speaking from experience, you’d better be ready because the tide waits for no man and neither does Nico. Wear a jumper and a hat and don’t worry about gloves. He’s found some for you that’ll fit.’

Serena watched as Sam’s face lit up like the sun, a fleeting grin, gone almost as soon as it had arrived but she’d caught it nonetheless, along with a hefty dose of hero-worship for her cousin. ‘Meanwhile, there’s a Vespa been coughing and spluttering and I need someone to take it around the paddock a few times to see if it gives any grief.’

‘What’s in it for me?’ said Sam.

‘Experience,’ she said dryly, handing him a helmet.

‘It just so happens that the bike you’ll be trialling could well be the second-fastest bike on the island.’

‘So Aunt Chloe went for it?’ asked Pete as they watched Sam fasten the helmet, start the bike and ride slowly along the fence line. ‘That’s the second-fastest bike on the island?’

‘Well, no. Not any more. Maybe thirty years ago.’ Right now, it was the slowest ride she had. ‘And Chloe caved two days ago after two more trips to the principal’s office on account of our friend here’s somewhat disquieting habit of disappearing from school around mid-morning and failing to return.’ The bike coped with the downhill run easily enough, but coughed and groaned all the way up the hill. ‘I think it needs a new spark plug.’

‘That or a decent burial,’ muttered Pete.

‘We don’t discard our old around here. It’s just not done,’ she told him. ‘And it’s about time you showed up.’

Pete Bennett smiled. ‘Miss me?’

‘Maybe. Did you miss me?’

‘Of course. How many goddesses of buckets and sensuality do you think I know?’

‘Pardon?’

‘Never mind. I tried to get back here earlier,’ he murmured. ‘Unfortunately, not many people know about this place. It’s a hard sell. Maybe you should hurry up with those postcards.’

‘Maybe I will.’ She eyed his carryall speculatively, wondering how Sam had found him so fast, wondering exactly how long he was staying this time. ‘Are you staying overnight?’

He nodded. ‘What time do you finish up here?’

‘The last of the bikes should be back by five, give or take half an hour,’ she told him. ‘Why? What did you have in mind?’

‘I’m thinking of taking a stroll up the hill.’

‘What hill?’ She followed his gaze to the mountain looming behind them. ‘Oh. That hill.’ She’d climbed it before. It wasn’t easy. ‘That’s a big hill.’

‘Sam says there’s a path to the top.’

‘Well, yes. There is. If you’re a goat.’

‘And that you can see the entire island when you get to the top.’

There was that.

‘Bring your camera. You might catch the sunset.’

She’d been here for five months, four days, and counting. She’d photographed everything more times than she cared to remember, including the sunset. ‘I’ll need more incentive than that.’

‘It’s good exercise.’

‘Boy, do you have a lot to learn about women and incentive.’

‘C’mon, Rena. Haven’t you ever wanted to touch the sky?’

He had the soul of a poet. The smile of a devil. Serena couldn’t resist either. ‘All right. I give in. We’ll walk to the top and touch the sky.’

His smile promised more, much, much more, and she knew for a fact he could deliver. ‘You won’t regret it,’ he murmured.

‘I never do.’

* * *

It was half past five before the last of the bikes were locked away for the night and Serena had shooed Sam home. Closer to six by the time they’d taken her cooler and the cashbox down to the cottage. There was enough daylight left for getting up the hill. Not nearly enough daylight for getting back down. Serena picked up a small canvas bag and went in search of a torch and a couple of bottles of water before slinging it over her shoulder. ‘Ready?’

With a gesture that came as automatically to him as breathing, Pete removed the bag from her shoulder and slung it over his. ‘Lead on.’

She led him behind the cottage and across the bitumen road to where the goat track began. If there was one thing she’d become used to on Varanissi, it was walking up hills. Her body had grown quite fond of it; her legs no longer gave protest. She was healthy. Fit. And still she had the feeling that if necessary, Pete Bennett with his lazy stride and easy breathing could have taken the slope at a dead run. She picked up the pace, figuring that if she had to exercise she might as well make it worthwhile.

