One Hot Winter's Night

by Woods, Serenity

  He nodded and took a swallow of his own drink but didn’t say anything else.

  A few more minutes and he’d be finished and looking to leave. She could feel his reservation, his coolness, coming off him in waves. There was only one topic guaranteed to keep him interested.

  “So what’s new at Te Papa?” she asked.

  He met her gaze, and she thought she saw amusement in his eyes, as if he was well aware of her ploy. But he started telling her about a new exhibit he was setting up on the Incan civilization, and then she told him about the Saxon hoard of silver that had been unearthed in Yorkshire, and before long they were discussing all manner of archaeological sites and artefacts, and Heath started to relax.

  An hour passed, the light gradually started to fade, and in the trees the cicadas began to call, a truly tropical sound.

  “I like it here,” she said during a rare lull in the conversation.

  “You surprise me.” He picked at the bowl of fries they’d ordered when it became apparent neither of them really wanted to leave. “I didn’t think you’d like such a new country.”

  She shrugged. “I like that it’s new. I bet there are miles and miles of land here where no human foot has ever trodden. Some places, like England, are so crowded, both with people and with memories. I don’t know if I believe in the afterlife, or that we have souls. But the other day I was in Camden Market, and as I walked along the canal I had this sudden, vivid feeling that I was the millionth person to walk that path, and I could almost feel all the other people around me. I get that a lot at archaeological sites—I can almost feel their history. But I don’t get it here. It feels clean and fresh, like early morning grass.”

  It was, quite possibly, the longest sentence she’d said to him, and he looked suitably surprised. Then he smiled. “I thought you said you weren’t romantic.”

  “I didn’t think I was. I was just stating a fact.”

  He met her gaze, and for a moment they studied each other. The incredibly warm and humid air had made his silver hair curl slightly around his temples, and the hollow of his throat glistened with moisture. She felt an urge to touch her tongue there, to slip her hands up his shirt and feel his damp skin. She wanted him, suddenly and urgently, wanted to feel his hands on her, his mouth on her breasts, wanted to taste him, have him inside her. She almost gasped, the need was so strong.

  He looked away. Had he seen the desire in her eyes? He finished his Coke—he’d only had the one beer, protesting he was driving—and put down his glass. “I’d better get back to the motel,” he said. “I want to be with it for tomorrow, now I know I’m up against the Black Cat.”

  “You’re giving me the brush-off,” she said.

  He leaned back and surveyed her, cool again. “You didn’t return my calls. You sent back my presents. Any reason I shouldn’t give you the brush-off?”

  “I thought we were friends with benefits,” she said, a little sharply. “We’re not having a relationship—gifts and lovey-dovey calls aren’t appropriate.” He’d suggested the arrangement himself, hadn’t he? Why did he have to try to change it?

  “Where are you staying?” he asked, changing the subject.

  “The motel by the top roundabout, opposite the garage.”

  He nodded. “Did you walk down?”

  “Yes.” They were suddenly awkward as strangers. “I’ll walk back. It’s not far.”

  “It’s also nearly dark,” he chided, getting up from the table. “Come on, I’ll drive you.”

  Chapter 27

  They walked in silence to his rental car, and she got in the passenger side and buckled herself in. He did the same, turned on the engine and eased the car out of the car park and onto the road.

  They hadn’t been in a car together before, and it was a curiously intimate environment. His muscular legs were only inches away from hers, and his arms looked brown and strong as he stretched them out on the steering wheel. She felt acutely conscious of his masculinity, of his height and weight, and just how different he was from her. Images flashed through her head of things he’d done. Turning to smile at her in the bar in Sweden, dressed in that absurd silver cape, winning her over even before he’d said a word. Propositioning her on the dance floor, promising her as many orgasms as she could manage in one night, knowing she’d never be able to resist such a guarantee. Making love to her slowly and sensually in the shower, showing her a world of sensuality and delight.

