Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
D inner on Wednesday night was a lovely paella, made by Nadia, thank God. Reena offered some of her red-hot, homemade chilli sauce as a condiment and Nadia threatened to kick her out of the kitchen for spoiling her food. Nadia had found her voice, and it was loud.
Golly, now fully recovered from sleeping yesterday away, sat at the head of the kitchen table, a glass of red wine at her elbow.
She looked happy, and a happy Golly was fun. Dangerous but fun. Bea’s godma loved Santorini’s climate, the secret coves and the clear, bright sea. She had friends here, expats like her, and the locals were also incredibly friendly. But there was only so much of the laid back island island life Golly could tolerate and soon she’d be itching to get back to her cosmopolitan London (and New York) life of eating at restaurants, attending gallery openings and auctions, charity events and house parties in the Hamptons and Hampshire. Causing havoc on two continents, unhampered by the demands of her author clients.
Bea was well aware that if Golly never had to check an email, read a contract, or be the bridge between the publishing world and her authors again, she’d be ecstatic. She recalled Golly first raising the subject of retiring a couple of years ago, but Bea accidentally-on-purpose ignored their agreement that Golly would only act as her agent until she found someone else. She hadn’t made much of an effort to find another agent–correction, any effort.
Bea leaned back in her chair, the pad of her index finger skimming the rim of her wine glass. Things were changing, and far too fast. And she needed to change with them. But it was hard, so hard, to step out of the shadows and into the sunlight, hard to have eyes on you, to allow others to judge you. If she stepped out from behind her pseudonym, she’d open herself up – herself, not Parker Kane –to criticism and comments, with people judging her and her decisions. The thought of being publicly judged, of being so vulnerable, turned her blood to ice.
But, at the very least, and at some point, she would have to reveal her Parker Kane identity to a new agent. How would she find her? Or him?
Should she find an agent first, or should she bite the bullet and reveal she was Parker Kane first? Bea’s skin turned clammy, and her throat constricted, but she needed to consider her options.
Nobody knew how her literary ‘coming out’ would affect her book sales. Golly seemed to think they might take a minuscule dip initially, but Bea’s connection to her mother, Lou –someone who was a professional shit-stirrer – would soon fade from everyone’s minds. Golly believed that as long as Bea kept producing fun adventures for her crew, her readers (and their parents) wouldn’t care who she was related to and what happened in the past. And hey, parents wanted to get their kids to read, and kids wanted to read about Pip and the gang, so they’d buy the books.
Golly said it wouldn’t be nearly as big a deal as Bea thought it would be. Bea wasn’t so sure.
She looked across the table to Gib, who’d pushed his chair away from the table, as if distancing himself from the lively conversation. She’d been surprised, shocked even, when he’d accepted Golly’s invitation to join them for dinner tonight. But she supposed he felt that since he’d stayed in her house as a kid, and had been a recipient of her hospitality so long ago, he couldn’t say no. After helping her with Golly and Reena earlier, he’d eaten the omelette Nadia’d made him, told Bea he’d see her later and disappeared for the rest of the day.
Exhausted, she’d enjoyed an afternoon nap, and then tidied the cottage. She’d made both sides of the bed and washed their coffee cups and the dishes. Seeing the overly full laundry basket, a mixture of Gib’s clothes and hers, she’d carried it up to the laundry room at the villa and threw their clothes into Golly’s big and quick washer and tumble dryer. Before coming up to the villa for a sundowner, she’d folded their laundry and left his on the chair next to the bed.
She wished she could leave the bedroom in a mess, his clothes on the floor and his dishes in the sink, but she was wired through the circumstances of her childhood to make a situation as good as it could be, to be the caregiver and problem solver. It was what she did.
She bit her lip, wondering what Gib thought of her cleaning up after him. Did he even notice? He probably didn’t, assuming Golly employed a maid to clean up after him.
Bea desperately hoped it wouldn’t be awkward or weird tonight when she and Gib returned to the cottage. She couldn’t help wondering if he’d kiss her again. Would she let him? Would he sweep her off her sexual feet and would they make love? She didn’t know: a part of her was desperate to know him that way, but her brain was telling her to calm the hell down, to take a breath, to think.
