Five Exotic Fantasies: Love in Reverse, Book 3

by Serenity Woods

  “I don’t, because what’s happening with Sasha and Peter is completely unconnected to what’s happening between the two of us. I don’t see why we can’t maintain a professional relationship in the office—yes, you’re Sasha’s superior, but I don’t see how things would change if we slept together.”

  Coco said nothing for a while. Mr. Idealistic had no idea about what had happened between her and Peter Dell, or that she was withholding information from him. Professionally, she should run a mile from this relationship.

  But then again she had no intention of revealing what had occurred when she was seventeen. She’d be open and honest about what she’d seen between Peter and Sasha, and anything else Felix wanted to know. But that little nugget of information would remain hidden deep within her.

  And when it came down to it, surely what happened between her and Felix was their business and nobody else’s?

  Trying to ignore the fact that she was rearranging the details to suit herself, she led him down a side road and across to where she lived, a small, three-bedroomed Edwardian-style house with a tiny front garden surrounded by a waist-high wall.

  “This is me,” she said. She withdrew her hand and slid both hers into the pockets of her jacket, leaning against the wall.

  He stood before her, only six inches away, just enough inside her personal space to feel intimate. She could smell his lovely manly clean smell still mixed with the aroma of muffins, which made her smile as she looked up into his brown eyes. Now she wore her Converses, he seemed a lot taller than her, and for maybe the first time in her life she felt enchanted by his masculinity and acutely aware of the sheer difference between their sexes.

  “Thank you for walking me home,” she whispered.

  “You’re welcome. I had a lovely evening.”

  “Me too,” she said, and meant it. He’d been funny, entertaining, attentive and warm. He’d made her feel as if she was the only woman in the bar, and that he’d had eyes for nobody but her.

  “Will you think about it?” he asked.

  She hesitated because she was teetering on the verge of saying she’d already thought about it and she had her answer, but he must have worried that her delay meant she was about to refuse him, because he raised his right hand and stroked her cheek with his thumb.

  “Before you say anything,” he said huskily, “can I kiss you goodnight?”

  She stared at him, heart pounding, so desperate to feel his lips on hers again that she could only nod, hoping he kissed her for at least as long as he had in the office and didn’t give her a peck on the cheek.

  He didn’t give her a peck on the cheek. Far from it. He kissed her like she’d never been kissed in her entire life.

  First, his eyes lighting with relief as she nodded her consent, he raised his other hand to cup her left cheek, framing her face as his gaze caressed her features, her eyes, her nose and cheeks, her mouth. His eyes lingered there for a moment, and she tingled with anticipation, her lips parting as she inhaled. He smiled a little, and then he lowered his head and kissed her.

  She closed her eyes, waiting almost breathlessly as he pressed his lips to hers in small, soft kisses, his mouth moving over hers with tenderness. He kissed across her mouth from right to left, then her top lip, then her bottom lip, so slowly it was as if he was afraid of moving too quickly and startling her, as if she were a deer he’d found in a forest glade.

  She sighed, her nipples tightening and an ache beginning between her thighs, amazed at the response he was coaxing out of her with a simple kiss. As she sighed, her lips parted, and almost as if he felt it was an invitation, he brushed his tongue across her bottom lip.

  Coco inhaled sharply, and he paused, lifting his head a little. He dropped his hands and rested them on her hips, his lips still only inches from hers, waiting for her reaction.

  She studied his mouth, the hint of stubble on his chin. She took her hands out of her pockets and rested one on his chest, lifting the other to touch his face and brush the stubble. She ran her thumb across his mouth, following the curve as he smiled. And then she slipped it into his hair as he lowered his lips again.

