Page 11 of One Forbidden Night In Paradise (Hot Winter Escapes)

She took a step towards him; in doing so she was saying yes. But it wasn’t enough. He was right: she had to say it out loud.

‘Okay, then. No questions. No conversation. You don’t need to know anything about me and I don’t want to know anything about you. All I’m looking for is a one-night stand.’ It was what she had promised to do back in England. But she wasn’t just doing it for Holly. Now that she was here with this beautiful, sexy stranger, she was doing it for herself. ‘I want to get naked with you, now, tonight. Is that clear enough?’

The words sounded so blunt, so explicit. She had never spoken like that to anyone in her life and his slow, hot glance trapped her breath in her throat.

There was a hair’s breadth of space between them. Tipping back her chin, he stared into her eyes and then his head dipped, his mouth grazed hers and yet there was something fierce beneath it, something hot and dangerous, something that made her melt on the inside. And then he fitted his lips to hers, kissing her hard, a searing kiss, open-mouthed, urgent; a kiss that stole her breath, robbed her of reason, rendered her helpless as he slid one hand around her waist, the other through her hair, his lips and tongue urgent now, his body a hard press against hers.

She arched against him, her hips meeting his, wanting more, skin tingling, blood pulsing hot and fast.

He made her want so much. She could have been anywhere in the world. Truthfully, she could be out in space, drifting among the stars. As soon as his lips had met hers, she was aware of nothing but his kiss.

Pinpricks of light exploded like sparklers inside her head. His desire was so raw, so unfiltered it knocked her off balance, and yet she wanted it all. She wanted him.

His hand dropped from her hair to her collarbone, fingers slipping beneath the dress to find hot, bare skin, making a shivery, tortuous pleasure spiral up inside her. Lips parting, she moaned against his mouth.

He wrenched his mouth from hers, his hands gripping her elbows as she swayed forward. For a moment, he seemed to hesitate, and something rippled over his face—shock, confusion—as when a breeze lifted the surface of a lake, and then it was gone as quickly as it came.

‘Let’s get out of here,’ he said hoarsely.

‘And go where?’ she whispered, panic mingling with desire.

‘Your place. Or mine.’

Her place? She tried to picture Chase in Joan Santos’s tiny house. And then there was the morning. How did that work?

‘It’s probably easier to go to yours.’

He leaned forward and his mouth covered hers again. His eyes were dark, his expression intense. ‘My place it is, then.’

He had a motorbike. Of course, he did, she thought as he buckled up her helmet. Leaning onto his strong back, her arms wrapped around his waist, she felt as if she were floating. Blood was beating in her ears and the air streamed past her, dark and cool like water.

His place turned out to be a boat. She waited as he unlocked the gate to the private jetty, and then he took her hand and helped her on board.

Inside, moonlight was streaming through the windows of his cabin. A book lay on the bed, its cover arching up like the roof on a house, and she felt a pinprick of shame at her earlier prejudice, and then she felt his hand in her hair, lifting it away from her neck, and a wall of need slammed through her as his lips found the pulse beating frantically behind her ear.

Dragging in a breath, she turned to face him and kissed him hungrily, her desire making her confident as she realised that with anonymity came mind-blowing freedom.

This was right. This was what she wanted. He was what she wanted. There were no promises to break; no hopes to dash. There was nothing but need—her need for his hard body inside her. A need she saw reflected in those dazzling green eyes.

She ran her hands over his chest, loving the feel of the hard smooth muscles, awed by the difference between them. She could see the hunger in his eyes, the dark flush on his cheekbones. Excitement surged through her and she tugged his shirt over his head, swallowing hard as she saw his bare chest, and the outline of his erection pressing against the fabric of his shorts.

Her mouth was dry; breath trapped in her throat.

She was so ready to start that she was shaking with desire and, hooking her fingers into the waistband of his shorts, she slid them down over his hips.

He sucked in a breath, muscles tensing and, head spinning, she stared at him in silence.

Oh, my goodness.

He was big and hard...very hard.

‘Take your clothes off,’ he said softly. ‘I want to see you naked.’

It was a command, not a request, and the heat in his voice licked at her skin like flame. With hands that shook slightly she undid the belt of her dress and let it slide from her shoulders. His pupils flared but he didn’t look away from her face and she kept her eyes trained on his.

Now she undid her bra and dropped it to the floor.

‘Stop,’ he said hoarsely, and she stood there, her nipples tightening, breasts aching. For a second he stared at her, breathing unsteadily, eyes glittering in the moonlight, face taut with concentration, saying nothing. Just waiting, the electricity between them tangible.

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