by Ella Hayes
For a beat she held her breath, measuring the impulse that was stirring in her chest, then she turned, heading back to the house. She felt a connection with Joel, but she wasn’t clinging and it didn’t have to end in heartache. Heartache only happened if the heart was involved and her heart wasn’t. Joel did strange things to her pulse and his kiss was definitely the best thing she had ever tasted, but she could be strong, strong enough to push past all that. She didn’t need him, but she liked him. She liked his smile, liked the way he made her feel when he looked at her.
‘You’re in the Caribbean now. Go with the flow.’
She felt a smile edging on to her lips. Whatever it was that had started flowing with Joel was nice. He made her feel special and, maybe, if she hurried, she’d be able to make him feel special too...
* * *
‘Hey, Joel!’
Emilie! His heart lurched and his teeth crunched as his head struck the metal underside of the rear beam. ‘Skit!’
‘Oh, God! I’m sorry...’ Her voice was getting closer. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. Are you all right?’
He tested his jaw, glad that the hulls on either side of him and the trampoline above him were hiding his face. ‘I’m fine.’ He rubbed the top of his head hard. ‘Just...give me a second, okay?’ He snatched a breath, felt shame scorching a hole in his chest. He’d fled from the house first thing because he hadn’t been able to face her and now she’d come to him. He felt wrong-footed, awkward, ungallant.
‘What are you doing?’ There was a bright ring to her voice that sounded slightly forced.
‘Stowing the sails. I’m nearly done.’ He gritted his teeth and gave the mainsail a final shove before scooting clear of the platform and rocking back to his heels.
She was standing on the leeward side of the hull in loose denim cut offs and a white shirt, knotted at the waist, exposing a tantalising portion of smooth, taut midriff. Her hair was tied up loosely, tendrils blowing against the soft curve of her neck. He felt heat curling in his belly and pulsing in his groin.
She pushed her sunglasses up. ‘How’s your head?’
He touched the tender spot on his crown, hiding a wince with a smile. ‘I’ll live. It probably sounded worse than it feels.’
‘Actually...’ Her face brightened. ‘I’ve got some ice!’ She dropped to her knees and started unzipping a large cool bag which he hadn’t noticed until that very moment. Her eyes flicked up, holding his. ‘I also have lunch, so I hope you’re hungry...’
Uncertainty in her eyes, but she’d come anyway. He felt tenderness blooming in his chest. She was being strong, not letting what had happened come between them, and her strength was bolstering his own, giving him something to lean on. He felt a smile taking over his face as he ploughed towards her on his knees. ‘I’m not bothered about the ice, but I am hungry!’
Her eyes twinkled. ‘Just as well since I’ve radically upped the portion sizes!’ She smiled, handing him a folded-up tablecloth. ‘Could you spread that out?’
‘Sure!’ He toyed with the fabric. She was being breezy, but he could feel the ghost of their kiss shimmering in the air. He needed to exorcise it. The problem was, he didn’t know what to say. He unfurled the cloth, anchoring the edges while she plonked down plastic boxes, plates and cutlery. When she shot him a little smile, it suddenly struck him that maybe all he had to do was open himself out like the cloth, see what could be laid down on it. He inhaled a slow breath. ‘Emilie, do you want to talk about last night?’
Her hands stilled and then she looked up. ‘I do if you do.’ Her gaze was soft, filled with gentle curiosity.
He felt his shoulders loosening, his imaginary elevator taking him up a floor. This was already better, feeling that whatever place they were in, they were in it together. He slid a hand to the back of his neck, trying to forget the way she’d tasted, the way she’d wanted him. ‘I don’t want you thinking that I stopped because of you...because I didn’t want to...’
Her tongue touched her lower lip. ‘But you did stop.’
‘Because I can’t...’ Splinters and shards glittered inside his head. He swallowed. ‘I don’t know if I can trust myself any more.’
‘Yourself?’ She was frowning. ‘After what you’ve been through, I’d have thought that trusting someone else would be the hard part—’
‘But that’s the thing.’ He felt a wave of hopelessness. ‘I have a feeling that it’s me. That there’s something wrong with me...something I’m not seeing about myself.’
