Page 30 of One Bed

Bea moaned and her eyes opened, locking with his. She looked a little confused, a lot turned on, rosy and lovely and feminine. He’d never wanted anyone more than he did her, right then.

It wasjustsex, his dick talking, it didn’t mean anything. He wouldn’t let it.

‘What are we doing, Gib?’

Her question, the same as before, and the turmoil in her voice, made him drop his hand and place it on her hip. Instead of answering her, he rested his forehead on hers and closed his eyes, trying to get air into his lungs. Bea scuttled back and pulled her dress back onto her shoulders, her eyes lowered and her long lashes casting shadows onto her cheek.

‘It’s so soon,’ she whispered, playing with the leather and steel bracelet on his right wrist. ‘I don’t… This is madness.’

He agreed. And he made it a point of never stepping into a situation he didn’t fully understand. He never made business deals unless he knew every facet of the agreement, and had sussed out every possible outcome. He only slept with a woman after he’d made it crystal clear he wasn’t in it for the long term, that a few dates, a few weeks –no going deep and getting personal –was all he could give.

It wasn’t the right time to discuss the parameters of their non-relationship, something that could only ever be a fling. She’d had a tough day and the huge yawn she’d just tried to hide, told him she needed sleep, and lots of it. They needed to drop the temperature and slow down…

People got burned when they rushed into fires.

Wrapping an arm around her, he stood up, and her legs fell from his hips. He slowly lowered her to the ground –she weighed next to nothing – and gently turned her around to zip up her dress.

‘Should I apologise?’ he asked, when she looked up at him.

He would if she demanded it, but she’d been as into their kiss as he was. When she shook her head, his respect rose. He liked women – people – who took responsibility for their actions.

Bea tucked her hair behind her ears and shoved her feet into her flip flops. ‘It’s been a very long day, and I need sleep. I didn’t get much last night.’

It wasn’t that late, just a little past eleven, and he rarely went to bed before one. He wasn’t a great sleeper –the last two nights had been the exception to the rule – and after years of practice, he could function just fine with three or four hours. But there were shadows under Bea’s eyes, and she looked pale.

She wasn’t drunk, a little tipsy maybe, but tiredness was a contributing factor. Her defences were down, and he should back away. He should give her some space, some time to think, and decide whether she wanted to sleep with him or not. If she was still awake when he got back, if she gave him the slightest encouragement, he’d have her naked so fast her head would spin. So would his.

But God, if she was in that bed asleep or pretending to sleep when he got back, the rest of his night would be hell. The last thing he wanted to do was to lie awake with a hard-as-fuck erection and watch her sleep.

But a hard dick wouldn’t kill him. He didn’t think. ‘I’m going to go for a walk, maybe even head into Oia and see if there’s a pub open.’

Gib didn’t think it possible to look relieved and disappointed at the same time, but Bea made it work. ‘Um, OK.’

He had no idea why her words held a hint of ice. ‘I’ll see you later?’Please be awake.

‘Sure.’

Something was wrong, but he had no idea what it could be. Did shewanthim to come back with her? And if so, for what? She said she was exhausted. Wasn’t that girl code for sex being off the table?

At sea, in a place he wasn’t familiar with – it pissed him off to feel as unsure as a fifteen-year-old trying to cop a feel –he watched Bea force a smile onto her face. ‘Have a good time. There’s a little pub near the big church, down the alley next to the bakery on the northeast corner of the square. Go there, they have a fabulous selection of beers on tap and a great wine list.’

Now she was playing Ms Tourist Guide? What the hell?

Bea surprised him by standing on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. ‘I’ll try not to wake you up in the morning.’

With that sally, she strode away in the direction of the cottage.

And he was left with the suspicion that something had shifted, but he had no idea what.

ChapterSeven

Men are pigs. All of them.

Bea stomped her way into the cottage and slammed the door behind her. She kicked off her shoes, sending one flip flop flying across the room. It landed on the table against the far wall, nearly knocking a blue-green bohemian vase to the floor.

She touched her lips, still able to taste Gib, still able to feel his hand on her breast. Everything stopped after he touched her boob…

And that wasn’t a surprise. How many arguments did she and Gerry have about her breasts? Or lack thereof. The tool often complained she had ‘boy boobs’ and demanded she get plastic surgery. Even if she’d wanted one, a breast enhancement was never an option when they could barely afford to pay rent and keep themselves fed.

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