Chapter 6
My stomach tight, I hid slightly behind Henry as Miles hit us with the rules. ‘Today’s game is all about your tolerance for touch.’
Hmm. I can’t speak for anyone else, but since the laws were explained last night about the ban on physical contact, I’ve never felt more aware of my skin. The second you lose the rights to something, it’s suddenly all you can think about. Which I’m sure is the producers’ intention. I’d been practically groaning in delight as the hair lady brushed my mane this morning, so I wasn’t sure how well I’d do.
‘It’s ladies first,’ Miles went on. ‘Girls, you’ll be seated here on stage,’ he indicated the ten chairs lined up behind him, ‘and all you have to do to win is stay perfectly still. If you move, you’re out, and the last lady left on stage will receive her key.’
That doesn’t sound too bad …
‘Gentlemen! Your job is to get your lady to move. A twitch, a shiver, a gasp or a sigh—if she moves, she’s gone. You’ll each pick a victim, I mean girl, and you’ve got thirty seconds. If she hasn’t moved by then, let someone else try.
‘The question is, gentlemen, how good are you with your hands? You can do anything you want to get them to move.’
Sexual energy zoomed around the group. ‘What do you mean, anything?’ asked an Italian competitor, his sensuous accent making even the most mundane sentence sound like an invitation to jump into bed.
‘You may touch your lady in any way you wish. There is only one exception: you can’t touch anything covered by a swimsuit.’
Several men groaned, and someone yelled, ‘Oh, come on! That’s where all the fun bits are!’
People laughed and Miles chortled along. ‘Well, you’ll just have to prove you have greater tactile talents than simply reaching for the big three.’ Mile squeezed his own chest, then grabbed his crotch. More giggles erupted.
I wasn’t laughing; I was trembling. I’m such a sucker for being touched. I swear, my neck has more nerves in it than a giraffe’s. One finger along my collarbone and I’ll practically faint. And don’t even get me started on the little spot behind my ear … How am I going to do this?
I searched for something to focus on, something that would remind my body that although I hadn’t had sex in months and I adore being caressed, I was there for a greater purpose.
Without warning, my sister swam into my thoughts. I saw her clearly, on the worst night of my life—the night of her accident.
Ella was so beautiful that evening. We’d both dressed up for our cousin’s 21st; I was in a pink maxi dress, and Ella was stunning in yellow. There are photos of the party I can’t bring myself to look at—the two of us like colourful flowers, dancing, laughing, happy.
About midnight Ella sat down, rubbing her feet. ‘Hey, sis! Are you ready to go?’
I would give my life to change what I said next.
There on the beach, guilt and dread washed over me, the heavy burden of my sister’s future like a blanket on my skin, dulling the sensitivity. I steadied my breathing and felt my heart rate slow. I can do this. I can do this for her.
‘Ladies, please take a seat!’ invited Miles, his voice at a fever pitch. I stepped up on the stage, feeling empty and calm.
Sitting in the chair on the end of the row, I focused on a single palm tree further along the beach. It was bent over in a strange hooked shape, and I marvelled at how it had grown backward to brace itself against the winds and waves. That tree is now my new best friend. Eyes on the tree.
‘Lads, please choose your lady!’
The boys whooped and jumped up to join us. Everyone seemed to gravitate automatically to a partner without too much fuss, and I wasn’t surprised to see Henry claim the space in front of me.
While the people around us settled down, Henry leaned in quickly and whispered in my ear, ‘Don’t worry, Tara. I’m not going to try to make you move. That way, you’ll get through the first round at least.’
I felt my eyebrow lift in total gratitude. ‘Thank you, sir.’
‘You’re welcome.’
He was a darling. Affection for my English gent heated my chest, but I pushed the emotion away. I needed to be in my shell, needed to put my game face on.
‘Girls, I’ll count backwards from five—once we hit zero, the gong will sound.’ Miles pointed to a large cymbal hanging in a frame beside him. ‘From that moment on, if you move, you’re out, even if you’re between men at the time. Think unsexy thoughts, ladies!’
A final nervous titter arose from my fellow competitors as Miles called out, ‘Five! Four! Three! Two! One! ’
While he counted, I tucked my hands under my thighs to disguise any shaking or twitching, and placed my feet flat on the floor to prevent tickling. Eyes on the resilient palm tree. Ready.
The crash from the gong was much louder than I expected and I almost lurched in my seat. The camera crews were lined up behind the guys, capturing everything, so I’m lucky I didn’t. Further down the line, someone yelled, ‘Babette moved! She totally jumped!’
‘I most certainly did not!’ came a very huffy French voice.