Half an hour later they reached their destination, a desolate plateau dropping away sharply on three of its four sides, but what the rocky, barren plateau lacked in visual appeal it more than made up for with its panoramic view of the village and harbour below.

The island had charm; she’d give it that. And the people on it were as good as you’d find anywhere. Maybe better.

But the world was bigger than this, and so were Serena’s dreams. Pete Bennett knew how to dream big too. She could see it in the way he looked to the sky, sense the restlessness in him, a burning need to keep moving, keep going … to run, and to fly. ‘You love it, don’t you? Being up here.’

‘Yeah,’ he said simply, looking skyward. ‘It’s the next best thing to being up there.’

‘Why helicopters?’ she asked. ‘Why didn’t you choose to fly planes?’

‘I’ve flown both,’ he said. ‘But helicopters are more sensitive, more tactile machines than planes. Planes are all about power. Helicopters are about finesse.’

‘You fly planes too?’

He flashed her a grin. ‘Serena, I fly everything.’

‘Have you always wanted to fly?’

‘Ever since I was old enough to sit on my sainted mother’s knee at Richmond RAAF base and watch the pilots practise their touch and gos.’

‘I’ll take that as an always. What’s a touch and go?’

‘You bring the plane in, touch down, and then take off again, all in the same run. What about you?’ He gestured towards the camera around her neck. ‘Has it always been photography for you?’

‘Not always. I’ve done lots of things. Managed restaurants, designed their interiors, done the branding work for the family seafood outlets, written articles for magazines. But I keep coming back to my camera and the stories a picture can tell.’ She took a mouthful of water. Watched as Pete did the same, slaking his thirst the same way he’d climbed the hill: effortlessly and with every appearance of enjoyment. ‘So you spent a goodly portion of your childhood hanging over the fence of the local RAAF base. What then? How did you become a pilot?’

‘I was all set to join the Air Force but somewhere along the way I got to stand on a deck full of Navy Seahawks and that was it for me. Nothing else would do.’

‘You joined the Navy?’ It didn’t seem to fit with his carefree bad-boy image. ‘What about the discipline? All those rules and regulations? Dedication to duty?’

‘What about them?’ He shot her a quizzical glance.

She figured she might as well give it to him straight. ‘You don’t seem the type.’

‘Look harder,’ he offered, his voice noticeably cooler.

Good idea. Excellent idea. She slipped the cap from her camera and studied him through the lens. ‘Okay, I’m seeing it now.’ But only because he was letting her see. This was a part of himself that playboy Pete Bennett preferred to keep hidden. She took the shot, and then another. ‘So how long were you in the Navy?’

‘Regular squadron? Seven years.’

‘And then?’

‘Then I transferred to air-sea search and rescue helicopters for a while.’

‘For how long?’ There was something about his expression that didn’t invite questions.

‘Eight years.’

He looked away, all shut down, but not before she’d caught with her camera a hint of pain that ran deep. She wondered at it, wondered why a man who’d spent fifteen years in service to others was currently flying tourists around these islands and contemplating hauling cargo around PNG. A man didn’t walk away from the kind of work he’d been doing for no reason. Did he? ‘Do you miss it?’

‘Miss what?’

‘The howling winds and heaving seas. The adrenalin rush that’d come with battling the elements and saving lives. It’s pretty heroic stuff.’

‘I’m not a hero, Serena. Far from it. Paint me as one and you’ll be in for disappointment,’ he said quietly.

‘Thanks for the warning,’ she countered dryly. ‘You know, my father is a fourth-generation fisherman. My brothers are fishermen. My cousins are fishermen. I know who they look to for miracles when the sea turns ugly and a vessel goes down. I know what you used to do.’

