Temptation, p.13
Temptation, page 13
“When should we have it? Need I remind you we only have a week together? I’d prefer to go in knowing precisely what you like. What kind of things get your heart pumping and your panties wet.”
“You don’t have any shame at all, do you?”
“If by not having any shame you mean I have no problem speaking my mind, then you’re correct. Life’s too short for anything less.” He zeroed his eyes on me, the look stripping me bare. “Don’t you agree?”
“It’s ironic, don’t you think? A twenty-seven-year-old man telling a forty-year-old woman that life is too short?”
“What’s it going to take for you to stop obsessing over this age difference? I like you. Judging by the way you’ve been blushing all evening, along with the fact your body buzzes to life whenever I so much as skim a hand against your flesh, you like me, as well. Why should it matter if there are a few years between us? I’m attracted to you. You’re attracted to me. That’s all that should matter. That’s all I’d like to matter. Okay?”
I marveled at how mature he sounded. How well he carried himself.
It made him seem older than he was.
Hell, it made him seem older than me.
I inhaled a calming breath, then nodded. “I can do that.”
“Good.” He straightened, swirling his wine glass and taking a sip. There was something incredibly erotic about watching him move the liquid around his mouth, savoring the flavor before licking his lips to get every last drop.
It made me want to lick his lips, too.
“So…,” he continued. “What do you like? When you get yourself off, what do you use? Toys? Fingers? Combination of both?”
“I told you last night. I have a vibrator.”
“I remember that quite clearly.” His mouth curved into a smile so sinful it should have been illegal. “How often do you use it?”
“Why do I feel like a teenager asking my gyno for birth control for the first time?” I joked.
He looked at me quizzically. “Your doctor asked if you used a vibrator? That seems a little…perverse.”
“Not that exactly. But they’d ask about sexual activity.”
“If you want to spread your legs, I’d be happy to give you a thorough examination.” He winked.
My cheeks heated at the thought. “Again… You are shameless.”
“What can I say? I’ve been told I have a pretty twisted sense of humor.”
“You were told correctly.”
“So, how often?”
I shrugged, averting my gaze, but he gripped my chin, forcing my eyes back to his.
“It’s been a while for that, too, hasn’t it? That’s why your friend wrote to get a vibrator and use it?”
“Maybe.”
“Okay. But you do get yourself off in other ways, right?”
“Occasionally.”
“How occasionally are we talking? And it better be more than once a week.”
When I didn’t respond, his eyes widened even more. “What are you? Practicing to join a convent?”
“I don’t see why it’s such a big deal. I have a very busy life. I don’t have time to be…self-indulgent.”
“Self-indulgent? That’s not being self-indulgent at all. Taking care of your needs — physically, spiritually, and sexually — is a necessary part of your well-being. You think you should deprive yourself of feeling good just because you have a hectic life?”
“Sort of,” I answered sheepishly. When he didn’t say anything, I continued, “I guess there’s a part of me that thinks if I don’t spend every hour of every day putting…other people’s needs ahead of mine, I’m failing them.”
I was careful not to mention my daughter. Not because I was embarrassed of her. Quite the opposite. But I didn’t feel the need to bring her up, to share her with this man who wouldn’t be in my life after I left Hawaii.
“Regardless of anyone who may depend on you,” he stated cautiously, “there’s nothing wrong with taking time for yourself, for your needs. After all, isn’t that the purpose of the list you made? Why you’re here with me tonight? To finally choose yourself?”
I swallowed hard. “It is.”
“Then tell me about your needs,” he demanded in a sultry voice that was as smooth as butter and as rich as caramel. It oozed sin. Lust. Desire. Everything I’d stayed away from for years. “What do you like in the bedroom?”
I parted my lips, no words forthcoming. I wouldn’t even know where to begin to formulate a response. I was woefully ill-equipped to have this conversation. Here I was, trying to talk about sex after years of being made to believe the only purpose of sex was to control and manipulate.
But I didn’t want that anymore. I wanted to finally experience what so many of my friends did. What they wrote about in romance novels or showed in movies.
I wanted passion.
I wanted excitement.
I wanted to ache with need.
Then again, in the past hour I’d been with Chris, I felt all those things with an intensity I didn’t think possible.
“You’ve never found sex to be satisfying, have you?” he remarked when I remained silent.
“That’s one way of putting it.” I rolled my eyes. “So when you ask about my needs… I honestly don’t know what those are. Sex was never about my needs.”
I expected him to push the issue, ask for more details about my previous relationships. But he didn’t, swooping my hand up and bringing it to his lips. I doubted I’d ever tire of him kissing my hand like this. So soft. So reverent. So intoxicating.
“That changes tonight.”
He turned over my hand, kissing the inside of my wrist. Such an obscure place on the body, one most people wouldn’t think twice about. But when he pressed a lingering kiss there, my pulse skyrocketed, mouth growing dry, breaths coming quicker.
“Tonight, my beautiful Belle, will most certainly be about all your needs.” He pressed one last kiss to my wrist, then lowered my hand back to the table. “Although, I must confess… Your lackluster sexual experience does make me a little happy.”
