Chapter 9
The urge to just pull her down on the rough planks was so strong that it took a minute to fight for control.
And in order to gain back that control and stop the madness, he had to rein in his raging passion, which was no easy feat. It also meant dragging his mouth from hers, which was done with great reluctance.
But if he continued, he was going to take her right here, right now, in the open, on the rough surface. He wanted their first time after being back together, damn it!
They were back together, whether she wanted to admit it or not; she belonged to him and he was hers. He wanted their first time to be in a room, in a bed, where he could explore every inch of her body.
Mindless, weak, and disoriented, as well as burning with a desire so great, Regina wanted him so desperately that she could not think. So, when he eased away, she almost screamed in frustration.
“Not here. Not now,” he whispered against her mouth.
“Later.”
Tilting her chin up, he brushed her lips. “I want you,” he continued.
“More than I want to live. But not here.”
Easing out a breath, he stepped back carefully. His eyes were dark, his face flushed, and he had to clench his fingers to keep from hauling her against him.
Regina surfaced from the daze the kiss had put her in, and then common sense and humiliation came charging in, full force. It had her stepping back as well.
He saw when she began to distance herself, not only physically, but emotionally as well.
“Regina-”
“I have to-” Holding up a hand as if to ward him off, she bent to pick up her jacket and just fled. He watched her wind her way through the narrow paths, brushes snagging at her clothing, and contemplated going after her.
“Later,” he muttered to himself, before turning to attend to their catch.
Regina felt as if her heart was bursting from her chest.
Racing up the stairs, she went into the room assigned to her and sat on the edge of the bed.
She felt weak with need. She shouldn’t have come, she thought feverishly.
She should have insisted on knowing where they were going, and when he told her, she should have settled for somewhere more public, a hotel, with two different rooms, an entire suite.
Not this, this isolated place that had woven its magic with the fabulous flowers, the solitude, the aura of peacefulness.
She shouldn’t have come.
Rising, she started to pace and then wandered over to the window.
That was another big mistake. He had ditched his clothing and was only wearing a pair of boxers, and was just hauling himself up onto the deck.
Water dripped off him. His hair was plastered to his head, and from her vantage point, she could see droplets clinging to the hairs on his chest, hair that arrowed down to his washboard-flat stomach.
Her mouth went dry, so did her throat, as she let her gaze wander further down.
“Oh, dear God,” she whispered, one hand going to her throat. As if her thoughts had transmitted themselves to him, he looked up then, barely giving her time to step out of sight.
Walking over to the bed, she dropped down, her trembling limbs unable to support her.
It was going to happen. There was no way she would not be sleeping with him.
She would not be able to stop herself. She wanted him with a fierceness that was frightening.
It was going to happen. She could be sophisticated about it and philosophical.
They weren’t really married, and they were not involved with anyone at the moment. They were adults, weren’t they?
They could be involved with each other, enjoy the sex, and oh God! She already knew what to anticipate.
He was very good, the best she had ever had, not that she had that much experience. But he was good, the best.
Craig Muldoon certainly knew how to make a woman feel cherished and wonderful. He would take his time, draw out the pleasure until she was practically begging to be taken.
“Jesus!” Pressing a hand to her stomach, she took several deep breaths, which didn’t make a hell of a difference.
She was churned up, and it wasn’t going away.
*****
The chilly water did nothing to ease the pressure in his loins, nor did the mindless task of scaling and gutting the catch. He concentrated fiercely on the mundane task and tried not to wonder what the hell she was doing inside the cabin, or if she was ever going to come back out.
He wanted her help with the vegetables. Dipping the bucket into the water, he washed away the scales and guts, before putting them on paper towels to have them drip dry.
He would need some things from the kitchen, and he was damned if he was going to sit out here in order to give her space.
She could bloody well get her- His furious musings ended abruptly when he heard footsteps on the gravel. Rising slowly, he kept his eyes on her face as she wove her way towards him.
“I had no idea what you would need. You said something about vegetables.”
She had a basket filled with them. “Will these do?”
He was too busy searching her for signs of recrimination, anger, and bitterness to answer at first.
“Craig?”
“What?”
“Will these do?”
Dragging his eyes from her face, he glanced into the basket. “Yeah,” he muttered.
