Читать книгу The Platinum Collection - Эбби Грин, Maisey Yates - Страница 53

CHAPTER EIGHT

HARRY had not anticipated having a weeping Elizabeth in his arms. The birthday cake surprise had been planned to give her pleasure and undermine her resistance to a friendly goodnight kiss, which could have easily escalated into something more, sparking up the chemistry that she’d always been so determined to deny. He didn’t feel right about taking advantage of this situation.

What had caused such deep distress? Was it the reminder that she had turned thirty today? Single women could be rather touchy about reaching that age goalpost, particularly if they weren’t in a relationship and wanted to be. Was it the lost chance with Mickey catching up with her at the end of the day?

It was so damnably frustrating. He’d finally got her to himself. She felt good in his arms—all woman—soft, warm and curvy. Smelled good, too. He rubbed his cheek over her hair, breathing in the scent of her—a fruity shampoo and an enticing trace of exotic perfume. He patted her back, trying to impart comfort, and felt relieved when the weeping started trailing off, interrupted by deep, heaving breaths that made him very aware of the lush fullness of her breasts. He wanted to pick her up, carry her over to the nearest day bed and blow her mind with wild, passionate sex.

The emotional storm eventually came to a shuddering halt but she remained leaning on him, her head resting on his shoulder, her body still, limp, spent of all energy. His hands wanted to wander, travelling down the very female curve of her spine to her even more female bottom—the bottom that swished provocatively every time she’d turned away from him. His fingers itched to curl around it, press her body into a more intimate fit with his, stir the same desire in her that was heating up his blood, arousing the beast.

He couldn’t stop himself from hardening, didn’t want to anyway. Let her feel what she did to him. Let her know she was desirable even as a limp, tear-soaked rag doll. It might jolt her out of whatever sea of misery she was swimming in. Life was for living, not wallowing in a trough of depression.

* * *

Elizabeth didn’t care that it was Harry holding her. It was simply nice to be held in such a secure comforting way, propping her up when she was down, not asking anything of her, just being another body emanating warmth that took the chill of loneliness from her bones.

She wished she had someone who would always be there for her like this, someone strong who would never let her down. She’d wanted to believe it would be Michael, but it wasn’t. And Harry...oh hell! She could feel him getting hard! No matter that she’d been weeping all over him. He still had sex on his mind.

A flood of embarrassment poured heat into her face as she jerked her head up from his shoulder. She’d been hanging on to him like a limpet. It took a moment to unglue her hands from his back and try shoving them up his chest to make some space between them.

‘Sorry...sorry,’ she gabbled, frantically looking up to beg his understanding that she hadn’t been passively inviting anything!

‘Sorry for what?’ he mocked, his eyes glittering a hard challenge at her.

‘I didn’t mean to...to use you like that.’

‘You needed to...just like I need to do this.’

He whipped up a hand to hold her chin. Elizabeth didn’t have time to protest, nor time to take any action to stop his mouth from swooping on hers. The impact shocked her. It was not a gentle seductive kiss. It was a full-on sensual assault, his lips working over hers, forcing them open with the strong thrust of his tongue that instantly swept over her palate, causing her whole mouth to tingle as though it had been charged with electricity.

Instinctively she used her own tongue to fight the invasion of his, angry at his bold aggression. Whether he took this as encouragement or not, she didn’t know, but his hand moved to the back of her head, fingers thrusting into her hair, holding her so there was no escape from his marauding mouth. His tongue was teasing, goading, enticing hers to tangle erotically with it, resulting in an explosion of sensation that tore any sensible thoughts out of her mind.

The whole physicality of the moment was totally overwhelming. She didn’t care that he pressed her lower body so closely to his that his erection furrowed her stomach. Some primitive part of her revelled in it, revelled in the hot hard wall of his chest squashing her breasts. She was swamped by a tidal wave of chaotic need to feel everything more and more intensely. Her own hands raked down his beautifully muscled back and curled around his taut male butt, exulting in the sense of taking this incredibly sexy man as hers.

It was wildly exciting, intoxicating—one avid kiss merging into another and another, inciting a fever of passion that possessed her with such power she completely lost herself in it, craving the fierce climactic union they were driving towards, the desire for it sweeping through her like a firestorm, all-consuming.

The mouth engaging hers suddenly broke the primal connection. ‘Yes...’ hissed into her ear—a sound of exultant triumph. Then the intimate body contact was shifted. Her legs were hoisted up and she was being carried with heart-pounding speed, cool air wafting over her hot face, reducing the fever of urgently demanding desire.

