“Mostly just around the North Island, but I am planning to. I might sail around the Pacific Islands again one day. Maybe the Mediterranean.”
“That would be pretty spectacular. And you plan on doing it alone?”
“I haven’t found that boats are large enough for two people, and sadly the size of the boat is pretty irrelevant.”
“And what do you do other than work and sail?”
“Not much actually.”
“I’ve seen you in the papers quite often; you seem to get around a bit.”
“I consider that work,” he said. It was true; he needed a good profile to be successful. He also needed the networks that it provided. Jane seemed to contemplate him more seriously. “Well, there is sports of course. I am a guy.”
“Did you used to play?”
“I played rugby at university, but I got too busy after to stick with the training schedule.”
They kept walking for a while. He was a bit disconcerted because there wasn’t any of the usual banter, attempts to get them closer, like asking him to teach her how to sail. Girls often did that, even though they had no interest in sailing; they just wanted to use it as a means of securing his interest. Jane Burrows wasn’t trying, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. There was no question that she didn’t like him, her response to him proved it. Maybe she was just smart enough to realise that there was no future between them. He was continually surprised by how bright she was.
“Hey, I know where we are,” she said with delight as they reached the river. “We were over there yesterday.” She was pointing across to the restaurant to the other river bank.
“Do you want a drink?” The whole river side was lit up with bars and restaurants. He could use something as he felt it was still too early to head back to the hotel.
“Sure.”
They sat down at a table with views across the dark river. Tall buildings loomed around them giving more sparkling lights than the ones the bar had furnished around the open air seating area.
“I can’t even imagine what this would look like in the daytime.”
“You can have a look tomorrow. Our flight isn’t until seven.”
“This week has gone so quickly, I’ve hardly had time to breath,” she said. He ordered for them and the waiter returned with their drinks in short order.
Maybe stopping for a drink wasn’t such a good idea—now he was sitting here staring at her lovely skin again, holding himself back from reaching out and touching it.
“I think I am getting a little bit more used to the heat.”
“It’s cooling down.”
“Oh,” she said with surprise.
“I think it’s going to rain tomorrow.” He tried to relax, but he just couldn’t be rid of the tension in him. On the other hand, it was nice to feel it. It was interesting to want something he couldn’t have; it wasn’t a position he was in all that often. He usually got what he wanted, but Jane Burrows he shouldn’t have. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad if he wasn’t completely aware of what he was denying himself. They fit together perfectly and it was different with her. He wasn’t entirely sure why, but it was, or maybe it just felt like that because he had forbidden himself from doing it again. Although by nature, he wanted to break down barriers, it only made the forbidden more attractive, and he was just setting her up in his mind as forbidden fruit.
*
“Let’s go,” Damon said after he threw back his drink. They hadn’t been there long and she was only half way through her drink. He looked annoyed for some reason. She tried to think back at their conversation to examine if it had been anything she’d said, but there was nothing remotely offensive in their dialogue. Maybe he was tired, she conceded, or worse, tired of the company.
“Of course,” she said, feeling a bit self-conscious. The old boring accusation reared its ugly head, and she took a last deep sip of the gin and tonic. A heavy roll of thunder worked its way across the horizon. “Do you think it will rain really hard like it did before?”
“It always does. It’s often full blast or nothing.” Kind of like the man in front of her, she thought to herself. She couldn’t figure him out. He was so guarded, and so completely different from the man she’d experienced the previous evening.
They walked along the river until they got to a section that looked very old and colonial.
“This is the old Parliament that the British built,” he said.
“It does look British, doesn’t it? Do you ever wonder what it would have been like to have lived back in that time?”
“Not really. Do you?”
“I guess I am just curious about how things used to be,” she said a little embarrassed.
“Seeking to escape your own existence?” he asked jokingly. It was a joke, but it rang truer than she wanted to admit. She hated the pressure of being stuck between him and Edmund. She hated the politics in the corporate environment; she just wished they would all just get on. She also knew how ridiculous and naïve that sounded, and he would probably think she was silly if she mentioned it.
“I’m just curious about how other people lived, I guess. Don’t you ever wonder what it would be like to do something completely different?”
“No, I am completely where I want to be.” There was that silly place in her mind that wanted to hear those words from a man when talking about her. He was talking about his professional life and she knew that full well, but that silly part of her just wanted to hear what those words would sound like. Then there was the other part of her mind, the logical part, that also challenged his assertion. How could he be where he wanted to be if he was completely alone? Nobody could want to be alone.
“So tell me what you would imagine about another time,” he continued.
“I don’t know, maybe I would be a school teacher, educating a bunch of administrators’ children in a classroom with open windows and great big fans.”
“A teacher, huh? Not very ambitious.”
“It was a hundred odd years back; the options for a woman were a little limited.”
“And what would I be?”
“You would definitely be an up and coming officer.” He gave a little nod acknowledging her choice.
“I wouldn’t be the governor?”