  This kiss was different—if the previous one had been a meal prepared with a pinch of Cajun spice, this one was a red-hot chili, with several jalapenos and a goodly amount of Tabasco to boot. As she sank her fingers into his thick, short hair, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tightly to him, covering her lips with his. He stroked his tongue into her mouth and she groaned and returned it with a brush of her own, and that was it, fire licked up inside her, engulfing her, and suddenly she couldn’t get enough of him. He overwhelmed all her senses—she was filled with the taste and smell of him, the hardness of his body pressed against hers, the way the short hair on the back of his head grew longer on the top, and she clenched her fingers in its softness, pulling his head to hers. It wasn’t anything like the kisses she’d had with Michael—it was like comparing a dull iron bar with a shining gold ring, or something bland and tasteless with rich, dark chocolate.

  When he finally released her, they were both breathing heavily, and she couldn’t stop her lips curving in pleasure and appreciation.

  “Fucking hell,” he said, lifting his head but keeping his arms around her. “You kiss like a goddess.”

  She flushed warm at the compliment. “And you’re like Casanova. Gosh, you must have had a lot of practice.”

  “A man’s only as good as the woman he’s with,” he said, and she thought how appropriate that comment was. With Michael her world had been filled with pastels and muted shades, overcast and dull, the promise of what could be far off in the distance like a mirage that always turned out to be a figment of her imagination.

  In one smooth kiss Felix had turned her world into Technicolor, blazing into her universe like a comet, lighting up the dark corners inside her, making her shine. And it was then that she knew.

  “Yes,” she said.

  He smiled. “Yes, what?”

  “Yes, I’d like to have sex with you.” She said it before she could change her mind. And as she said it, she didn’t feel a flicker of doubt.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The following evening, Felix got out of the taxi and asked the driver to wait. Just across the path was the wall against which Coco had leaned the night before while they kissed, and he smiled. She’d been so tentative at first, and he’d felt as if he was handling something fragile, like cradling a butterfly in his large hands, afraid of crushing or frightening it. But then something had flipped an internal switch inside her, and without warning she’d returned his passion a hundred and ten percent, confirming his original thoughts that deep down she was a passionate being who’d been caged like a tiger for far too long.

  He opened the gate and walked through and up the small path to her front door. He’d told her that he’d pick her up at seven. She’d been nervous about telling her mother that she was going out on another date, but he’d stopped himself from suggesting they make it the afternoon instead for several reasons—firstly he needed some time to get prepared, secondly as it was Saturday she’d have to ask Frances to cover for her anyway because she didn’t hire nurses at the weekend, and thirdly…well, she needed to get out. She didn’t say it and neither did he, but she’d clearly enjoyed being out and about the night before, and he thought that while he was in Wellington, he might as well give her a reason to get out of the house she was confined to most of the time.

  He rang the bell and waited, wondering why he had butterflies. He felt like he was sixteen again, on a first date. Maybe it was because he’d gone to so much effort for her—quite why he had, he wasn’t sure—or maybe the nerves were just excitement at the thought of spending more time with her.

  The door opened, and he was surprised when his heart jumped at the sight of her standing there, smiling nervously.

  “Hi,” she said, slipping her hands in the pockets of her jeans. She wore a pretty green shirt a shade darker than her eyes, and her
hair hung loose once again around her shoulders.

  “Hi.” From behind his back he produced a lei—a Hawaiian necklace of flowers—and placed it around her neck.

  She laughed and fingered the paper flowers. “Why thank you—it’s beautiful.”

  “Just to get you in the mood.” He smiled, meeting her eyes. Once again, his heart leaped. She was excited and nervous too—he could see it in the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the flush in her cheeks. “Are you ready?”

  She hesitated. “Um, one thing… I’m really sorry about this, I know it’s the last thing guys want to do on a date, but I wondered, would you mind awfully…”

  “Spit it out, Coco,” he said, amused.

  “Would you mind saying a quick hello to my mum?”

  He chuckled. No doubt Coco had been getting the third degree from Eleanor Stark about where she was going and with whom. “Of course I don’t mind—I’d like to meet her.”

  Coco walked backward to let him in and led the way through to the living room. Felix looked around, noting the wide doorways for her mother’s wheelchair access. Both the hallway and, as he walked in, the living room were decorated in light shades but with vivid, colourful paintings and hangings on the walls—from scenes of exotic sites like Machu Piccu and the Egyptian Pyramids to Peruvian shawls and bright cushions. He made a mental note to ask her about them later.

