‘Perfection,’ he breathed, and the hot air caressed the apex of her thighs.
His hand slid up over her rib cage to clasp her naked breast. Deft fingers toyed with her already hardened nipple, wringing a low moan from the back of her throat.
‘Your turn.’ She reached for his shirt, unbuttoning him quickly, urgently.
‘You’re far too good at that,’ he chuckled, blackened eyes looking up at her.
‘Dance costumes—fiddly buttons are no match for my fingers.’
‘You do have beautiful fingers.’ He pulled one of her hands to his lips and kissed each fingertip in turn. ‘Beautiful palms.’
His mouth was hot in the centre of her hand, tracing a line over her wrist and up to her elbow.
‘Beautiful everything.’
‘Don’t distract me.’ She pushed the shirt from his shoulders, exposing golden skin stretched tight over a wall of muscle.
The cross tattoo caught her eye. She bent to kiss it, her hands falling to his belt. She wrenched at the closure, making his hips jerk forward as she released the belt.
‘Easy, girl.’ He covered her hands with his as she lowered the zip.
Within seconds he was completely naked. Ink covered more of his body than she remembered. The cross on his chest had been joined by scrolling words down the side of his rib cage and another anchor lower down, with numbers surrounding it. The sharp V of muscle drew her eyes… then her hands, then her mouth.
Her fingers brushed over the hard length of him, tracing the tip before she sank to her knees and drew him into her mouth. The mixture of earthy masculine scents and the subtle taste of him intoxicated her.
‘Didn’t I say easy girl?’ he moaned, his hands fisting in her hair. She wasn’t sure if he meant to hold her in place or pull her away.
She ran her tongue along the length of him before looking up. ‘I heard you. I just didn’t listen.’
‘Come here.’
He hauled her on top of him, tilting them both back so that she straddled his hips. The hard weight of his erection dug into her thigh.
‘We’ve got the whole night. You’re not rushing me.’
Stretching his hand back, he found the drawer beside his bed and produced a foil packet. He reached down, sheathed himself, and before she knew what was happening he thrust up into her. The sudden movement was the perfect blend of pleasure and shock… with the tiniest, most delicate hint of pain.
Strong arms held her flat against him, her breasts pushed up against his chest, her lips at his neck. Each moan shot fire through her, and each thrust of his hips bumped her most sensitive part, making her body hum. Orgasm welled within her, climbing, peaking and pushing.
His hands were in her hair again, yanking her face up to his so his lips could slant over hers. Teeth tugged at her mouth, the taste of him drawing her closer and closer to release. She ground against him. So close… so close.
‘Come for me, Chantal. I want to feel you shake around me.’ His voice was tight, his breath coming in hard bursts.
‘Brodie…’ Her voice trembled, release a hair’s width away.
‘Scream for me.’
And she did.
On and on and on she cried out his name, eyes clamped shut, fists bunched in the pillow, face pressed against his neck. The bubble burst and she tumbled down, down, down. As she clamped around him he found his own release, groaning long and low into her hair.
Silence washed over them. The air was cool on their sweat-dampened skin. He held her close, clinging on as if he wanted to stay that way forever. She didn’t move in case he let go.
He could officially die a happy man. The gentle weight of her comforted him. One of her legs had wound around his; her foot was tucked against his calf. As her breathing slowed he stroked her hair, breathing in the heady scent of her perfume mingled with perspiration and sex.
Beside his head her hands were still clutching the pillow. Outside, Saturday-night parties raged on, contrasting with inside, where a hazy silence had settled over them.
‘That was okay, I guess,’ she mumbled against his neck, chuckling when he turned to look her in the eye. ‘If you like that kind of thing.’
Glossy dark strands of hair covered half her face and he pushed them aside, drinking in her drugged gaze with satisfaction. Her lips were swollen and parted, her cheeks bright pink. Tracing her lower lip with his thumb, he brought her head down for a slow, teasing kiss.
‘And do you like that sort of thing?’
‘Nah—orgasms are overrated.’ She grinned, pushing herself up so she straddled his hips.
The view was pretty damn good from this angle.
‘Blasphemy.’
‘Total blasphemy.’ She planted a kiss on the tip of his nose and traced the lines of his latest tattoo. ‘This is new.’
‘It’s twelve months old.’
‘“In the waves of change we find our true direction”.’ She read the words that had been etched onto him forever. ‘That’s beautiful. Why that quote?’
‘I thought it made me sound intelligent,’ he joked, hiding his sudden vulnerability with a wink.
How did she do that? She had a homing beacon aimed straight for his most sensitive areas… and not the good kind!
She smirked. ‘What’s the real reason?’
‘I felt like I needed a reminder that change is necessary… healthy.’ He sighed, and rolled so that she came down and landed on the bed next to him.
He’d meant to move away, but her body immediately curled into his, finding the groove between his arm and his chest. It felt so damn good to have her by his side, to finally be able to wrap his arms around her without the guilt of the past. He only had one night—he might as well let himself enjoy it.
What if one night wasn’t enough?
Bookings were piling up. He’d be sailing back to Queensland soon enough to bury himself in work and his family. Even if they did stretch this fiasco on for more than a night his time here had a solid end date. Normally that was what he liked. But he wasn’t experiencing his usual sense of relief at their ring-fenced sleeping arrangements.
‘Do you think you need to change?’
‘Everyone needs to change,’ he replied, running a fingertip up and down her arm.
‘What do you want to change?’
He laughed, shaking his head. ‘What’s with the twenty questions? I thought I’d signed on for a night of steamy sex—not the Spanish Inquisition.’
‘Is that so?’ She reached for him, the brush of her fingertips hardening him. ‘What if I’m done?’
‘I’ll say when you’re done.’
Rolling on top of her, he mentally thanked the king-size bed for its endless space.
Pinned, she tilted her face up at him, a defiant glint in her eye. ‘You’re not the boss of me,’ she said.
Yeah, right. He had her exactly where he wanted her. Kissing his way down her neck, he sucked on her skin, only stopping to draw a still-hard nipple into his mouth. Her breasts were perfect: smallish, but firm, topped with bronzed peaks that were oh-so-responsive to his touch. She arched, stifling a groan. He licked, nipped, tugged until she let out the heavenly sounds of pleasure.
‘That’s it,’ he murmured against