“Too young and not from the right family, I would guess. I could see you achieving in spite of your background, not because of it.” Maybe she’d said the wrong thing, because he was looking at her intently. She felt her own brow furrow. He changed so quickly, she couldn’t keep up—one minute they were talking, the next he looked at her with such intensity, like she’d insulted him.
He stepped forward and Jane felt an urge to step back, but he kissed her before her legs responded to the impulse. It completely took her by surprise. There was nothing tentative about it, he demanded and took. Jane felt the kiss down to the back of her knees, flipping her stomach over in the process.
His lips moved firmly against hers and his tongue demanded access. She relented and he deepened the kiss, his arms drawing her closer to him. The touch felt both exciting and familiar. The way a man’s touch should feel. His hand rested on the side of her neck while his thumb ran down the edge of her chin. Then he ran his lips down the other side of her neck and she felt his whole body against her. He was large and firm, and her softer form had to mould to his body and his hands. This could seriously get addictive.
Her nerve endings were on fire as his hands roamed her body, sensation echoed ran down to her core igniting the dull ache of desire into a full on craving. How was she supposed to not crave him when he kissed her like this? Her decision to not be affected by their night together was being compromised by the sheer fact that he made her feel things she’d never felt before and he did it so effortlessly. She could completely ignore that he was gorgeous and successful, but he was just such a good kisser. Where was the justice in that?
Stepping back, he was suddenly looking at her, his face hidden by shadows. He wasn’t smiling,
in fact, he looked angry. Jane swore she’d never figure him out. He kissed her—now he’s angry, like she’d stolen the kiss from him.
“What was I saying,” she said with an annoyed tone, “before I was so rudely interrupted.” That seemed to amuse him and he reached out towards her hip and gently pulled her to him. She had more than time to step away; she just wasn’t. He didn’t kiss her; they were just standing very close. Jane felt her whole body straining with anticipation. His lips were at her eye level and they were all she could see. They looked so incredibly tempting. She couldn’t help herself from reaching up and kissing him—a slow kiss. He slowly parted his lips and she felt the edge of his tongue touch hers—it sent frissons down her spine, threatening her knees.
“I think perhaps, we’ve had enough walking for tonight,” he said after pulling away. He turned and hailed a passing taxi.
The taxi ride back to the hotel was in complete silence, although it was far from relaxing as he placed her leg over his and was stroking the skin of her thigh. Jane felt like she’d turned to putty. It was such a decadent feeling, the slow touches on her sensitive skin.
Hurrying through the lobby, they got into the elevator. Again they stood at opposite ends, watching each other. She watched his slow breathing, wanting nothing more than to kiss the exposed skin around his neck. The fact that she would be touching all of him in a few minutes, felt like complete and utter luxury. She wanted him desperately at that moment and the floor counter seemed to be taking its sweet time.
She was rewarded as soon as the room door closed behind him. He pushed her against the wall and lifted her up and to him. There was no doubt that he was ready, she felt the hardness of him and the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen. She felt like she was absolutely on fire, and there was only one thing she needed. She prayed he wouldn’t be taking his time tonight because she wasn’t sure she could cope.
As he pulled back, he she wanted to scream, but he reached under her dress and pulled down her underwear. Half way down her thighs they fell to the floor and he kept stroking her thighs while he undid his belt. Her sense of anticipation only heightened.
In one smooth movement, she was up against the wall and he was pushing inside her. She felt an incredible sense of relief as he pushed into her, stroking her insides into wild need. Quick sharp thrusts had her skirting the edge, even before they’d really gotten started. It only took a few before he pushed her over. She lost all sense of perspective, returning to hear his ragged, laboured breath as he took the last firm push to his release.
“Now, Miss Burrows,” he said in a breathy voice she found she completely loved, “you could spoil a man if you kept that up.” She did love that she seemed to make him so completely undone—at least that’s what he implied. Although his words were sinking in, they indicated that she was spoiling him. It was a flattering statement—one she didn’t believe for a second, but it was nice to hear. There was a good chance, however, that he was ruining her for other men, because she wasn’t sure she could tolerate anything less than this now.
He pulled back and took her hand, leading her to the bed.
*
Damon lay and watched the sleeping girl in his bed. He hadn’t meant to take her back to his room; he’d meant to do the exact opposite. He had just lost the battle. She’d been too tempting. He wasn’t sure whether it was the over simple dress, the artlessness or the steamy heat of Singapore—probably a combination of it all, making him weak.
She deeply and profoundly turned him on—even against his will, it would seem. So maybe this had turned into more of a fling than a one night stand. It was a little more risky, but the situation was salvageable. The flight back would be the return to reality, the demarcation and the end to the fling. Just a sexy weekend in a foreign country. He didn’t want to hurt her; she was a sweet girl.
Her body was divine. It wasn’t bone thin, she had meat and muscles. He wanted to run his hands over her, but he left her to sleep. He also wanted to explore the sweetness in this thing they had. He wanted to do things like walk around and talk, kiss—maybe even hold hands. They were not urges he’d had in a very long time.
