Chapter One #3
I broke into a full sprint, the wine and the hamburger protesting the exertion.
I threw off my shirt onto the white sand and briefly mourned my softest jersey pyjama shorts, before leaping into the water like David fucking Hasselhoff.
The moon was full and there was an almost ridiculous amount of light, but my search for a shadow in the water was pointless as the water just looked black.
I dived to the spot where I thought she had gone under.
The panic increased as the sea beat and whooshed, rushing in my ears.
I bounced up off the sand bed and took another four steps forward, preparing to dive again, when something collided with my chest. Oof.
I felt her try to pull back, but I reached out, firmly grabbing her and pulling her into me, ensuring she didn’t go under again.
Even now heat climbed to my cheeks, remembering the feel of her velvety skin, cool and slippery, under my hands, the dawning realisation that her nipples were pressed into my chest. Of course they were, idiot, you watched her take her bra off.
Her breathing was hard, but she seemed calm, and I had the first inkling that she had not been at risk of drowning.
Her wet hair was long down her back, and clear blue eyes inspected me; I felt they saw more than I wanted them to.
I stammered out an apology and set her down, feeling awkward that it had taken me so long to let go of her.
Seconds later she hadn’t moved or spoken and, worried, I asked her again if she was all right. ‘I’m fine,’ she had uttered before giving me a wisecrack about a song being stuck in her head. She had put her hand right in the centre of my chest and I felt myself audibly gasp. My heart had thundered.
It’s just adrenaline. Calm down, Nick.
Her fingers had moved through my chest hair in this familiar way, and my hand shot up, covering hers to still it.
My heart pounded harder, and I was clearly not calming down.
Her eyes locked with mine and, I swear to you, it was like some sort of magical thing.
I think she cast a spell on me. Water was dripping down her pale skin, and she had this vaguely amused look on her face.
She took a step back, eyes cast down, and then draped an elegant arm across her chest and walked out of the water.
I watched her as she grabbed her collection of clothes and her bottle. She finally spoke again. ‘Thanks for the rescue.’
Australian?
I stood in the sea for a few seconds, trying to get my head around the last two minutes, and watched her progress to her room.
Finally, my body moved stiffly towards my door.
About halfway, I could see her little collection on the table outside hers, the sound of her outdoor shower running.
She was humming an out-of-tune ‘Hotel California’.
Better men than me would have dropped their eyes, turned their heads, looked towards their own doors. Good men. Gentlemen.
Three steps further towards my room was all it took to glimpse legs being washed of sand.
She was very pale; her golden hair had turned a light brown under the running water.
Her legs were shapely, and she pointed her toes like a ballet dancer as she popped one and then another under the water.
As she slid her thumbs into the last remaining item of clothing she had on and bent over to remove it, I almost collided with an umbrella.
I picked up my pace and marched into my suite next door, dragging sand and water with me through the room, straight into the shower, which I ran on cold.
A poor attempt to cool the need she had created in me. To cool the desire.
Crazy thoughts washed down the drain. Recklessness. Abandon. The desire, well, I could not wash that away, no amount of cold water could cool it, and I had to take care of it via another method.
A knock on the door that was heavier than was professional interrupted my daydream, bringing me back to the present. Hunger drove my pace to open the door; I was suddenly ravenous. I stood back, waiting for my ‘personal valet’, Oliver, to enter the room, which the man did. Without my breakfast.
‘Sorry, did you forget something?’ I asked.
‘My apologies, sir. There was a mix-up in the kitchen with your breakfast this morning.’
‘Right … well … I will just wait until you bring another.’ My tone barely contained my annoyance.
‘Very good, sir.’
‘Just Nick is fine,’ I growled out.
‘Do you intend on sitting in the dark in your room for the whole holiday, sir?’
I scoffed at Oliver. ‘None of your goddamned business.’
‘As your valet, sir, it is my job to ensure you sample the delights of the resort. As such, I have booked you into dinner this evening. At the restaurant, sir. Eight sharp. Also, you will tour the private island tomorrow, sir.’ The younger man stopped and took a breath before adding in a softer tone, ‘It’s not good to sit around in the dark on your own, Nick. You know that.’
My head dropped to the floor, where I studied the polished wood. Fuck me, if he wasn’t right. I looked up, giving his concerned gaze a quick nod.
‘Eight sharp. Don’t be late. I’ll send your breakfast as soon as it is ready.’ The young valet smiled. ‘Sir.’
Little shit.