‘Joel...’ She was looking at him carefully. ‘What happened with your fiancée?’
He tuned in to the sound of the waves. What had happened was simple enough. It was the whole big before that he was struggling with now, the before that was coming in and out of focus, bending his brain, giving him an acid ache in his stomach.
‘Joel...?’
He blinked. Emilie had been so open about Tom and Rachel, but he didn’t have a story. There was no ruined business, no cheating partner, well, not exactly. He shrugged. ‘Nothing happened. Astrid realised that she didn’t love me enough to marry me, that’s all.’ He checked in with his heart, then carried on. ‘She thought that she was falling for my brother, Johan.’
‘What?’ Her eyes were wide, blazing into his. ‘That’s... It must have torn you apart.’
Like she’d been torn apart. That was what she was thinking. She was joining dots, finding ways to empathise with him because she was all feeling, all heart, but for some reason her kindness was making him feel like a fraud. He scooped up a handful of sand, tightening his fist around it. ‘It tore me up for a minute or so and then the tearing stopped!’ Saying it out loud was making his neck prickle. ‘I told you before, I feel like I’m in limbo. I’m dislocated.’ He bit down on his lip. ‘I’d thought that maybe it was the shock, but it’s been eight weeks now—eight weeks—and I’m still waiting to find out where it hurts.’
She was chewing her lip. ‘Were you together long?’
Why did that question make everything feel worse? He loosened his fingers, letting sand stream through his fist. ‘Since we were teenagers. Astrid was my first girlfriend.’ He dusted his hands together, felt his cheeks going warm. ‘I’m rather unworldly, I suppose.’
She blinked. ‘So am I.’ She reached two beers out of the cool bag and handed him a bottle opener. ‘How did you meet her?’
Another question that seemed to be stirring the acid in his stomach. He blew out a breath. ‘Astrid’s father, Karl, is Lars’s business partner, so our families are—’ he crossed his fingers ‘—like this! That said, I only got to know Astrid properly after her mother was killed in a car accident. Karl brought her to the island for the summer. She’s an only child. Maybe he thought that being with us would help.’
A shadow flitted across Emilie’s eyes. ‘You looked after her, didn’t you?’
His heart bumped. He’d never looked at it that way. He shrugged. ‘I think we just hung out because we both liked sailing.’ He opened the beers and they chinked bottles. ‘Anyway, that’s how it started.’ He tasted the beer, then swigged. Emilie’s eyes were on him, wanting more. Maybe talking would help. He peeled back a loose edge of the bottle label.
‘Astrid’s a lawyer, a specialist in construction law. She always intended to work for Larsson Lüning, but she was getting experience elsewhere in the meantime. Sadly, Karl has Parkinson’s disease and a few months ago his health deteriorated sharply, so Astrid had to step up and take her place on the Board.
‘She was working closely with Johan and I guess...’
Emilie’s eyes were glistening. ‘Rachel was my best friend; I still can’t believe she did what she did, but your brother...? That’s beyond bearable.’
He pictured Johan, larger than life, popular with his friends, fiercely loyal to the family and to the business. He shook his head. ‘They weren’t having an a
ffair, I know that. Johan is too straight, too loyal. It’s exactly as Astrid said it was. She was getting to know Johan, feeling things that made her question her feelings for me.’ He felt a sharp twist in his gut. ‘But even so, to lose the only woman you’ve ever loved, ostensibly to your brother, and to not feel broken...?’ His heart was thudding, drumming in his ears. ‘It makes you question yourself and everything you thought you knew. It makes you ask yourself—What have I been doing all this time?’ He pressed the bottle hard against his forehead. ‘Turns out I don’t know the answer, and if I don’t know, then how can I trust myself?’
* * *
Emilie ran the tip of her tongue over her lower lip. Joel was zipping up the cool bag, his strong forearms moving deftly, his biceps flexing. It was hard not to stare, hard not to remember the way those arms had felt around her. At least he’d put on a tee shirt before they’d started eating. It would have been impossible to swallow a single bite staring at his tanned muscular chest.
