A Secret Between Friends: A New Zealand Sexy Beach Romance (Treats to Tempt You Book 6)

by Serenity Woods

  He shook his head like a dog, then ran a hand through his hair. “What the fuck?” He yelled the words, angry and embarrassed.

  But Tamsin had already walked off, and within seconds she’d disappeared through the door.

  One of the waitresses he knew to be Tamsin’s friend sidled up, pulling an eek face. “I’m so sorry,” she said, blushing. “Tamsin asked to see the contact lists. I thought she was looking to see which guys had put her name down, but she only wanted to see Niall’s.”

  “I said not to let anyone see them,” Beck snapped. “Contact details are given out later to stop this kind of thing happening.”

  “I know, I’m sorry.” The poor girl looked mortified. “She’s a friend and I just thought…” Her voice tailed off as she stared at Niall’s face. “I’m really sorry.”

  He blew out a breath. There was no point in blaming her. “It’s all right. No harm done.” Completely pissed off by now, though, he finished off his drink and pushed the empty back to Beck. “Thanks for organizing the evening. I’ll catch you later.”

  Beck slid a couple of paper towels over to him and gave him a pitying look. “Sure. Thanks for coming.”

  Turning, ignoring everyone else, Niall wiped his face and dumped the paper towels in the bin, then walked to the door.

  He’d just reached it when someone caught his arm. He turned, about to bite the person’s head off, then saw it was Genie.

  “I thought you were going to take me home,” she said.

  He ran a hand through his hair. “Sorry. I forgot.” He gestured past her to the guys at the bar. “Perhaps Jonah should take you. Or Danny.”

  Her lips twitched. “Don’t be daft. Come on.” Taking his hand, she led him through the door.

  Outside, he hesitated, worried Tamsin might be waiting in the shadows to surprise him, but there was no sign of her. Genie tugged his hand and led him through the beer garden and along the road toward where he normally parked his car.

  “It’s a lovely evening,” she said, lifting her face to the warm evening air. To the east, the sea brushed the sand with gentle hands, and the cicadas sang loudly in the trees.

  He was too annoyed to appreciate it, though. He refrained from replying, still too angry to trust himself. He set his pace fast, but made himself slow when he remembered Genie’s cane, although she hadn’t complained.

  When they reached the car, they got in, and he inserted the key in the ignition. Then he sat there for a moment, hands on the wheel.

  “Don’t glower,” she said.

  “I’m not,” he replied, knowing he was.

  “Niall…”

  He whacked the steering wheel, making her jump. “What the fuck was she thinking? Did she really think I was going to put her name on the fucking list?”

  “Obviously she thought it was a possibility. She must love you very much to make a scene like that,” Genie said softly.

  “I don’t care! That was unforgiveable. If I had still had any feelings for her, they’re well and truly gone now.” He banged the steering wheel again. Why was he so angry? He didn’t care what Tamsin thought of him, and he didn’t give a rat’s arse that everyone had seen him drenched in wine. So what was really bothering him?

  Genie said nothing for a moment. Then she said, “Did you put anyone’s name on your list?”

  He huffed a long sigh. Then he looked across at her. “Might have.”

  “How many?”

  He studied her sulkily. “One.”

  She rubbed her nose. “I’m hoping it was mine, or it’s rather a sorry end to the evening.”

  “It was you, Genie.” He held out for a whole ten seconds before he gave in and asked the question. “How many names did you put down?”

  “One.” Her eyes were very blue.

  “Mine?”

  She blinked. “No, Danny’s.”

  His sense of humor rapidly dissipated, and he turned the ignition on, shoved the car into Drive, and pulled away.

  She laughed. “For God’s sake, of course it was yours. Come on, that was too good a line to miss.”

  “I’m really not in the mood, Gin.”

  She bit her lip. “Fair enough. Sorry.”

