Blind Passion

by Bronwyn Stuart

  She wasn’t cowed by his tone. She’d been screamed at before and this wasn’t serious mental screaming. Plus there was the fact that she knew he was all bark. Heat suffused her body at the thought of whether or not he would bite. Being bitten by his gorgeous mouth, his teeth nibbling her sensitive skin, would be good. Too good.

  She silently stood her ground.

  A thought came to him. She could tell by the way his shoulders relaxed, his succulent lips turned up in a sly grin and he braced his feet hip width apart on the threshold.

  “Very well,” he conceded, his hands going to the waistband of his shorts.

  “What are you doing?” she stammered. What was he playing at now?

  “I told you I have a knot and you don’t want to find me a pair of scissors. I need help,” he played on her words.

  He held his shorts away from his body by a centimetre and showed her the tangled, knotted cord. And so much more. The ridges of his stomach kept going all the way down, meeting dark hair curled against even darker underwear riding low. Real low.

  “Why don’t you go back to your room and take them off, I’ll fix them in the morning.” That had to better than whatever was happening now. She still wasn’t sure exactly what that was.

  ~

  “Don’t you think if I could have taken them off I would have?” He couldn’t believe it. She thought he’d contrived the situation? To be standing there at 2:00am having this absurd conversation with her? She started this by not just helping him in the first place. She would just have to live with the consequences.

  “I’ll just go and find you a pair of scissors,” she said hastily, trying to get past him but he stood his ground.

  “No.”

  “No?” Her gulp was audible.

  “You said you could fix it.” He repeated her words slowly.

  “That was before I...I...”

  “You what?” he challenged her, his voice dropping another notch down. Way down.

  “I...I...” What was she supposed to say? That she didn’t want to be on her knees in front of this man? Any man? That being this close to him was causing liquid heat to pool in her abdomen? That it had been so long since she had been intimate with a man that she yearned for it with such an intensity that it was beginning to scare her.

  “I can’t.”

  “While they are very comfy, do you think I want to sleep in these shorts?” he asked her.

  “No.”

  “Well..?”

  “Fine,” she snapped. Blast the man and his blasted knot.

  She was still muttering as she knelt down in front of him and took the two ends of the cords from his fingers. After a few moments she started to concentrate, really concentrate on the knot. He had it tangled good and proper. She started to wonder if he had done it deliberately. When it came to common sense, every day menial tasks, like tying your shoelaces for example, most of the populace could do it with their eyes closed so how had he managed this?

  She asked him the question and then watched him squirm as he thought of his answer. Was he embarrassed again or was he trying to come up with a believable explanation? She couldn’t tell from way down here.

  “I honestly couldn’t remember if I had tied a double knot or single and so when I tried to untie it, it just got more and more tangled.”

  “Why all the uproar?”

  He sighed. “I tend to get frustrated easily, especially when I am being defeated by something as worthless as a pair of scissors.”

  “I wouldn’t be insulting an inanimate object right at the time you want them,” she chuckled, finally seeing some humour at being on her knees. “We still may need to cut these things off you.”

  He tensed as her fingers brushed the skin below his belly button. The rigid muscles of his abdomen stole her attention as her words slowly penetrated the sensual fog roiling around them, enveloping them, consuming them. Brandan reached out and gripped the doorframe, steadying himself. It was annoying that he couldn’t stand still in front of her, but his centre of gravity seemed a bit off since he’d lost his vision. As he swayed her fingers lightly brushed his cock through the offending shorts. He gritted his teeth, his knuckles turning white as his grip intensified on the door frame to stop himself from tangling his fingers in her hair and freeing his erection into her warm, moist mouth.

  “Sorry,” she muttered. She should have just let it go, shouldn’t have even acknowledged the touch that now had her heart thumping in her chest and her lower abdomen beating an answering response. She squeezed her knees together and willed the hunger to abate.

  “All done,” she stated and jumped away from him. Away from his heat, his erection, his lure.

  As plain as the nose on his face, she could see his shorts tenting at the front, straining for release. A release she couldn’t give him.

  “Soph-” he started.

  “I think it’s time to go to bed,” she cut him off, her voice not as firm as she would have liked.

  “Me too.” He practically purred. He wasn’t supposed to take that as an invitation.

  “Is there anything else you need?” She mentally kicked herself. Why would she go and ask him something like that when it was clear that he did need something. He was still standing there, a wolfish grin on his face, braced in the doorway.

  He let his hands drop to his sides and took a step into her room. “What did you have in mind?”

  God, he sounded so good and so bad. He looked sinful. He had the body of an angel and the seductive voice of the devil. For a split second she nearly gave in. Why not indulge if they both knew it could go nowhere? They were consenting adults.

  No!

  It was like the two sides of her conscience were sitting on her shoulders, whispering in her ears. One side of her wanted. Wanted so badly she considered throwing herself into his waiting arms, impaling herself on his incredibly large, if the bulge was anything to go by, cock, worrying about the consequences tomorrow. The other side whispered she didn’t need this. Didn’t need the hassle of another man infatuated with her beauty to think of her as nothing more than a bed toy. She didn’t need the awkwardness, the stilted silences sure to follow, the uncomfortable conversations that were inevitable.

