But the way things were going, she probably would run into him. The last thing she wanted.
She called Dani.
‘How was the conference?’
‘Good! Absolutely worth it. Now I get to waste two days doing jack.’
‘Honey, if you were doing Jack or Jim or even Point-dexter it would be time well spent.’
Jas laughed. Thought of who she could be doing.
Good God, what a thought! Sleeping with a man she’d met in the hotel lobby. He could be a serial killer or a paedophile or … far more likely, simply lazy and self-absorbed in bed and prone to making her feel like a bumbling idiot the entire time. Just like every other guy she’d ever dated.
‘And stop giving me that look through the phone!’
‘I’m not!’ Jas sighed and rubbed a finger along the bruised surface of her thumb. ‘I’m too tired to be doing anybody.’
‘I know baby, I know,’ Dani relented. ‘So just relax then. Sleep late. Eat too much.’
‘That I can do! How’s everything at the office?’
‘Fabulous. We don’t miss you, don’t hurry back. I … Damnit! Got to go. Grandchildren fighting.’
‘Run along then. I’ll talk to you later.’
She hung up, frowning. She couldn’t explain to Dani anyway. That she wanted him so badly; wanted him to be different. Just for one night. Not a lifetime, not a get married and live happily ever after. Not even a fling. Just one night to make her feel sexy and beautiful and amazing. Just one.
She made her way back to the mermaid bench. Criminal returning to the scene of the crime. She kicked off her shoes and dug her feet into the dewy grass, not caring that her socks were getting wet. Closing her eyes, she imagined what she would do if suddenly he came striding through the dark and stood over her, tall and strong and icy beautiful. Wanting her.
This was pointless. She should have brought her laptop. At least she could have read the news online. Pathetic, but so what?
The sound of footsteps made her open her eyes and, as she waited for her vision to adjust to the night-shadows, she heard the footsteps pause.
‘Hi.’
Oh for crying out loud! Criminals, scene of crime. Maybe fate was trying to tell her something after all.
‘I’m not following you, I promise,’ she said with a half-laugh. Not intentionally.
‘Oh?’ He sat and leant back. Noticing her shoes were off he grinned and leant forwards to unlace his. ‘Well, even if you weren’t this is still a good thing right?’
She closed her eyes again, shrugged. ‘Right.’
For a few heartbeats he didn’t say anything. Then, ‘You know I was just sitting at the bar wishing I’d brought my laptop. And I thought, ‘How lame is that? But I was on my way to get it anyway. And now I’m glad I was.’
She laughed. She laughed and laughed and he stared at her in pleased surprise until she confessed her own moment of weakness. And when she did, he smiled that dazzling, dizzying smile at her and said, ‘So there.’
As if that proved everything. And maybe it did.
‘Meet me for lunch tomorrow. Please?’ he said, sometime long after they’d lost count of the hours they had spent talking.
‘I …’ she faltered. Even now, there was still a line that hadn’t been crossed. What if she said ‘OK’ and then her illusion came toppling down after all?
He reached out, a warm, reassuring hand on her arm in the dark. ‘Look, just think about it and leave a message for me at the reception desk. Tyrell Andriessen. I should be back here around twelve thirty, maybe one. If you decide not to that’s OK.’
She twisted her arm from under his, wrapped her fingers around his hand before he could withdraw it.
‘I don’t need to think about it.’ She smiled.
He was silent a moment, just smiling. And then he squeezed her fingers, brought her hand to his lips. ‘Tomorrow then. At the pool? I know you brought a swimsuit.’
‘I didn’t. But I’ll … I’ll improvise.’ Had she really said that? Where had that come from?
But it worked. He looked at her for a long aching moment, shoes in hand, as they stood in socked feet beside the fountain. Before they said goodnight and turned to go their own ways.
But that look, it made her absolutely giddy. Made her head hurt with impatience. Lunchtime couldn’t come soon enough.
