with unconscious grace. ‘Feeling the sun on my skin is heaven. There won’t be much beach time once the café opens.’
Already the smooth skin of her shoulders was tinged with gold. ‘Are you planning to swim?’ he asked.
She turned to look towards the water, calm, translucent, sparkling in the sunlight as far as the eye could see. ‘Just thinking about it now. The water looks so inviting.’
‘It will be very cold in.’
She indicated the beach bag to the left side of the towel. ‘I borrowed Sandy’s wetsuit.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘Might be an idea to put it on.’
‘I will soon. I’m enjoying—’
‘Put it on now, will you.’ His voice came out harsher than he had intended.
She frowned. ‘But—’
‘I can’t talk to you while you’re wearing that bikini.’ He spoke somewhere over her head, not trusting himself to look at her.
‘But it’s a modest bikini—’
‘It does nothing to hide what a beautiful body you have. That’s more than a guy who’s trying to be just friends can take.’
‘Oh,’ she said and blushed so the colour on her cheeks rivalled that of her towel.
He tossed her his navy striped towel. ‘Here. Cover up, will you.’
She caught the towel. ‘Sure. I didn’t think...’ She pulled his towel around her, twisting to tuck it into her bikini top between her breasts. Lucky towel. Then she went to get up from the sand.
Automatically, he offered her his hand to help her. For a long moment she just stared at it with an expression he couldn’t read. Then she put her narrow hand in his much larger one. He pulled her to her feet, unable to keep his eyes from how lovely she was.
She faced him, standing very still. She was tall, but he was taller and she had to look up to him, exposing her slender neck, her delicate throat where he could see a pulse throbbing. Their gazes locked. Her grey eyes seemed brighter, perhaps reflecting the blue of the sky and the sea. ‘Thank you,’ she murmured.
Jesse still held her hand and when she made no effort to free it he tightened his grip—now he had her so close he couldn’t bear to let her go. He noticed a few grains of sand sprinkled on her cheek, maybe from where she’d pushed her hair away from her face. Reluctant to let go of her hand, he used his other hand to gently wipe off the tiny grains from where they adhered to her smooth skin.
She closed her eyes with a flutter of long fair lashes and he could feel her tremble beneath his touch as his fingers then traced down her cheek towards her mouth. He traced the outline of her soft, lovely mouth with his fingers and now it was he who trembled with awareness and a stunned disbelief she wasn’t pushing him away.
Her lips parted just enough for her to breathe out a slow sigh and open her eyes. Jesse saw in them both wariness and desire. ‘Jesse, I...’ Whatever she might have been about to say faltered to nothing. She swayed towards him.
He dropped his hand and used it to take her other hand and pull her closer to him, so close he could feel the heat from her sun-warmed body. He pressed his mouth to hers in a soft questioning kiss—she gave him the answer he wanted with the pressure of her lips back on his. As he deepened the kiss he felt the same fierce surge of possessive hunger he’d felt the first time he’d kissed her. Had kissed her, then been parted from her through a stupid misunderstanding before he’d had the chance to think about what that flare of attraction between them could mean.
Six months between kisses and she tasted the same. Felt the same. And he wanted her just as much—more. She kissed him back with a fierce intensity that sent a surge of excitement pulsing through him. He dropped his hands so he could lock his arms around her. With a little murmur she wound her arms around his neck and pulled him close. The towel slid to the sand between them. ‘Leave it,’ he growled against her mouth then slanted and deepened the angle of his kiss.
The longing for her he’d been holding back overwhelmed him. All this platonic friendship stuff was bulldust as far as he was concerned. He’d wanted her from the time she’d first swept him up with her warmth and laughter, set him the challenge of that cool exterior and the promise of passion beneath. He slid his hands up her slender waist, skimmed her small, firm breasts as her heart thudded under his hand and she gasped under his mouth.
* * *
There were master chefs, master sommeliers, master chocolatiers—but Jesse was truly a master kisser, Lizzie mused, her thoughts barely coherent through a fizz of excitement. Delicious shivers of pleasure tingled across her skin as Jesse worked seductive magic with his lips and tongue. The scrape of the stubble on his chin was an exciting contrast to the softness of his mouth; the hard strength of his body to the tenderness of his hands on her bare skin. The last man to kiss her had been Jesse six months ago. The way he kissed her now was everything she’d remembered, everything that had excited her that night on the balcony and awoken needs she’d tried to deny.
She’d been daydreaming about him when she’d been lying on the beach—and then suddenly he’d been there, as if conjured up from her fantasies. She was so dazed that before she knew it she was in his arms, with no time to worry about whether it was right, wrong or ill-advised. Another public kiss with Jesse? Her craving to be close to him was so strong the possibility of being caught again, being teased again, had scarcely registered.
Jesse looked so hot in that wetsuit, the tight black fabric moulding his broad chest, flat belly, muscular limbs. Unshaven, his black hair carelessly tousled as if he’d just run his hand through it in his hurry to get to the beach, he’d never looked more should-be-on-billboards handsome. When he’d taken her hand to help her up from the sand, she’d known where it would lead. Known and felt dizzy with anticipation.
Now she kissed him back, lost in the overwhelming pleasure of being with Jesse again. She’d found it impossible to clamp down on her attraction to him—no matter how many times she’d told herself Jesse wasn’t right for her. She might be able to deny herself that Belgian chocolate—but not this.
Desire bloomed in the tightening of her nipples, the ache to be closer, and she tightened her arms around his neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his skin. Wanting him. Craving more than kisses. She had never been kissed the way Jesse kissed. Jesse the master kisser would be Jesse the master lover and she shivered in sensual anticipation of the discovery.
What was she thinking? She stilled in his embrace.
She could not let herself want Jesse this much. Too many other women wanted Jesse. It would only lead to heartbreak, to agony. He couldn’t give her what she needed.
She broke the kiss and drew away, pushing against his chest, her breath ragged. He murmured a protest and gathered her back into his arms but he let her go when she continued to maintain her resistance. His expression, passion fading to bewilderment and—yes—hurt wrenched at her heart. She hated that she was the cause of that.
What had just happened was purely physical, she reminded herself. Oh, she wanted Jesse all right. And the more she’d got to like him, the more she’d wanted him. But she needed to be cherished, loved for herself, not be the latest in a line of conquests. She wanted to love and be loved—but she also wanted to trust.
How
