to pound her sex with the wildness she’d craved.
His teeth gripped his bottom lip as he fought for his own pleasure. She wanted to push him over, as he’d pushed her. She longed to give him what she knew he wanted. Some promise. Some commitment. Some acknowledgment that what they had between them was as unique for her as he’d hinted it was for him.
She wriggled her hands free of his, reaching between them to cup his face. He twisted his head, his lips kissing the centre of one palm before he sought her eyes once more.
Muscles bulged in his jaw. His face contorted as his hips grew more frantic. ‘Come with me, Libby.’
She gripped his face tighter, her stare seeking deep inside his. “Alex… I…’
He roared, his face twisted with rapture as he came, grasping her shoulders and giving her a third orgasm as surely as he’d given her a part of himself.
Libby pressed her toes into the soft sand. The tiny grains reflected the glint of a perfect Mediterranean morning. This early, they practically had the strip of golden beach to themselves, the only sounds the occasional cry of a gull and the constant drone of jet ski engines.
She lifted one hand to shield her eyes, catching a glimpse of Alex streaking ahead of Jack as they traversed the bay, plumes of water in their wakes. Her stomach lurched, and the familiar jolt of adrenaline was one of the reasons she’d opted for sunbathing over skimming the surface of the Med on little more than a bicycle with a propeller.
She flopped back onto her lounger, closing her eyes and forcing herself to think of something other than death or permanent injury. Only one thought emerged—Alex. Opening up to him last night had left her palms damp and her mouth dry. But she couldn’t bring herself to regret it for one second. They’d fallen asleep covered in each other, as close as two people could be. Breathing the same air, skin touching from head to toe, sharing soft, sleepy kisses until unconsciousness claimed them.
It changed nothing. This time tomorrow she’d be on a flight back to New York. But something inside her had renewed. A hard kernel had cracked open and the tiny green shoot inside, delicate but brave, was pushing into the sunlight. She’d developed feelings for him. In the space of a few short days. A cliché. A whirlwind. Completely blindsiding her.
Now what? Pining over the changes to her working relationship with Sonya, reeling from her conflicted emotions, living a whole continent away? The obstacles seemed greater than ever. And Alex hadn’t verbalised his feelings beyond stating that he wanted to see her again. Perhaps he’d meant once a year, when he travelled to New York on business.
And the reasons for her reluctance still simmered inside her. When he’d winked and suggested she ride pillion with him on the jet ski she’d shrunk away, feigning a desire to work on her tan rather than confess the truth.
She’d been there. Once was enough. If she’d been riding the motorbike that day, been in control, would the outcome have differed? Would she be married to Callum now? About to celebrate their three-year anniversary? Pregnant with his baby?
The daydreams left her skin prickled with goosebumps. She rubbed her arms, trying and failing to rub the unsettling thoughts from her mind. If she’d had all of that she wouldn’t be here now, with Alex. She wouldn’t know that his eyes sparked when he teased her, that he danced when he was happy and didn’t care if anyone saw him, or that on the mornings they awoke together he’d pad to the kitchen dressed only in boxers to make her a ‘proper cup of English tea’.
The angry roar of an engine grabbed Libby from her reverie. She sat up in time to see Alex, his jet ski aimed at an oncoming wave, travelling at full throttle.
What the hell?
Libby’s stomach lurched into her throat. Her hand covered her mouth as his jet ski hit the wave head-on. The wall of water tossed the small craft into the air, flipping it upside down, and the hollow growl of the airborne engine ricocheted inside Libby’s skull until her eardrums threatened to perforate.
Her mind blanked. Her body tensed on the very edge of the lounger while time slowed and Alex seemed suspended in mid-air for what felt like a year. And then, with a slap as it hit the surface, the jet ski righted itself, the somersault complete, and Alex raced over to Jack, hand raised with a fist-pump of victory.
Icy shivers covered Libby’s body. Every hair rose to attention. Every muscle twitched. As her stomach settled back inside her abdomen where it belonged, allowing air inside her lungs, the epiphany struck.
She loved him.
She’d fallen in love with an adrenaline junkie. A man not content just to enjoy the thrill, but who wanted to push the boundaries to the limit. A limit that made her hands tremble and her vision darken.
Libby reeled. She had to move. To do something with the restless energy boiling inside her.
She reached for her sarong, slipping it on and gathering up her phone and a set of keys for one of the estate’s vehicles.
Before she’d taken two steps she snapped her head round as another guttural roar cut through the warm air. Libby froze. Her feet stuck to the hot sand. Her eyes were glued to the unfolding drama.
This somersault was higher, its angle, even to Libby’s untrained eye, more acute, and the wave to which Alex trusted his life bigger. As he disappeared from view over the crest Libby took off running.
Her legs acted independently of her mind, her ears trained for the landing slap. It came, but the wave continued to roll ashore, obscuring her view. Had he made it? Was he unconscious? Bleeding? His lungs full of seawater?
The wave broke and the orange hull of the capsized jet ski flashed. Her eyes scanned the water, her knees almost buckling when Alex surfaced, his arm raised with a wave to let them know he was okay. Within seconds Jack had cruised over to his cousin, the jet ski was righted and Alex had climbed back into the driver’s seat.
But Libby was done.
She’d seen enough to last her two lifetimes. The ice in her blood boiled. If he came in now she wouldn’t be responsible for the things she said. Changing direction, she hurried up the beach, the heat on her back and under her feet adding to the fury and impotence raging inside her.
She needed time to think. She needed distance.
Everything between them had happened so quickly, and now her feelings for Alex were spiralling out of control. She’d vowed after Callum’s funeral never to get this close again. But here she was, in love with a daredevil billionaire with a penchant for fast toys and dangerous sports. No. She couldn’t do it again. Refused to put herself through it.
She’d loved Callum. She loved Alex. It terrified her to admit it, but if she didn’t she’d make the mistake of being led by her feelings, of succumbing to their insidious allure.
She arrived at one of the vehicles, her hand trembling on the automatic lock. Alex and Jack would have the truck and trailer, so they could get back to the château in time for the wedding. But she had to get away.
If she had to watch Alex do that again… No.
She gunned the engine. She didn’t know the way back, but the car was top of the range and fitted with GPS. And right now, with all the turmoil pounding through her, getting lost for a few hours wasn’t such a bad idea.
She
