Page 63 of Possession Under the Southern Stars

“You’re going to have to stop making comments like that when we get back,” I point out, trying not to blush.

“What happens in Tauranga stays in Tauranga, right?”

“Don’t quote my own words at me.”

“I’m just saying. We have another whole night here.” He flicks his eyebrows up.

I stare at him. “Don’t even go there.”

“You didn’t enjoy the first round?”

I give him a wry look and eat a mouthful of the pastry. Oh my God, it’s so good that I can’t help but give a small moan.

He stops with his spoon halfway to his mouth and stares at me. “Don’t do that,” he scolds.

I turn the spoon over and suck the chocolate off, meeting his eyes. Two can play at his game. I’m not going to have him taunting me for the rest of the day and not do the same back.

Our eyes lock, and his hot gaze makes me think about what happened in the bathroom, how he sank to his knees, ducked beneath my skirt, then kissed up my thighs and slid his tongue into me. I hadn’t expected it at all, and I was shocked with how quickly he was able to bring me to a climax.

The warmth in his eyes suggests he’s thinking about it, too.

He leans closer to me and, his mouth right next to my ear, murmurs, “I want to t-taste you again.”

“Stop it.”

“I want to be inside you, Hallie.”

“I can’t… I don’t…” My brain’s not working.

“Tell me you’ll spend the n-night with me.”

“No!”

“Just one more night.”

“Absolutely not!”

“Imagine all the fun we c-could have.” His breath is hot on my ear. His stutter only confirms his desire for me.

This guy makes me feel like a profiterole left out in the sun. I’m melting from the inside out, turning to a puddle of warmed chocolate and cream.

“Fraser, stop. Please.”

He moves back a little, looks up and sees Abby watching us with a grin, and chuckles as he returns to finishing off his dessert.

I try to concentrate on my profiteroles, but it’s impossible. He wants to sleep with me again? I shouldn’t. I mustn’t. I need to be the bigger person here and make the right decision for both of us. If we go to bed together tonight, it’s going to make it harder to return to our normal lives. Last night was an aberration, a freak lapse of concentration, a shooting star that burned with brief brilliance before it burned itself out. But if we do it again… it’ll suggest there’s something more between us, that we’re binary suns, doomed to spin around one another indefinitely until something knocks us out of orbit. Like Whina Cooper, for example.

I’m saved from having to continue the conversation by Adam approaching our table. “Hey,” he says, pausing by us with a smile. “I wondered whether the two of you would like to take a look at the letters now?”

My pulse picks up speed as Fraser says, “Yes, of course.” We’ve both finished our desserts, and we rise and let him lead us across the busy lawn toward the veranda.

“Isabel’s taking a phone call,” Adam says as we mount the steps. “So I thought we’d take the opportunity of her absence.”

“Did she… ah… tell you about our… um… conversation?” Fraser asks.

Adam glances at us. “That’s none of my business,” he says curtly. “I’m only concerned with the letters and my father’s legacy.” He leads the way inside.

It sounds as if she did tell him, which is embarrassing, but clearly he doesn’t care. Perhaps Isabel tried to influence his view of us by telling him, and he resented her attempt at manipulation.

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