They swam all the way down the reef, amazed at the fish, anemones and other small sea creatures, taking turns to point at each new discovery.
Finally they stopped waist-deep at a rocky outcrop out of view of the beach and the others. ‘We should take a break,’ Cormac said, slipping his mask and tube down around his neck. ‘We’ve been at it for over an hour. You’ll get tired out if you’re not used to swimming.’
Lizzie slipped her own mask down. ‘It’s been amazing. I’ve never seen anything like this before.’ She glanced at him, water glistening on his bare chest, tiny droplets clinging to his closely cropped hair, even his eyelashes. His eyes were bright in his tanned face.
‘I suppose you’re used to places like this,’ she said.
He quirked one eyebrow. ‘What makes you think that?’
She shrugged. ‘The tabloids, I suppose. They’re always going on about your jet-setting lifestyle.’
‘Ah, I see.’
‘Where did you grow up?’ Lizzie asked impulsively. She wanted to know more about this man, more than the flickers and glimmers she’d glimpsed so far…or thought she’d glimpsed. She wanted to know about the man Cormac hid, the man underneath who was careful to leave no clues, no hints about who he really was, what he really thought. That man.
Cormac glanced at her for a moment, his expression thoughtful. ‘Edinburgh,’ he finally said.
‘You did?’ She was surprised.
‘Yes, actually…’ He paused. ‘I lived in the house on Cowgate that’s now my office. For a while.’ He gave a little shrug and Lizzie watched something dark and fathomless flicker across his face like a shadow. A memory.
‘But…’ She trailed off. Twenty or thirty years ago, Cowgate had been a depressed section of Edinburgh, little more than a slum. Was that where Cormac had grown up? It was far from the life of luxury and privilege she’d always imagined.
A fish, as bright as a gold coin, darted between them. Lizzie laughed aloud. ‘It’s lovely!’
‘Yes, it is,’ Cormac agreed, but he was looking right at her and suddenly Lizzie was conscious of everything—the sun, as bright as a diamond in a brilliant blue sky, sparkling on the water, the water lapping gently against their nearly bare bodies and the closeness of Cormac, less than a foot away, water beading on a chest brown from the sun. How did he get so brown, Lizzie wondered hazily, living in Scotland?
‘Don’t look at me like that,’ Cormac said with a little laugh, ‘unless you’re planning to do something about it.’
Lizzie realised she’d been gazing at him openly, hungrily, and she couldn’t help herself.
‘Like what?’ she challenged, but it came out in little more than a breathy whisper.
‘Like coming over and kissing me.’ He reached out and tangled his fingers in the wet strands of her hair. ‘I want you, Lizzie.’
‘I want you, too.’ She was dizzy, heady with the newfound power of her own desirability. Suddenly she realised what leverage she had, the control she could exert over Cormac.
It was herself.
Her body.
He wanted her…and it was about the only thing he wanted that was in her control to keep or give.
Or was it? she wondered as he pulled her closer and she didn’t even try to resist. Didn’t know how. Couldn’t even think of it.
Didn’t want to.
‘Then come here,’ he murmured, ‘and show me.’
In a trance of need, she moved towards him—it was so easy in the water—until her breasts, barely covered in the skimpy bikini, brushed his chest.
‘Do you know what you’re doing?’ he asked. He glanced down at her, amusement quirking his mouth, desire darkening his eyes. She heard his breath hitch and smiled.
‘You know I don’t,’ she said, and kissed him.
Perhaps she’d only meant to brush his lips, but Cormac wouldn’t let her get away with that. He pulled her to him, his hands lost in her hair, her body slick and wet against his. She slipped against him in the water until somehow she found her legs wrapped around his hips, his arousal pressing her in her most intimate place, a sensation she’d never felt…and she wanted more.
More. It was a flood of feeling, an overwhelming tide of need that scattered her senses and left her only aware of Cormac, his body, his mouth and hands and the need.
The incredible need. For him.
She pressed towards him and gasped as he responded. The water and their swimming costumes seemed very little barrier and something in her astonished response must have alerted Cormac for he pulled away with a muffled curse.
‘This isn’t…Come with me.’
Wordlessly Lizzie took his hand, followed him through the shallows, around the rocks, to a stretch of private, pristine beach.
In the distance Lizzie thought she heard a trill of feminine laughter, but it could have been the call of a bird.
Cormac kicked off his flippers, threw his mask to the ground, and numbly, hazily, Lizzie did the same.
The moment stretched between them endlessly, and yet it only lasted a second.
‘Come here.’
Obediently, she came, stood before him. If there had been a choice, she didn’t know when she’d made it. Perhaps there never had really been one at all.
He gave a smile of pure primal satisfaction before he took her in his arms and lowered his head to hers.
THIS was how he wanted her. Slender, glistening, perfect, her lips full and parted, ready to be kissed, her body open, willing, ready.
He smiled as he kissed her.
Her lips were soft, sweet, warm and hungry. She kissed him back with an inexpert passion that seared his soul and fired his blood.
Her hands stroked his chest, funny little strokes that weren’t meant to arouse or entice. She was simply exploring.
But it worked. It worked very well.
Cormac lay her in the sand, warm from the sun and damp from their bodies. He wanted to be careful, calculated about what he was doing. This needed to be right. She had to feel…treasured.
He untied her bikini top and let it fall away to reveal pert, perfect, pink-tipped breasts.
She smiled shyly. ‘Am I too small?’
‘You’re perfect,’ he murmured, and brushed his lips against her breast, then found he wanted more. She moaned, her fists clenched in his damp hair, pulling her towards him.
‘Cormac…’
Everything was new to her, wondrous and thrilling. He lifted his head, smiled and moved to the other breast. She arched towards him and he let his hand slide across her stomach to finger the top of her bikini briefs.
She tensed slightly, surprised as his fingers slid underneath the slippery material.
He kept his hand still, waiting for her to agree, to surrender as he knew she would.
After a moment her legs, taut with tension, relaxed, and she parted for him, letting his hand slide under her briefs to the very core of her, gasping as he stroked her with clever, knowing fingers.
‘Cormac…’ She moved, writhed, a stranger to the exquisite