Page 47 of Reckless Kiss

Erica thought that was a crying shame. He’d held her waist while she was upside down in the water, toes pointed out of the water as she practised her scissor kicks. Solid hands on her body, making her feel safe as she went through the list of movements she needed to practise to perfection. She would be on set in two months, spending hours on end in the pool they designed for the movie. Her agent hadwanted an instructor to come out to Copper Island to give her daily direction, but she thought it was overkill. A half-hour video call in the morning was sufficient for Erica to get her instructions. It wasn’t like she had to be Olympic standard, but she wanted to pay Esther Williams her dues in the biopic.

“So, what is the plan today?”

“Warm-up,” Archer said, wrapping his arm around her waist.

She liked his style of warm-up. Erica didn’t resist when he pulled her closer and dropped his head to kiss her lips. Like each morning, their kiss turned from chaste to passionate so quickly. Archer held her head with one hand on her nape, then tightened his arm around her back. He wouldn’t let her move an inch when he kissed her. When his warm wet tongue touched hers, she wanted to climb him—every damn time.

Erica broke the kiss by dropping her head back and laughing. “I’m not sure this is the type of warm-up my muscles need.”

“It’s nice, though, right?” he whispered against her exposed throat.

“Yeah,” she said and sighed. “Really nice.”

Erica moved out of his hold and gave him a shy smile. She could see lines were beginning to blur. Erica stepped to the poolside and did her stretches while Archer dropped to the floor and started his push-ups routine. She’d prefer to watch him do the push-up that launched him off the concrete for a second. He did a combination of push-ups, squats, and leaping up. While Erica was more sedate, she could feel her body warming up in the early morning cool air. Partly from her routine and partly from watching Archer. The moment he finished, Erica had her feetwide apart, bent at the waist with her hands flat on the concrete. It was her favourite yoga position. Turning her head to the side to look at Archer, she was treated to him wiping down his chest with a towel. Her eyes looked him over, taking her time on his hips as his shorts hung low. What she wasn’t watching until it was too late was him whipping his towel around to a tight strip, ready to flick at her bottom.

“Don’t you dare,” she warned, not trying to hide her smile.

She liked it when he was being playful.

“It’s tempting,” he answered, wiping his face with his towel.

His heated gaze had Erica frozen in place, unable to move. For a moment, she thought she’d be stuck in the position forever as her muscles locked. Archer circled her and settled at her rear. Erica could feel his warmth and then his hips against her bottom. It was a risky move, but she pushed back an inch. Archer pushed his hips forward, and it took all her strength not to grind against him. Archer leaned over her bent position and moved his hands along her sides and then down her arms so his hands were flat on either side of hers. Erica puffed out a breath at their nearness, hoping his aunt wasn’t watching what they were doing. The erotic dance of seemingly innocent moves was anything but.

“I’m going for a run,” Archer whispered into her ear. “Have dinner with me tonight, at your place. I’ll bring the food.”

Erica swayed her hips from side to side, brushing against him, hoping her tease told him her answer.

“What time?” she asked.

“Seven. I think we should eat inside tonight. More private for what I have in mind.”

“Okay.”

It was all Erica could manage.

Archer kissed her cheek and then set off running towards Edward Hall. Standing up tall to stretch, she looked up at the windows of Turner Hall. Dozens of reflections echoed back, but with the sun in its position, Erica couldn’t tell if anyone was watching.

After a rotation of treading water, swimming laps, and practising turning in a tight circle underneath the water, Erica was exhausted. Training five hours a day took it out of her. She was no slouch when it came to exercising, but the difference between endurance training mastered by Archer Turner and running on a treadmill was starkly different.

She swiped up her towel and staggered back to her cottage, her thighs burning from jumping logs. Weeks had passed since her arrival on the island, and she still couldn’t get used to not locking her back door. Erica fully expected to return and find the place either ransacked or a journalist sitting on her sofa waiting for her to return.

True anonymity had been elusive in the previous decade. Erica travelled everywhere with her head down, wearing dark sunglasses. Here, in the glorious beauty of the island, she wore sunglasses by choice. There was no one commenting on what she wore or the state of the highlights in her hair. Erica had never felt so free.

Sadly she was about to ruin her mood.

After a shower and far too long choosing what to wear for her dinner date, Erica padded barefoot downstairs and settled in the living room. She’d set up a video call with Yanny every four days to keep up to date with her future and to see where the world’s media had got with her ex-husband and new pregnant girlfriend. Switching into her work, reality had become depressing very quickly. With a deep sigh, she hit connect.

“Oh, thank the gods you’re here,” Yanny said, bursting onto the screen.

“I’ve never missed a meeting with you, Yanny. Why the panic?”

“I’m sorry. I had these nightmares last night. You cut yourself off completely, even from me. I cannot handle your life alone.”

“I don’t think I can handle my life alone either. Has it been awful?”

“Because they can’t get at you, they’re trying me, your agent, and your school friends. The press thinks you’re in hiding licking your wounds.”

“Do you think we should correct them?”

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