He looked up. ‘Street food on the beach! Genius! Thank you.’ His eyes flickered with something that made her pulse vibrate. ‘And...thank you for listening.’
Listening had been hard, seeing his pain, because she could see pain folding him in half, even though he said he was numb. And that pain was making her want to reach out and touch him, take it all away. The sea breeze was playing in his hair, blowing tangled locks into his eyes. She felt her fingers itching with the memory of its softness. Breathe. ‘You don’t have to thank me for listening. You listened to me too, remember...’
He smiled, then pushed the bag aside and moved closer. ‘So we’re still friends. We’re cool after last night?’
Maybe it was the alcohol, or the warmth of his gaze, but suddenly, the sand seemed to be shifting beneath her knees. She wanted to kiss him, taste his lips again. The words he’d spoken were spiralling around in her head. What have I been doing all this time? Tom had left four months ago, but he’d stopped reaching for her a long time before that and she’d stopped reaching for him too. How long had she been holding on to nothing? She felt tears scalding her eyes.
‘Hey...’ Joel’s hand covered hers, squeezing gently. ‘What’s wrong?’
Concern in his eyes, but there was something else too, something that seemed to be flowing out of him and she wanted to pull it around her shoulders, cocoon herself inside it. She rose on to her knees, looking into his eyes. ‘Joel, what are we doing?’
His hand shifted to her waist, a steadying grip that made her belly flutter. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean...’ Her pulse was pounding in her throat, but she couldn’t stop now. Something was taking hold of her, heat, longing, muscle memory from the night before. She touched his temples, running her fingers down his jaw, through the soft thatch of his beard.
‘Emilie...’ His voice was low, ragged around the edges. He was right on the ledge with her and she wanted them to fall, together. She wanted some sweetness. After all the pain they’d been through, was that so wrong?
She swallowed. ‘I’m tired of wasting time, Joel.’ Something flickered behind his eyes. Agreement? It was enough. She leaned in, kissing his upper lip first, tasting, lingering over its soft rub, then she kissed his lower lip, drawing the tender heat of it into her mouth until a groan rumbled from somewhere deep in his throat, then his mouth was taking over, his lips scorching hers, and she was being pulled on to his lap but still, even with his strong hand at her back drawing her in, she couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t make her heart beat fast enough.
‘Emilie...’ It was more of a gasp than a word and then he was lifting her, lowering her on to the sand, crashing down beside her. His leg slid over hers and then his hand was under her knee, hitching her leg higher and closer, until she could feel the full hard length of him pressing against her belly. Then his lips were on hers again, but it was a slower kiss now, tender, yearning, every stroke of his tongue fuelling a deep immeasurable longing in her belly.
She slipped her hand under his tee shirt, stroking his smooth warm skin, losing herself in his deepening kiss, and then his hand was roaming too, teasing her breast, sliding over her hip, cupping her rear and it was too much to be feeling, too much. Then his lips moved from her mouth to her neck, scorching a ragged path to her ear. ‘What are we doing, Emilie?’
She felt his heart pounding through her skin, saw the heat haze in his eyes, but there was no confusion there, only longing and something else that made it hard to breathe. Go with the flow. She buried her fingers into his hair, pulling him in again. ‘We’re going with the flow, giving our hearts and minds a rest from all the things we can’t fix.’
‘Going with the flow?’ The corner of his mouth lifted, dimpling his cheek. ‘I’m not sure that this is—’
‘Please, Joel. Don’t let’s think too hard.’ Was she really saying this? ‘Let’s live in the moment, no strings okay, just us, just this...’
He seemed to hesitate, then he was shifting his leg, rolling sideways.
Her heart caved. She drew her arms over her face, feeling exposed. Stung. What had she been thinking? No strings! She wasn’t a fling kind of person, or was she? There’d never been a chance to find out because she’d only ever been with Tom. Was going with the flow the same as playing around? Kissing Joel didn’t feel like playing around. It felt real, meaningful, but maybe that was her imagination, a reflection of her own neediness. He’d kissed her back, had seemed to want her, but—
‘Emilie!’