  He drove the rest of the way in silence. At any other time, it would have been a beautiful, romantic drive, with the moon rising over the ocean and not a car on the road except his own. But he was too angry, his emotions and feelings too mixed up for him to enjoy the journey.

  When they arrived in Opua, he pulled up outside Beck’s house and left the car running. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

  She rolled her eyes, leaned across him, and turned the car off. Before he could stop her, she whisked out the key and was out of the door.

  “Gin…” He really wasn’t in the mood for this. He ground his teeth and got out to follow her up the path. “Give it back. I want to go home.”

  “No you don’t.” She slotted her key in the door and let them in. “We need to choose the next bucket list item, and besides, I’m going to wash that top for you.”

  “I don’t want…” But she’d gone in, so he had no choice but to follow her.

  “Come with me.” She led the way through to the laundry room and switched on the light. “Go on, strip off.”

  “I don’t—”

  Opening up the tub, she flicked her fingers at him while she filled it with a few more items from the basket. He sighed, pulled the sodden T-shirt over his head, and she dropped it on top of the other items. After adding the powder and liquid softener, she closed the lid and started up the machine.

  “And now I’m going to make you a coffee.” She limped through to the kitchen.

  He followed, hands in the pockets of his jeans, still grumbling.

  She slotted a capsule into the coffee machine and turned it on. “Want some caramel syrup?”

  He shrugged.

  She poured a small amount into a tall coffee glass, fitted it into the machine, and pressed the button. Steaming liquid began to fill the glass.

  Niall sat heavily on a stool, leaned forward, and rested his head on the breakfast bar. He heard her laugh softly, then felt her hand on his hair. “Poor Niall.”

  “Don’t make fun of me.” He picked up the drink when she pushed it toward him and took it over to the window overlooking the ocean. “I’m so fucking pissed off.”

  “You don’t say.”

  He sipped the coffee. It was delicious, sweet and hot, and he let it warm him through as he looked out across the bay.

  Genie finished making her own drink, and then he heard her footsteps along with the clunk of the cane as she walked across to join him. He waited for her to appear next to him, but to his surprise she stood behind him. Then he felt the soft brush of her lips between his bare shoulder blades.

  “You have a great back,” she murmured, placing small kisses from there around to his shoulders before standing next to him. He looked down at her.

  “Sorry,” he said.

  She took a swallow from her cup and shrugged. “I can understand why you’re mad—that was pretty embarrassing.”

  “It’s nothing to do with Tamsin.”

  She frowned. “What do you mean?” He didn’t reply, and after a few moments her eyes widened. “You’re not talking about Danny, surely?”

  He looked out across the bay and drank his coffee.

  She huffed out an irritated sigh. “Niall, seriously? You know we were winding you up, right? Anyway, me and Danny?” She laughed. “That’s as funny as saying me and Jonah. All the guys are like brothers to me.”

  “Including me?”

  Humor lit her eyes. “No, Niall. Excluding you.”

  “Why?”

  Her smile faded. “I don’t know.”

  “You don’t think of me like a brother?”

  “I trust you like one. I respect you. You drive me nuts the same as the others.”

  He couldn’t bring himself to smile. “Why were you and Danny winding me up?”

&n
bsp; “I thought that was what we all did to each other.”

  Not now, he thought. Maybe a long time ago, he’d thought of her like a sister. But no longer.

  A frown flickered across her brow again. “Why are you so angry with me?”

  “I’m not angry with you.”

  “Then…”

  “I don’t want you to see anyone else,” he said.

  He waited for the outburst. For her cry of indignation. For her to yell, Who the hell do you think you are?

  It didn’t come. Instead, her lips curved a very tiny bit, and her eyes shone in the moonlight.

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  He held her gaze for a while. Then they both turned back to the view and sipped their coffee.

  He couldn’t think what to say. He felt confused, hopeful, and frustrated, all at the same time.

  After a few minutes of silence, she put down her glass and limped off to the laundry room.

  He waited a moment, then put down his glass and followed her.

