He clutched at his drawer, grabbing another condom and burying himself in her, riding the final waves of her release as he lost himself in her pleasure.
CHANTAL AWOKE WRAPPED in Brodie arms. Her face was pushed against his bicep, which was far cosier than it should have been, considering the guy was a rock-hard tower of muscle. His even breathing soothed the thumping of her heart.
From her days at Weeping Reef she knew Brodie was a heavy sleeper. She’d tested it on more than one occasion by sneaking into his room with Scott so they could play pranks on him. Like the time they’d switched the clothes in his drawers for frilly girls’ nightclothes, so that he had to wander down to Chantal’s room in a pink leopard-print negligee.
Not that he’d been too upset. He’d strutted his stuff as he did every day and the girls had fallen at his feet anyway.
Biting down on her lower lip, Chantal watched his peaceful face. Full lips were curved into a slight smile; thick lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones. His shaggy blond hair managed to look magazine perfect. Damn him.
Flashes of last night came back in a rush of needy, achy feeling. Every part of her body throbbed in a totally satisfied, pleasure-overload kind of way. Brodie was as good in bed as she’d suspected, but there was a tenderness to him that had been a complete surprise. The way he’d stroked her hair, the comforting embrace in the middle of the night, the gentle sweep of his hand along her arm—she hadn’t been prepared for that at all. If anything it would have been easier if he was cold and impersonal afterwards.
She couldn’t do this with him. It had been so much more than scratching an itch. He’d pushed her limits, bringing her to sensual heights she’d never known existed. He’d stirred her curiosity. The words inked on him revealed that he was so much more than the shallow charmer she’d labelled him. How could she look into those beautiful green eyes again without wanting to learn more? To dig deeper?
It was supposed to be about sex.
It is about sex. You don’t owe him anything. You got what you wanted—now move on and focus on your career. Playtime is over.
Careful not to wake him, Chantal extracted herself from his muscular hold. She slipped out of the bed, holding her breath as her feet touched the polished boards. It was like playing a game of Sleeping Giant—except that the giant was a hunky guy with whom she didn’t want to have awkward after-sex conversation.
How was she going to get back to Newcastle for her shift at the job from hell? Cringing, she tiptoed around the room. More importantly, where the hell was her dress? She’d managed to find every single one of Brodie’s clothing items from their stripping frenzy, but the little blue dress was nowhere to be seen. Normally she was a leave-nothing-behind kind of girl when it came to her clothes, but the blue dress would have to be sacrificed.
Changing slowly, and as silently as possible, Chantal pulled on the clothes she’d arrived in on the first night, grabbed her phone and slung her overnight bag over one shoulder.
Now she had to make her way to Newcastle without the aid of Brodie’s boat or her car—which was still parked at the bar. Simple… not. A cab was out of the question, since her wallet was frighteningly lean. Perhaps she could ring one of the girls and beg for a lift?
She bit down on her lip. She hated to ask. What if they already had plans? They probably would, and she would be interrupting. The bed squeaked as Brodie turned in his sleep, spiking her heart rate. She had to get out of there.
Pushing down her discomfort, she made her way off the boat and dialled Willa’s number. ‘Hey, I know it’s early, but I need a favour…’
Within twenty minutes she was in Willa’s car and on her way to Newcastle. There would be a price to pay for Willa’s generosity in giving up brunch with Rob… and it wasn’t going to be monetary.
‘So,’ Willa began, not bothering to hide the curiosity sparkling all over her face, ‘how was he?’
Chantal pretended to study an email on her phone. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Oh, come on! I did not miss out on baked ricotta and eggs to have you BS me, Chantal.’
‘Nothing happened.’
Willa chuckled. ‘Then why is your face the same shade as a tomato?’
‘Sunburn?’ Chantal offered weakly. ‘Okay—fine. I slept with him.’
‘Thank you, Captain Obvious. I’d figured that out already.’ Willa leant forward to watch the traffic as she merged onto the Bradfield Highway. ‘I don’t want confirmation—I want details.’
Where to begin? Images of last night flashed in front of Chantal’s eyes, snippets of sounds, feelings, sensations… Her body reacted as though he were right there in front of her. Damn him!
‘It was… satisfying.’
‘Just satisfying?’ Willa narrowed her eyes at Chantal. ‘Either you dish or it’s going to be a long walk to Newcastle.’
‘He was amazing.’
Shaking her head, she willed her heart to stop thumping and her core to stop throbbing. She should be satiated, considering he’d woken her up twice during the night to continue wringing as many orgasms from her as possible.
‘I’m sure he’s had plenty of practice,’ Chantal added, folding her arms across her chest.
‘Don’t go using that as a way to put distance between you. I can see what you’re doing there.’
‘I am not.’
‘That’s one thing I like about you, Chantal. You’re a terrible liar.’
She huffed. Perhaps she would have been better walking. ‘I don’t need to put any distance between us because we agreed that it would be a one-night-only thing. Then we’d pretend it had never happened.’
‘Gee, that sounds healthy.’ Willa rolled her eyes.
‘Why not? It’s just sex—nothing more.’ I don’t need any more, and I don’t need him.
‘If it was just sex then why do you need to pretend it didn’t happen?’
As much as she hated to admit it, Willa had a point. What was so bad about admitting that she’d had a one-night stand with Brodie?
Even thinking the words set a hard lump in her stomach. She’d been down this path before—men always started out fun, till the over-protectiveness stirred, control followed, and smothering wasn’t far behind.
‘Well, we don’t want to upset Scott…’
‘That’s not it. Scott is totally head over heels for Kate. She’s it for him. So I can guarantee he wouldn’t care about you and Brodie hooking up.’
Why did she feel so funny about it? Perhaps admitting it aloud meant it was real, and if it was real then it might happen again.
It’s a slippery slope to disaster—remember that.
‘Eight years is a long time to harbour feelings for someone. No wonder you’re scared.’
‘I’m not scared.’ Chantal’s lips pursed. ‘And I have most certainly not been harbouring feelings for Brodie Mitchell for the last eight years.’
‘I think the lady doth protest too much.’ Willa stole a quick glance at Chantal, her amusement barely contained in a cheeky smile. ‘You know, it is okay for you to like people—even annoyingly handsome men like Brodie.’
‘I