Bachelor on Trial (Beauty and the Bachelor Book 1)

by Lexi Greene

  Hell. She’d live to regret this, but she couldn’t bear the defeat that hung over him like a grey fog. “Give me ten minutes. I’ll meet you downstairs.”

  The door to the stairway slammed and Scarlet appeared in the locker room, her bag over her shoulder. Grief had Tony by the throat and misery weighed on him like thick sludge.

  “Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer to be alone?” She dropped her leather tote bag on the bench beside him and sat, her eyes filled with a compassion he didn’t deserve.

  “I’d like your company, but it’s fine if you’d rather go home. I can see how tired you are.” She looked drained and he had no doubt she’d worked all weekend as well. His stomach tightened and squeezed, and he feared she might take the out. He wouldn’t blame her. But the thought of Scarlet’s arms wrapped around him was better than the yawning loneliness that threatened to devour him. His parents were gone. Both of them.

  “I’m good.”

  “I really appreciate it.” This was about compassion. Hers. And it said more about the woman she was, than the man he was. But he’d take it. He handed over his one-piece leather outfit. “It might be a bit loose, but…”

  “It’s something between me and the bitumen. I get it. I’ve got runners somewhere, too.” She riffled through her bag.

  “You can trust me, Scarlet.”

  Her eyebrows lifted, her eyes lit with mauves and blues, and she smiled, soft and slow. “We’ll see about that.”

  She turned and disappeared into a change room. He pulled his leather jacket on, and hung his suit on a hanger in his locker. The night was warm, and he couldn’t wait to get out on the M1. He tucked his wallet into the inside pocket of his jacket and zipped it up. He reached for his helmet.

  “What do you think?”

  Scarlet in a business suit was a knock-out. Scarlet in bike leathers? His heart banged against his ribcage like he’d hit the road at speed and his body skidded out of control. The kerthunk when he finally got it together roared in his ears. Scarlet was sacred ground and he had no right thinking what he was thinking. He swallowed against the raspy territory of his throat and when his words finally found their way through, they were as dry as a crisp. “You look good.”

  He passed over a helmet and led the way to the carpark where his black Suzuki GSX R 1300 rested against its stand. He straddled it before pulling it upright. “All aboard.”

  She stood back and checked it out. “A Suzuki Hayabusa?”

  “You know bikes? Have you been on one before?”

  “Yes, but not often. It’s a four-cylinder. How fast can it go?”

  “It’s the fastest thing on two wheels. You’re gonna need to put your arms around my waist and lean with the bike.”

  “Got it.” Scarlet settled herself on the back and wrapped her arms around him. Her body pressed against him, close, so close. And his insides thrummed. She was what he’d needed all along. Her warm embrace soothed the hurt. The revving motor soothed the restlessness. And the acceleration through the warm night air soothed his heart. Traffic lights slowed them down, but once they were on the M1, they reached the one hundred kilometre-per-hour speed limit in moments. The bike throbbed beneath them and inside his helmet, the tears he hadn’t cried were blasted away by the press of the night air. Sobs rose with every deep, long breath. His father was gone. It was a blessing. He knew it. His father had been on a slippery slope to nowhere good. Losing the faculty of his mind was a cruel betrayal to a man who had prided himself on his superior intelligence. The white lines flashed before him, the beam of his headlight carving a bright path through the darkness.

  The warm press of Scarlet’s body against him dragged at his attention. He liked her there. He more than liked her there. With her close, the pain of his father’s passing was bearable. With her close, the choking weight in his chest lifted and that awful sensation of being dumped by a powerful wave settled. Air filled his lungs. Relief filled his heart. It would be okay. It was okay. It was better than okay. With every kilometre, with every shadowy tree they passed, he felt stronger.

  Scarlet’s helmet banged against his and he wondered if she’d fallen asleep. She was exhausted, yet she’d put his needs before her own. Why?

  She should hate him.

  She did hate him.

  She’d pushed him away at every opportunity, yet here she was with the younger brother of the man who’d treated her so badly. Her strength of character was formidable, and she impressed him again for the thousandth time that day.