*
The hours between dawn and noon, however, didn’t care a fig for her nerves. They crawled by at their own snail’s pace, and post-breakfast found her at the hotel boutiques where she stared at the racks of skimpy Lycra and mesh netting laid out in glitzy display.
‘Can I help with anything?’
Jas turned to the smiling shop attendant and shook her head. ‘Erm. Just looking. Forgot my swimsuit so I’m looking for a replacement.’
Undaunted, the attendant looked Jas over twice and nodded.
‘You can get away with most anything. But I’d go with a two-piece.’ She plucked a strappy cocktail of pale yellow and lemon shades from the rack and held it up to Jas. ‘This.’
Jas looked down at the so-called bikini and burst out laughing. ‘Not a chance in years. Not me.’
She would never buy it, never wear it. But the attendant was holding the hanger out and nodding with perfect conviction. And just to see … Jas took hold of one end of the hanger.
‘Just for the sake of argument,’ she said.
And it was just the sake of argument that she stood before the mirror of her own room later, wondering what she’d been thinking. Might as well go naked. But, if she just forgot for a minute who the woman in the glass was. If she could pretend that she saw through the eyes of a stranger: a hotel guest, a traveller.
She swallowed and turned away. Heart beating, avoiding the glances of strangers, she left the safety of her room and headed for the pool deck. There, heat and ocean breeze touched her skin. Her very bare skin. And as she stepped under the icy pool-shower, she thought for a blushing panicked moment of the lack of padding or lining in the bikini top.
But she’d known that when she bought it, this thing that two days ago she would never, ever have worn. And in two days never would again.
Just one night, she reminded herself.
She had this bikini, and she could have anything she wanted.
The sunken bar at the end of the pool was deserted. She didn’t know if she was relieved or disappointed as she waded around to the side of the bar bordered by the pool deck and hopped up on a stool. The bartender walked over and smiled, wiping his hands on a towel. ‘Hi, what can I get ya?’
She followed his gaze and knew that he didn’t see sensible Jas at all, and once again she felt that prickle of impatience.
She started to reply, but a flicker of motion caught the edge of her vision and interrupted her. Splash and movement of a swimmer along the open stretch of the pool. A strong swimmer, closing the distance to the deck with powerful rapid strokes.
She forgot how to form words. Forgot the bartender.
And then like a surfacing river god he was beside her, water streaming silver from his hair. Water shining like ice on his bare chest. Except that the heat between their bodies should have dried it.
‘Hi. I …’ She swallowed. She was still Jas inside. No matter what she saw in his face as he looked at her. How was she going to pull this off?
Don’t look at his eyes. Don’t think of the male attention focused on this stranger’s body: from the bartender, from him. Just talk. Like this was her office and she was in her plain, ordinary, boring suit.
‘I was just about to order a drink. What are you having?’
He swallowed. ‘Whatever you’re having,’ he said.
That made it easy. She ordered: some fruity rummy concoction. She watched the bartender give her a last appraisal and walk away. And then it was just him.
‘I thought I would beat you here. Things wrapped up earlier than I thought.’
She couldn’t look at his eyes. She’d lose
her nerve, her mind, everything. Barrel chest, ice-blond hair so wet against his tanned skin, waterproof watch on one broad wrist. James Bond as Viking.
‘Everything go OK?’
‘Yes. Like clockwork.’
‘Despite not having half of your contract?’
Strong fingers under her chin turned her eyes to his anyway.
‘Despite that.’
She stared up at him, not daring to move. The corners of his mouth curved upwards, but she couldn’t remember how to smile back.
‘I know what it is with you,’ he said, as if answering some question he’d asked himself.
‘What?’
‘You. You’re much.’ He took a step back. ‘Too.’ He reached for her arms and she only had time for a token yelp of protest because it was too late already. ‘Serious.’