  Two women sat in the armchairs in front of the television, but he didn’t have to ask which was Coco’s mother. With the same blonde hair—albeit cut short in a manageable style—and the same green eyes, Eleanor Stark was like an older, paler version of her daughter. The ravaging effects of her disease had not been kind to her body and she looked frail, but her eyes were bright, and she smiled as Felix approached.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Stark,” he said, and held out his hand.

  “You must be Felix.” She rested her hand in his. It felt like a tiny sparrow, all bones and no flesh, and he shook it gently. She smiled. “Coco’s told me all about you.”

  “That’s nice,” he said, letting go of her hand, sure that Coco would have told her mother about five percent of the information she actually knew about him. “Likewise—it’s lovely to meet you.” He glanced across at the other woman. “You must be Frances—thank you so much for filling in for Coco tonight.”

  “Oh, you’re very welcome.” The woman looked flustered and blushed. He smiled, guessing that these two women didn’t get to see many young men.

  “Coco tells me you’re taking her out to dinner tonight,” said Eleanor. “Where are you going, anywhere nice?”

  “A rather unusual Hawaiian restaurant,” Felix said without batting an eyelid, gesturing at Coco’s lei, conscious of her startled gaze.

  “Hawaiian? That sounds different.” Eleanor’s eyes gleamed and she looked at her daughter. “You’ll have to tell me all about it when you get back, love.”

  “Yes, Mum.” Coco backed away hurriedly. “Anyway we must be going. I’ll see you later.”

  “Don’t hurry back,” Frances called as they left the house.

  They managed to get out of the house and into the taxi before bursting into nervous laughter. Felix directed the taxi driver to his hotel, then turned to Coco and rolled his eyes. “That was a close one.” He grinned. “Do you think she suspects?”

  “Goodness, no. Although they did watch us kissing last night.” She gave him an impish smile.

  He pulled an eek face. “Oops.”

  “Apparently we were lit up beautifully by the street lamp. She gave you nine out of ten for style.”

  He laughed. “Only nine?” Privately, he wondered if Eleanor was quite as prim as Coco thought she was. Her eyes had held a strange gleam when he told her about the Hawaiian restaurant, almost as if she didn’t believe him. What had she thought of Michael? Had she had any inkling of why Coco broke up with him?

  He reached out, took her hand and gave her fingers a little squeeze. “Are you okay?”

  She nibbled her bottom lip. “A bit nervous.”

  “Don’t be. It’s going to be fun. Are you dressed appropriately?” He raised an eyebrow.

  She gave a wry smile. “Yes. I just hope my mother didn’t spot the ties sticking out the top of my shirt.” She dipped her head and indicated the back of her neck. The bow of her bikini ties was just visible.

  Felix grinned. He’d told her before he left her the night before to wear a bikini under her clothes, knowing that would get her imagination whirring. Now, however, she looked nervous again, so he asked her about the colourful decorations in her home to try and take her mind off it.

  “It looks as if you are well travelled,” he said. “I thought you didn’t go on holiday.”

  “Unfortunately, I don’t,” she admitted. “I buy them from all sorts of places, including second-hand shops. Mum and I watch a lot of travel shows—living vicariously, you know? And I try to get things that remind her of places we’ve seen.”

  “It’s a good idea,” he said. She certainly seemed very close to her mother. Their relationship had no doubt intensified once Coco decided after breaking up with her ex that she didn’t want to get involved with another man. Would she ever be able to settle down with someone and relinquish Eleanor’s care to someone else? If she did meet a guy, he thought, that man would have to be very understanding about how he handled the matter of caring for her mother.

  The taxi pulled up outside his hotel, he leaned forward and paid the driver, and they got out. Taking her hand, he led her into the bright foyer.