She was tumbled onto a bed and Harry—Harry!—was leaping onto it to join her there. Her eyes were wide-open now. Her mind crashed into working gear. This was one of the day beds on the deck. She’d wanted the sex that Harry was intent on having with her. Her body was still quivering at a peak of need for it. But it was madness to go on with it—madness to muddy up what should be a clean break away from everything, starting what would inevitably be a messy affair going nowhere and interfering with carrying through this management job.

He flung one strongly muscled thigh over hers and started lifting her T-shirt as he lowered his head to start kissing her again. She’d lain inert with shock at finding herself so complicit in stirring this situation. It had to be stopped. Now! Already his hand was on her breast, fingers moving under the cup of her bra, tweaking her nipple, and for a moment she was paralysed by a rebellious wish to feel more of his touch. She stared at his mouth coming closer and closer, her mind screaming that another kiss would tip her over into Harry’s world.

Did she want that?

Did she?

Losing control of everything?

A flash of fear whipped her hand up to Harry’s mouth, covering it just before it made contact with hers. His eyebrows beetled down in a puzzled frown.

‘Stop!’ she croaked.

He jerked his head back from her halting hand, his frown deepening as he shot a disbelieving ‘What?’ at her.

She swallowed hard to give her voice more strength. ‘I don’t want you to take this any further, Harry.’

‘Why not?’ he demanded. ‘You want it as much as I do.’

She wrenched his hand away from her breast and pulled the T-shirt down. ‘A momentary madness,’ she excused.

‘Rubbish! It’s been simmering between us for years,’ he insisted vehemently. ‘It just came to a head and it’s damned dishonest of you to back off now.’

Anger stirred. She hadn’t really consented to this. He’d started it when she was at her weakest, taking advantage of her vulnerable state. ‘I don’t care what you call it, I don’t choose to go on with it,’ she said fiercely and attempted to roll away from him.

He scooped her back to face him, his eyes blazing furious frustration. ‘What is the matter with you? We want each other. It’s only natural to...’

‘Let me go, Harry. This isn’t right for me.’

‘Not right?’ he repeated incredulously. ‘It sure as hell felt right until you suddenly decided it wasn’t, but I’m not into forcing any woman to have sex with me.’ He threw up the arm that had halted her rejection of any more togetherness. ‘If you hadn’t responded as you did...’

‘I didn’t mean to,’ she yelled at him, her face flaming at the truth he was flinging at her.

‘Oh, yes you did! Just for once you let that steel-trap mind of yours open enough for your instincts to take over and it was dynamite between us. Is that what scares you, Elizabeth?’

She hated how he could always hit the nail on the head with her. Yes, it scared her but she wasn’t going to admit it. She glared resentment at him. ‘I figure you’re dynamite to a lot of women, Harry, and I don’t care to be left in little pieces when you move on to your next piece of fluff.’

His hand sliced the air in savage dismissal of her argument. ‘I don’t think of you as fluff! Do you imagine I’d give this management job to someone I thought of as fluff?’

‘I’m not saying you didn’t believe I could do the work. But having a bit of sex on the side was on the plate, too, wasn’t it?’ she hurled back at him. ‘And now you’re peeved because I’ve decided not to cooperate.’

He rolled his head in exasperation. ‘Peeved does not describe what I feel right now, Elizabeth.’

There was a mountain of feeling brooding behind those words and Elizabeth instantly felt threatened by it. She scrambled off the day bed, swinging around on her feet to face down any follow-up from Harry. He hadn’t moved. He lay sprawled across the bed with his head propped up on his hand, his eyes searing hers with blistering accusation.

‘You’re shutting the gate on living life to the full,’ he said bitingly. ‘I don’t want your cooperation, Elizabeth. I want your surrender to what we could have together.’

‘That’s not the life I want,’ she retorted decisively.

‘You’re chasing dreams instead of taking on what’s real.’

‘My choice.’

‘One I can’t respect,’ he mocked.

‘I won’t stay here unless you do, Harry.’

‘Oh, I will on the surface, Elizabeth. You need have no fear of any unwelcomed advances from me. It will be strictly business tomorrow and any other day I’m here.’

She should have felt relieved, but there was an aching heaviness in her stomach, a drag of physical disappointment that was not about to be easily shifted. ‘In that case I’ll stay,’ she said flatly. Where else could she go and not be faced with Michael and Lucy? One thing she could certainly say for Harry—he had the knack of blotting them out for a while.

