Stripped

by Nicola Marsh

  He doesn’t speak and I see the inner battle he wages play out across his face. Terror. Hope. Regret. Anxiety.

  When he finally lays a hand over mine where it rests on my thigh, I know I’ve won.

  ‘Do me a favour. Come with me to Sydney. See for yourself why I’m so fucked up. Then make your decision.’

  Okay, so my relief is short-lived. But I can do this. He wants to scare me away? Let him try.

  ‘Do you really think I’ll change my mind?’ I lean in close to murmur in his ear. ‘I want you.’

  He squeezes my hand and releases it. ‘You’re confusing sex for something more—’

  ‘Don’t do that.’ I jab him in the chest, hard. ‘Don’t belittle what we have.’

  To his credit, he nods, his expression sheepish. ‘Fine. So we’ve got something beyond the phenomenal sex. But I don’t do relationships. I never have.’

  ‘That’s because you’re too busy running at the slightest sign of commitment.’ I sigh and sidle closer to him so our arms and thighs are touching. ‘Tell me why you left the island so quickly.’

  He glances at me before his gaze shifts away. Guilty. ‘I needed to meet with the founder of the foster kids association—’

  ‘The real reason.’ I nudge him gently with my shoulder.

  He takes an eternity to answer and I hold my breath, willing him to admit the truth. ‘Because I realised I started to feel more than physical attraction for you and I ran first before you could.’

  ‘Better.’ I exhale in relief and flash a smile. ‘Not your rationale but the fact you actually admitted it.’

  ‘It doesn’t change anything,’ he says, folding his arms and leaning away from me. ‘I’m not the guy for you.’

  ‘Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?’ I jerk my head at the screen. ‘Now sign off on this so I can get your fabulous, whiz-bang campaign up and running, then I can organise my last-minute seat on this flight.’

  He startles, like he doesn’t expect I’ll be boarding with him. ‘I doubt you’ll get on this flight.’

  I make a grand show of looking around the boarding gate area, where there are many seats vacant. ‘Really?’

  He huffs out a breath. ‘I’m making you do this, it’s only fair I buy your ticket.’

  ‘Fine. I’m unemployed at the moment and last-minute tickets cost a fortune.’

  If he’s surprised by my quick capitulation he doesn’t show it. ‘Here. Let me sign off, then I’ll book you a ticket online.’

  I slide my laptop across to him, drumming my fingers impatiently against my leg. I want him to do this fast so he doesn’t change his mind, because the fact he actually wants me to accompany him to Sydney, albeit to scare me off, is huge. I didn’t expect it. I thought I’d have to do a lot more cajoling—once I actually caught up with him, that is. I envisaged more resistance, less cooperation.

  ‘There. Signed. I’ll do the hard copy later.’ He hands me back the laptop and slides his mobile out of his pocket.

  He eyes my radiant smile with suspicion as he swipes his finger across the screen, pulling up the relevant website to book me a ticket. He frowns and my heart sinks. I’m not getting on this flight.

  When he flips the mobile towards me so I can see, I beam.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint but it looks like I’m coming with you to Sydney.’

  His frown deepens. ‘So it seems.’

  ‘Is it too much to hope I scored a seat next to you?’

  He rolls his eyes but I glimpse the glimmer of a smile. ‘Unfortunately, I have to put up with you next to me for the full one-hour-twenty-minute flight.’

  ‘Yahoo.’ I do a little dance with my hands clasped, arms outstretched and shoulders rolling.

  His frown vanishes. ‘See? You’re definitely crazy.’

  ‘Crazy about you,’ I murmur, hoping he can see how much he means to me in my eyes.

  When he leans forward to brush a kiss across my lips, I sigh.

  I’m one step closer to that elusive happiness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Hart

  I SHOULD NEVER have agreed to this.

  I should’ve lied and told Daisy the flight was booked. Then I could’ve avoided this pure torture.

