She was a complex creature, and a maze of contradictions. Cool and ladylike on the surface whilst all this white-hot heat was simmering away underneath.
Rafe aimed to keep her furnace well stoked for the next fortnight. She wasn't going to be allowed to retreat into that ridiculous touch-me-not facade, not for a moment. She might think she'd hired him as her private toy boy, but in fact she was the one going to be the toy, to be played in whatever way he fancied.
Rafe might have been shocked by the wickedness of his thoughts under normal circumstances. But these were hardly normal circumstances, and it was what she wanted, after all.
'Hey, but I'm hungry,' he said. 'Aren't you?'
'A little. But I could do with a shower first. We've been travelling all day.'
'Mmm. Me, too. But why have a shower when there's that lovely big spa? We could pop in together. What say we take that picnic basket with us as well, kill two birds with one stone?'
'But...'
'But, nothing, honey. You just do what good old Rafe tells you and you'll have the time of your life.'
CHAPTER EIGHT
RAFE was right, Isabel thought two days later. She was having the time of her life. He was exactly what she needed just now.
Oversexed, of course. He never left her alone.
But she wasn't complaining. If she was brutally honest, she wanted him as much as he wanted her. He was wonderfully flirtatious and fun, with just the right amount of bad boy wickedness to his lovemaking which she'd always found exciting.
'So what do you think?' she said as she modelled her new red bikini for him.
Rafe was still sitting on the terrace in the morning sunshine, partaking in the slowest, longest breakfast. He was naked to the waist, a pair of colourful board shorts slung low around his hips. He was all male.
His eyes lifted and he stared at her. She hadn't worn this particular swimming costume for him as yet and it was scandalously brief. All the swimwear she'd bought with Luke's money was scandalous in some way, selected in a mood of rebellion and defiance.
And with Rafe in mind.
The white one-piece she'd worn yesterday went totally transparent when wet. Swimming had come to a swift end on that occasion, which was perhaps just as well, since her fair skin could burn too easily. As it was, she was slightly pink. All over.
'Turn round,' he ordered.
She did, knowing full well what the sight of her bottom in nothing but a thong would do to him. Still, that was the general idea. She'd been like a cat on a hot tin roof since he'd come up behind her as she'd been setting out breakfast on the terrace an hour ago, and proceeded to have her right then and there, out in the open. No foreplay whatsoever. Just him, whispering hot words in her ear as he lifted the hem of the sarong she was wearing, then commanding her to stand perfectly still whilst he quite selfishly took his pleasure.
She'd nearly spilled the jug of orange juice she'd been holding at the time. She hadn't come, of course. He'd been much too fast and she'd been much too tense. It had left her terribly turned on, though. She was still turned on an hour later. Hence the red bikini.
Isabel hadn't brought Rafe along with her to remain frustrated for long.
When he said nothing, she spun back round and glared at him, her hands finding her, hips.
'Well, what do you think?'
'I think you should come over here,' he said, and downed the rest of his orange juice.
A quiver ran all through her as she walked towards him. What was he going to do to her? Or make her do to him?
When he handed her the empty glass, she just stared at him.
'What's this?' she said.
'I've finished. I thought you might like to clear the table.'
"Then you thought wrong,' she snapped.
'In that case, what do you want to do? Or should I say, .what is it you want me to do to you! If you tell me in minute explicit detail, Isabel, I'll do it exactly as you describe. Anything you want, honey. Anything at all.'
Her mouth had gone dry. 'Anything?
'Uh-huh.'
'I...I don't know what I want...'
He took the empty glass out of her hands, put it back on the table, then drew her down onto his lap. 'Yes you do,' he murmured as he moved aside the tiny triangles which barely covered her breasts and began playing with her nipples. 'You know exactly what you want.'
'I...' She could hardly think with him doing what he was doing. Her nipples had tightened into twin peaks of heightened sensitivity, and he was rolling them with his fingertips in exquisite circles.
'Tell me,' he said, his breath hot in her ear. 'Tell me...'
She shuddered and squirmed. 'No,' she croaked. 'No, I can't.'
'Why not?'
'It's...it's too embarrassing.'
"Then I'll tell you what you want. You want me to give you a climax first. With my tongue. You want me to wait this time, till I'm climbing the walls like I was our first time together. Even then, you want to torment me some more with this sexy mouth of yours.'