  The town was quiet, free of the noisy revellers that would have graced the streets in the UK. The doors of the bar in the town centre were open, and there were a few couples sitting outside enjoying a drink under the palms, but other than that, it was relatively empty considering it was such a beautiful night.

  “Where is everyone?” she asked.

  “Here people tend to go to each other’s houses to relax, rather than to bars.” He threaded the car through the one-way system, heading for her motel.

  She studied him, curious. “You live in Wellington, don’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is that area a lot different to up here?”

  “Oh, Christ, yes—it’s very sub-tropical here. Down there the climate is several degrees cooler, although we have some beautiful summer days.”

  So now they were reduced to talking about the weather. She wanted to ask him more about his life. Where did he live? In a house, a flat? Did he share with anyone? What friends did he have? Were his parents alive and did he have brothers and sisters? What did he do in his spare time? But she’d told him she didn’t want a more intimate relationship, and the cool, shuttered look had come over his face, so she kept quiet.

  As they reached her motel, he indicated and pulled off the road. The driveway swept around the side of the owner’s house and she directed him through the orchard of lemons and mandarins to the cabins around the back. He pulled up by hers, and she could instantly smell the lemons through the open windows of the car.

  He left the engine running. “Well, it was nice to see you again.”

  She looked up at him. “You’re really not going to come in, are you?”

  He scratched at some imaginary piece of dirt on the steering wheel. “I should get back.”

  She glanced around the motel complex. The individual cabins were all quiet, and there was nobody about. Their car was in the shadows cast by her cabin, out of sight of the main house.

  She glanced at him—he looked sad. She’d hurt his feelings when she’d returned his gifts. He really liked her.

  She reached across him and turned off the engine. Instantly the sounds of the evening filled the car—the cicadas singing their tropical song, and the long, low hoot of a morepork.

  He sighed. “Catherine…”

  She slid her hands up her skirt and wriggled to get her bikini bottoms off. He stared at her. “What on earth…” She unclipped her belt, and, lifting herself up in the seat, moved to sit astride him. It was a bit of a squeeze fitting herself in front of the steering wheel, and reminded her of when she’d sat on his lap in the Swedish bar. She had to snuggle quite near to him. Only as she wriggled her hips close to his did she realise how turned on she was making him.

  He sighed again. “This isn’t a good idea.”

  She ignored him, grasped the bottom of her halter-neck and pulled it off, dropping it onto the passenger seat.

  “Catherine…” he said again, giving her an exasperated look.

  She reached behind her neck and untied her bikini top, pulling the ties down. The cloth peeled slowly off her breasts to reveal her nipples. They looked dark and soft in the moonlight.

  “Oh Christ.” He tipped his head back onto the headrest and sighed.

  Almost in tears at the fact that he was struggling to fight his desire, she took his hands in hers and brought them up to rest on her breasts. He looked at her, his hazel eyes dark and helpless and, with relief, she could see he was lost.

  She kissed him hungrily, moving her hips to rub herself against his erectio
n. She sighed as he stroked her breasts and brushed her nipples until they hardened, then rolled them between his fingers.

  He moved one hand down to her thigh and slid his fingers up her leg, then underneath her skirt to move around and cup her butt. “God, you’re so…”

  “So what?” She moved her hips, arousing herself against him.

  He groaned. “Irresistible.”

  She slid her hands under his top and skirted his ribs, brushing his nipples. “You’re the one who’s irresistible,” she whispered, running her tongue around his ear. “I’ve been thinking about this all evening.”

  He exclaimed as she began to pull at his shorts. “What are you doing? Come on, let’s go inside.”

  “No, I want you here.” It was as if the moonlight was stirring her blood. She had to have him before another minute passed.

  “Control yourself, woman, it will take us ten seconds to get indoors…”

  “Now, Heath.” She pushed his hands away, unzipped his shorts and pushed down his boxers to release his erection, which was so hard and long she gave a heartfelt sigh of relief that he obviously wanted her so much.