It was the kind of thing girls like Jane Burrows did with their boyfriends—sat at cafes and drank coffees, ate pastries, and flirted—stuff he’d actually never done. Behaviour he’d ridiculed and flatly refused to do if any girl went even close to suggesting it.
But he needed her to know that there would be nothing between them when they left this island. He didn’t go in for dramatics, and he didn’t want her hurt and angry later. He’d messed up the one night stand demarcation, but he could perhaps just play for a little bit, he decided—if he could just set the ground rules with her.
He watched her sleep a little while longer before she started to stir. She rolled towards him so they were both on their sides, facing each other. Her eyes were still closed, but her hand roamed over towards his belly and travelled along it. She smiled. He felt both pleased and distressed at the same time, maybe because he really liked the way she smiled when she touched him.
“Are you teasing me, Miss Burrows?” he said. She opened her eyes and looked him in the eye.
“You always call me Miss Burrows when we are touching. The more intimate, the more formal you get, are you aware of that?” It was the perfect opportunity to have their little discussion.
“Perhaps because I am not boyfriend material. I don’t want you to have any delusions.”
“Got it,” she said. She didn’t turn away and get dressed, upset that things were not going as she wanted. She just stayed there, looking at him like she had before.
“As in, this is just a passing thing. A very delightful passing thing,” he reiterated. She nodded.
He had done it and he’d been blunt about it. If she misunderstood from here, it was her own fault. He felt like a weight had been lifted off, now they could do anything.
“Do you want to spend the day together?” he asked. She nodded again. “It’s raining. We should go for a swim.”
“That sounds so counterintuitive.”
*
They had sex before Jane left for her own room to dress in her bikini. She met him down by the pool. He looked absolutely spectacular dressing in his little bathing shorts. She almost had to pause and just enjoy the view. She might not get to see it again. They were leaving tonight and he had been more than clear about what his intentions were when they got back. She hadn’t been surprised, but maybe a bit disappointed. She couldn’t help it, if only for the amazing sex. Her having a boyfriend like him just wasn’t how things were. Her having a fling with someone like him was just pure luck, she figured. She was going to enjoy every minute of it, and worry about what happened after later. Actually she was going to be cool about it, like it was just one of those things. She wouldn’t let him affect her, or at the very least show that it did.
She wasn’t wrong about it seeming counterintuitive going for a swim. The rain was heavy, it wasn’t cold, but it was a bit cooler.
“Come on,” he said and ran through the rain and dived in the pool. Jane followed suit, perhaps a little less enthusiastically. The water bubbled around her as she dove in. It was warm, warmer than she’d expected and she could hear the pelting of the rain on the surface. The rain was cooler than the water when she stood up. It was an odd sensation.
Damon swam under the water towards her, surfacing right in front of her. He looked like some high spec fashion ad standing there with his hair slicked back. It almost took her breath away. She felt the warmth of his body when he stepped closer and kissed her. It felt both decadent and innocent at the same time.
There was no one around and they were cocooned in the curtains of the heavy rain. She was going to remember this moment forever. It was perfect. Slowly and expertly, he explored her mouth. Jane’s arms were wrapped around his solid waist and when he broke the kiss, they stayed there. She placed her head on his shoulder and just enjoyed the moment. It was bittersweet because i
t was like they were lovers that were to be separated, enjoying their last moments together. It was just the way things were, and she would lead herself to heartache if she started questioning it. Also it would ruin the day if she just didn’t accept that at face value, and she didn’t want to ruin this day.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Yes,”
“Maybe we can go to a café.”
“That would be lovely.”
They met downstairs again and took a taxi to Little India. There were people around, but it wasn’t busy due to the rain, and it was obviously a weekday. Jane had completely lost track of the days.
They found a little covered café where they had coffee and pastries. They talked some more about his plans for sailing, then walked around the stores, looking at all sorts of things. They weren’t really buying, just walking around and talking about their views on different topics. It turned out he was a bit more right wing politically and she was more left. They spent a good hour debating politics. Jane loved how intelligent he was and she didn’t have to hide her own like she had with her boyfriend.
He bought her a small gold covered orchid flower. “It is the national flower,” he said as he put it around her neck.
“It’s lovely.” She would treasure it, and it would remind her of the strange time she had with a man who excited and challenged her. It might be nice to have something tangible from this little sojourn from reality.
They had lunch at a very nice French restaurant in another part of the city. Apparently Damon had spent some time in France on exchange in school. Jane listened as he told her of his experiences attending a provincial French school.
They had a very French lunch lasting two hours, before they returned to roam the streets some more. Jane was aware that the time was just ticking away and the flight back home was creeping ever closer.
“I think we should head back to the hotel,” he said.
“But it’s still early,” she countered.
“Yes, but we have things we want to do.” He pulled her close and had his forehead on hers.
The Rules of the Game (D'Arth Series Book 1) Page 10