“Happy?”
He leaned toward me, pushing a tendril of hair behind my ear, then dropped his mouth to my neck, his breath warm on my skin. Anticipation coiled within, winding me tight, every muscle taut.
“Absolutely. Because I get to be the one to help you discover what you like.” He lingered there for a beat, then pulled back. “It’s like working with a blank slate.”
“A blank slate?”
“Exactly. You’re not coming into this with any preconceived notions. So I can show you what sex should be like. Help you figure out what turns you on. And, conversely, what turns you off.” His voice was even, gaze unaffected, as if he were discussing the stock market or last quarter’s profit-and-loss report.
“How can you stay so calm talking about this kind of thing?”
“You mean sex?”
“Yes. I don’t know how things are where you’re from, but sex isn’t normal dinner conversation.”
“We’re not exactly a normal couple. Are we?”
I smiled. “I suppose not.”
“Even so, I don’t find anything improper about what we’re discussing. I like sex. So it would inevitably follow that I like to talk about it, too. But don’t let appearances fool you.”
“What do you mean?”
“You asked how I could remain so calm talking about sex. I’m not.”
I raised a brow. “You’re not?”
A contemplative expression covered his face before he admitted, “You intimidate me.”
I straightened, taken aback. “Me? Why? How?”
He chewed on his bottom lip as his gaze skated over my body. “You honestly don’t realize how stunning you are, do you?”
“I guess it’s been a while since I’ve been with someone who made me feel beautiful.”
“Why do you believe you need someone to make you feel beautiful? Why can’t you make yourself feel beautiful?”
I never really thought about that. I’d always done everything I could to earn the approval of others. Probably the consequences of losing my mom at an early age and being put into foster care. I didn’t remember much about that time, but I did recall wanting to feel loved again… Like my mother made me feel.
When I’d learned I was going to be adopted, I was thrilled with the prospect of having a family again. Of having love again.
Unfortunately, I was adopted by a woman who wouldn’t know love if it smacked her in the face. Still, I was desperate to earn her approval and love, even though she’d proven time and again she was incapable of giving either of those things.
“I didn’t think I’d ever achieve happiness on my own,” I finally answered.
“I may be young, but one of the most important lessons my mother taught me is that happiness, true happiness, can only be found within. The people you surround yourself with only help that happiness shine.”
I blinked, his words hitting me on a deeper and more profound level than I expected, particularly from someone with whom I was only supposed to have a week of no-strings sex.
Not to mention someone so much younger than me.
But the more time I spent with him, the more I began to realize that age truly was just a number. That he was wise beyond his years.
“She sounds like a smart woman.”
“She is…” He beamed a genuine smile, the affection he held for her obvious. “Or was.”
“I’m sorry,” I offered. “I didn’t mean… I guess I’m breaking one of our terms. The whole no sob story thing.”
“My mother isn’t sob story territory. Do I miss her? Absolutely. But she’s not the reason I…” He trailed off.
“Put up walls,” I finished, knowing exactly what that was like.
He simply shrugged, neither confirming nor denying my assessment.
After a protracted pause, I asked, “Have you found it?”
“What’s that?”
“Your inner happiness.”
He worried his bottom lip, toiling over his response. When he peered at me, there was something hardened in his eyes. An endless shadow. An unrelenting truth.
“I learned a long time ago that happiness isn’t in the cards for everyone. That some people don’t deserve happiness.”
“You don’t think you deserve to be happy?” I pressed, picking up on the hidden meaning in his words.
“I know I don’t.”
“What makes you say that? I—”
“Believe me. The less you know about me, the better off you’ll be. If you knew all the shite I’ve done, you’d probably regret the day we met.”
He pierced me with an intense stare.
I wasn’t sure what was sadder about what he’d just shared.
That there was a story behind his statement.
Or that he fully believed it to be true.
What happened in his past that made him think such a thing?
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lachlan
“Is this the part where I learn you’re secretly a serial killer or something?” Belle ran her hands down her skirt as I put my Range Rover into park at the end of a residential road, nothing in front of us except a jagged, rocky cliff and miles and miles of ocean. “Is that why you’ve driven me to the middle of nowhere? To have your way with me, then throw my body into the ocean?”
There was a lightness to her tone, but also a hint of trepidation. I grabbed her hand, hoping to reassure her with the gentleness of my lips against her smooth skin. “I promised I’d show you my Hawaii.” I nodded toward the darkness in front of us. “This is part of that. One of this island’s hidden gems.”
She drew in a breath. “I’m putting my trust in you. Don’t make me regret it.”
“Never.”
With a wink, I stepped out into the temperate evening, hurrying over to Belle’s side and opening the door. I offered her my hand, helping her down.
Placing a kiss on her forehead, I briefly dropped my hold and ducked into the back seat, grabbing both the duffel bag and the small cooler I’d packed earlier. Then I handed her a pair of flip-flops.
“You might want to put these on for now. Not sure how easy it would be to walk on those rocks with heels.”