‘I don’t do it any more.’ The reckless charmer had disappeared, and in his place stood a complex warrior. The rogue had been irresistible enough. The warrior was downright breathtaking. ‘Take your photos,’ he said, but she already had and they wouldn’t be appearing on any picture postcard.

‘C’mere,’ she said softly and he looked towards her, wary and wounded for reasons she couldn’t fathom, his dark glare daring her to probe and prod for answers he didn’t want to give only she was done with questions for now. First rule of interviewing was to read your mark and when you’d pushed them as far as they’d go, pull back and come at them later from a different direction.

He stepped up in front of her, big and brooding, his hands in his pockets and his expression guarded. ‘Closer,’ she said, and set her hand to his chest and lightly bussed his lips. ‘That’s for stepping up to protect your country—even if you were seduced into it by a bunch of Navy helicopters.’ She set her lips to his again and let them linger a fraction longer, watching as his eyes darkened. ‘And that’s for putting your life on the line to save others, day in, day out, for eight years.’ She slid her hand to his shoulder and this time her kiss was more than a whisper. She felt his response, saw with satisfaction the heat of the kiss chase the shadows from his eyes.

‘What was that for?’ he muttered.

‘Dinner,’ she said, sauntering away towards the southern edge of the plateau. ‘You are taking me to dinner, aren’t you?’

He took her to dinner. To the little restaurant high in the hills where the fish stew was reputed to taste like ambrosia and the air was thin enough to have him breathing deep whenever Serena looked at him. She wore a cream-coloured dress, low cut, square necked, with delicate shoulder straps. It had little buttons all the way down the front, buttons that drove a man to distraction whenever he looked at them, and she knew it, her smile told him so and her eyes dared him to call her on it. ‘That’s quite a first-date dress.’ His lips brushed her hair as he saw her seated. ‘But it’s not blue.’

‘You were expecting the blue?’ she said and her eyes were laughing.

‘I was looking forward to it,’ he said. ‘With a great deal of anticipation, I might add.’

‘Sorry to disappoint.’

‘You haven’t. I’ll continue to look forward to it.’

‘I’m saving it,’ she said.

‘For what?’

‘The Trevi Fountain.’

Good call. He knew this game of seduction well. He loved the playing of it, the hunt and the chase. Loved it when his quarry provided a challenge. And heaven help him the woman sitting opposite knew exactly how to do just that.

‘Unfortunately my chances of venturing that far afield are somewhat limited at the moment,’ she added with a sigh. ‘And I suspect you’re tied to Tomas’s charter operation as well. Fortunately for you I’ve had another idea.’ She leaned back in her chair and smiled. ‘It involves no fountain and no blue dress whatsoever, but it does involve water.’ He was all ears. And damned if she didn’t smile and change the subject. ‘Tell me about your family.’

‘I’ve already told you about them,’ he said.

‘Tell me more.’

He usually didn’t. But this time, in this place, he relaxed into his seat and offered up more. ‘My father lives in Sydney. He’s an academic—a scholar of ancient Chinese pottery. My sister is married and lives in London. She inherited our father’s passion for pots. Then there’s Tristan, who works for Interpol. He got married at Christmas and is back living in Sydney.’ Pete shook his head at the wonder of that particular notion. ‘Then there’s Luke. He’s older than Tris, younger than me. He’s a Navy SEAL.’ Pete toyed with his bread and butter knife, would have left it at that, but Serena wasn’t chasing a career in photojournalism without having mastered the finer art of persistence.

‘You said you had three brothers,’ she prompted him with a smile. ‘There’s one more.’

‘Jake.’ Thoughts of Jake always came with a serve of guilt. That he hadn’t helped him out more when their mother had died. That he hadn’t shouldered more of the responsibility. ‘He’s a couple of years older than me and runs a handful of martial arts dojos in Singapore.’

‘So your family is scattered all over the globe.’

‘More or less.’

‘My immediate family live in Melbourne. All of them. I can’t imagine them living anywhere but in each other’s pockets.’

‘Is this a bad thing?’ he asked curiously.