  He made a half-hearted attempt to stop her again. “For fuck’s sake—”

  She caught his hands, moved on top of him and, with a satisfied sigh, wriggled her hips until she felt him enter her.

  He gasped. “Wait—I haven’t…”

  She hesitated and realised she’d forgotten all about a condom. Oops. She was so inexperienced at this, so bloody naïve. “Shit, I’m sorry.” She paused. “Do you want me to stop?”

  His fingers dug into her hips. “We have to be careful,” he whispered.

  “I’m on the pill for medical reasons,” she whispered back, as if they were afraid of being overheard. “And you know I’ve never been with anyone else.”

  “I’ve never had sex without a condom before,” he admitted.

  So it was unlikely they’d have a problem with disease. She was desperate to sink down onto him, but made herself wait, not wanting to push him into something he didn’t want.

  She did, however, experimentally tighten her internal muscles.

  He gave her an exasperated look and nodded.

  She lowered her hips, taking him deep inside her. “Oh…that feels good…”

  “Catherine…” He closed his eyes and finally gave in, pushing up into her further. “Oh Jesus…”

  She began to move on top of him, small thrusts as there wasn’t much room in the car with the steering wheel behind her butt, but it was enough to make them both sigh loudly. She released his hands and he ran them lightly up her back and closed them over her breasts.

  “Oh God…” She tipped her head back as he kissed her neck, and she arched her spine, pressing her breasts against his hands. She’d missed this so much. She slipped her hands into his hair, dropping her head to kiss him, and his hands slid to her butt as she began to move more urgently. Her passion built, reflecting in his eyes as he pulled her closer to him with each thrust, driving deeper inside her.

  Before long the orgasm claimed her, and she cried out at its intensity, mirroring his answering groans as he swelled inside her, driven to the edge by her erotic sighs.

  She rested her head on his shoulder, and he kissed her ear as their heartbeats gradually slowed.

  “Can we go in now?” His voice was filled with amusement.

  She giggled. “I’m sorry. My hormones got the better of me.”

  “I noticed.” He stroked her cheek. “You little minx. You know I can’t resist you.”

  So he was admitting he’d tried. She levered herself off him and managed to slip back into the passenger seat. “Will you come in? For a cup of coffee.”

  “Okay.”

  Thank goodness he’d agreed to stay—she’d worried he’d drive off as soon as they were done. She led him into the cabin, which was small but beautifully decorated in dark green and cream furnishings, with local paintings on the walls. She put the kettle on while he stood looking out of the window across the orchard. He glanced over his shoulder as she took two mugs and began to make the coffee. “There’s a kiwi out there,” he said. “You can hear it crying.”

  “Crying?” She listened, and then heard the mournful wail echo through the darkness. “Oh, that’s so sad.”

  “It’s okay, it’s not sad. It’s a mating call. Little bugger’s feeling horny.”

  She laughed and poured the hot water in. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

  “Yes. Catherine.”

  She brought his cup over to him. “I was talking about you, Heathcliff.”

  “Me? I was just driving the car.” He gave her an exasperated look.

  She grinned. “Point taken. But I’m glad you gave in.” She took his hand. “Wanna come lie on the bed? The Mummy has just started on Sky TV.”

  “I love that film.”

  “I knew you would.” She smiled and pulled him toward the bedroom.

  Chapter 28

  Heath followed her reluctantly. This is a mistake. His brain thought it, but his heart wouldn’t agree. So he let her lead him to the bed, and he stretched out, welcoming her into his arms, and they cuddled up to watch the film.

  His mind was only half on it, however. He’d spent the last few days thinking of ways to get her to accept that she missed him when they weren’t together. He’d phoned her so often that Alex had started to answer the phone with a “Hello, Heath”. But it hadn’t worked. She’d refused to talk to him and had returned his presents. Alex had been right—she’d decided she didn’t want a relationship, and she wasn’t going to give in.

