Harlequin E New Adult Romance Box Set Volume 1: Burning MoonGirls' Guide to Getting It TogetherRookie in Love

by Jo Watson

  Riding an elephant is an amazing experience, you move through the world in a kind of slow, rhythmic sway. None of us said a word, and the only sound we could hear was the cracking and snapping of the jungle under the elephant’s huge, deliberate feet. Our journey took us deeper and deeper still into the rainforest, crossing deep green rivers as we went and climbing up steep rocky slopes, until we finally stopped at a large green pool of water—after what seemed like a few hours and more than a few insect bites later.

  A soft, delicate mist hung over the water, giving it an ethereal quality. It looked like something plucked directly from the mystical Middle Earth depicted in Lord Of The Rings. Once we’d disembarked—which I’m not entirely sure is the correct word to use when referring to the act of climbing off the back of a large mammal, but it felt like the most appropriate one—we made our way to the shoreline, where a few canoes patiently waited for us.

  The water was a deep-emerald color, surrounded by a brilliant pallet of deep greens and blacks created by huge rocky overhangs that were decorated in vines and the twisted, mossy roots of trees that looked hundreds of years old. As we rowed across the water a gentle tide softly pushed us forward, making it much easier to navigate down the winding river and around the massive mangrove roots that rose out of it. But in some parts the river became so narrow, framed on both sides by large rocky cliffs, that you had to use your oar to push yourself along. My arms were really starting to hurt when Red shouted out that we were almost there.

  Although the last stretch was short, it felt like it took hours to get through, as we carefully weaved our way through a series of dark caves and tiny tunnels carved out of the enormous limestone rocks. The final stretch, and possibly the most daunting, was going through a long, dark cave, with a ceiling so low you had to lie flat on your back to avoid scraping your head on it. As we got further into the cave’s rambling maze and closer to the Phang Nga Bay area, you could feel the deep bass reverberating and echoing around us; the party was not very far away now.

  We finally popped out on the other side of the cave and straight into a lush, green paradise—a small, green lagoon that was surrounded by pebbly beaches and thick jungle. Directly across from us a high waterfall cascaded down into the pool, whipping the water up into a white, foamy frenzy. My eyes followed the sheet of water all the way up, but I couldn’t see the source with all of that thick, misty white foam shrouding the top of the hill. On the other side of the lagoon, the music drew my eyes to the familiar sights of Burning Moon. The dance floor—a large wooden platform that seemed to be floating on the water—was already filled with gyrating bodies, all swaying together to the loud beats that were reverberating all around us. There were the usual tents that had been erected on the shoreline, and beautiful floating candles had been release into the water.

  But other than all the usual sights, the setting for this year was totally different. And this lush utopia, although entirely different, was equally breathtaking. It looked like we were in the middle of a far-away land that only existed in the pages of fantasy novels. It was the most enchanting, mysterious place I’d ever been to and it gave the party a totally different atmosphere. The loud, exuberant fun of the previous year had been replaced by a slower, smoldering sexuality that could already be seen in the bodies moving together on the dance floor, driving a deep thrill up along my spine.

  The closer I got to it all, the more my heart thumped, my breath quickened and my pulse raced in anticipation of seeing Damien. I methodically scanned the surroundings as far as my eyes could see, wondering where he would have decided to settle. I skimmed straight past all the blurry faces around me and landed my gaze on a large limestone cliff dotted by some rickety looking wooden stairs, trailing the path of a rope bridge that joined it to another, even higher looking cliff. My bets were that Damien was there, at the highest possible place—the best vantage point from which to admire the eclipse that attracted him to this party every year. I didn’t even wait to ask anyone. My instincts just told me that I was suppose to go that way and without a second of hesitation I pulled my canoe onto the shore and ran in the direction of the cliff.

