Her head dropped to the side, her forehead puckering in thought. ‘Do you think that I’m going to judge you?’
‘It’s not what most people want.’
* * *
Butterflies dancing in her stomach, Toni tried to gather her thoughts. He was opening up to her again. Earlier he had told her about his mother and now this...she should be pleased and she was...but she was also scared. Not only of messing up by saying something that would drive him back into silence, but also as to what it meant was between them. She wanted honesty and openness, but it would make everything between them more intense and significant. And even harder to say goodbye. But she did want to know him...and he, her. She wanted a true connection with him, no matter if it was for only a few days. ‘Maybe most people don’t know what they want. Maybe they haven’t stopped and really thought about what makes them happy and simply follow what society tells us what being happy looks like. When I was with Dan, if I was asked at the time, I would have said that I was happy. I had a great career, money, a nice home and a relationship. But now I realise that it was what I wanted to believe rather than what was true. At the start I did love Dan...but that had ebbed away years before we split.’ She swallowed again, thinking about how their love life had been practically non-existent.
‘So why did you stay together?’
‘Habit.’ She glanced away and cringed. ‘Plus a little pleading on my part.’
His eyebrow shifted up in question. She couldn’t believe she was admitting this. She hadn’t even told Alice, too embarrassed by her own neediness. ‘Dan broached the idea of us splitting up a few times but I laughed off the suggestion.’ She clasped her hands against her burning cheeks. ‘Where was my dignity? I used to make a joke of it all by telling Dan that we were destined to grow old together. I couldn’t face being alone. It terrified me.’
He shifted towards her and gently asked, ‘Why?’
For the longest while she could only stare at the hollow in his throat, the patch of dark skin where his shirt was open, and below that the long line of pale buttons of his shirt, a desire for his warmth, his touch making her light-headed. And then, cringing again, she met his eyes and answered, her laugh empty even to herself, ‘Because sometimes I long for security...to feel safe. It’s not great...but at least I now recognise that I can be that way and hopefully can avoid falling into the trap of an unhealthy relationship again.’
‘Why did you stop loving Dan?’
She wrinkled her nose. It had just happened. She hadn’t put much thought into it. ‘He’s incredibly smart and driven...but horribly disorganised and forgetful. Even worse than me. And as he became more successful, he became more stressed out. We used to have horrible arguments. I’d try to get him to chill out over whatever was worrying him, because in truth I couldn’t handle the tension, and he’d just get more stressed out. The worse the arguing became, the more we socialised to forget about it all.’ She shook her head. ‘I hate arguments.’
‘Why?’
She arched her neck, the low sounds of the flamenco guitar sending a shiver up her spine despite the warmth of the night. ‘I...’ she swallowed, tried to laugh ‘... I told you that I’m thin-skinned and I wasn’t joking. I hate the idea of arguing because I have a morbid fear of upsetting others, that they might think less of me or might not want me around any more.’
‘Would you really want those people in your life though, if they couldn’t respect your point of view?’
She rolled her head side to side, trying to find a better way to explain herself. ‘I guess what I’m trying to say is that I like feeling safe in my relationships, whether that’s with friends, family or romantically. My mum always struggled financially when I was growing up. She’s an artist but would take on temporary jobs to tide us over. I never knew when she’d get home from work. I spent a lot of my evenings alone. I hated being on my own. I guess that’s why I struggle to be alone now. In my teens I used to hang out at my friends’ houses and when I met Dan at university we immediately moved in together. In hindsight I can see that I was desperate to be with someone, to not feel alone.’
‘What about your dad?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, he came and went. He was an artist too. My parents met at art college. He moved around a lot. He lived in Italy and then France. He used to visit us sometimes and even persuaded my mum several times to give their relationship a go again. But it never worked out. They used to argue over money...and the other women in his life. Sometimes I’d go to bed and the next morning he’d have disappeared again.’
‘And do you see him now?’
‘He died five years ago in France. We only found out when his then partner wrote to my mum from France a few weeks after his funeral.’
Ivo grimaced. ‘I’m sorry.’
She shrugged. ‘I would have gone to his funeral if we had known. He wasn’t a great dad...but he was my dad.’
For a moment Ivo dropped his head as though studying his clasped hands that were lying on the table before him. When he looked back up she was undone by the compassion in his eyes. ‘Wanting security, to want to feel safe in your relationships, is understandable.’
She gave him a wry smile. ‘Yes, but not when it’s the only reason to stay in a relationship. Dan and I were together for ten years...it should have ended long before it did.’ Wanting to divert the heat of the conversation away from herself, she asked, ‘How about you—have you had many relationships?’
‘Nothing that lasted more than a few months.’ Gesturing to their empty glasses, he said, ‘Let’s go.’
As they made their way down to the beach, slowly negotiating the dark path, he took hold of her hand. Her heart swooned at its reassuring warmth, how it sealed the intense connection between them. Nearing the end of the path, he pulled her to a stop and stared at her for long moments. Her heart began to pound, the beauty of the moonlit beach adding to the sense of magic whirling in the air. He gave her a tender smile. ‘You should be in a relationship.’