  We’re thirty minutes into the flight, with less than an hour to go. I doubt I’ll make it, what with her constant touching. I have no idea if its deliberate, her idea of making me see what I’m missing out on, or accidental, but whatever the reason it’s driving me slowly but surely insane.

  She’s flirting too and I can only hold out so long. I’m a guy after all and she’s a sexy woman I’ve had the pleasure of being inside, of licking, of tasting, of hearing the sounds she makes when she comes.

  My cock is rigid and has been since she sat next to me. I’m a lost cause.

  ‘Nuts?’

  My balls throb. You have no idea, I want to respond as she offers me a packet of cashews and I try not to shy away.

  She’s leaning over, pushing her breast against my arm, and I grit my teeth.

  ‘No, thanks.’ I stare straight ahead and return the tray to its upright position. Big mistake, as her gaze drops to my groin, where I’m sporting a massive boner clearly outlined by my pants.

  ‘Wow,’ she says, pushing her breast a tad harder against my arm, leaving me in no doubt her whole touching routine has been deliberate. ‘I sure wish I could help you with that.’

  Her saucy taunt evokes an image of her doing just that. Taking me into her mouth. Stroking me with her talented tongue. Sucking.

  I make a half-strangled sound and she has the audacity to laugh.

  ‘Pity it’s not an international flight, we could’ve indulged in a little mile-high action.’ She straightens and I instantly miss the feel of her breast pressed against me. ‘Maybe we could fly to Auckland next time?’ She winks. ‘Three and a half hours should just about do it.’

  ‘Stop. You’re killing me.’ I shift in my seat. It does nothing to relieve the ache in my balls. I reach for a magazine to hide my hard-on before I give the flight attendants an eyeful too.

  ‘Not yet, but give me a little one-on-one time and—’

  I kiss her. It’s the only way I can think to shut her up. But I haven’t thought it through because the moment her mouth opens beneath mine I’m a goner. Lost in the relentless pull between us, the yearning to possess, the craving that won’t be satisfied with just a kiss.

  When her tongue darts forward and touches mine I wrench my mouth away, desperate for air, desperate for more. There’s a discreet cough and a disapproving glare from the older couple across the aisle, while the male flight attendant handing out drinks a few seats up gives me a thumbs up.

  ‘Well, that was unexpected.’ She dabs at her lips with her fingertips, her eyes wide, her skin flushed. ‘Now I really wish we were on an international flight.’

  ‘Stop with the flirting.’ I make a zipping motion over my lips. ‘No banter until we land.’

  ‘Then it’s no holds barred?’

  I groan and press my fingertips to my temples. ‘I’ve got a headache.’

  ‘Yeah, but which head is aching?’

  I manage a rueful chuckle and she grins, as we share a moment of complete and utter sync the likes of which I never imagined having with a woman.

  Seeing her again, having her this close, sparring with her, has made me realise how much I’ll miss her when it’s over for good. And it will be. I’ll make sure of it.

  She won’t listen to me. She doesn’t believe me when I say I’m no good for her. So I’ll have to show her.

  It’s the only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment when she kept haranguing me. To take her to the place where I spent a lot of time growing up so she can see for herself why kids like me become closed off and eventually push away anyone who’s foolish
enough to get close.

  I’m not a complete idiot. I know my heart is fissured and open to her a tad. But I can never give myself one hundred per cent, not in the way she expects and deserves.

  That’s what gets to me the most in our fucked-up scenario. She’s so damn deserving of the perfect guy, the perfect house, the perfect dream, but she doesn’t know it.

  She’s fallen for me, like I have for her, but whereas I’m tough enough to make the smart choice and walk away, she has visions of happily-ever-after.

  I’ll show her in Sydney that there’s no such thing.

  ‘You’ve gone all quiet.’ She bumps me with her shoulder. ‘Are you imagining all the ways I can relieve your tension?’

  My cock throbs. ‘You promised no more flirting on this flight.’

  She holds her hands up and feigns surprise. ‘Hey, I was just talking about a massage. Can I help it if you hear innuendo in every single thing I say?’