  So where did that leave him? If she refused to do anything other than have sex when they met, what did that mean for the long term? As much as he loved sex, Heath wasn’t the sort of guy to sleep with a dozen different women and then forget about them as soon as they left. When he committed himself, he did it with all his heart.

  He wasn’t used to this. Having to fight so hard for what he wanted. Usually once he set his mind on something—whether it was a woman or an artefact—it would be in his possession within days, weeks at the most. But this woman left him flummoxed. She whisked precious treasures from beneath his nose, and she was refusing to be seduced into a relationship. He couldn’t make the girl love him, or force her to spend time with him. He was starting to realise that she was calling the shots—and he didn’t like it one bit.

  Turning to get his coffee, he stared at the bedside table and picked up the tiny penguin sitting next to her clock. “What’s he doing here?” he asked, amused.

  “Foxy insisted on coming.” She kissed it and put it on her side of the bed.

  He sighed. He knew she was on the way to loving him. Everything she did told him that, except the words from her mouth. But that was the most important part. And what was the point in loving someone if you wouldn’t let yourself be with them? Okay, so it was early days and maybe if they continued like this for a while, she’d come around to the idea. But something told him she wouldn’t. Whatever had happened when she was younger had prejudiced her against relationships. She was never going to want to settle down, to have a family, a proper home life. And he wanted those things. He wanted a wife, kids, a family home. He was thirty now, and while it was hardly old, he wasn’t exactly a teenager either. He was ready for commitment, for stability. And Cat wasn’t.

  As the film drew to a close, he sat up and swung his legs over the bed. “I really should go.”

  She got up swiftly and walked around in front of him to catch his hands. “Oh no you don’t. There’s something I’ve been planning since China. For the next time we met.”

  “Oh?” He didn’t want to know. But he couldn’t stop himself pausing to find out. He was so weak. He hated himself.

  She knelt between his legs and gave him a wicked smile. “This was the next fantasy on my list.” She started to undo the zipper on his shorts again.

  He stared at her. “Catherine…”

  “I�
��ve been dreaming about it for weeks. I haven’t been able to get the idea of it out of my head.” She licked her lips and studied his erection, which had miraculously sprung to life again. “I’ve not done it before, Heath. I didn’t think I’d ever want to. But thought of taking you in my mouth, tasting you…”

  He leaned back on his hands. “Oh, Jesus.” What man would be able to say no to that?

  She closed her hand around him. “Tell me what you like.”

  He sighed. Then he reached out and touched her hair. “Anything you do is fine by me, sweetheart.”

  “That’s not very helpful,” she said wryly. “Tell me if I’m cold, warm or hot, at least.” She sent him a sexy glance that made his blood boil. Then she closed her lips over him. Sliding them down his erection, she took him deep inside the warm cavern of her mouth.

  Exquisite sensations overwhelmed him and he tipped his head back and gasped. “Oh jeez, red hot.”

  She gave a little laugh, and then she gave herself over to pleasuring him, her tongue velvety smooth, licking and sucking and driving him to the edge of ecstasy.

  He bore it for as long as was humanly possible, but she was too beautiful, her mouth too hot, to go on for long. Damn it. He wanted to make it last, but after only a few minutes he was close to climaxing and he couldn’t hold out for much longer. Her blonde hair brushing his thighs tortured him physically and visually, and the sight of her lips around him could have made him come on its own. Combined with the sensation of being inside her hot mouth… Oh dear God, did she know what she was doing to him?

  “Catherine…” He was having trouble holding back long enough to form the words, but he had to tell her. He warned her huskily, “I’m going to come,” expecting her to lift her head. To his shock, however, she just gave a murmur of approval and took him deeper inside, swallowing him whole, and that was it, everything tightened, and he erupted into her mouth. Unable to believe what she was doing, he cried out and clenched his hand in her hair, his head tipping back as emotion and sensation washed over him.