‘Hard to say.’ She shrugged. ‘Everyone always knows what everyone else is doing. Whether that’s a bad thing tends to depend on whether they approve of what you’re doing. If they don’t …’ She shrugged again.

‘And do your family approve of your plans for the future? The photojournalism career? The endless travel away from the family bosom?’

‘Let’s just say they don’t quite understand,’ she said lightly, but her eyes told a different, darker story.

‘Maybe one day they will.’

She smiled and leaned back in her chair. ‘You’re a nice man, Pete Bennett. Idealistic, but nice.’

There was that word again. Nice. She really should stop bandying it about. It made a man uncomfortable. ‘You do know that nice isn’t really on this evening’s agenda?’ he told her softly. ‘That would be the wrong notion to be carrying around altogether.’

Her smile held equal measures of wickedness and delight. ‘I’d be very disappointed if it was.’

A weathered old man appeared beside the table, glaring at him from beneath thick grey eyebrows and over a strongly hooked nose. ‘You’ll order now,’ he said.

Pete looked to Serena and raised an eyebrow. ‘Care to order?’

‘My usual, Pappou Theo. The fish stew and the salad.’

‘Pappou Theo?’ he murmured.

‘Honorary grandfather,’ she said. ‘One of my grandfather’s pinochle partners.’

That explained the scowl. ‘I’ll have the oysters and then the fish stew,’ he said. ‘Serena tells me good things about it.’

‘No oysters for you!’ said the old man emphatically. ‘Greek salad with many onions. You’ll like.’ The old man turned to Serena again and surveyed her critically. ‘Does Nico know you’re here?’

‘Yes, Pappou.’

‘And when does he expect you home? At a reasonable hour, I hope.’

‘Yes, Pappou. Very reasonable.’

The old man muttered to himself beneath his breath and turned back to Pete. ‘Drinks?’ he barked.

‘Some white wine?’ Pete looked to Serena.

‘No!’ said the old man. ‘No wine.’

‘Raki?’

‘Pig swill,’ he said.

‘Beer?’

‘Not for you. I’ll bring the water over,’ said the old man, and stalked away.

Pete stared after him. ‘That went well.’

‘I did warn you,’ she said. ‘I told you there’d be sharks. You told me you could swim.’

‘I can swim.’ And he was enjoying the challenge of getting past her guardians. He watched as the old man ambled towards the kitchen with their order. ‘I’m just rethinking our next evening meal. I have a plan.’

‘Is it a cunning plan?’

‘It involves travel off the island. For you.’

‘I like it,’ she said. ‘Simple yet effective.’

‘How far away do you think we’ll have to get before you run out of relatives?’

‘Three or four islands over,’ she said breezily. ‘Five at the most. Or we could play it really safe and go to Istanbul for the evening. That’d work.’

‘You don’t have any relatives in Turkey?’

‘None we admit to.’

‘So … ‘He began to think of more immediate options. ‘What would a man have to do to earn your family’s approval to court you?’

‘You want to court me? I’m thinking courtship comes under the heading of nice again.’

‘I’m speaking theoretically.’

‘Well, theoretically, it’d help if you were Greek and owned a shipping line.’

‘How about Australian and co-owner of a small charter airline?’

‘I’d have to check. Tell me … are you of Greek Orthodox religion?’

‘Catholic,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Lapsed.’

‘You might want to keep that to yourself,’ she said.

‘You should probably stick to talk of undying devotion to me, an exceptionally large income, a huge wedding, and your longing to help produce half a dozen children in very short order.’

‘How many children?’ he spluttered.

‘Oh, okay, five then. But that’s my absolute minimum.’

‘You want five children? In very short order? Are we sure about this?’ She didn’t look all that sure. ‘Two,’ he said firmly. ‘Two’s a good number. Any more than two and we won’t all fit in the helicopter.’

‘Four,’ she countered with a grin. ‘And we’re definitely going to need a bigger helicopter. Something roomy and safe. Family-minded. A Volvo of a helicopter.’