  “I can’t.” She wouldn’t beat about the bush with him. She didn’t want him to misunderstand in any way that she meant no.

  “You can’t?” Was there an echo in the room? They were both forever answering questions with questions.

  Brandan took her hand in his, raising it to his lips, kissing each finger one by one. She could have resisted, moved away from him as he came near. It wasn’t as though he could chase her around the room. She should resist but her brain went into a meltdown at the first kiss from his hot, artful lips.

  He put her hand on his shoulder and reaching out, gripped her hips and pulled her closer, grinding his growing erection against her stomach. His hands once again meandered a slow path up her sides but this time he didn’t stop at her ribs, he kept going, brushing his thumbs over her lightly clad breasts. She groaned as her nipples pebbled in immediate response.

  “Still can’t?” He murmured in her ear as he nipped her lobe playfully. His hands wandered back down to her hips as he cupped her bottom and lifted her, kissing her collarbone and the pulse point on her neck. Her heart raced. She couldn’t seem to find the words to stop him, to make her hands push him away. It felt so good to be this close to another human being. She wrapped her legs around his hips, kissing him with an urgency she hadn’t known existed. Her fingers framed his jaw and her breasts pushed against his chest wishing she wasn’t wearing any singlet at all. Breathing got difficult as their passions took over and Sophie couldn’t think of anything except for the wonderful feeling of being nearly skin to skin with him.

  “Do you always walk around with no pants on?” he asked her breathlessly, breaking the kiss and leaning his bandaged forehead against hers while his fingers moulded her backside.

  His words snapped her out of the
sensual haze he’d pulled over eyes. She pushed with both hands until he released her, slowly sliding her down the length of his body to her feet, still held in the circle of his arms.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, but he didn’t let her go.

  “I just can’t.” What a lie! Her brain screamed as her body still reacted to being in his arms.

  “I understand.”

  “Do you?” She would have given nearly anything to be able to look into his eyes.

  “Your husband attacked you. I understand betrayal like that takes a while to get over.”

  “That’s not it. You don’t get it.” She stepped away, resisted the immediate urge to go straight back into his arms, to tell him she’d reconsidered and she wanted him to lay her down on the bed and take her away from this world.

  “Then tell me, Sophie.”

  “I can’t,” she said again and again. How was she supposed to tell him something that she hadn’t even told her closest friends, that until the next part of the trial she didn’t even want to think about, let alone share.

  “You can, it will help for you to talk about it.”

  “I appreciate what you’re doing, well sort of, but I just can’t do it. Any of it. I’m sorry.”

  He sighed, reluctance like a dead weight between them, dragging them both down. “It’s okay,” he assured her. “I’ll be here when you’re ready.”

  “Thanks.” She lifted onto her toes and kissed him lightly on the cheek.

  “Goodnight, Brandan,” she said sternly when he put his hands on her hips again.

  “Goodnight Sophie,” he chuckled, letting go. “See you in the morning.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Brandan went back his room and fell face down on the bed almost falling off the side when he misjudged where he stood. It was bad enough he was in the dark but now he was frustrated as well and it had nothing to do with not being able to find a damned pair of scissors. He supposed he had asked for it, challenging her to undo his knot. All he’d achieved was to let her tie him in knots. He groaned as his erection dug into his stomach uncomfortably causing a multitude of hurts. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d responded to any woman but Sophie he’d known for less than twenty-four hours and already he was not only aroused but he was painfully aware of the lingering memory of how her semi-naked body had felt, her legs wrapped around his waist, her breasts pressed to his chest and the little moaning noise she made that almost had him throwing her down on the floor and having his way with her then and there, caveman style. He could still smell her fresh scent as it lingered on his skin.

  For the millionth time he cursed his unlucky presence on that building site yesterday. If only he’d sent someone else, if only the flight had been cancelled or traffic had delayed him. But then he wouldn’t be here now, they wouldn’t be here now.

  How could he feel cheated when he got to spend time in her company, hear her tinkly laugh, bear the brunt of her sassy attitude? The knot in his gut tightened again.

  He wanted her. There was no question there, but how to have here without scaring her off? Her ex had obviously done quite a number on her. She’d trembled in his arms tonight and he doubted it was only her sexual response that was to credit.

  He was such an inconsiderate oaf. What happened to not touching her? He’d vowed to himself he wasn’t going to go near her just in case the bastard had attacked her sexually but then what does he go and do? He practically barges into her bedroom like a barbarian.

  What a mess. He could only hope when he woke up in the morning she would still be there and still talking to him. He didn’t want his actions to make her do anything hasty. He wouldn’t forgive himself if something bad happened to her.

  A fierce desire to protect her had soared higher every hour he spent with her. He didn’t find that so strange, every time he thought of his sister, protectiveness rose in him but this was different. This feeling, while he couldn’t put a finger on it, was different. Perhaps it was a control thing. The fact he had none in this situation grated badly.