  When he reached the doorway, he leaned on the jamb and watched her, hands in his pockets. She was folding up some washing she’d done earlier, placing tops on hangers and laying jeans over the clothes stand.

  She glanced up at him, then back at the washing. What was she thinking? She’d expressed no resentment at his demand, and he couldn’t understand why. Hadn’t it irritated her? She’d always been fiercely independent, disliking any guy who tried to make demands on her. But the only word to leave her mouth had been Okay. Why had she said that?

  His gaze slid down her, noting the curve of her waist and hips, the swell of her breasts as she leaned over the machine to reach the basket. The pale skin of her neck and behind her ear. How pink her lips were, and her beautiful Cupid’s bow.

  She didn’t look up again, but twin spots of red touched her cheekbones. He tilted his head to look at them, and the color intensified.

  A smile touched his lips.

  He pushed off the doorjamb and walked into the room. Took the washing from her hands and threw it into the basket.

  Her lips parted, but she didn’t object, her breathing coming quickly as he turned her to face him.

  Bending a little, he caught the bottom of her dress in his hands and lifted it. Wordlessly, she raised her arms so he could pull the dress up over her breasts and head, and he dropped it to the floor.

  He stared at her. “Whoa.” She was naked beneath it.

  Pushing her back against the washing machine, he moved in close. Her eyes widened when he pressed his hips to hers, and he knew she could feel his erection even through the denim of his jeans.

  He placed his hands on her hips, stroked down, his left hand skirting over her scars, then smoothed his hands up her body, into the dip of her waist, up to cup her breasts. He brushed her nipples with his thumbs. She shivered and her nipples tightened.

  Sliding a hand to the base of her neck, he touched his fingers to the love bite he’d given her that had just been hidden by the wide strap of the dress, the faint mark giving him an uncharacteristic glow of possessive pleasure. He’d done that to her. Not some other guy.

  Moving his hand to the back of her head to hold her there, he lowered his lips and kissed her.

  He didn’t bother with a warm up—he was too fired up for that. He threw all his frustration and jealousy into the kiss, and Genie gasped, her mouth opening under his. Plunging his tongue inside, he savored the taste of her, turned on by the way she returned every thrust, her hands sliding up his chest to his neck and then into his hair.

  Placing his hands beneath her butt, he lifted her up onto the washing machine and then pushed her knees apart. He kissed down her neck, and when his lips touched her collar bone and moved along to her shoulder, he could feel the machine’s vibrations travelling through her.

  He lifted her breast and covered the nipple with his mouth, and Genie groaned and leaned back on her hands, arching her spine to push her breast toward him. He licked and sucked, loving the softness of her body, and swapped to her other breast, licking and sucking there too until she writhed beneath him, her fingers tightening in his hair.

  Straightening, he spread her knees wide, breathing heavily as he drank in the sight of her glistening inner lips. Stroking his hands up her thighs, he paused at the top to meet her gaze and watched her catch her bottom lip between her teeth and suck it when he slid two fingers into her swollen, moist flesh. As he moved them into the heart of her, she tipped back her head and moaned. He stroked inside her a few times, then brought his fingers up coated with her moisture to focus on her clit. The little button was swollen, begging for his touch, and he circled his fingers over it, loving the power he had over her, the way he was making her come apart. Her thighs loosened and a beautiful flush spread over her face and chest, and he knew she was near to her climax.

  When he could take it no longer, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket and flipped it open, hoping desperately he’d remembered to slip a condom in there. Holding back a triumphant Yes! when he found one, he unzipped his jeans, released his erection from his boxers, and quickly rolled the condom on.

  She opened her eyes to watch, moistening her lips with the tip of her tongue. When he’d done, he moved back and circled a finger in the air. “Turn over.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Genie slid off the washing machine. Her heart thundered, driven to record speed by the heat in Niall’s eyes. He looked feverish, and as he helped her down and then turned her, his hands were unusually insistent, less than gentle, a fact that didn’t slow the pace of her heart.