‘Oh, that’s harsh,’ he murmured. ‘Anyone would think you didn’t want a man to consider a serious relationship with you.’

‘They’d be right.’

‘God, you’re perfect,’ he said. ‘I swear you stand a very good chance of ruining me for all other women.’

‘That’s quite a compliment,’ she countered. ‘But I really don’t want to ruin you for anyone. I just want to play a while.’

‘Utterly and irrevocably perfect,’ he said on a sigh. ‘Hell, Serena, you might just ruin me anyway.’

Their meal arrived and they ate it. Sinfully rich stew with a smattering of easy conversation on the side. Pete knew the game of seduction very well and played it with a skill that left her breathless and more than a little intrigued as to what would come next. A rakish smile or a challenging question? A sidestep here, advance, or retreat? He kept her guessing. Kept her amused and entertained.

She was a curious woman by nature, but he did a remarkable job of making her want to know more of him. Like what it was that had put the shadows in his eyes, and what he was doing here, flying tourists around the sky, when every instinct she owned told her there was so much more to him than this.

‘Coffee?’ he suggested as Theo cleared their plates away. ‘Dessert?’ Theo opened his mouth as if to refuse them that as well. Pete eyed him coolly. ‘Of course, if there’s nothing available here I’d be happy to take you somewhere else.’

They got their coffee and dessert. They also got a taxi without having to order it. It was leaving within the next five minutes, Theo told them. It’d be a good idea if Serena were in it. She didn’t disagree.

Pete looked amused but neither did he.

They were back at the little whitewashed cottage on the hillside by a quarter to ten. Serena waited in silence as Pete paid the taxi driver and, stepping back, looked towards her front door. ‘No sharks,’ he said. ‘There’s a surprise.’

‘Nico’s pretty easygoing,’ she said dryly. ‘I can’t see him objecting too much to our having dinner up at Theo’s.’

‘Can’t you?’ There was that soul-stealing smile again. ‘I can.’

Nico had left the outside light on for them, but before she could decide how to end the evening, whether to invite him in, cut and run, or try and figure out something in between, the door opened and Nico stood there glaring at them both.

‘You’re still awake,’ she said, surprised. Nico usually bedded down far earlier than this. All that getting-up-before-dawn business.

‘Have you any idea how many phone calls I’ve had about you tonight?’ he demanded.

‘Er … more than you wanted?’

‘One was more than I wanted. I’ve had four. Four! Two from Theo, one from Marianne Papadopoulos, and one from your mother! And don’t ask me how she knew you were out on a date, because I have no idea. Anyone would think you were making love on the tabletop.’ He eyed them narrowly. ‘Were you?’

‘No!’ Serena’s hands went to her hips and her temper slid up a notch. ‘We were trying to have a meal, and a restricted one at that. When was the last time you went out to dinner and Theo refused you oysters and alcohol?’

Nico’s lips twitched.

Serena narrowed her eyes. ‘Don’t you dare laugh.’

‘Not laughing,’ he said, and then spoiled it by grinning hugely as he turned away and stalked back down the hall. ‘This isn’t Australia,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘It isn’t even Athens. What did you expect?’ He spared a lightning glance for Pete. ‘You’ve got five minutes. I need my sleep. Anything happens to Sam on board that boat tomorrow and Chloe’ll skewer me with a fish-hook. Anything happens to Serena in the next five minutes that’s not entirely circumspect and I’ll skewer you. That’s the way it works around here. Welcome to Sathi.’

‘All right,’ she said with a sigh as she closed the door on Nico’s retreating form and turning to study the man at her side. ‘So I could have been slightly wrong about Nico not worrying about our dinner together—although, to be scrupulously fair, he probably wasn’t the one doing the worrying. Others did it for him. How do you feel? Alarmed? Afraid? Threatened?’

‘Nah.’ Far from looking worried, Superman looked to be thoroughly enjoying himself. ‘He gave me five minutes. He likes me.’