  It didn’t matter who she was or what kind of trouble she was in. It didn’t even matter if she told him about it, if she accepted his advances or not. She was a woman and she was in trouble. He would show her that chivalry was not dead.

  He would protect her.

  As much as a blind man in lust could.

  Chapter Twelve

  Morning dawned bright and beautiful, birds sang, tourists were already out and about seeking their breakfast. Revellers made their way back to their homes and hotels and early morning surfers were making the best of the roiling ocean.

  Sophie watched it all from the balcony that ran the length of the suite, detached from the happy faces, the freedom, from the already warm morning. She took another sip of her scalding, heavily sugared coffee and wondered why she was still there. She should have run for the hills as soon as the sun rose but with no money and her life in danger where would she go? She had no friends here, no family, no car.

  The whole situation was becoming messier and messier. Why had he kissed her? Why had she kissed him back? She knew why, because he’s gorgeous and sinfully, superbly male from his curly dark hair down to the tips of his pale toes. He was temptation incarnate and it was getting harder to resist. But she had to. How could she get involved with any man, no matter how briefly, when she was an emotional train-wreck? In the end, regret would be the only emotion to linger since nothing could come of it.

  Perhaps she should get him a bell. Then he could ring it when he needed something and she could hide out in her room for the next few days. The last thing Sophie needed was to be in his continuous company. It wouldn’t put him off though. It would probably make things worse, turn her into the one thing the ‘rich man’ couldn’t have. Everyone knows what happens when you want something you can’t have, it makes you even more determined to have it. It makes you ruthless.

  Sophie drained her cup and turned around to go back inside when she came hard up against a purely male wall. He must have been standing very close behind her and she’d been so caught up in her daydreams that she hadn’t heard him coming.

  When his hands shot out to steady her, one on her arm and the other landing on her hip, his touch was like a spark igniting her nerves and making her hot from the inside out. She gasped and stepped back only to come up against the railing, the coffee cup fell from her hand and smashed on the tiled surface at her feet.

  “Are you alright?” he asked her.

  “Don’t move. You don’t have any shoes on,” Sophie said, stating the obvious. Of course he knew he didn’t have any shoes on. Once again she sounded like an idiot.

  “What the hell were you doing?” he practically shouted at her.

  “I was minding my own business,” she snapped in response.

  “You should watch where you’re going.”

  “And you shouldn’t sneak up on people.” She knew it wasn’t a fair thing to say but she felt more at ease with the angry, arrogant Brandan than the seductive man from last night.

  “How the hell was I supposed to know you were there? You should have warned me, I could have knocked you over the edge of the balcony.”

  “There’s still time,” she muttered, scraping the shards of the coffee cup into a pile against the wall.

  “I do not push defenceless woman from balconies,” he stated, crossing his arms over his bare chest.

  For a minute Sophie stared, remembered, wanted, then had to shake her head to free the image and the yearning. “Who says I’m defenceless?”

  “I didn’t mean literally. Why, are you armed? A butcher’s knife in your pocket? A gun tucked into the back of your waistband?” he asked sardonically.

  “You watch too many movies. If I had a gun do you really think I would have to hide it? I could paint my body bright red and wear a polka-dotted hat and you wouldn’t know.”

  Instead of the anger she thought would be forthcoming at her jibe he burst out laughing, that r
umbling laughter that seemed to come from right down deep inside him.

  “What’s so funny?” Sophie asked, fury roiling inside her to match the waves smashing on the sand across the road.

  “I was just thinking how a cheerleader would look as a clown.”

  “Hmm.” Sophie tried to scowl and hold on to her anger but it was too hard when he couldn’t stop laughing. She allowed herself a small smile and went back into the suite.

  “Did you have any plans today?” he asked from the balcony door.

  “I was thinking about doing nothing up by the pool.” How boring. How safe.

  “Well I was thinking we could get out and do something,” he said hopefully.

  “What did you have in mind?” She was cautious but it had to be stifling for him being stuck indoors. She was starting to get sick of it too. Perhaps he wanted to try a bit of blind windsurfing?

  “I thought we could go for a drive,” Brandan suggested.

  “Is Mick free?”

  “Don’t you drive?” There was a hint of a tone in his voice that could have been anger. Sophie chose to ignore it and repeated what she’d been telling him all along.

  “Yes, but I don’t have a car here.” Was he deaf too? Perhaps he hadn’t heard her when she said she was on holidays? She didn’t even live in this state.

  “I realise that,” he replied acerbically, their conversation starting to border on an argument over nothing again. “If you had all the money in the world, what would be your dream car? Ferrari, Porsche, Lamborghini?”

  “That’s silly. If I had all the money in the world, why would I drive myself and why couldn’t I have all three?” Her reply was a logical one. Didn’t everyone fantasise about what they would drive and where they would live every time they bought a lotto ticket?

  “Indulge me,” he pleaded.

  “Fine, I would have a convertible Jaguar, eight cylinders, seat warmers, the whole kit and caboodle.”

  “Anything else?” he asked with another heart stopping chuckle.

  “Well, maybe I would park a Lamborghini next to it.”