  ‘You are incorrigible.’

  ‘Why thank you.’ She does a mock curtsy in her seat, her grin making her eyes sparkle, and it hits me.

  I may think it’s going to be easy walking away from Daisy.

  I may know it’s the smart choice for both of us.

  But when it comes to actually ending this for good, it’s going to rip my fucking heart out.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  Daisy

  I DON’T PLAY FAIR.

  I’ve done everything in my power to tease Hart on the flight from Melbourne and as we touch down in Sydney I feel like flinging my arms high overhead in victory.

  I wanted to show him what he’s missing out on by not giving us a chance. I achieved my goal, plus got an added bonus of seeing visual proof that he still wants me as badly as I want him. Though seeing his boner proved somewhat problematic for me, making me practically squirm with wanting to do something about it.

  I might have talked the talk but inside I was burning up. I’ve never experienced such lust before, the kind of craving for a guy that’s irrational and confrontational and utterly sensational.

  I don’t envision doing naughty things with men on planes as a rule but sitting next to Hart, deliberately brushing up against him, taunting him, only served to ratchet up my own desire to unbearable levels.

  We join the taxi rank outside the airport and are soon ensconced in air-conditioned comfort. I haven’t been to Sydney for years and I forgot the humidity makes my hair resemble a frizz ball.

  He hasn’t said much since we disembarked but I can see the tension in his rigid neck muscles, and in the clench of his jaw. Maybe I’ve pushed him too far but I don’t care. He needs his stubborn ass kicked for being so closed off to the possibility of us.

  ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  I snort my disgust. ‘You know this grand plan of yours to push me away isn’t going to work, right?’

  He stares straight ahead like he hasn’t even heard me.

  I poke him in the arm. ‘Hey, I’m talking to you.’

  He slowly turns his head, like looking me in the eye is the last thing he wants to do, and when I see his expression I know why. He’s in pain. The kind of pain I know well because it’s exactly what I felt back on Gem Island when I discovered he’d left without a word.

  ‘This isn’t a game.’ He’s gutted, the agony in his eyes making me want to undo my seat belt and fling myself into his arms. ‘I need you to understand where I came from, why I am the way I am, why I can’t give you anything.’

  ‘I’m not asking for anything.’ I place my hand on his thigh. ‘I only want time to explore what we started on the island. That’s it. No expectations.’

  He stares at my hand like it’s scorching him, before covering it with his with obvious reluctance. ‘There are always expectations.’

  I squeeze his thigh and he flinches. ‘Okay, how’s this for expectations? I expect you to finish what we started on the plane. I expect you to make me scream because I’m on edge. And if you’re really determined to end this within the next hour or so, I expect you to take me somewhere right now so we can give this fling/relationship/whatever-you-want-to-call-it the proper send-off it deserves.’

  His hand grips mine so tight I feel the tendons crunching. I don’t complain. Because I see my outburst has sparked something within him. His eyes glow like polished glass before his gaze drops to my mouth.

  He wants this. Wants me.

  ‘Yep, you’re fucking killing me,’ he mutters, before he leans forward and directs the driver to an address in Darlinghurst.

  ‘You’d better be taking me to a hotel,’ I murmur beneath my breath and when he sits back, he shoots me a glance that’s pure wickedness.

  ‘And you’d better put that mouth to other uses besides giving me a hard time when we get to the hotel,’ he says, his tone tinged with reluctant amusement.

  ‘Oh, I will. Trust me.’ I slide my hand higher on his thigh and he clamps down on it before I hit the jackpot.

  ‘You are in so much trouble,’ he mutters, but as we lock gazes—molten heat tinged with excitement—I can’t wait to get into trouble of the good kind.

  He turns his hand over, palm up, and intertwines his fingers with mine. We sit in silence and hold hands for the rest of the fifteen-minute drive. I don’t mind. I like the quiet. It gives me a chance to formulate what I’m going to say later, when he inevitably tries to push me away.