Whatever happened, she hoped she’d be able to sleep with him breathing just a short distance from her, that she’d feel warm and safe rather than agitated and off balance.
She caught his eye, and his half smile drilled through her, melting away layers of skin, muscle and bone until it reached her core and started to melt that, too. She’d never had this reaction to Gerry, or any other man. Gib made her feel…
Just that. He made her feel . Like a woman. Like she was noticed, like she mattered.
And that was bloody dangerous. Because those sorts of feelings opened cracks in her walls, and he could shatter her defences more easily from the inside. He’s dropping in and out of your life, Bea. He’s not staying.
‘Where are Jack and Jacqui?’ Golly demanded, looking at the big clock on the wall behind Gib’s head. ‘They are ridiculously late!’
Jack and Jacqui – fifty-plus, twins and inseparable – friends of Golly’s from way back, had said they’d be at the villa by seven. It was now eight and Golly was starting to get anxious.
‘I’m sure they made a detour into Oia,’ Golly complained, the wine in her glass sloshing. ‘That’s so like them, easily distracted.’
And wasn’t that the pot calling the kettle pitch-black?
‘Do you want dessert now, or shall we wait for them to arrive?’ Nadia asked.
‘We’ll wait for them,’ Golly replied. ‘Bea-darling, call them and tell them to get their asses out of whatever bar they are in!’
She slid her phone down the long table. It skittered off the bottle of hand-pressed olive oil and bumped into a plate. Gib picked it up and leaned over the table to hand it to Bea.
In so many ways Golly was a child who had no patience for delayed gratification. She wanted what she wanted now . Immediately. It had always been that way. Having never married, nor lived with anyone on a permanent basis, she had no concept of compromise, of waiting or of patience. The world revolved around her all the time.
Would she have been more accommodating if she’d had children, if she’d had a long-term relationship? Partners, longtime lovers and children had a way of shaving off those hard edges, of making people a little more thoughtful, able to bend a little. Marriages and partnerships made people realise the world did not spin for them alone, and not everything was about them. Sometimes, most times, compromise and patience were required. Those weren’t lessons Golly ever learnt.
But Bea? She’d learnt that lesson and taken it to the extreme.
Because she’d been happy to have someone sharing her home, her own man, thrilled to return to the comfort and security of what she knew how to do –and that was to look after someone –she’d never allowed Gerry to learn that lesson, either. She’d bent and buckled, all the time. Her life with Gerry, like her life with her dad, had revolved around keeping him happy and comfortable.
Gerry’d been a sloth, a serial cheater, and a man-child, but because she’d been so desperate to feel useful again, believing she could only be loved because of what she did, not who she was, she’d given him everything, including a licence to walk all over her.
Was she, by picking up after Gib, sliding back into those old bad habits?
God, what a terrifying thought!
She looked at Gib and found he was watching her. He lifted an eyebrow, silently asking if she was OK. Why did he want to know? Why did he care? And why did her heart lift every time he showed a little consideration when he noticed her? He was simply dressed, in tailored shorts and an open-collared shirt, sleeves rolled back to show off his delicious, muscled forearms. He’d shaved this morning, but a hint of stubble now dusted his jaw and chin, and his nose was a little sunburnt from spending too much time outside.
Hot, handsome, confident, charismatic … he made her stomach tumble and her core warm. She could cope better if it was simple attraction and lust … but he was also intelligent, reticent, impatient, solid. Snarky. And she liked him. Far more than she should.
Golly lit up a cigarillo and looked from Bea to Gib. ‘So, how did you two sort out your sleeping arrangements?’
Bea glared at her, annoyed by the intrusive question. She didn’t look at Gib, but knew he’d loathe Golly’s probing, too. ‘That’s got nothing to do with you, Golly,’ she snapped.
She wasn’t surprised when Gib stood up and pushed his chair under the table. His face was as hard as granite, and his eyes conveyed his annoyance. Yep, the man hated being questioned. On this occasion she didn’t blame him, Golly had stepped way over the line.