  “Good luck babes.” I heard a voice shout from behind me as I started making my way up the rickety, and in places very rotten, wooden steps. I had no idea that when I set off on my journey up the cliff, that it would take over an hour of steep, sweaty climbing to get to the top. God, if my instincts about this were wrong, then I would have a long, angry walk back down. By the time I reached the top, it was already early evening, the journey to get to this point from that strip club had taken almost a full day, and as I took the last step, somewhat exhausted and stiff-legged, I immediately walked onto a road. A little way away I could see a large SUV parked in front of an enormous Balinese-style home, perched at the top of the hill that looked over the entire bay area. The home was beautiful, a wooden deck with an infinity pool stretched out toward the edge of the cliff, and it seemed to strangely fit perfectly in this remote setting.

  At this stage, I had two thoughts: the first was if there was a road and a car, why the hell had we all not just driven here? Although I guess the adventure is part of the Burning Moon experience. But driving would have brought me to Damien a whole lot faster! And thought number two: I had just walked into the front yard of someone’s private, exotic villa. Clearly I was in the wrong place and now I was going to have to walk all that way back down in search of Damien. This was a complete disaster, and I made a mental note to never trust my gut again as I felt pretty close to collapsing at the thought of the long journey ahead, and positively dehydrated.

  To my relief, I spotted a tap next to the deck of the villa and crept a bit closer. The deck itself was lit up with what seemed like hundreds of candles, and it was scattered with bright pink flowers. A makeshift bed had been made on the floor with large blankets and pillows, next to it a bottle of champagne and two glasses were chilling in an ice bucket. Someone was obviously planning on getting a little somethin’-somethin’ tonight, and I was going to take this as my cue to bugger off. But as I was about to turn around, I saw someone walk onto the deck.

  Damien.

  It was Damien.

  In the flesh.

  Standing no more than ten meters away from me.

  Damien.

  For some reason I immediately ducked and hid behind a large palm tree. I wasn’t thinking very clearly right now. I hid and I gawked because he was…

  Gorgeous.

  Amazing.

  Beautiful.

  More beautiful than I had pictured him over the past three-hundred-and-fifty-odd days or so. And he was shirtless. Someone should pass a law that required him to be shirtless all the time, because he was still as ripped and sculpted as ever. I also thought I spotted a few more tattoos, but at this distance I couldn’t quite make them out. His hair was cut into a strange style, half of it seemed to be shaved and the other side was longer and hung in messy wisps. He was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, which he was still buckling up as he walked out…which meant that he had been pants-less just a few moments ago, a thought that almost made me stop breathing.

  By now my mouth had gone dry and my heart was thumping violently inside my skull. The anticipation and excitement I was feeling in that moment was indescribable as I watched him pick up a shirt and slip it on, his stomach muscles rippling as he pulled it over his head. Once on, he then ran his hand through his black messy hair and slid his hands into his pockets.

  God, he was so fucking cool.

  And hot.

  But then he did something that made everything change…he bent down and started straightening the cushions and moving the flowers around.

  And then it hit me—excruciatingly: candles + flowers + bed + champagne with two glasses = Romance and Sex. With a capital R and a capital S.

  He was expecting someone. A woman. A woman that wasn’t me!

  And by the look of it, he was expecting a lot, a lot more than just someone to watch th
e eclipse with him.

  I suddenly felt sick. Not from dehydration, but from having my excitement sink right down into the pit of my stomach with so little warning.

  Chapter Twenty

  Embarrassment.

  Anger.

  Hatred.

  These three emotions are so intertwined, like the twisting strands of the DNA that makes up our existence and allows us to even feel these emotions.

  Because, right then, I was totally, utterly, wholly and completely embarrassed. The feeling was so intense that it made my cheeks sting and my skin crawl.

  I had come all this way. I had ridden an elephant, canoed through snake-infested waters and spent a fortune on a plane ticket to travel halfway across the world—only to find out that my feelings were clearly not reciprocated. Jess obviously didn’t know Damien as well as she thought she did!

  But embarrassment soon gave way to anger. Burning, blazing anger that could definitely kill. I was furious with Damien, with myself, with the world and not to mention the flickering romantic candles and stupid scattered petals that seemed to be taunting me.

