Page 56 of The Last Resort
I wish I could kiss you right now.
Sensing it was better not to push Rachel into a corner, he resisted the temptation to brush his lips on her cheek.
She wants to be kissed, I can feel it in the air between us, but not tonight.
He’d caught her sneaking furtive looks at him all afternoon, when she didn’t think he was paying attention. Those stolen glances gave him hope that Rachel wanted what he wanted. For them to once again share the bone-deep joy of laying in one another’s arms.
Before they finally left the old ski lodge, he would win her back. Rachel would be spending her nights in his bed. And that was where she would stay.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Matthew hadn’t tried to kiss her tonight, and Rachel wasn’t entirely sure how she felt about it. Should she be annoyed that he’d stayed away, or should she be glad that he’d kept his distance?
“We were lovers.”
Yes, I should be happy he didn’t try anything.
“Lovers,” she murmured.
Are we over? Come on, Rach, make up your mind.
She’d set her boundaries. And now she was getting angry with herself. All because Matthew had done exactly what she’d asked and respected her wishes.
Picking up her toothbrush, Rachel set about cleaning her teeth. The simple act of brushing, should have helped to calm her mind, but her scattered emotions were just getting started.
A series of rapid fire questions began bouncing around in her brain. What would happen if she smashed those stupid self-imposed boundaries clean out of the park and went and knocked on Matthew’s bedroom door?
How much begging would it take to get him to strip hernaked? How good would it feel when he feasted on her body with his lips and tongue? Would she sob when he parted her legs and delved his finger, make that two, deep into her swollen sex? And when they were both past the point of rational thought, would she demand that he slide his hardened cock …
Rachel’s toothbrush landed in the bathroom sink with a clatter. She stared at it for a second or two through a lust filled haze, before finally retrieving it. Her hunger was rising hot and fast.
You need to lock this down. The Brocks are counting on me to salvage this place, not go riding the wild pony with a billionaire.
Under her T-shirt, Rachel’s nipples hardened. Down lower, her clit began to pulse. A thrumming beat of need. Any minute now she was going to throw caution to the wind and go bash down Matthew’s door and the instant it fell, go jump his bones.
It took some effort for her to finish brushing her teeth.
Since leaving the kitchen, she’d done her best to hide from him. A solid hour and a half cleaning the bathroom, and then dusting the surfaces of her bedroom had eaten up some time. Matthew had informed her he’d discovered a vacuum cleaner in one of the closets in the hallway, and Rachel’s space was now clean enough to consider it habitable.
It had taken a bit of effort to strip the bed of its ancient linens and wipe down the mattress before she felt brave enough to lay the sleeping bag on top. It wasn’t the Ritz Carlton, but it was cleanish. The room still had a dank smell about it, but with the outside temperature expected to get down to single digits overnight, opening a window wasn’t exactly an option.
She was exhausted. And horny. But if she didn’t get a good night’s sleep, she’d be in no fit state to deny her lustful desires come tomorrow. Matthew would be lucky if he got a “goodmorning” in before she attacked him. Rachel’s sexual desires were running rampant.
Think. Think. I wonder if Amazon does next day delivery out here.
A double-ended rose toy, with over four-thousand five-star ratings, had sat in her shopping cart for months now.
But what if my browser history gets tracked by the Royal Resorts satellite?
She wasn’t entirely certain that that was actually a thing, but she wasn’t going to risk it. She’d die if Matthew got wind of her buying something which offered ten different licking speeds. He might even take offence.
With a resigned sigh, Rachel pulled on a pair of leisure pants and an old ratty T-shirt. She could only pray that exhaustion would soon kick in and her sex cravings would also hit snooze.
Unzipping the sleeping bag, she climbed in. After zipping it closed, she lay staring up at the water damaged ceiling, cursing herself for not having turned off the light.
She’d never used a sleeping bag before, and it was borderline claustrophobic to be wrapped up so tight. Her arms could barely move.
I feel like an Egyptian mummy in this thing.