“I also need some seasoning.”
“Just tell me what and I’ll go and get them.”
So, she wanted to pretend that they had not just dove at each other right on the rough planks. Fine with him.
He listed the things he wanted and took the basket from her.
“Thanks.”
He stood there watching as she made her way back to the cabin and shook his head. If she for one minute believed that he was going to leave her alone after this, then she must be a complete idiot.
He was damn well going to finish what he started.
*****
He managed to put it away. They both did.
After the initial awkwardness, they got into the spirit of the impromptu meal. She watched, fascinated, as he mixed and blended the seasoning into one big mass, before rubbing it on the outside and then the inside of the fish.
Then she insisted on stacking the vegetables on the smooth sticks he had fashioned out of wood chips.
He hauled out the charcoal that had been left secured in a plastic bag, fired up the grill, and was secretly amused when she sat there, Indian-style, on a folding chair and watched as he started the fire and fanned it into full blaze.
“Why not an electric grill?”
He glanced over at her, noting that her eyes were bright with curiosity.
“We always used charcoal. Dad taught me that in order to get the full effect of the meal, the taste of the charcoal or even wood makes it even more delicious. And I’ve discovered that to be true.”
“Hmm.” She would be the judge of that.
But she loved watching the play of muscles in his arms as he efficiently and economically set about doing his task. She wouldn’t have pegged him for the outdoor type.
After all, he was the heir to a multi-billion-dollar fortune and had grown up in luxury.
But then again, he had never struck her as the trust-fund type, all snooty, behaving as if he was above the rest.
“What?”
“What?” She jumped at the question and belatedly realized that she had been staring at him.
“Nothing.” She tried to cover it up by evading.
“You’re not like your typical rich guy.”
He lifted a brow as he rolled out reams of foil paper. “What does your typical rich guy do?”
“Certainly not what you’re doing.”
“Cooking?”
“Fishing, cleaning, and gutting fish-” She shuddered delicately. “Which is something that should turn me off but surprisingly doesn’t.”
“I’m not your typical rich guy.” He carefully put the two largest fish on top of the foil and then added the vegetable sticks.
Soon, the scent filled the air and had her mouth watering.
“God! That smells wonderful.”
He flashed her a grin.
“It’ll be ready in about ten minutes. Would you mind eating out here? There’s a table-”
“I would love to eat out here.”
He nodded. “Why don’t you go and grab a couple of beers from the cooler?”
While she went to do that, he stood at the grill, turning the fish and vegetables to make them even, thinking, anticipating. She was relaxed and did not look as if she would object when he took her to bed, and he was going to.
He was done with playing it safe and being careful. They wanted each other, and there was no way on earth she could deny that she had feelings for him.
It might not be love, and she was far away from wanting to be his wife for real, but she was attracted to him, as much as he was attracted to her.
They would work their way from there. The bottom line was that he wanted her more than he had ever wanted anything in his entire life.
*****
She abandoned the plastic fork and knife and simply dove in to eat with her fingers, the way he was doing. And without question, it was the most delicious meal she had ever eaten.
She had no idea if it was the outdoor atmosphere or the fact that she had watched the meal being prepared, but it was so good that it had her licking her fingers, one by one.
“I could make us some more,” he offered lazily, amusement coating his voice.
“I’m full.” She stretched languidly before using the wipes to get rid of the smell and smear of fish from her fingers.
“And you had to bring out that cake. Now I’m like a stuffed turkey.”
“We could go for a swim,” he suggested. Rising lithely from the floor of the deck where they’d decided to have the meal, he started to gather up the trash.
“That would actually be swimming with the fishes. Or fish, or whatever.”
He had also brought out thick blankets and cushions. Fleetingly, she thought about how much harm it would do to lie down after such a meal, then shrugged it aside.
She was so comfortable that she was about to fall asleep.
“Or it could just be swimming.” He joined her on the blanket but sat propped back against the thick beam.
“Why aren’t you lying down?” she demanded. “Are you trying to make me feel bad?”
He cocked a brow at her and grinned.
“Why would you feel bad that I’m sitting up?”
“Because of the digestion issue. I don’t feel guilty.”
“Good for you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”