  And finally…cue hatred. I hated him! I hated this stupid party, the fucking moon and the rotten steps that I’d just climbed, practically dislocating my gluteus maximus as I went, and I certainly hated elephants and airplanes and anything else associated with this total disaster.

  Finally, I was madly vacillating between all three of them, jumping from strand to strand in this intertwined vine of nauseating emotion.

  How could he? (Anger again.)

  But of course he could. It’s not like I owned him, or had any claim to him. It was my naïve fault for thinking that I did. (Embarrassment.)

  That bastard! (Hatred.)

  Every synapse in my brain was firing on full steam, creating a horrible whirlwind of thoughts that I knew were absolutely irrational, but I just couldn’t help it.

  I bet he was planning a big, hot night of sex with some gorgeous, cool chick…maybe it was that German girl. Yes, she looked suspicious and positively slutty. No one can be that beautiful, it’s not right, it’s not natural and it’s not fair. But it looked like it was more than just sex. In fact, on closer inspection, all this romance could only have meant one thing, surely? Guy’s don’t go to the effort of lighting hundreds of candles and laying flowers if they aren’t planning something big.

  A proposal!? (Wildly irrational, I know.)

  Oh my God! I’m so stupid…how long have they been dating? And their kids will probably be supermodels. Clever, astrophysicist, supermodel children born with six-packs and great hair.

  Of course he didn’t love me. Of course he hadn’t been curled up in the fetal position pining for me all year. He’s probably been having the time of his life, shagging up a storm.

  I hate him.

  No, I love him.

  Bastard.

  God, my mind was a mess.

  I needed to get away. Make a quick escape before he saw me. I didn’t think I’d be able to bear the humiliation of a face-to-face confrontation, so I started inching backward—my trembling legs barely able to support my body. I’d almost made my way to the steps when something suddenly stopped me.

  A thought.

  I’d come all this way. I’d taken a risk, I’d been totally prepared to wear my heart on my sleeve and put myself out there in the most vulnerable way possible. And that is nothing to be embarrassed about. To walk away from this now without saying something to him…I would regret that for the rest of my life.

  So, despite my screaming sinews, churning stomach and the loud, visceral cracking of my heart, I turned around and started walking back.

  Damien was still standing on the deck fiddling with the candles in preparation for his German shagathon. I had no idea what I was going to say to him. What does one say in a situation like this? It’s not likes there’s a guide book, a How-to Manual or The Idiot’s Guide to Confronting the Man You Just Flew Halfway Across the World to Confess Your Undying Love for When the Feelings Are Not Reciprocated.

  “Surprise, surprise Damien.” My tone was acerbic to say the least, and perhaps it wasn’t the most hard-hitting opening line, but it was all I could think of.

  He looked up at me.

  Surprised.

  God, he was gorgeous. God, I wanted to smoosh his face into something.

  “Lilly…I wasn’t expecting you –”

  I cut him off quickly. “Of course you weren’t expecting me.” Sarcastic as hell. “But the question is…who were you expecting…huh?” The huh was probably a bit loud and overemphasized, and even more so when I put my hands on my hips in an aggressive and dramatic stance.

  Suddenly I felt like I was channeling my mother. If I could be big and bold and dramatic right now, perhaps he wouldn’t see that my heart was breaking.

  I stepped up onto the deck and looked around with melodramatic disdain; I even picked up a flower for added drama before tossing it to the ground with a thud of exploding petals. I almost expected to hear the swell of dramatic music. I was the star of my own soap opera now.

  Damien stepped forward and opened his mouth to speak “I was actually expecting—” But I cut him off again.