  He pushed her forward against the machine and slid his arms around her, his hands cupping her breasts as his tongue laced across her skin, his mouth tracing up to her ear. He’d hardly said two words to her, but somehow that made it all the more sensual. Her body burned, ached for him.

  Nudging her legs wider with a knee, he slid his erection beneath her, and she leaned forward on the machine to give him better access. He moved his hips, sliding through her swollen flesh, apparently content to stroke there, arousing her. She dropped her head onto her hands and moaned, pushing back against him, desperate to feel him inside her. He tortured her for a bit longer, then gave in with a groan and guided the tip into her.

  Holding her hips, he pushed home.

  She gasped as he slid inside, feeling herself stretching to accommodate him. The angle was heavenly, allowing him deeper access, the position leaving him in charge of the pace. He pulled back, then thrust again, and this time he slid all the way in, filling her to the brim. Her hands tightened to fists and her lips parted as she exhaled. “Ahhhh…”

  At that moment, the machine clicked beneath her, changing to its spin cycle. “Oh no,” she said. A giggle rose, but it turned to a groan as he leaned forward and pressed her hard against the machine. He placed one hand on the small of her back, fingers splayed, and tightened the other on her shoulder, effectively trapping her there beneath him. She wriggled, playfully resisting, but he refused to let her go. Instead, he pulled his hips back and gave a sudden firm thrust.

  She squealed as he plunged into her. “Niall!”

  He ignored her and set up a fast pace, and it was all she could do to hang on tightly and just let him take her. Where her hips were pressed against the lip of the lid, the vibrations spread through her mound and up into her clit, deliciously strong. Her nipples received the same treatment where the sensitive skin rested on the lid. It was better than a vibrator, especially as it was accompanied by Niall’s solid thrusts inside her.

  Just as she felt her climax build, he stopped moving, and she groaned in frustration. He leaned across her, and to her puzzlement, turned on the tap in the basin next to the machine. Holding out a hand, he waited until a small pool of water had formed in his palm. What the hell? Was he thirsty? Couldn’t he wait?

  “What are you—”

  He splashed the cold water against her chest and it trickled over her breasts.

  She
gasped. “Shit!”

  Niall laughed and pushed her down, and she realized what he’d done when the vibrations of the machine doubled in intensity against her wet nipples. He began to move inside her again, the hand on her back keeping her there, and she rested her forehead on her arms. It wasn’t just the delicious slide of him inside her that she loved, it was the way his fingers tightened on her shoulder, his deep, possessive growl as he thrust even harder. He wanted her, and that was the biggest turn on in the world.

  His thrusts were lifting her up the machine slightly, and the vibrations of the machine hit her right on her sweet spot. It was no good—she couldn’t last any longer, and she gave into the climax and let it spirit her away. She clenched around him in strong, intense pulses, and cried out from the beauty of the sensations that flowed through her.

  “Yes,” he said, just that one word, but the vehemence with which he said it made her glow. He continued to pound into her, his breathing harsh and ragged. Then suddenly he stilled, his hips jerked, and he swelled inside her, coming with a fierce cry that gave her goose bumps.

  Jesus, the guy was going to split her apart. He pushed forward so hard she thought he might have speared her to the washing machine. She bit into the soft flesh of her hand and screwed up her eyes, waiting for him to finish, half-wanting him to go on forever. Aftershocks of her climax rippled through her, a series of tiny spasms of her internal muscles that made it feel as if her orgasm was going on forever. She wasn’t going to survive this. She was going to burn out, and later they’d find a pile of embers on the floor, still glowing, the rest of her just ash on the wind.

  It took a long time for him to relax his grip on her, and by that time the spin cycle was over and the machine had stopped rattling beneath them.

  He withdrew, then turned her in his arms and held her tightly. She slid her arms around his waist, as much for support as anything, as her legs were wobbly from the orgasm.

  “Well that’s a first,” he said in her ear. “Washing machines rule.”