‘Sorry, Babette, rules are rules,’ said Miles. ‘One down, and we’ve only just begun!’
Using my peripheral vision, I could see the guys close in on the motionless girls, and Miles commentated on the action. ‘The lads are ready! Let’s see what they’ve got. Oooh, sorry Jendayi, we all saw you quiver from that neck rub! Eight left, who’s next …?’
I tuned him out and Henry moved towards me. For the first few seconds he was true to his word and didn’t seem to try very hard to turn me on. He ran his fingers down my arm tentatively, feeling his way from my shoulder to my elbow. I felt nothing.
Then, as if he grew braver, he touched my knee. He curved his way around to the back of my calf, holding it reverently. He began to stroke the back of my leg, an intense expression on his face, as if he didn’t know what he was even doing.
I was completely unmoved. Clearly, my palm tree was magic. Either that, or I just had no strong physical connection with Henry.
No. No, that can’t be right, can it? The guy is gorgeous and sweet, and his accent makes the cast of Downton Abbey sound like chimney sweeps. It must have been the palm tree.
Thirty seconds flew by, and the gong sounded again. ‘Gentlemen! Time to change ladies!’
Roused by the gong, Henry jolted and backed off. ‘Good luck,’ he said, reluctantly removing his hand from my leg.
One of the Swiss twins appeared. ‘My turn, ja?’
The next few minutes passed in a haze. With each round of caresses, I grew more confident in my ability to keep still, no matter what they threw at me. I cycled my way through half a dozen faceless guys, without even the slightest urge to shift or shudder.
‘Only two ladies left!’ Miles’ voice cut through my trancelike state. ‘Representing the land down under, Tara! And from the land of the rising sun, Clara! Boys, who among you can break these two steadfast beauties? Step up to the plate!’
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Toshi move forward. Clara will be pissed …
Chris took his place in front of me.
No, no, no … whatever this thing is between Chris and me, it’s something I can’t control. My body reacts to him on a chemical level. And he knows it.
With the other guys, I had kept my gaze on the tree. I couldn’t help looking at Chris. With my eyes, I pleaded with him to go easy. You, out of all of these people, you know why I need to win this. Please …
His clear eyes showed no mercy. Desire written all over his features, he swallowed heavily. When he raised a hand to rake through his shaggy hair, his fingers trembled.
The gong sounded, and he stalked towards me, like a big cat approaching his prey. Moving behind me, he murmured in my ear, ‘I’m sorry. I can’t resist you.’
I felt his fingers before they made contact. There was heat, then a crackle, and they softly landed on my hair. Sweeping down, inch by inch, he curved his hand behind my ear and trailed along the nape of my neck.
Pleasure streaked from every nerve ending. Wherever he touched, my skin seared and the urge to whimper grew stronger.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sweeping his thumb softly over my delicate lower lip.
‘I’m sorry.’ He traced the lines of my cheek.
‘I’m sorry.’ The pads of his fingers pressed against the beating pulse at the join of my collarbone.
I was doing so well. The only thing I couldn’t control was the growing dampness between my thighs, and my hard nipples, poking out through the sheer fabric of my kaftan.
But I couldn’t hold out forever. I needed to move. I needed to grab him, press my mouth to his, breathe him in, taste him. I wanted to grind on his thigh like a horny teenager and feel his tongue in my mouth . Not helping!
I was just about to break when a ‘ Fuck you! ’ rang out from further down the line.
‘Clara is out! The winner of the first Erotic Island fantasy cabin key is … Tara!’
The camera crew swept in close and everyone else followed, clapping me on the shoulder, congratulating me. I sat, still unable to move, my body aflame from Chris’ fingers.
He stood behind the others, longing on his face. I realised I couldn’t keep fighting this. I might never be able to forgive Chris for nearly costing me a chance at a million dollars and the ability to save Ella, but I would have to give in to the pheromones raging between us.
‘Alright, lads! The shoe is now on the other foot! Please take your seats, and ladies … it’s your turn!’
Girlish squeals filled the air as the tables turned. I knew exactly who I would be claiming.
Chris lowered gingerly in his chair, as if something was making it hard for him to sit comfortably (ahem …) and I planted myself directly in front of him. Oh, I will enjoy this. Chris, unable to move, and me giving myself permission to grope him openly. Thirty seconds of perfect.
The countdown began, and we stared at each other, open lust filling the space between us. The second the gong rang out, I straddled Chris’ lap, slipping my fingers under his tight shirt and running my nails down his rippling stomach.
Chris lasted about two seconds before grabbing me, leaning me back and kissing me full on the lips.