  “Wow.” She stared around her, eyes wide at the mirrors and marble pillars, the staff in their smart red uniforms. “I’ve never stayed somewhere like this.”

  “It’s a nice place.” He crossed the foyer and pressed the button to call the elevator. “And the suite’s cool. Well, tonight it isn’t.” He grinned at her curious look but didn’t elaborate. Let her puzzle for a bit.

  The elevator dinged and the doors slid open. He led her inside, slid his card in the slot and pressed the button for his floor before pocketing the card again.

  “Okay,” he said as the doors slid shut and the elevator rose. “Time to get ready.”

  She turned startled eyes on him. “What?”

  First he slid off his jacket, then toed off his trainers and flicked off his socks. Then, trying not to chuckle as her eyes widened even farther, he unbuttoned his jeans and removed them to reveal his swim shorts. Finally he grabbed a handful of his T-shirt and yanked it over his head, beginning to laugh as she squealed, “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready for our adventure.” He gathered his clothes together in one arm as the lift dinged again, and when the doors opened he grabbed her hand and led her along the corridor right to the end, to his rooms. At one point another couple passed them, eyebrows raised as they took in his appearance, but he just nodded and said, “Evening,” and continued on, lips twisting wryly.

  He stopped outside the last door in the corridor and turned to look at her. “Ready?”

  She swallowed, apparently not sure whether to be alarmed or amused. “Okay.”

  He swiped his card, opened the door and stood back to let her enter.

  He’d spent ages on the room, and now he followed her in nervously, unsure whether she would burst out laughing or think he was an idiot.

  She did neither. She walked forward a few feet and then stood and stared, turning and looking around her, her mouth open.

  It was a beautiful suite of rooms with elegant furnishings and a plush cream carpet, but most of it was invisible as he’d covered everything with yards of cloth he’d bought that afternoon.

  He’d pushed back the sofa and chairs to the corner of the room and covered half of it with the quilt from the bedroom plus another quilt he’d found in the cupboard. Over the top of this he’d placed a golden-yellow flannelette sheet, giving the appearance of a beach of sun-kissed sand. He’d covered the other half of the room with several sheets of varying blue and green clo
th, some made from cotton, some from shiny fabrics, and he’d scattered them with half a dozen soft toys in the shape of fish and turtles that he’d found in the charity shops.

  He’d set up his laptop on a table to one side of the room and linked it in with the data projector he’d borrowed from the office. Pressing a button, he projected a short movie he’d found online of a Hawaiian beach onto the opposite wall. Shearwaters and petrels hovered above the sea’s surface looking for fish and crustaceans, and gulls cried above the sound of the waves. He’d set it to play in a loop, and the shift from end to beginning again was barely noticeable, making it feel as if the room really did look out onto the Pacific island.

  His iPod played native Hawaiian folk music through the room’s sound system, and he’d placed other items, including more leis, a large poster he’d found of palm trees, and various other toy animals, around the room.

  He’d also turned the heating up to maximum before he left, and now the room was beautifully warm as if heated by the light of the “sun”—a giant yellow beach ball he’d found and hung in the corner.

  She still hadn’t said anything, and now he was really getting nervous that she was thinking there was something seriously wrong with him, so he gestured to the kitchen, where he’d laid out a selection of spirits and two glasses on the breakfast bar. “Can I fix you a cocktail? I promise not to make any crass jokes about a ‘Sex on the Beach’ or anything.”

  He watched her turn to him, and he half-expected her to start laughing. But to his surprise there were tears in her eyes, and as he stared, startled, one rolled down her cheek and she pressed her hand to her mouth.

  Chapter Twenty

  Coco bit her lip, trying to keep it together as Felix put his arms around her and hugged her tightly.

  “What’s the matter?” he said, stroking her hair. “Is it really that bad?”

  She gave a little laugh and pushed back from him, wiping her face. “No, idiot. It’s marvellous.” She looked around the room, unable to believe what an atmosphere he’d created. “I can’t believe you’ve gone to so much effort. For me.” The tears threatened again, and she bit her lip.