  He didn’t mix business with pleasure. He prided himself on that. Weak men had tawdry office affairs. Weak men like his brother and his father. Not him. He’d never felt the need. In hindsight, he’d never been tempted.

  Scarlet was temptation in capital letters.

  Scarlet had trusted him enough to get on the back of his bike. Enough to join him in this not-well-thought-out escapade. Enough to be with him on an empty beach. In the dark. Alone.

  No way would he take advantage of that.

  Chapter Five

  Scarlet had never straddled such a beast of a bike before. It throbbed beneath her and devoured the road like a half-starved wildcat. With her arms wrapped tightly around Tony’s hard stomach and her body pressed intimately against his rounded back, she quivered with a trillion tiny tremors in places she’d forgotten existed. The air pushed against them, warm and lovely and the night held the promise of secrecy, the shield of darkness. She closed her eyes to better savour the sensory storm, her chin against Tony’s shoulder. When had she experienced anything this blissful? She wanted to believe that the throbbing ache in her centre had more to do with the bike and less to do with the man—the bike was a very fine specimen and there was something to be said for a powerful engine—but it was Tony who brought her body to life.

  His father has just died, she chided herself. He’s full to the brim with the pain of it and your mind is going to places it shouldn’t. Her heart expanded and filled with compassion. His humanness appealed to her more than the rest. He’d shown his feelings. He’d promised honesty and he’d given her that. And she found she liked it. She liked it a lot. He hadn’t pretended he was fine. He hadn’t belittled or denied his feelings. He’s a Radcliff, she warned. The black sheep of the family, she countered.

  She held him tighter and opened herself to the freedom of their flight through the night.

  The drop in the high-pitched yowl of the motor and the forward thrust of her position on the seat alerted her to their arrival. Tony pulled into a car park in front of the foreshore and cut the engine. The silence rang in her ears and they sat motionless for a long moment observing the full moon over the water, the foamy heads of the waves caught in its silvery path. Tony rested his hand on her knee and her body reacted like a lit fuse. When Tony flicked out the stand and tipped the bike slightly to one side, her foot reached the ground and she pulled her other leg free. It took a moment to find her land legs but by the time she’d removed her gloves and helmet and looped it over the handlebars, he was there beside her.

  “Come.”

  He took her hand in his and dragged her towards the sand and the water. He could have let her hand go. She could have pulled free. But, instead, the press of his palm against hers stirred all kinds of trouble in her body. She kicked off her runners and her toes curled in the cool silk of the sand. It was like every sense was on steroids. Loud and hard to ignore. They walked in silence, listening to the pounding thud of the waves against the shore and the soothing hiss of the water as it rushed forward and pulled back.

  “This is beautiful.”

  “It is.” His in-breath was audible. “And so are you.” He turned her towards him and with his free hand pushed a wayward strand of her hair back from her face. “Thank you for coming with me. Thank you for trusting me. I’m glad I’m not alone.”

  Scarlet’s heart thudded and pounded in her chest. More intimate waves thudded and pounded through her body. Tony’s eyes looked dark in the monochromatic ligh
t, but she could tell from the tilt of his head that he studied her. Who knew what he saw reflected in her eyes? Their trip on the motorbike had been like foreplay. Pure and potent. Desire roared in her ears and danced on her tongue. Her pulse banged, unruly and wild. Adrenaline rushed through her veins. Abandon, too. There was the magnetic pull of his mouth. The plush promise of his lips. The hunger he stirred within her.

  “We’re not going there, Scarlet.” His voice was ragged and abrasive. “I’m not my brother. I will not take advantage of your compassion. Your kindness. Let’s walk before I kiss you.”

  “What if I want you to kiss me.” The words were out there, between them. Her whole body convulsed. What had she done?

  “You don’t want that.”

  Her step faltered. “I think I might.”

  He wrapped his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, but he propelled them forward, his feet kicking up the sand. “Let’s walk.”