He yanked and with a splash she went under, spluttering. And came up in his arms. He was laughing as he helped her to get her balance again, and before she could regain enough composure to think of resistance he pulled her inwards. To his chest. And kissed her. Soft kisses. Tugging her at her lips, licking water from her chin and the corners of her mouth. Turning up the heat in her to a blaze.
His hand on her back pressed her into him and her body responded, wanting to move towards his. His cock was hard between them and this stranger Jas, soaking wet in her lemon-yellow bikini, being kissed in full view of the public without shame, squeezed herself against it.
Shocking herself and him in the process.
With a catch to his voice, breathing hard from the kiss or from her daring, he gave a low chuckle and whispered into her ear. ‘See? When you stop thinking about being serious, it’s much, much better.’
She laughed and pulled away, scrambling back to the stool. Their drinks had arrived and she made a relieved grab for her glass.
He joined her with a sideways glance and a smile, reaching for his own glass. He sipped his drink and then, ever so casually, he slid the cold glass along the side of her bare torso. She gasped and flinched. And like a waiting hunter he took advantage of her parted lips. Bending down to kiss her hard this time, the glass still burning icy fire against her skin while he sucked on her tongue, her lips. Draining her of all power to resist.
He put the drink down and, unsteadily, she followed suit. He was pulling her to the edge of the stool and she grabbed his waist for balance. No doubt that was exactly what he’d intended, but she didn’t care. Not now. She didn’t care when he smoothed one hand against her breast. When he pinched one aching nipple and then the other, while he kissed her neck and her shoulder.
She was his plaything. And for just once in her life, for one day, she could be a plaything. For him.
For today she could enjoy the sweet sensations he was kindling in her without wondering what would happen tomorrow or wondering what he thought of her. Because it was obvious with this man what he thought; it was in his eyes and his touch. He wanted her and that was enough.
She closed her eyes, floating in pleasure. Little waves washed over the top of the stool, nudging her ass and thighs like so many thousands of gentle touches all flowing together at once. And his fingers were moving in, following the curve of her thigh. Moving over the tiny patch of yellow spandex, which was all that lay between her and indecent exposure.
She opened her eyes, clenched her fingers on his back. ‘Tyrell!’ It was a half-whispered question. Or a reprimand, or plea. She didn’t know which.
‘Hmm?’ was the only reply.
He pushed aside the bikini crotch and she thought that he’d probably done it a million times before, the movement was so expert. So knowing. A man who’d had countless women, who could have countless more. And yet, he wanted her.
After that, she couldn’t think any more. Because his fingers were sliding into her. Out and in, and in and in. She dug her own fingers into his back as he used those incredible hands on her. As he rubbed her clit in tiny circles before sliding back into her pussy. Found the places that made her gasp and shift, and concentrated his grinding, tickling caresses there. Almost lifted her off the stool with his efforts.
And she was trying so hard not to make a sound, to not draw any attention. Although, God knew, the bartender knew and so did the middle-aged guy he was talking to at the other end of the bar. And they were both watching her get a hand job, watching her enjoy it. And Jas felt the flame that was burning all through her body rush into her face.
She was blushing. Blushing and squirming on Tyrell’s attentive fingers, about to come. Unable to fight the intensity in her pussy and her thighs or Tyrell’s voice at her ear commanding her to come for him as his fingers moved inside her, faster and rougher. And so she gave up, gave in, wrapped her legs around his calves, threw her head back and silently screamed the most intense orgasm of her life.
But it wasn’t over, far from over. He kissed her cheek and, with a smile, brazenly sucked his fingers off before taking a sip of his forgotten drink. Flaunting it for the other men. Showing them how much he had enjoyed pleasuring her. And all she could do was blush and pant for breath and try to calculate whether his room was closer or hers. Because right now, those were the only places she wanted to be.
He must have read her mind. Or her body. He grinned and turned away to scribble his room number and signature on the tab.
‘I, umm …’ She was still out of breath. ‘I’ll pay you back,’ she said and then bit her tongue when he looked at her and lifted an eyebrow. Even her words were conspiring to drive her beyond all safe boundaries, making dirty promises where she had meant none.