‘Your call.’ His mouth took on an ironic twist as he added, ‘And do feel free to call on me if you decide to change your mind and explore a different kind of life to the one you’ve planned so rigidly.’

She took a deep breath to ease the tightness in her chest and said, ‘Well, I’m glad we have that sorted.’

‘Yes, you’re a regular sorting machine, Elizabeth, everything slotted into its proper place,’ he drawled as he rolled off the other side of the day bed and faced her across it. ‘One day you might find there’s pleasure in improper activities.’

‘Not today,’ she said through gritted teeth, determined not to be taunted into doing anything reckless and stupid.

‘No, not today,’ he agreed mockingly. ‘I take it you’re about to say goodnight?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ll fetch your cake. I wouldn’t want you to go without comfort food in the lonely darkness of the night.’

The cake.

She had completely forgotten it.

Wanted to forget it now but she couldn’t, not with the chef having made it especially for her. She would have to eat some of it, too, show appreciation.

Harry strode down the steps to the table that had been set for them. At his orders. She was sure of that. Hoping to sweeten her up to the point where he would slide into making a move on her. Her stomach curdled at how easy she had made it for him, and how quickly she had been caught up in the dynamic sexuality he could put out at will.

Her thighs were aquiver from having been in such intimate contact with him and her breasts were still in a state of arousal. He had excited her—almost to the point of no return—and he could probably do it again if she let him. Would he keep his word—strictly business from now on unless she gave him the green light?

He picked up the cake platter. Elizabeth realised she hadn’t even moved from where she’d scrambled off the day bed. If Harry saw her still standing beside it he might think she regretted her decision. She jerked into walking, rounding the bed and heading up towards the administration office.

Harry had given her the door key after he had locked up before dinner. She dug it out of her shorts pocket, anxious to have the door open and be standing right there, ready to receive the cake from him so he had no reason to come in with it. Being alone with him in any enclosed space right now would severely stretch nerves that were already wildly agitated at having to be face to face with him, just for a few moments.

It surprised her to see guests laughing and chatting in the open bar lounge as she passed by. It had seemed so private on the lower decks. What if any of these people had strolled down to the beach while she and Harry... It didn’t bear thinking about. Reckless, shameless...her face flamed at how very nearly she had succumbed to almost a public sex act.

Anger simmered as she unlocked the door, opened it and turned to take the cake platter from Harry, who had virtually caught up with her. ‘Did you realise there were still people up and about when you swept me off to that bed?’ she demanded accusingly.

‘So what?’ He arched his eyebrows at her as though she was mad.

‘Oh, you don’t care about anything, do you?’ she cried in exasperation and tried to snatch the platter from him.

He held on to it, forcing her to meet his gaze, a blast of hot resentment burning over her own. ‘On the contrary, I care about a lot of things, Elizabeth. As to your quite unnecessary embarrassment at the thought of being observed in flagrante, this happens to be a tropical island where people drop their inhibitions and feel free to have sex wherever and whenever they want it. Using that bed under the stars for some natural pleasure in the privacy of the night would not offend anyone.’

‘I’m not a guest. I’m staff,’ she argued furiously.

His chin jutted with arrogant authority. ‘This island is mine. I can make any rules I like for whomever I like.’

‘I live by my own rules, Harry,’ she flared at him. ‘Now let me have the cake and let’s say goodnight.’

He released the platter and stepped back, nodding mockingly as he said, ‘Goodnight, Elizabeth.’

Then he strode away, back towards the beach, not giving her the chance to say another word.

She was so wound up it took several seconds for her to realise the threat of him was gone—not that he’d been threatening her. It was just how she felt with him, as though in constant danger of having her rules undermined or blown apart.

She quickly took the platter to the office desk, set it down and returned to lock the door, telling herself she was now safe for the night. Tomorrow...well, she would deal with tomorrow when it came.

She carried the untouched cake into the apartment, shutting herself into her own private domain. In a violent reaction to the whole stressful day, she found a knife and cut the Happy Birthday writing off the icing. It had been a rotten birthday. No happiness at all. She’d suffered a devastating let-down from Michael, as well as what felt like a betrayal from Lucy and persecution from Harry.

Tomorrow had to be better.

She only had to put up with Harry tomorrow.

And while that might not be a piece of cake, she would stomach it somehow.

No way was she going to break up again anywhere near Harry Finn!