Her heart in her throat, she desperately waited for him to say more. But nothing came. Why did he say things like that and not follow it up with details and explanations? How could he so calmly and unemotionally make such a pronouncement while holding her hand, the memories of lying together on the beach today binding them together?
She pulled her hand away from his, her frustration with him spilling over. ‘Why?’
And who with?
‘With the right person you could find the security you want.’
‘I thought you were against relationships?’
‘For me...but I’m not blind to how happy being in a relationship can make others. My brothers, for example.’
She gritted her teeth. Trying to pretend that she was cool with this conversation. That it didn’t feel as though he was stabbing her in the heart.
Toni, get a grip. You don’t want a relationship now. And especially not with a man as complex and detached as Ivo. It would drive you crazy, never knowing exactly what he felt for you, what was going on in his mind. Why on earth would you want to be in a relationship with a man who has zero interest in being in one in the first place? Remember, this is about fun. Nothing more. A step on the road to discovering yourself and lightening your expectations of relationships. You cannot fall at the first hurdle by falling for the first guy you make out with.
‘Maybe you’re right...maybe not. I’m learning about myself all of the time right now. I want to learn to be happy on my own, before I consider a relationship again.’ She backed away from him, heading towards the wooden jetty. ‘Right now I’m finding myself and thankfully shedding some of my old insecurities.’ She straightened her back, a sense of purpose and liberation taking hold. ‘I want to be light-hearted, freer in my relationships.’ She waited until he joined her on the rickety jetty, laughing as it moved under his weight, emboldened by her own words. ‘I want to ha
ve fun. Pure and simple. With no expectations.’ She paused and gave him an inviting smile full of flirtation. ‘What do you think?’
He eyed her for a moment, but then glorious amusement and attraction brightened his dark gaze. He edged closer. ‘If you’re certain that’s what you want.’
She nodded. And giggled when he drew her into his arms, the jetty bobbing beneath them as he kissed her, one arm holding her tight while the other lightly grazed against the side of her breast, her hip, her bottom. The dull ache at her core that was her constant companion when close to Ivo blew bright and fierce.
She sat close to him on the boat ride back to San Jorbo. Her legs were weak with longing when they climbed the path back up to the finca, her heart pounding in anticipation.
When they entered the finca, he shut the door behind him and they were enveloped in the near total darkness of the entrance hallway. She waited for him to switch on a light but he didn’t move. She knew he was near by. She could sense the pull of his body, the powerful force of his personality. Every nerve in her body was drawn taut with anticipation.
He moved in front of her, those silver eyes shining down with heat and desire. His finger trailed over the fold in her dress, lightly touching the valley between her breasts. She couldn’t quieten her loud inhale and he smiled in pleasure. With one tug he undid the bow at her waist holding the dress together. Now it was his turn to inhale sharply and her knees grew weak at the way his gaze devoured her red underwear.
His hand lightly trailed over her ribs and waist and she gasped when his mouth touched against her collarbone before moving down to her breasts. His tongue flicked over the material of her bra, catching against her nipple. She swayed backwards but his hands moved to her hips, steadying her. Kneeling, he ran butterfly kisses over her stomach.
She raked her hands through his hair, the intense heat in her core and restlessness in her pelvis forcing her to bite back pleas for him to hurry up.
She went with him when he led her to her bedroom. Pushing her dress to the floor, he kissed her until her head was swimming with need.
Lowering her to the bed, he opened the curtains and the terrace door beyond, allowing in the light of the moon and the crash of the sea.
He shrugged off his shirt and then his trousers, his assured, agile movements making her want him even more. Lying down on the bed beside her, he held her gaze while his hands slowly touched and stroked her. ‘Are you certain you want this?’
She nodded, incapable of speech, the low sensuality of his voice stealing away her last semblances of control.
He kissed her tenderly and her body arched high off the mattress. She pulled him tighter, needing more heat and pressure. He deepened the kiss, his hand moving over her breasts, rubbing against her nipples.
Removing her bra, he kissed her breasts and she thought she would break apart at any moment. And then his hand was on her panties, lightly touching her, exploring.
She breathed out, ‘Please, Ivo... I need you now.’
For long seconds he searched her eyes and then, with a smile that touched something deep in her heart, he removed her panties and then his own shorts.
Her heart was pounding when he lay on her, his weight the most wonderful thing she had ever felt. Her world shrank and shrank until all she was aware of was pressing her hips against his, a dreamlike other-world sensation in her head as she lost herself to the pleasure of his kiss, the exquisite tightness of him moving into her.
She cried out long and hard when she climaxed, clung to him when he soon followed. Lay in his arms afterwards, dumbstruck that anything could be so perfect.
CHAPTER SIX
‘IVO, I SAW your note.’ Her hair tied back in a high ponytail, the silver and black ties of her bikini top poking out from her T-shirt, Toni popped her sunglasses onto the top of her head and waded across the sand to him, her attention turning to the cooler box sitting on the low table between the two sunbeds. ‘What’s going on?’
