Page 74 of One Bed

When they arrived back at the villa, she told him, quietly and with dignity, that she was going to spend some time with Golly and that she’d see him later. It was a quiet, dignified dismissal and he wasn’t surprised by her late return earlier.

‘Good night?’ he’d asked her.

She’d nodded, unable to meet his eyes. ‘Yes. You?’

‘Quiet.’ He nodded to the bedroom, needing to know. ‘Are you sleeping with me tonight?’

Her eyes slammed into his, bottomless pools of emotion, and for the first time since he’d met her, unreadable. ‘I’m sleeping in the bed, yes.’

Her ‘not with you’ was a silent shout.

He couldn’t deny it any longer, he’d fallen for her. And that was a surprise because he never allowed himself to do anything other than skim along the surface, to take pleasure where he could and then bow out. But while he loved making love to Bea – and making lovewaswhat they did –he was equally content to have her feet in his lap as she talked about anything. And nothing.

Shegothim. And he her. And he was fucking up something that could be amazing because he was a secretive son of a bitch. People thought he was so strong, a hardass, tough, business warrior but he knew he had no emotional resilience. He wasn’t even brave enough to get into the game. Bea’d fought a couple of tough rounds, and taken more than a few emotional punches, but she was still fighting, putting herself out there.

He was outside of the ring, watching, too much of a wuss to take a punch.

But how do you change something that is so deeply ingrained in you? How do you take a leap? Fuck, how do you even take that first step?

He rubbed his heart, feeling it beating deep inside his chest, conscious of the nagging ache. None of this was supposed to happen.

It was supposed to be a holiday, a time for him to recover from burnout, to re-centre and rest. But he’d run into Bea, and she’d flipped his world. She made him think, remember and feel.

He turned to walk over to his side of the bed and climbed under the covers. He reached out to touch her slim back. ‘Bea?’

‘Yes?’

He couldn’t lie in this bed without touching her. ‘Can I hold you?’

In the moonlight, he saw her shake her head. His heart sank, but then she reached back and, still facing the wall, placed her hand behind her on the bed, a silent but powerful invitation to take her hand.

He’d take anything he could get so he threaded his fingers through hers and held on tight.

* * *

The next morning Bea rolled onto her back when she heard Gib leave the bed. It was ridiculously early, a little past dawn. The sky was a cheerful pink, a happy pink, and Bea wished she felt the same way.

It was Saturday, and Gib was supposed to leave the island tomorrow. She so regretted opening that email from Merle and having that meltdown in front of him. If she’d ignored it, maybe she and Gib would’ve had a fantastic day on the beach, a romantic dinner, and would’ve spent last night and today chasing pleasure, and making memories.

But yesterday on the beach, when he told her he couldn’t talk to her or open up, he extinguished the fire between them, as easily as he would the flame on a candle. If she didn’t feel so much for him, if she wasn’t fathoms deep in love with him, she might’ve been able to carry on sleeping with him, to take what pleasure she could and then wave him goodbye.

But, as much as she wanted her hands on him, she couldn’t make love with him knowing her feelings ran so much deeper than his. Sex wasn’t enough, she needed more. Mostly, she needed him to trust her…

If he couldn’t allow her access to his heart, she couldn’t allow him access to her body. And no, she wasn’t playing games, she wasn’t trying to punish him, she simply knew the pleasure wouldn’t be worth the ensuing pain. When her orgasms faded, when her breathing settled down, he would still be unable to open up, to trust her enough to be vulnerable.

To love her. Because what was love without trust?

She watched as he pulled on a running vest and swapped his sleeping shorts for running shorts. He sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on socks, his broad back tight with tension.

They couldn’t keep ignoring each other , she wasn’t that strong. ‘I think I’m going to?—’

‘If you’re going to give me the cold shoulder?—’

Gib turned around to look at her, Bea scooted up the bed, and pushed her hand into her tangled hair.

He gestured for her to speak. Bea twisted the sheet in her fingers, looking past him to the lightening sky over the sea. ‘I think I’m going to move into the villa tonight.’

He turned back to pull his other shoe onto his foot and bent low to tie the laces. Standing, he placed his hands on his hips, a classic warrior pose, and faced her. ‘Don’t bother. I’m planning to leave today.’

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