  Scarlet relaxed into the heat of him. He reached over and kissed her forehead. Chaste. Friendly. And she was relieved. She was embarrassed, too. She’d as good as propositioned him and he’d as good as said, no. Awkward. But awkward wasn’t how she felt when he drew her close. She felt protected. Coveted. Safe.

  The waves—inside and out—curved and crashed and pounded and pulled. The night whispered around them and it was like they were the only two people on the planet, along with the billions and trillions of stars that looked down upon them. A vast wonderland of sparkling diamonds.

  “I like to think the stars are the souls of those who have gone before us, shining down from heaven. Do you see the Southern Cross? There.” He held her close and pointed upwards. She followed the line of his arm and nodded, her body in meltdown. “Do you see the brightest star in the Southern Cross? It’s called the Acrux. I like to think it’s my mum, and look… do you see the shiny one beside it? My father is with her. Two stars sparkling with love.”

  Scarlet grappled with her throat muscles. “You came here to feel closer to your mum and dad?”

  “Crazy, right?”

  He pulled her close, and his warmth and strength seeped into her bones.

  “The stars are way clearer here than in the city.” His voice was low and husky and resonated like a soft stroke over sensitive skin. “This is the beach where I came as a child. My mate’s holiday house is over there. It came on the market a few years ago.”

  “Did you buy it?”

  He nodded. “I did.”

  “Is this where you live? You travel into the city every day?” The thought took her down like a rogue wave.

  “Yep. Most days. My parents have an apartment in Spencer St., and I stay there if I’m too tired to make the trip.” He paused, his gaze on hers. “Thanks for today. It turns out I like spending time with you.”

  Her heartbeat galloped in her chest, wild and white-eyed. “I like spending time with you, too, against my better judgement.”

  “I’m sorry for what my brother did.”

  “It wasn’t your fault.” The words echoed in her ears. She could hardly blame Tony for his brother’s behaviour or let that colour her opinion of him.

  “I’m not like Geoffrey.”

  “No, you’re not.” She turned into his embrace, pressed herself against him and tilted her face upwards. His big hands settled on her hips before exploring her back. They pulled her closer and he held her tight. She felt safe. Foolishly safe. Stupidly safe, but there was nothing safe about the way his mouth lowered towards hers, then retreated, his gaze seeking the night sky. She curled her hand around the nape of his neck, pulled his mouth back towards hers, closed the gap. His lips were velvety soft—she kissed him, a soft, gentle coaxing, and when he invited space between them and went to speak, she closed the gap again. This time he didn’t hesitate. This time he feasted and when his tongue took hers in a sultry tango, she melted into him, her eyes closed, her hand lost in the thick, silky softness of his hair, her ears loud with the thunder of her pulse. He tasted—delicious—and with every thrust of his tongue, every smooth, tantalising stroke, her centre stormed and calmed. He held her reverently. His mouth worshipped hers. He loosened her hair and combed it back with his fingers, his touch careful and magical.

  Scarlet didn’t know how long they stood there, wrapped together, their bodies humming with shared passion, but the harsh cry of a gull startled her from the lulling beauty of it.

  She stepped back, her mind reeling. What had she done? “I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not…” His gaze held hers.

  There was hurt there. From her apology? She wrapped her arms around herself and pulled away. The surreal perfection of the night swam before her eyes.

  “…unless you kissed me out of pity.”

  “No.” She shook her head, her emotions raw. “If anyone was in need of a pity kiss, that would be me.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t remember the last time I came to the beach. Or saw a night sky that wasn’t bleached by the city lights through eyes that weren’t blurred from overwork.” Or the last time she’d kissed a man and felt it—like tectonic plates colliding.

  “It’s easy to get caught up in the rat-race. My brother did it. My father did it. I saw what it did to my mother. To my brother’s marriage.”

  “My parents never allowed work to get in the way of family.”

  “But achievement and education were important to them,” said Tony. “Maybe you became over-focused on those things and took the rest for granted.”

  “Maybe you’re right. I don’t remember the last time I had fun.” She swiped her face. Tears? She was grateful for the darkness.

  “Let’s go for a swim?”