‘You’re not going to stay for dessert?’ Nadia asked him.
His reply was curt, his words clipped. ‘Thanks, but no.’
It was obvious, to Bea at least, that he’d had enough and desperately needed some peace and quiet, to not talk to anyone. She was surprised he’d lasted this long. She looked at him, caught his eye and mouthed a quick ‘Sorry.’
His shrug was tiny, but there. She saw him glance at the kitchen door and knew he wanted to bolt.
‘Goodnight, Gib,’ she said, understanding his need to leave.
His eyes flashed his gratitude. He took a minute to thank Golly, a little curtly, said a brief goodnight and left the room. Bea watched him and as soon as he opened the door, his shoulders dropped an inch.
When she knew he was out of earshot, she looked at Golly and shook her head. ‘Seriously?’
‘What did I do?’ Golly asked, confused.
‘Gib doesn’t like personal questions, and he hates people prying. Just give him some space, OK? I know that’s a foreign concept to you, but please try .’
Golly looked at her through a haze of smoke. ‘What’s his story?’
Bea didn’t know and even if she did, whatever Gib told her (and she didn’t expect him to say anything at all) would stay between him and her. She pointed a finger at Golly. ‘He’s not a puzzle you need to solve.’
It was a good reminder for her, too.
‘Good God, there’s no reason to bite my head off,’ Golly snapped.
Bea thought she was being remarkably restrained. She was stressed, determined to make sure this weekend went off well, and she was sharing a bed with a man who could be another Hemsworth brother, someone she was stupidly, massively attracted to. She had hard career decisions to make, and she hadn’t made any progress on plotting book ten, or her new series. She wanted to run down the road screaming, possibly naked, but she was holding it all together with gossamer-fine threads.
Bea remembered that she was going to call the twins, and swiped Golly’s screen. She looked at her godmother. ‘Why am I doing this, by the way?’
‘You came to live with me when you were sixteen and you can’t make a call for me?’
Bea rolled her eyes. After her dad’s death, she’d wanted to stay on her own, something her mother supported, but Golly wouldn’t hear of it, so she’d moved her into her Belgravia house. Unlike her mother, Golly wanted Bea with her, so she didn’t take her passive-aggressive comment seriously. With Golly, you had to look at what she did, not what she said.
Golly cocked her head, her expression brightening. ‘I’m sure I heard a car. The twins are here! Oh, by the way, Bea, your mother wants to join the party on Saturday night,’ she added, far too casually.
She had to be joking. And if she was, it was a shitty one. ‘Not funny, Golly.’
‘Not joking, Beatrice.’
Golly couldn’t seriously be thinking of allowing Lou to visit, could she? This weekend – and her life –was currently complicated enough without adding her horrible and toxic mother to the proceedings. ‘Golly, please don’t let her come. I have so much to do, and I can’t deal with her, too. Please tell her she’s not welcome––’
‘Hey, anyone here? Golly, where are you?’
Everyone whipped around at the masculine voice drifting down the passage, followed by footsteps. As the twins walked into the kitchen, bearing bags from Harrods and Fortnum he was just happy to sit here, and take anything she offered.
He lifted her onto his lap and allowed his eyes the pleasure of roaming over her face. Not classical pretty, definitely not perfect … but, man, gorgeous . Interesting. A face you could study a thousand times, and still find something captivating. And while looking at her was a pleasure, kissing her was better. He skimmed her mouth with his, wanting to prolong the anticipation, and build up a little more tension, before finally locking his mouth on hers. When his tongue slid against hers, Bea released a part-mewl, part-groan and he was lost.
And found.
Needing more, wanting everything, he took their kiss deeper and darker, and in a movement that was as old as time, and twice as natural, he covered her breast with his hand. His thumb found her already taut nipple and teased it with a slow stroke. He pulled her T-shirt up, and the palm of his hand settled on her breast, small but lovely, perfectly formed.