She sucked in slow breath, lowering her arms.
He was holding out his hand, eyes still blue and hazy. ‘Let’s go.’
She bit her lip. ‘Where?’
He smiled. ‘Anywhere that’s private and sand-free.’
CHAPTER NINE
EMILIE SMILED FOR the hundredth time and she was glad that Joel couldn’t see because it was a silly, giddy, smile with raggedy, wobbly edges. That was what two mind-blowing hours in bed with him had done to her. She felt the slow spread of a luxurious tingle. Maybe regret would come when the tingling stopped, but thinking about that was impossible when he was behind her, planting kisses into her hair. She nestled against his chest, lifting her toes to turn on the tap. ‘Does this feel decadent to you?’
He shifted a little, then his warm breath was filling her ear. ‘Lying in the bath with a beautiful woman...in the middle of the afternoon...in the Caribbean...?’ His lips grazed the skin behind her lobe. ‘I would say so.’
She twisted so she could see his face, felt her heart skipping. ‘Are you happy?’
‘Yes...’ His eyes were hazy. ‘It’s a long time since I’ve felt like this.’
This? She snuggled back against him. She wouldn’t ask. Couldn’t! Asking him to pin feelings to what they’d just shared would be going against the no strings spirit. No strings! Her stomach dipped. What had she instigated? She wasn’t remotely casual about relationships and Joel wasn’t a player. He’d called himself unworldly—not that she’d have guessed it from the way he’d made love to her—and yet, on the beach, in the heat of the moment she’d scribbled out a script for them to follow—go with the flow—and he’d followed without too much encouragement. The thing was, not to read anything into that.
She pressed her lips together. Giving in to the attraction they’d been feeling was probably inevitable because they were in the same boat, damaged goods, looking for comfort. She spun the tap with her toes, shutting off the flow. She’d opened a casual door, but sifting through Joel’s looks and words, looking for deeper meanings, wasn’t going to help her close it again, even if the look in his eyes had stilled her heart.
‘If you like him and he likes you, then enjoy it for what it is.’
Melinda’s wisdom! What this was, was a fling. That was how she’d sold it to Joel, so she’d have to put a chain around her heart because her heart was going to be her biggest problem. On the beach, when Joel had
been talking about Astrid and his brother, she’d felt it flowing out to him in great big waves, but she’d have to curb that instinct. Fantastic sex was one thing, but imagining that it could lead to anything more, hoping that it could, would be like putting her hand in the fire. She’d been burnt badly enough with Tom and she couldn’t put herself through that again. She liked Joel, liked the way he made her feel, but this was a band aid, a temporary friendship...with benefits!
She closed her eyes, breathing in slowly. This moment was only this: it was the firmness of his body; it was the sweet smell of the oils she’d added to their bath; it was his fingers tracing a line down her arm. Those were the sensations she could believe in, the things she could cling to if she must, but she couldn’t ask for more, hadn’t thought she wanted more... She pushed the thought away and picked up his hand. ‘You’re going wrinkly!’
He shifted a little. ‘Well, we have been in here for a while.’
She turned round, kissing his chin. ‘Maybe we should get out before we dissolve.’
His eyebrows arched. ‘I could think of worse ways to go.’
‘Dissolving?’ She scrunched up her face. ‘Ugh!’
He was straightening his legs, forcing her upwards, eyes full of mischief. ‘I meant dissolving into you.’
Maybe it was already happening. Her thighs felt as though they were melting into his, melting into the warm fragrant water swirling around them.
His eyes were darkening. ‘I think we should give it a try.’ His hands were sliding under her behind, easing her closer. She felt the dizzy drag of desire, felt his lips grazing hers. Her breath hitched. Straddling him, skin to skin, in the warm, deep water was stealing her focus, overloading her senses. It was too much... Almost! She smiled for the hundredth and second time, then kissed him back slowly. ‘Okay.’