‘Will you?’
Might as well follow through now. So she lifted her eyebrows in return and smiled. ‘Whose room is closer?’ she said.
It turned out to be his. She walked in and halted, uncertain where to go and what to do. She was suddenly all thumbs and left legs and a glimpse in the mirror at her tangled, flushed, shameless reflection only made it worse. Turning away, she made it to the window and put her palms on the glass, staring out at the ocean beyond. Willing herself to calm down. To be confident and sexy. Not skittish, foolish Jas.
She didn’t want to run away, but she didn’t know what to do now that she was here. He came to stand behind her and rested his chin on her shoulder. His hands wrapped around her stomach, pulled her into his hard body, and she sighed. Wanting more than she could put into coherent thought.
‘Jas,’ he mumbled into her wet hair, nibbling her ear, her neck. ‘Serious, pretty Jas.’ His hands moved up her torso and his wrists pressed the curves of her breasts. She looked down to see his hands held together in a gesture of supplication at her chest. She stared, knowing on the innermost level what he was about to ask of her and wondering how she ever would.
Knowing she would anyway.
‘Tie me up,’ he said, voice like a winter storm over the ocean. ‘Use me.’
She turned then, digging her fingers into the back of his neck as she kissed him. Before she could think about it and stop herself, she dragged his swim trunks off. Then she stood up slowly, looking him over, filling her gaze with his naked, gorgeous body.
‘Are you sure?’ she asked, still afraid. Still some part of her demanded she be sensible.
But he shook his head. ‘Don’t ask me if I’m sure, Jas. Just take me.’
She didn’t know she had this in her. When she made him kneel and tied his hands behind his back with his own silk tie, biting her tongue to keep from asking if it was OK to use it, she wondered at herself. She wondered when she undid the straps of the bikini, slid it off her arms and over his mouth. When she stuffed the fabric into his mouth and retied the straps behind his head, before leaning back to study her handiwork.
All along he silently followed her movements with his eyes and, when she was done, his gaze travelled over her half-naked body. Moving where his touch could not.
But she could touch.
She looked down at her hands and smiled, grateful for her short blunt nails. They would be p
erfect.
On her knees, she moved behind him, ran her arms up his arms to his shoulders and kissed the back of his neck. Her breasts pressed hot against his smooth back, his ass hot against her stomach and, leaning her head on the back of his, she traced the knobs of his spine. A lover’s embrace. How she wanted to give him the kind of desperate ecstasy she’d known at the pool.
So, to calm her fear and doubt, she used words. Silken nets of words that had waited inside her to find a voice for so long.
‘I fantasised about you as my captive Viking warrior. Did you know that?’
He shook his head.
‘But you must have.’ Her fingers moved down his back with purpose. She cupped the curve of his ass, squeezed gently. Then harder. Harder. Harder, the flesh turning white from the pressure of her fingers.
He clenched his muscles, resisting, but she didn’t relent.
‘You must have known how beautiful I found you. Do you deny it?’
She twisted and kneaded flesh until he shook his head, his breath coming rough and harsh. And at that she released him, felt the relief sag through his body.
‘So you knew. And you pursued me. You wanted to be captured.’
Nod.
She moved back a little, putting space between their bodies and smoothing both hands down his back this time. So hard and strong and so vulnerable. She spread his cheeks, widening the delightful dark crevice between. Wider. And wider.
‘And now you are captive. Do you regret it?’
Shake.
‘Are you certain?’
With her knees she shoved his legs further apart and stumblingly he spread them for her. Wider. He grunted softly; she was digging her thumbs into the inner curves of his cheeks, forcing him open.
‘Even when I hurt you like this.’
Nod. Nod and nod.
She stared at his exposed asshole, feeling her heart pound, her pussy getting wetter. Good God. Don’t think. Just do.
Sex with Strangers Page 20