They said that time stopped on Santorini, but on this island tonight, with Bea in his arms, her lovely, sweet ’n spicy mouth under his, nothing else mattered. Just Bea, and the way she made him feel. He was the plug and she the source of power.
He craved more of her, needed everything, needed to taste her, to feel her in his mouth, her nipple against her tongue. Pulling her shirt up her body and over her head, he dropped it to the deck and reached behind her to twist open her bra’s clasp. While still kissing him –God, her mouth was a revelation, sexy as sin and twice as hot – she tossed her bra over his shoulder and sat up. She straddled him, moonlight on her lovely torso. She swiped his mouth with hers, her breath warm.
‘This is just a bit of fun, right?’ she whispered.
He pulled back and stroked the hair off her face. That was his line, and it felt strange to hear the words he so frequently uttered falling from her lips. And yes, of course, it was. Fast and fun, he was a master of the concept.
‘Gib?’
She was still waiting for an answer. And why was he hesitating? He nodded. ‘It would be a lot more fun if we were naked,’ he stated. ‘And if we were back in the cottage, rolling around that huge bed.’
‘We’ll get there.’ Bea placed her hand on his cheek. ‘When was the last time you made out on a deck at night, Gib?’ she whispered.
He was conscious of her hot core pressing against his steel-hard dick, so thinking was hard. ‘I must’ve been seventeen, she was nineteen, an older woman. It was summer, and we went skinny dipping.’
Bea’s mouth curved. ‘Wanna do that?’
Without waiting for his answer, and using his shoulder for leverage, she stood and shed her shorts and what looked to be a white, lacy thong. Before he could see more, take in her beautiful body, she whipped around and dived into the pond.
It took her a while to surface and when she did, she slicked her wet hair off her face, grinning. ‘It’s lovely,’ she told him. ‘Come on in.’
If the pay-off was getting up close and personal with a naked Bea, he’d swim the fucking English Channel. Gib rolled to his feet, gripped the back of his shirt and pulled it off in a one-handed move. He undid the button of his shorts, unzipped and pulled down his briefs and shorts in one economical movement. He was hard, painfully so.
Not knowing how deep the pool was, he sat down on the edge of the deck, risking splinters in his ass by sliding off into the water but Bea’s soft voice drifting over to him immediately distracted him. ‘You’ve got such a gorgeous body, Gib.’
He met her eyes, and he swallowed down the lump in his throat. Hers would be lovelier. He cocked his eyebrow and grinned. ‘Are you done ogling, or can I come in?’ he asked.
‘If you must,’ Bea told him, laughter in her voice.
He pushed off, ducked under the water, and his feet brushed the floor. When he stood, the water hit his shoulders. He planted his feet and watched Bea swim toward him, her lips curved. He pulled her into him, and her legs wrapped around his waist, and her arms around his neck.
Instead of kissing him, she tipped her head back and looked up at the stars. ‘You are a very pleasant distraction, Gib,’ she murmured. ‘If you weren’t here, I think I would be a lot more miserable than I am.’
‘I know my holiday would be a lot quieter.’
She tugged his wet hair.
He smiled against her lips. ‘OK, I’ll admit it might be more boring.’
‘Boredom is the last thing you have to worry about when you’re around Golly.’
Oh, he wasn’t referring to her godmother’s antics or the fact that she was a trouble magnet. He was only staying close to the action because he couldn’t stay away from Bea . Because something in her called to him…
It was just attraction, just lust, just this weirdly sensual island playing tricks on his mind. If he were in New York or Nashville, or any of the other cities he knew, this wouldn’t be an issue. But Santorini was magical, and when you added an attractive, trying-to-be-brave woman and out-of-control attraction things were bound to get tangled and misinterpreted.
He just had to keep his head. His big one needed to keep thinking and strategising, his little one … well, it was uncontrollable.
And right now, it needed him to stop thinking and start doing. ‘I need your mouth, sweetheart,’ he told her, his voice low and a little growly. He craved much more but he’d start there and work his way down.