With a smile, she took the flip-flops from me. “You obviously planned this.” Leaning against the car, she removed both heels, leaving them on the floorboard of the passenger seat.
“Of course. A lot of thought went into tonight.”
Once she slid her feet into the flip-flops, I locked the car, grabbed her hand, and led her toward the rocky overlook, the duffel bag slung over my shoulder, cooler in my free hand.
“Just when I think I have you figured out, you throw me another curveball.”
I chuckled to myself. Little did she know how well I was known for throwing curveballs in my career.
“If you think you have me figured out, you should reevaluate that, beautiful. Because I’ll let you in on a little secret.” Slowing my steps, I leaned toward her, lowering my voice. “I haven’t even figured myself out yet.”
She met my eyes, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Well, I’ll let you in on a little secret. Anyone who claims they have is only fooling you. And themself. I’m forty.” She paused, a small laugh escaping her throat. “It still feels strange admitting that.”
“Why?” I pressed, carefully leading her farther along the overlook, the moon lighting our way.
“Forty’s…old.”
“But do you feel old?”
With a smile, she faced me, hoisting herself onto her toes and touching her lips to mine. “How can I when I’m spending my birthday with someone like you?” A flicker of vulnerability washed over her as she placed a hand on my chest, covering my heart. “You’ve made me feel beautiful tonight. I didn’t realize how much I needed that. How much I needed this.”
I covered her mouth with mine, my motions slow as I urged her lips to part, desperate for a taste of her after spending hours at that restaurant. There were so many times I wanted to kiss her, and not just the quick pecks I’d managed to steal. But something deeper, the drug my body craved whenever she was near.
Hell, even when she wasn’t.
My hand splayed on her lower back, I held her secure against me, savoring in the taste of her. Ginger. Basil. A touch of sweetness.
“I didn’t realize how much I needed this, either,” I admitted in a low voice.
I leaned my forehead against hers, breathing her in as she did the same.
Every morning of my childhood, my mum would press her head to mine like this, sharing the meaning of this gesture that was passed down through generations. She taught me that, by touching bone to bone, people connected on a deeper level.
Truthfully, I never felt that profound connection she claimed existed. Until now.
Clearing my throat, I pulled away. “Just a little farther.”
“Okay.”
We walked on in silence. Every so often, Belle stumbled slightly. Sure, I could have brought her here during the day, but this place was too special not to come tonight, on such an important day for her.
When we approached the edge, I slowed to a stop, dropping both the duffel and cooler onto the ground. Unzipping the bag, I pulled out a large blanket and spread it out on the rocks, tossing a few pillows on top of it.
Not saying a word, I took Belle’s hand and helped her sit before lowering myself beside her. The wind was steady out here on the edge of the island, darkened waves crashing against the cliffs, but the bright moon in the sky illuminated our surroundings.
“Gorgeous,” Belle exhaled, leaning back on her hands and stretching out her legs, the wind gently pulling her hair behind her. She closed her eyes, seemingly at peace for the first time since I’d met her.
It was why I brought her here.
Whenever I felt I needed direction or clarity, I came here.
“It’s the best-kept secret on the island. Not a lot of people want to venture out this far. But the view alone is worth the price of admission.”
“It’s remarkable.”
“You should see it at sunrise. Or sunset. Since we’re on the north side, you get amazing views of both. I’ll bring you back here one morning.”
She smoothed her hair behind her ear, although it didn’t do much good, the wind nudging them back out again. “I’d like that.” She held my gaze, then eyed the cooler. “What’s in there?”
“Dessert.” I waggled my brows and unzipped the top, pulling out a chilled bottle, as well as two glasses. “Unfortunately, I didn’t think it wise to bring champagne flutes, since I tend to knock those over even on flat surfaces. So rocks glasses it is.” I showed her the bottle, and she scrunched her brows.
“I don’t recognize that champagne.”
“Because it’s not. It’s a sparkling shiraz from one of my favorite vineyards in South Australia. They only produce twenty or thirty cases a year, and I make sure to have the winemaker set a dozen bottles aside for me.”
“It must be some wine for you to go through that trouble.”
I ripped the foil from the top and twisted off the cage, tossing them both back into the cooler. When I yanked out the cork with a pop, vapor billowed out of the neck from the release of pressure.
“It most certainly is.” I poured some into her glass, then mine, before returning the bottle to the cooler, careful to keep it upright.
“Cheers.” I tilted my glass toward hers.
A smile crawled across her lips. “My brother and I have this kind of running competition in our family. Handed down from our gampy.”
“Gampy?”
“It’s what we called our grandfather. Anyway, he loved doing toasts, but it was never a simple cheers. He always said something crass, witty, or meaningful. My brother and I sort of continued his tradition.”
“Okay… Let’s see what you’ve got.”
“All right.” She straightened her spine, holding her glass toward me. Then a salacious smile tugged on her lips.
“May we kiss who we please.” She paused and leaned toward me, eyes turning sultry, seductive. “And please who we kiss.”