  I’m deep in thought when we pull up outside a hotel. It’s rather ramshackle and nothing like the five-star place I imagined. Not because I’m a snob or because I expect Hart to fork out a fortune for a quickie because he’s rich, but it’s surprising he would want this to be where we have fantastic reunion sex.

  Unless...he’s really serious about this being a rousing send-off and doesn’t particularly care where we do it.

  The thought saddens me but I paste a smile on my face as he pays the driver and helps me out of the taxi. He hasn’t released my hand and is staring at me, looking for some kind of judgement perhaps?

  ‘Ready?’ I squeeze his hand and I glimpse a flicker of disappointment.

  Oh, yeah, bringing me here is part of his grand plan to alienate me but I’ll be damned if I give him the satisfaction.

  ‘Absolutely,’ he says, with less conviction, as we stroll into the foyer.

  It’s nothing like I expect and at complete odds with the seedy exterior. The owners have stuck with an old-world charm theme, from the black and white tessellated tiles on the floor to the gleaming brass lamps casting light over crimson velvet sofas strategically placed throughout.

  It’s not a large space but it exudes a welcome cosiness and I experience a twang of jealousy at the thought of Hart knowing to come here and with whom he might have been here in the past.

  ‘Give me a minute.’ He releases my hand and approaches the sole reception staff behind the desk, a sixty-something brassy blonde who wouldn’t look out of place draped across one of the sofas in a flapper dress.

  He slides across his credit card, signs a slip of paper and pockets a key. An actual old-fashioned key, not the plastic swipe cards that most modern hotels favour these days.

  It’s madness, because I instigated this, but I’m struck by a sudden case of nerves. The moment I emailed Alf my resignation I set these events in motion. Finding Hart. Following my heart.

  But what if I’m wrong?

  What if this is nothing more to him than a last, quick fuck?

  If he truly won’t let me into his heart and his life?

  ‘We’re on the second floor. There are no functional elevators. We need to take the stairs.’ He holds out his hand and I know without a doubt that he’s giving me an out. One last chance to turn tail and run.

  I stare at his palm: the strong lifeline, the weaker marriage lines and those long, strong fingers t
hat have strummed every inch of me.

  A blinding fear makes me tremble imperceptibly.

  But I can’t turn back now.

  I have to know that I’ve given it all I can.

  I can’t quit now when I’ve come this far.

  ‘Pity we have to take the stairs because I don’t want you tiring yourself out.’ I place my hand in his and he tugs me hard so that I stumble and land flush against him.

  ‘Are you questioning my stamina?’

  He presses his boner against me, grinds against me a little.

  ‘No, but I’m questioning your sanity in teasing me down here when we could be upstairs, already naked.’

  He lowers his head and nibbles on my neck, my skin breaking out in instant goose bumps. ‘You know all that teasing on the plane? I’m going to make you pay.’

  ‘Promises, promises,’ I whisper in his ear, a second before I bite the lobe a tad hard.

  He doesn’t even flinch but I hear a low moan. ‘Come on.’

  We walk, fast, towards the ornate staircase that winds between the three floors in a sweeping circle.

  ‘You couldn’t have chosen a room on the ground floor?’ I ask as we hit the first at a fair pace.

  ‘I didn’t want anyone to hear you scream when I lick you out.’

  There’s no suitable verbal response to that but the dampness between my legs makes me want to sprint. We skip every second step and arrive at the second floor panting, but I don’t think it’s from the exertion.

  ‘Room two-twenty-two,’ he says, almost heading the wrong way in his hurry to get me naked. At least, that’s what I hope.

  ‘It’s to the left.’ I point at the directions posted on the wall in front of us and he mutters a curse before we take off in the opposite direction.

  We’re almost running by the time we reach the room, at the end of a long hallway. He jabs the key in the lock, misses the first time and I chuckle. He shoots me a filthy look before trying again and this time the relic slides in and turns first try.