don’t know what to say—’
‘Then don’t say anything at all.’
He tugged her close a second before crushing her lips beneath his. The scorching kiss, a sensual assault, left her reeling.
If their first kiss on the beach in Noumea had rocked her world, this kiss blew it into the stratosphere.
As she tilted, along with the deck beneath her shaky feet, she realised she’d never been kissed like this—ever.
She clung to him as his tongue coaxed its way into her mouth, teasing her to match him. She moaned, a guttural sound deep in her throat, and the noise inflamed him. He leaned into her, pressing her back against the rail as his arousal strained against her, creating an answering response in her core, setting her wildest desires alight.
She should stop this madness, re-erect the barriers that had come crashing down the first instant his lips had touched hers.
But it felt so good to be desired, so good to have the attention of a man, so good to eradicate any lingering memories of what had happened on this night three years ago.
His hands tangled in her hair, angling her head, and he slid his lips repeatedly across hers as he tried to pull her closer.
Stunned by the ferocity of his need, she inadvertently rotated her hips against his pelvis as his hand strayed to her breast, cupping and kneading, sending her resistance spiralling dangerously out of control. His thumb circled her nipple through the thick cotton of her dress, the torturous rubbing firing electric shocks through her body.
The sound of a slamming door broke the erotic spell and they tore apart. Her breathing was ragged as he ran a hand through his mussed curls, his expression dazed.
She’d lost control in his arms—and she never, ever lost control. She was the epitome of control at work.
Christmas parties? She’d be the sober one, tidying up after everyone left.
Farewelling staff? She’d do the collection and choose the perfect gift.
Organising holiday rosters? All over it.
All over Zac, more like it. Her famed control was washed away on the tide.
He laid a tentative hand on her shoulder. ‘Lana?’
‘Hmm?’
She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know where to look. Focussing on Beth’s indigo pumps with the gold wedge heel seemed a good start.
He tipped her chin up, leaving her no option but to meet his gaze. ‘I have absolutely no control around you.’
She laughed—a brittle sound whipped away by the wind. ‘I was just thinking about control.’
His hand hesitated, his thumb brushing her jaw before he dropped it. ‘My lack of it?’
‘Mine, actually.’
She hadn’t wanted him to kiss her, hadn’t wanted him to remind her of how good it had been the first time, but since he had, she was glad. Glad he’d made her feel desirable and womanly and special for an all too brief moment.
‘You don’t have to say anything. You were trying to cheer me up. I get it.’
He let another expletive rip. ‘If you think that was a pity kiss, you’re out of your mind.’
Out of her mind, all right. Out of her mind with wanting him to do it again and again and again.
‘It wasn’t?’
Shaking his head, he cradled her face, forcing her to look him in the eyes. ‘You have no idea what you do to me.’
Flicking her tongue out to dampen her swollen lips, she said, ‘I think I have some idea.’
Her wry response garnered a smile. ‘I thought you were immune to my charm?’
‘There’s no vaccination strong enough against you, it seems.’
They grinned at each other like a couple of starstruck adolescents, the brisk ocean breeze buffeting them, pushing her towards him in an act from the heavens.
She’d usually flee—find a quiet place and dwell on why he kept chasing her when she wasn’t remotely chaseworthy.
Though she didn’t run at work; there she solved problems, enjoyed the challenge. Just ask her colleagues where she could be found: at the museum at all hours, tracking down the newest discovery, ensuring the latest display was eye-catching, cataloguing the backlog no one else wanted to do.
Thinking of the museum did it: she wasn’t some femme fatale who went around inviting kisses from charming sailors on a moonlit night. She was career-focussed, with an aim to reach the top of her field with a little more confidence. She should know better than to read anything into a few casual kisses and his wanting to date her—whatever that meant.
She might be inexperienced with men, but she was old enough to understand the purely chemical reaction when two people remotely attracted to each other flirted a little and that flirtation got out of hand.
‘You’re driving me to distraction.’ He ran a hand through his hair for the second time in as many minutes, more rattled than she’d ever seen him. ‘And, considering the job I have to do this trip, I can’t afford any distraction.’
‘And you’re telling me this because… ?’
He leaned forward, wound a strand of her hair around his forefinger and tugged gently. ‘Because, despite every logical reason why I shouldn’t do this, I’m struggling to keep my hands off you.’
‘Oh.’
The wine she’d consumed at dinner sloshed around her stomach, rocking and rolling in time with her pounding heart as he tugged harder, bringing her lips centimetres from his before brushing a soft, barely-there kiss across her mouth. It was a tender kiss, at complete odds with the passionate exploding kisses they’d previously shared, a heartrending kiss that reached down to her soul despite her intentions to ward it off.
When they broke apart she couldn’t fathom the expres-sion on his face, the shifting shadows in his eyes.
‘I have to go check on that fax.’
‘Right.’
‘Stay out of trouble.’
With a brief touch on her cheek he was gone, leaving her thoroughly confused.
Within the space of an hour he’d comforted her, kissed her, and apparently dated her.
And what was that ‘trouble’ crack about? She’d never been in trouble in her life: the model student who studied hard and didn’t party, the diligent worker first in of a morning, last to lock up at night. Good old dependable Lana. Reliable, steadfast, earnest Lana. Which was exactly why she was here, trying to build her self-esteem and convince herself a sexy sailor could just be the way to go about it.
He’d