  “I know who you were expecting. I know all about you and your German hussy. You and your little…” I rapidly searched for an insult. “Your strudel!” (Probably not the best choice of insult, but this was no time to second-guess myself)

  “I know you’re probably going to propose and get married and have gorgeous children with cute German accents and…” But as soon as those words were out of my mouth, my bravado melted away. My mask slipped. The mere thought seemed to deplete me of the reserves needed to keep up the cool, calm, confrontational manner. The hard, sarcastic exterior had cracked…

  “I can’t believe how stupid I’ve been Damien. I mean…” I started to pace now and my voice was probably two octaves higher than it had been before. “I mean…I flew all the way here, to the middle of the jungle to find you and tell you, well, to tell you…” I could feel the tears starting to well up and the words get caught in my throat. “To tell you…um…to fucking tell you that I’m fucking in love with you, okay? I’ve been in love with you this whole time and when I saw Jess and she told me all this stuff, about you and feelings and…stuff. I thought that there might be a chance for us, but now I can see there isn’t—”

  “Lilly, just wait—” Damien tried to cut me off again, but I wasn’t having it.

  “No you wait!” I could feel the warm tears starting to escape. “I came all this way because I thought that maybe, maybe, just maybe you were ‘The One.’ My soul mate or whatever you want to call it. Because even though it’s been a year, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you and—”

  “Lilly, stop—”

  “I’m still not finished.” The more he tried to cut me off, the more worked up I was getting, I think I was also half-mad and delirious from dehydration and exertion. “But it’s okay, Damien. It’s okay. In fact, I’m glad I’ve seen this. Because now I know for definite, beyond a reasonable doubt, that it’s over.”

  “Lilly!”

  “Now I can move on with my life. And maybe I’ll also find someone special and get married and have kids and a dog and a house in the suburbs with roses and—”

  “Lilly, for heaven’s sake—”

  “So, I wish you and your girlfriend all the best, but I’m going to—”

  Damien almost jumped across the deck and then…

  He kissed me.

  I froze.

  The kiss was firm and forceful as he gripped my face between his hands tightly. It almost hurt.

  And then he pulled away and looked at me, centimeters away from my face.

  “Lilly. Shut up. Please, please, pretty please zip it for just one second so that I can explain.” For some reason he said that with a smile on his face, which I wasn’t sure how to interpret. Was he mocking me?

  “Hey.” I pushed him back. “Don’t you dare
tell me to shut up. And how dare you kiss me like that? It’s not—”

  And then he did it again!

  He kissed me.

  But this time the kiss felt tender. His lips were soft, softer than I’d remembered them. His fingers gently stroked the side of my face, while his other hand made its way around to the small of my back. He pulled me closer and despite myself, despite everything that my brain was screaming at me, I kissed him back.

  It was a kiss over three-hundred days in the making and it was amazing. Soft and slow and gentle and sexy. So, so sexy.

  “Lilly.” His voice was soft and breathy as he pulled away and looked me straight in the eye.

  Melt.

  “Lilly, this is all for you. Everything. I knew you were coming, I just wasn’t expecting you to find me, I was about to come down and look for you.”

  “What?” I was gob smacked. “How is that possible?”

  “Do you really think Jess can keep a secret?”

  “But she promised.”

  Damien smiled. “Jess is incapable of keeping anything to herself!”

  I still felt a little confused. Mainly due to the rollercoaster of emotions I’d just endured. And then, as the shroud of confusion started to lift, I started to feel the familiar sting of embarrassment all over again. The things I’d just said. The deranged ramblings!

  “So this…” I looked around the deck. “The flowers, candles, are…for me? There’s no one else.”

  Damien nodded. “It’s only you, Lilly.”

  “Oh crap! I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to say that stuff. Shit! I don’t know what got into me, I—”

  This time I allowed Damien to cut me off mid-sentence. “I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you from the moment I laid eyes on you with those stupid pink bunny-rabbit slippers. Lilly, you’re the first thing I think about when I open my eyes in the morning, and the last thing on my mind when I go to sleep.”

  My breath quickened and I was overwhelmed by a strange sensation. My heart was swelling to dizzying proportions inside my chest. It was like that feeling you get when you’re about to cry tears of joy—that strange happy ache you get right where your heart it. It was just like that—only multiplied by a thousand.