She liked him. And that was proving more of a problem than she’d thought it would be. ‘Walk with me, Pete Bennett. I’ll show you my favourite place in the garden.’ She clasped her arms around her waist and walked around the side of the cottage, to the edge of the garden to stare out over the moonlit sea. She did some of her best thinking just sitting there staring out to sea.

She needed to do some very serious thinking about what she wanted from this man right about now.

She’d looked at him a few days back and seen a pleasant diversion. A charming playmate with no strings attached. She looked at him now and saw something far more dangerous. A man with a generous heart, and a guarded one. A man with the potential to captivate her as well as charm her, and she didn’t want that. No, she couldn’t have that.

Not when for the first time in her life she could see a time up ahead with no commitments and no family ties. Her time. Time for chasing long-held dreams for a career she could be proud of.

‘I’ve enjoyed your company,’ Serena said at last.

Nothing but the truth in that statement. ‘I’d like to enjoy it some more. But we’re going to need some rules.’

‘I love rules,’ he said. ‘What kind of rules?’

‘We keep this light-hearted,’ she said firmly. ‘No falling in love.’

‘Check.’

‘And brief. We’ll both be leaving here soon enough. We should make that the end of it. Clean break. Happy memories.’

‘Mature of us,’ he said. ‘Anything else?’

‘I know we’re talking a brief and in no way serious relationship here, but I’m thinking exclusivity is a must.’

‘You’d better be,’ he said curtly.

‘There is one more thing.’

‘You’re pushing your luck, Serena.’

He looked tough, forbidding, and Serena wondered afresh whether she was insane to think she could handle this man. He walked his own path, made his own rules. But this last rule was important. ‘We need to be discreet.’ Otherwise it would reflect badly on her family, and she didn’t want that. ‘It’s this place … ‘she said with more than a little frustration.

Pete laughed at that, and the rich dark sound of it slid along her skin like water.

‘You’re right,’ he murmured. ‘We’ll be discreet.’And then his lips were on hers, hard and seeking, and all her carefully thought out rules shattered beneath the weight of her desire.

Pete’s body betrayed him the moment he reached for her. He’d known it would. The searing heat. The outrageous, all-consuming need to possess that which he held and, in doing so, offer up a part of himself. She was all luscious curves, made for a man’s hands, his hands, as he curled his fingers around her buttocks and brought their lower bodies into languid and intimate contact. He could be discreet. If that was what she wanted. He’d do it. He would.

Soon.

Just as soon as he’d finished feasting on her mouth.

She dug her hands in his hair and her lips turned ravenous, but he was ready for the staggering hunger of her kisses this time and he ate them up, spun them round, and served them straight back at her.

Serena had thought she was prepared for the passion this man brought to lovemaking, but she wasn’t prepared for this. It was like a meeting of souls, locked in a kiss, and she feared it … heaven help her she feared it … even as she gloried in it. Whatever she wanted, however she wanted it, he had it in him to give. And she wanted it all.

Shuddering at the sensations threatening to overwhelm her, she dragged her lips free of his kiss and set trembling fingers to his mouth instead. A barrier, a slowdown, only her fingers had a mind of their own, exploring his upper lip, the strong shapely curve of it, before dragging the sensitive pad of her forefinger across the sculpted fullness of the rest.

Serena watched as those perfect lips curved into a smile; a smile for her attempts to regain control maybe; and then she was urging his mouth open and replacing fingertips with lips and with tongue for a kiss so staggeringly potent she clear forgot to breathe.

Whatever she wanted, she thought helplessly as his tongue duelled delicately with hers. Just the way she wanted it, as his fingers tightened on her butt and he surged against her, and with a ragged groan spun them into the maelstrom again.

His eyes were black, as black as sin and deep enough to drown in, when finally, finally, they stood apart.

‘Discreet.’ He ran a hand around the back of his neck. ‘We might have to work on that one,’ he said raggedly. And then he was gone.