Bea’s eyes met his, and she placed her hand on his cheek and brought her mouth closer, closer…
Unable to wait, and not in the mood to be teased, he pulled her in, chest to chest, the vee of her legs pushing into his cock. Forgetting gentle, he took possession of her mouth, making it his, just as he wanted to claim her body as his, too. He needed, just for this moment, this night, to bind her to him in the most elemental way possible. He wasn’t possessive, but a primal part of him, his caveman DNA, wanted to brand her as his.
Bea responded to his rough hands racing over her skin by wrapping her tongue around his and gently sucking. His cock instantly hardened – how was that even possible? – and he placed his hand on her lower back, to pull her deeper into him. Her legs widened and he felt her feminine heat. Needing to taste her, he boosted her up so that he could clamp his lips over her breast. She whimpered, and her nails dug into his shoulder blades, and the slight hit of pain only heightened his pleasure.
This was hot, real, amazing…
But he needed more. Lowering her, he told her to hold on and her legs wrapped around his hips again. He walked her out of the shallow edge of the pool and onto the deck.
‘Let’s take this back to the cottage,’ he murmured. He put her on her feet, taking a moment to look at her, his wet woodland nymph in the moonlight.
Bea bit her bottom lip and shifted from foot to foot. He now knew her well enough to know that she was thinking … and doubting. He pushed her wet hair off her forehead and brushed his mouth across hers. ‘It’s chilly out here, Bea-darling, and the other night I saw Golly wandering around late at night.’
With Bea as skittish as she was, the last thing they needed was to be interrupted by Golly, or anyone else out for a late-night stroll. He wouldn’t put it past Golly to give him tips on his technique. No, they needed to go back to the privacy of the cottage, to that huge bed that could accommodate his big frame.
He dressed Bea in his shirt and pulled up his shorts. Grabbing the rest of their clothes, he took her hand and fast walked her back to the cottage, stopping to kiss her at regular intervals. On her mouth, on both of her breasts… By the time they reached the cottage she was panting, and her eyes were a little glazed.
Gib shut the cottage door with his foot, dropped their clothes, scooped her up, and carried her through to the bedroom, gently lowering her onto the bed. Peeling his shirt off her was ten times better than opening a present on Christmas day…
Bea closed her eyes and tried to cover the strip of hair between her legs with her hand, to place her arm around her breasts, but Gib gently clasped her wrists and lifted them up and over her head, holding her easily with one hand. ‘No, I want to look at you.’
His gaze raked her from tip to toe, and each breath he took was hotter than the one before. Keeping his control was going to be a challenge, he wanted in, now , but he needed to savour her more. He was making a memory and intended to take his time.
After shedding his shorts, leaving them in a pile next to the bed, he stroked her, using the back of his fingers from one breast to the other, down her sternum and across her belly button, over her mound. Her mouth dropped open and her eyes darkened, and she touched her top lip with her tongue.
Good, her embarrassment was gone… Not that she had flaws she needed to hide.
‘Fuck, the things I want to do to you, Bea. Can I?’
She whispered her ‘yes’ and he slid his hand through her pubic hair, so soft, and danced over her folds. He found her clit and she arched her back. ‘I want to kiss you, suck you, taste you coming on my tongue.’
He watched her eyes and, judging by the surprise in them, instantly realised oral sex wasn’t something she’d experienced before. How the hell had she not had someone going down on her? What was wrong with the men in her life? Men in general?
Well, that was a wrong he could make right.
‘Do you trust me to make you feel good, Bea-baby?’
‘Uh … yes ?’
He played with her again, loving the shock and need in her eyes. ‘Can I make you come with my teeth and my tongue?’
‘Um … sure ?’
He heard hesitancy in her voice and knew he couldn’t continue until he was sure she wanted this as much as he did. ‘You don’t sound convinced, sweetheart.’
She bit down on her lip, so hard that she left teeth marks. And embarrassment was back in her eyes. ‘I just don’t know what to do,’ she admitted, unable to look at him.
He lifted her chin by grasping it between his finger and thumb and waited for her eyes to meet his. ‘You don’t have to do anything. That’s kinda the whole point.’