‘A screen. You will want to bath and to dress.’ Her raised eyebrow seemed to bruise his ego. ‘I’m a playboy, not a monster.’
‘Duly noted,’ she said, unfolding the intricately carved wooden teak screen. It was a marvel of artistry, much like the entire hotel. She was focusing on the small details because it helped. Helped her to ignore the current spinning beneath her skin at a rate of knots. The entire cabin, aside from the toilet, was open-plan and, as much as she tried not to, her eyes kept returning to the impossibly large bed.
‘I’ll be sleeping on the hammock. Outside,’ he added.
Sia turned and hid the slight tinge of disappointment beneath a smile.
‘But your dress won’t arrive for another hour, so—’
‘Dress?’
‘I wasn’t sure that you had packed one, so I took the liberty.’
That he was right didn’t make him any more...any more...right. And she hated that he was right.
‘So,’ he continued, ‘I’m going to get washed and changed.’
He was looking at her and seemed to be waiting for something but... ‘Oh. Of course. I’ll be outside,’ she said awkwardly when she realised he was waiting for her to leave.
Shaking her head, hoping that it wasn’t a smile she saw across Sebastian’s face from the corner of her eye, she made her way out to the decking, her back firmly against the wall of the cabin. She exhaled a shaky laugh at her own foolishness and locked her gaze on the stunning horizon, purposely focusing on the feeling of excitement fizzing through her veins and not the aching thrill she was beginning to get whenever she looked at Sebastian.
She wanted to take this all in. She might have been to some far-flung and incredible places but each and every one of them was for work. Holidays with Aunt Eleanor had been to caravan parks at the end of long drives. Lovely, but very English—sunburnt moss and grass verges, sandy dunes that tipped down into a cool grey sea. This, the Caribbean, was almost the opposite. Everything seemed electric, even the colours, and Sia found it strangely stimulating rather than relaxing.
Being here was so completely different to her life in London, her one-bedroom flat and her almost constant working hours. Or, rather, what she’d made of her life in London? She had gone from university to the only place that had offered her a job and her gratitude had bordered on desperate, taking whatever valuation they’d given her, going wherever they told her to, working whatever hours they’d needed. All those things? That had been on her. The shape of the hole she’d forced herself into was one of her design. Perhaps, when all this was done, she should think about that design a little more. Maybe it wasn’t the right fit any more.
Breathing past the dull ache in her chest, she looked up to find the most beautiful bird soaring through the sky. She turned to ask Sebastian what it might be, when her eyes took in the sliver of space between the wooden screen and the mirror behind the bath.
Words screeched to a halt on her tongue as her eyes clung to the taut muscles of his shoulders and neck as he angled his head further back to make room for the razor he was drawing delicately beneath his jaw.
Shirtless, his trousers hanging low, the top button undone, leaving the corners of his waistband open like a book, the contours of his abdomen were almost perfection. Side on, she could see the groove running from his hipbone to deep beneath the waist of his trousers.
All she wanted to do was run her fingers over his skin, to outline the rise and fall of his muscles, to feel the warmth of his body, not smooth and cold like marble, but warm and rough and real. There was a breadth and a power to him that he concealed beneath expensive suits and pithy remarks. There was something thin about the impression that gave—insubstantial. But here, now... Sia had to plant her feet on the decking to stop herself from walking forward. There was strength and a sense of something immoveable. Something thrilling. Her body began to heat from deep within, radiating outward in pulses that made her want to clench her thighs together. And suddenly all she wanted was to be the focus of all that strength and power. He angled his head to the other side, and she watched as he drew the razor from his throat upwards and she could no longer hide from the pure desire coursing through her veins.
Sebastian felt it. The moment her gaze struck his skin. It had been a spark that jolted his heart, his pulse and his arousal at the same time. For just a second his hand shook, he nearly nicked his jaw but pulled away just in time. He took a deep breath and relished it, inhaled the electricity he could feel. He was hyperaware of every movement, conscious of every turn of his head, almost every hair the razor’s edge covered.
He delayed it until he couldn’t resist any longer. He wanted to see her, wanted to glean something, anything, in her reaction in that moment. Was she aroused like him? Did she feel every inch of her skin and senses? She had to, surely. Only mutual attraction burned this brightly.
The moment his eyes met hers in the mirror he was very glad he’d put his razor down. It had been like a tsunami, one giant wave crashing over him and drawing him under, pounding against him with shocking force, all of which suddenly disappeared the moment she dropped her gaze.
He was playing with fire and he knew it.
It took him the next twenty minutes to get himself under control. By which time he was ready and the package from Reception had arrived.
He stepped out onto the decking to find her looking out at the horizon again.
‘Your turn,’ he said and at first he thought it funny the way she avoided his gaze. Until he realised that it was most definitely not. Because, this close up, he could see that it wasn’t the act of an experienced tease, it wasn’t a play at being coquettish.
That was innocence. Pure and true. And he felt it like a slap to the face. Tangling with the enemy was one thing, but that? Not his style. He preferred women who knew the score, a few nights of incredible pleasure...but after? A very happy and equally willing adios. Easy, enjoyable but, most importantly, short and simple.
And there was nothing simple about Sia and nothing short about what he wanted to do with her. So he ignored the urge to turn and discover whether she had closed the gap in the wooden screen or left it open for him, the thought firing his blood and his determination to leave Sia Keating the hell alone.
What felt like only seconds later, the sound of heels on the wooden decking drew him round and he had to
bite his tongue to stop himself from heaping praise on her. From head to toe she was exquisite. He’d chosen the dress knowing that it was different to her usual style, but she looked... Like everything he’d ever wanted.
He shook the thought from his head and instead said a different truth. ‘You should always dress like this.’
It was turquoise in colour, thin shoulder straps led to a V that hugged her breasts and dropped into a beaded bodice that was reminiscent of art deco in design. Flashes of turquoise-coloured square sequins flashed in the setting sun, nestled next to gold sequins so pale they matched Sia’s skin, giving the impression of bare skin. Waterfalls of silk fell from her waist which swayed with each step she took towards him.