He had woken early and, unsettled at how good it was to wake next to her, he had gone for a dawn swim. She smiled while she slept. Why did that get to him so much? He had to focus on what they had agreed. A few days of fun. Nothing complicated. Nothing that would threaten his world order.
‘You said that you wanted to spend some time on the beach, so I decided we’d have breakfast and hang out here for the morning before we leave for Gabriela’s christening.’
She folded her arms. ‘I thought lying on the beach was your personal idea of hell.’
Walking to the cabin, he lifted two sunbed mattresses out of the storage room and put them onto the loungers. ‘It depends on who I get to hang out with.’
Placing a bright yellow umbrella between the sunbeds, he opened it up and gestured for her to sit down. He sat opposite her and dropped the cooler box to the sand. Opening it, he said, ‘I hope you’re hungry.’
Her eyes widened as he unpacked the food. A platter of pineapple and grapes, drizzled with mint from the garden, and a tray of freshly baked croissants. Removing a flask and two cocktail glasses from the box, he popped a handful of ice into each glass and then the contents of the flask. Passing a glass to Toni, he raised his in a toast. ‘My version of Paradise City...virgin, of course, given the time of day that it is.’
Her eyes sparkling, she grinned widely, and his heart kicked at her delight. They touched glasses, amusement shining between them, Toni’s murmurs of pleasure when she tasted the drink a potent reminder of her sighs last night.
But then her forehead bunched. ‘Why are you doing this?’
‘I’ve realised that I’ve never actually spent time here on the beach. Which even to me seems crazy.’ He raised a teasing eyebrow. ‘It’s my way of saying thank you for last night...and I guess I enjoy spending time with you.’
She dipped her head, almost shy for a moment, before she laughed and said, ‘Even if I spend too much time talking?’
‘I never said that you do.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, please. At Luis and Alice’s wedding your pained expression throughout the day whenever we chatted said enough.’
‘You were pretty excitable.’
She picked up a grape and crunched down on it. ‘I was nervous.’
He nodded. ‘It was a very public role being bridesmaid.’
‘There was that...’ she shrugged ‘...but you unnerved me too.’
He did? ‘Why?’
‘You were so serious,’ she said with a laugh and a shake of her head, ‘and so handsome. I was a nervous wreck around you. You do know that you have that effect on people?’
He grinned at the playfulness dancing in her eyes, at the heady flirtation dancing around them. ‘It comes in useful sometimes,’ he admitted. ‘And now...do I still make you nervous?’
She considered his question with pretend seriousness, a smile tugging on her full lips. ‘No... I think it’s safe to say that I’m growing immune to you.’
‘Really?’ Shifting forward in his seat so that there were only a few inches between them, he touched a finger against her knee. ‘How about when I touch you—are you immune to that?’
He heard her intake of breath but she gave a firm nod yes. ‘One hundred per cent immune.’
He shifted his hand to her inner thigh, his pulse upping a notch at the soft warmth of her skin. ‘And now?’
This time she breathed out raggedly, heat forming in her cheeks. ‘I... Shouldn’t we be having breakfast?’
Unfortunately she had a point. Reaching into the cooler, he pulled out the tub of vanilla ice cream and placed it on the table.
‘Ice cream for breakfast?’
He chuckled at her horror and, grabbing hold of the olive oil bottle, brandished it before her. ‘But this isn’t any ordinary ice cream...not when we add olive oil from the groves of San Jorbo.’
She made a gagging noise. ‘Y
ou’re on your own with this one.’
He drizzled some oil over the ice cream and scooped out a spoon’s worth, reaching over to feed it to her. She backed away, grimacing.
He ate the scoop and then helped himself to another few spoons before asking, ‘Don’t you like ice cream?’
‘I love ice cream, but not for breakfast and certainly not with olive oil.’
Lifting up the dark bottle of oil, he studied the San Jorbo label before fixing her with a stare. ‘You can have a lot of fun with oil.’
Her eyes widened. ‘In what way?’
‘I might show you some time.’
Her mouth opened. She went to speak but stopped, her cheeks growing red. And then she laughed. ‘There really is another side to the Machine, isn’t there?’
He laughed too. ‘It’s rarely spotted, but you do seem to have the ability to reveal it.’
‘Did you mind that you were called that? The Machine? How did it even come about?’
Pulling apart a croissant, he took a bite before answering. ‘My school coach was the first to use it.’ Tearing another chunk of the pastry off, he continued, ‘In my final year, I made it on to the senior squad but he dropped me from the starting eight just before the racing season began.’ Realising he was no longer in the mood to eat, he tossed the croissant away.
‘And?’
He was tempted to give her a glib answer. To feign that he had taken it all on the chin. But once again, the attentiveness of her steady brown gaze, her keenness to understand him, had him admit, ‘I was devastated. Being in the starting eight was everything to me. I had trained for years to get to that position and without any explanation he dropped me. For a few days I considered giving up but I decided to prove him wrong and began to train even harder. Midway through the season he gave me my position back.’
‘Did you ask him why he dropped you in the first place?’
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