Page 37 of One Forbidden Night In Paradise (Hot Winter Escapes)

He jerked backwards and Jemima’s eyes met his, the pupils flaring with shock and a hunger that matched the need galloping through his body. Which would be fine except that they were five hundred feet under water in a bubble of air. Breathing out shakily, he moved the joystick fractionally and the sub slowed, then came to a quivering stop.

There was a flush of pink along her cheekbones. ‘I don’t remember anything about that in the safety protocol talk.’

He shook his head. ‘No, I’m pretty sure kissing your co-pilot is not standard procedure.’

His heart thudded as she reached out and pressed her hand flat against the front of his shorts, feeling the hard length of him. ‘I think it might be time to go back up to the boat.’

‘I think so too,’ he said hoarsely.

They made it to the cabin. Just.

They didn’t take off their clothes. As he opened the door to her cabin, she grabbed his hand and pulled him inside and he caught her by the waist, spinning her round and back against the door, bringing his mouth down on hers with a hunger that made her gasp. And then he was pushing her dress above her waist, sliding on a condom and thrusting into her, both of them still standing. It was fast and hard. Sex at its most basic and her climax was so intense that he had to hold her against him to keep her upright.

It was natural to feel this desperate, he told himself as he watched her sleep. There was a clock ticking. The credits were going to roll on this episode with Jemima as soon as the beach house was fixed. And she was feeling it too; that was why there was this tension between them and why he had snapped at her. So although it felt as if her talking about her ex had changed things between them, it was just that this wanting Jemima, wanting someone specific, hadn’t happened in such a long time and it was knocking him off balance.

Why else would he have ended up telling her about those divers?

His spine tightened as he imagined their shock and terror as they broke through the surface. It made him remember Frida and his own shock and the agony of understanding that she was gone and that he was alone too. Only for him it was an aloneness that would last for ever.

And yet, being with Jemima in the sub all those metres below the surface he’d felt, not alone, but connected so that he had thought about telling her the truth. But then he had come to his senses.

She had got upset, and in the moment she had needed to share something about herself, and that was fine but there was no need to reciprocate.

Not outside bed anyway.

They spent the rest of the day relaxing. Or rather she relaxed on a sunlounger and Chase joined other members of the crew to hop the waves on his custom-built jet ski. Watching him perform a series of faultless back flips and barrel rolls, Jemima wondered drowsily if he ever ran out of energy. He seemed to have endless stamina.

Her eyes fixed on where he sat on the jet ski, his hair salt-tangled and bright in the sun’s dazzle of clear gold, water trickling down his muscular torso. It didn’t seem possible but she wanted him again, wanted him now.

Just as if he could hear her thoughts, Chase looked up at the yacht, his green gaze tearing into her, and she felt an excruciating, irresistible tug low in her pelvis. She could imagine his hands on her stomach, her hips, between her thighs.

Watching him turn the jet ski towards theMiranda, she felt her pulse leap in her veins. Soon she wouldn’t have to use her imagination. That was the upside of this arrangement.

And the downside?

She bit into her lip. She wasn’t allowing herself to think about that right now. She was living for the present. Enjoying every moment while she could. And there was a lot to enjoy, she thought, her stomach cartwheeling as Chase walked out onto the owner’s deck.

‘I thought we might head out to deeper water tomorrow.’

Looking up at him, Jemima frowned. ‘I thought the sub only went down two hundred metres.’

They were lying in each other’s arms, bodies twitching and spent.

When they’d returned to the cabin earlier, they had stripped and showered and she had taken him in her mouth with the water cascading down her back. Finally they’d made it to the bed. Capturing her wrists, he had lowered himself between her legs, taking his time, making her wait, waiting for her to beg.

And she had begged, crying out his name, rocking against his mouth, her body losing shape, weightless suddenly and adrift, thighs shaking as her orgasm hit.

‘So you were listening to me earlier.’ Lifting her chin, Chase kissed the corner of her mouth and worked his way to the other side. ‘You’re right, it does, but theEurybiacan go another three hundred metres.’

Five hundred metres. That was deep. Even just thinking about it made her feel breathless. Then again, she was still trying to catch her breath from before, she thought, nestling in closer to Chase. His name suited him. With his latent muscularity and smooth, tanned skin, there was something of a hunter about him.

Although she was as greedy for him as he was for her.

She had no words to describe what it was like to explore his beautiful body with such unthinking freedom, or how his touch made her feel, just that she felt happier than she could ever remember feeling, calmer too. And safe. Her heart slipped sideways a little. She had never felt safe before with any of the men she’d dated. She had always been on edge, waiting like Chicken Little for the sky to fall on her head. Except that made it sound as though her life was filled with drama.

And sometimes it was, but mostly it was less attention-grabbing, more quietly exhausting. A kind of slow-motion panicky treading of water to keep from going under, and a feeling of being incredibly alone.

Her throat tightened and she remembered Chase talking about the divers. Picturing the two men bobbing in a wide expanse of blue, that random glint of silver, she shivered.

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