  “I didn’t bring bathers.”

  “You don’t need them.” His teeth flashed in the moonlight.

  “Skinny dipping? Are you asking me to get naked with you?” Scarlet’s body was a hive of don’t-do-it, do-it, no-I-can’t, yes-you-can, are-you-out-of-your-mind?

  “If you want to.”

  “You really are a Radcliff.”

  “I can’t help my genes, but I promise I won’t take advantage of you.” He raked a hand through his hair and his eyes bored into hers. The air snapped with electric currents, the dangerous wattage frying her nerve endings and cranking her inside temperature to boiling.

  “Unless you want me to.”

  The blood stopped in her veins. Her thoughts collided—collected themselves. “I bet you’re used to women throwing themselves at you.” That was a splash of cold ocean on hot skin. The motor bike ride. His house conveniently a stone’s throw away. His bed. Her body puckered and pulled, and her stomach tied itself in knots.

  “Not your kind of woman… no.”

  He was a player. She wasn’t?

  “Scarlet, we’re not talking about sex here. We’re talking about having fun, letting go a little. The water—the darkness—will protect your modesty.”

  “The last time a Radcliff said something like that, I ended up in a locked lift compartment with no way to escape.”

  “My brother did that?”

  “Your brother is a very driven kind of guy and he wasn’t going to let a little thing like consent get in the way of achieving his goal. If I hadn’t panicked, he wouldn’t have gotten as far as he did but… I’m not as weak as I look.”

  “I’m not my brother. Or my father.” His eyes glistened in the darkness. “And you’re far from weak.”

  Oh, hell. His father. Now, she’d upset him and those barriers around her heart? They collapsed like a sandcastle before a wave. She should say no. The trouble was… she didn’t want to say no. You want to have sex with him? Yes. She wanted to have sex with him. In the waves. She wanted to orgasm with the wind in her hair, and her scream lost in the crash and the splash of the water. No. She didn’t. She was far from weak… usually. “I kissed you.”

  “I kissed you back.”

  “I liked it.”

  “So, did I. Let’s go for a
swim but keep your underwear on. I’m only human and you’re a beautiful woman.”

  He started to peel off his leather jacket and dropped each item of clothing in a pile on the sand. The damn moon shone bright—full and silvery in the night. Scarlet stood mesmerised, unable to drag her eyes away. He was muscular. Ripped. It was like she’d been dragged into the sea and her mouth grappled for oxygen. Dizzy. Her head spun. The sight of his body stole her breath.

  “Come on. What are you waiting for? I’m going in.”

  His briefs were black and as sexy as sin. His bum was tight, his legs were long, and his shoulders were broad. His grin was infectious, and his frivolous joy was even more so. He splashed into the shallows, his feet spraying water everywhere.

  They didn’t have a towel was her last lucid thought before she stripped. What the hell was she doing? He’d come into her day like a freaking cyclone, leaving her in a naked spin. An almost naked spin, she thought, as she dropped the motorcycle suit, peeled out of her shirt and followed him into the waves in her black briefs and bra.

  He dived under the waves and surfaced right beside her, picking her up and throwing her backwards into the sea like she weighed less than a piece of driftwood. She gulped a mouthful of air before disappearing under the wave. She grappled to find her feet, pounded by the surf. She surged back into the air, gulping and laughing. His arms wrapped around her and the skin-on-skin feel of him roared in her ears like a supersonic jet. Their mouths locked. The waves buffeted their bodies, but they were stronger together than they were apart.

  He tasted of salt and freedom and her body was as exhilarated by his kiss as their jaunt on the open road. She was aware of him, hard and eager against her, and the thundering roar of the ocean echoed inside her. She wanted him. She wanted him with a passion she’d never experienced before. She wanted to throw caution to the wind and take him inside her where she burned and squirmed and craved his touch. Their kiss became more frantic, more raw, more demanding. She pressed herself against the rough hair of his legs, the hard ridge of his arousal. She moved in sync with the thrust of his tongue. Her body wept with desire. His groan resonated inside her and his pain was hers.