‘We shouldn’t do this…’ Should we?
His eyes were engulfed by the onyx of his pupils. ‘Stay with me tonight.’
‘I am staying here.’
‘Stay with me. In my bed.’
‘Brodie…’ His name was a warning on her lips, but temptation spiralled out of control. Where was her resolve? Her focus?
‘Just for tonight. Then tomorrow we can pretend it never happened.’
He stood and turned, waving to the rest of the Weeping Reef gang as they approached the yacht.
Chantal hadn’t heard them. But with Brodie about to kiss her, a bomb might have been dropped and she wouldn’t have noticed a damn thing.
‘You two looked pretty cosy before,’ Scott said.
The boys had separated from the girls and they hung out on the deck, port side. After dancing their feet off—and putting on quite the show—the girls were taking a break in the cabin, a fresh bottle of champagne flowing and peals of laughter piercing the night air.
‘No idea what you’re talking about, mate.’ Brodie put on his best poker face—which, if his track record was anything to go on, was terrible.
‘You’re so full of it.’ Scott laughed.
‘You’re a bit of an open book, aren’t you?’ said Rob Hanson, Willa’s partner, in his distinctive South African accent. He eyed Brodie with an amused smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes.
Just because Scott and Rob had sorted their love-lives out it didn’t given them licence to have a dig at his. Not that he wanted a love-life—he was happy with a gratifying and varied sex-life, thank you very much.
‘Are you going to get it over with?’ Scott took a swig of his beer.
Brodie rolled his eyes and looked out to the water. ‘Nothing’s going on.’
‘Maybe not yet.’ Rob smirked. ‘But you’re better off getting it out of your system.’
Brodie’s pocket vibrated and he pulled out his phone. Saved by the bell! A text from Jenny—aka twin number one. She’d had a fight with twin number two and wanted a place to crash.
No can do, Jen. I’m in Sydney. Stop giving your sister a hard time.
He toyed with the phone, knowing that there would be an immediate response from his serial-texting younger sister.
‘Family?’ Scott asked with a knowing look. ‘They still driving you crazy?’
‘Are they ever?’ He shook his head. ‘I hope for your sake you and Kate only have boys.’
Brodie’s phone vibrated again.
You always take her side.
I do not.
‘Is your sister a bit of a handful?’ Rob asked.
‘Sisters,’ Brodie corrected. ‘I’ve got four of them—all younger.’
‘Jeez.’ Rob let out a low whistle. ‘Your parents must have been gluttons for punishment.’
‘Not really,’ Scott chipped in. ‘Brodie always did most of the work with them.’
‘Just doing my job.’ Brodie waved off the comment. He’d done what any big brother would have. His father’s absence had left a gaping hole in his sisters’ lives. If he hadn’t looked after them who would have?
‘Family comes first, but you have to find some balance,’ Rob said.
Brodie shrugged. ‘The rest of my life is pretty carefree. I sail when I feel like it, work on my business, cruise around the country. Meet lots of interesting people.’
‘Brodie has never had any trouble meeting interesting people.’ Scott rolled his eyes and turned to Rob. ‘He used to have the girls falling at his feet when we were all at the reef.’
‘It’s the tatts,’ Brodie replied. ‘Something about a little ink makes them go crazy.’
‘What’s that about tattoos?’ Willa wandered over and immediately tucked herself against Rob.
Rob gave her a squeeze and grinned. ‘Apparently girls go gaga for Brodie’s ink. What do you think, Willa?’
‘I don’t think it’s just the ink,’ she said, smirking.
‘Should I be getting jealous?’ There wasn’t a hint of jealousy in Rob’s voice, but Willa shook her head anyway. She only had eyes for Rob, anyone could see that.
The rest of the girls had filtered out of the cabin and now joined the discussion. Rob took the opportunity to make Brodie squirm.
‘What do you think, Chantal? Tatts or no tatts?’ His eyes glittered and he fought back a smile when Brodie shot daggers at him.
‘On the right guy it looks good,’ she responded carefully, her eyes flicking from Brodie to Rob and back again, as though she were trying to work out who’d instigated the suggestive discussion. ‘Though looks aren’t everything.’
‘Aren’t they?’ joked Kate, flipping her long red ponytail over one shoulder as she laughed at Scott’s serious face. ‘Joking!’
This time the group wasn’t crashing on the yacht. Scott and Kate were staying at a hotel for the night, Amy and Jessica were going to continue the festivities at a local bar, and Willa and Rob were retiring back to their newly rented penthouse.
But what about Chantal?
‘Are you sure you don’t want to join us, Brodie?’ Amy asked with a coy smile.
‘I would love to party it up with you lovely ladies, but I have training tomorrow.’ Brodie pulled Amy in for a friendly hug. ‘Literally at the crack of dawn—and you know how much I hate mornings.’
She grinned. ‘How about you, Chantal?’
Brodie held his breath. This was it. If she stayed then he would do everything in his power to make her come—over and over and over.
She shifted on her strappy tan heels and raked a hand through her long, wavy hair.
‘I’ve got work tomorrow.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘I think I’m going to need all my energy for it.’
Amy stifled a smile and nodded.
The crew filtered off the boat, leaving Brodie and Chantal completely alone. She hovered by his side, refusing to look up at him. Not that it mattered where she looked, so long as it was his name on her lips.
‘I hope you weren’t serious about needing energy tomorrow,’ he said as they waved the group off. ‘You’re not getting any sleep tonight.’
WAS SHE MAKING a colossal mistake? Her body seemed to think not. In fact her body acted as though it had been served up a certifiable slice of heaven, complete with whipped cream, cherries and sprinkles.
‘Sleep is for the weak.’
His hands found her waist and pulled her close. Air rushed from her lungs with the delicious contact. His pelvis was hard against her, the ridge of his burgeoning erection pressing into her belly through the thin material of her dress.
His full lips curved into an impossibly sexy smile. ‘I’m glad we’re on the same page.’
‘We will be if we never speak of this again.’
‘Romantic,’