much for him. He was only human, and he couldn’t wait any more. Not after the extreme erotic torture of holding her in his arms yesterday and his sleepless night last night.
She looked up, panic-stricken. ‘What do you think you’re—’
‘Something I’ve wanted to do ever since I saw you across that room in New York, and more especially since yesterday…What we would have done if we hadn’t been interrupted.’
His powerful arms held her captive. She couldn’t move, and to do so would be to invite a friction between their bodies the thought of which made scorched colour enter Sorcha’s already pink cheeks. His words and her own body’s reaction scared the life out of her, but something joyous moved through her too, and that scared her even more witless.
She had to do something!
His head dipped, and she tried in vain to push with her hands.
‘Aren’t you afraid you might catch some immoral disease?’
His mouth hovered just inches away…Sorcha knew she should turn her head away—so why didn’t she? Her eyes, big as saucers, gazed up into his.
Romain felt his whole body tighten, felt fire blazing a trail along every vein and artery, pumping blood to areas that were becoming painfully engorged. He couldn’t even take in her words, or answer with any coherence.
Before Sorcha could move or stop him his head had dipped. The morning disappeared. Mad insanity arrived. Insanity that tasted delicious…like nothing she’d ever dreamt of before. This was a kiss unlike any other she’d experienced. The first press of his lips to hers was benedictory, almost reverent, and then he drew back. She opened her eyes. When had she closed them? And how had her hands crept up to his neck? The stark reality of what she was doing washed through her and she struggled again, but Romain was ruthless. He pushed her back against the gate, trapped her completely with his hard body.
‘No, you don’t…You want this just as much as me…’
‘No!’ she panted. ‘I don—’
And this time there was no gentle. He was hard, intrusive, ruthless, and determined to break through her every defence. His tongue forced her mouth open, made a bold foray into her mouth, and though she first had an instinct to bite…it turned quickly into a desire to explore, touch and taste. He tasted of salt water. His hand was on the back of her head, angling her better for his satisfaction. She gave a deep mewl in her throat and her treacherous hands climbed again, finding the way the skin grew silky around the back of his neck, where his wet hair made her think of him emerging from the sea just moments ago. That had a tight spiral of need starting in her belly and rising upwards, consuming every part of her on the way.
Her breasts felt sore, aching heavily against the thin material of her T-shirt and bra. She pressed herself closer, lost in a maelstrom of passion so dizzyingly new and overwhelming that she couldn’t even question it. Romain’s other hand smoothed down her back, all the way to her bottom, where he cupped one cheek, pressing her even closer, and all the time their mouths clung, tongues duelling in a frantic building heat that threatened to combust around them.
It was a dog barking that finally cut through the insanity that had taken them over. Romain noticed before she did, and pulled back with extreme reluctance. His eyes darted to a dune nearby, and he contemplated taking her right now, right there…the aching in his loins crying out for immediate release. But a dog would have an owner, and now was not the time or place. Something triumphant moved through him when he looked down into slightly glazed blue eyes. He’d been right. But when he’d sensed passion under that pale skin he hadn’t dreamt how incendiary it was. He smiled.
Sorcha finally reacted to his smile. It was smug…and something else. It made her heart turn over and at the same time her blood run cold. This time she pushed and he let her go. She fought to control her breathing, her hammering heart, and looked at him, trying not to let the confusion she felt show on her face.
‘I don’t know what you thought that was, but it won’t be happening again.’
She turned to walk away and he caught her back, catching her off guard. She fell against his body, and desire coiled tight in her abdomen again.
‘Yes, it will. And next time we won’t be interrupted.’
It was only then that Sorcha even noticed movement on the beach and saw someone walking their dog. Mortification twisted her insides. She glared back up at Romain.
‘You might think that every model in the world wants you to bed them, but believe me, I don’t. I haven’t changed my opinion of you, and you’re the last man on this earth that I’d want to sleep with.’
Before he could come back with some silky-smooth retort, with flaming cheeks she pulled free and ran back into the house.
LATER that day, as Sorcha boarded the privately chartered jet, it felt as if aeons had passed. Those moments on the beach, that kiss, had an intimate residue that made Sorcha feel skittish. And, to her utter dismay, she saw that the only free seat was beside Romain.
She hovered reluctantly for a second by the empty seat. Romain glanced up eventually from some papers in his lap. He looked more like the successful businessman now, in a dark suit, light shirt and tie, undone slightly, with a top button open. A glimpse of the strong column of brown throat was tantalising.
‘It seems as though this is the only free seat.’
He smiled wolfishly. ‘Please, be my guest. It’ll be fun to watch you try to squirm away from me for five hours.’
Sorcha sat down gingerly, very careful about where she put her arms. Then she sat back and closed her eyes.
Before long, though, the familiar terror began making its all too predictable insidious climb inside her chest as the engine’s throttle roared. At this moment even Romain beside her couldn’t distract her from it. She heard him rattle papers. The engines started up in earnest, the plane lurched forward, and she felt the colour drain from her face. Her hands, despite her efforts not to give anything away were clenched tightly in her lap. She longed to be able to wrap them around the seat—that always made her feel stupidly protected—but she didn’t want to draw attention to herself.
As the plane gathered speed down the runway, her heart beat faster and faster.
‘What’s wrong? Scared of flying?’
The voice came from right beside her ear, and Sorcha jumped, eyes opening wide as she looked to Romain. She couldn’t even speak, and just nodded silently. When he saw the truly blatant fear in the blue depths, any teasing fled Romain’s mind. He acted purely on instinct and took one of Sorcha’s hands in his. It was clenched tight and he had to prise the bloodless fingers apart. Finally he was able to thread his fingers with hers and grip her tight. He saw her other hand go in a white-knuckle grip to the armrest.
Sorcha couldn’t believe it. The mind-numbing fear, the awful acrid taste of it, wasn’t hitting her as hard as it normally did. The plane left the ground, that awful moment came…and it was still awful, but for the first time ever bearable. It was only then, as the fear began its slow decline, that Sorcha felt the long warm fingers entwined with hers and heat unfurled in her belly. She looked down and could see white and brown fingers
