Her Ex, Her Future?: One Night with Her Ex / Seven Nights with Her Ex / Backstage with Her Ex. Lucy King
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with nothing but thoughts of what he’d like to do to her. ‘Are you having trouble breathing?’ He was. In such close proximity to her his lungs seemed to have forgotten how to work.
‘No.’
‘Chest pain?’
‘No.’
‘Then probably not.’
He released her foot and got to his feet before he acted on the instinct he’d been favouring only a few minutes ago out there in the sea but was now wholly inappropriate.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked, squinting up at him.
‘There’s a bottle of vinegar in the picnic basket. The acid should help.’
She gave him a faint smile. ‘Better than you peeing on me, I guess.’
Kit frowned down at her, and thought that despite the stab at humour he didn’t like the flush in her cheeks one little bit. ‘Don’t move.’
‘I won’t.’
* * *
As her foot continued to throb and tiny stabs of pain shot along it Lily watched Kit head over to the picnic basket, her heart contracting and her spirits plummeting.
Her intention to follow him into the sea and continue the conversation she’d barely started might not have worked out as planned, but she’d wanted an answer to the question about where they were heading and now she had it.
Kit wasn’t planning to ravish her, and she didn’t think he meant simply here on this beach. A minute ago they’d been practically naked and so, so close to each other and all he’d shown her was cool practical concern, while she...
She blew out a breath as she watched him hunker down and rummage around in the basket for the vinegar, part of which had dressed the salad and part of which was apparently to dress her, and swallowed back a surge of desire.
Well, she’d lied when she’d told him she wasn’t having trouble breathing and didn’t have chest pain, although neither had anything to do with standing on a sea urchin.
The minute he’d laid his hands on her and turned her foot with a gentleness she’d never have expected from him her breathing had gone haywire. And then when he’d told her he had no intention of ravishing her her chest had tightened so much her heart had physically hurt.
And now he was coming back with the damn vinegar and she was going to have to employ every drop of self-control she possessed to stop herself throwing caution to the wind and herself into his arms.
Swallowing hard, Lily kept her hands planted on the sand as Kit once again knelt beside her.
‘I’ll see if I can remove as many of the spines as I can,’ he said with a brief smile. ‘I’ll try to be gentle.’
She didn’t want gentle, she thought rebelliously, clamping her lips together to stop the words tumbling out as he held her foot and began pulling out the spines. She wanted rough. Urgent. Desperate. She wanted his hands not touching her in the cool, impersonal manner of a doctor, but stroking her and kneading her and caressing her in the manner of a lover. She wanted hands that would explore her and make her tremble and drive her mindless with desire.
She might have let out a tiny moan. She might have whimpered. Whatever noise she did make Kit instantly stilled, his head jerking up and his gaze locking with hers.
Something flickered in the depths of his dark eyes and her breath caught. For a moment it felt as if the entire world had stopped to see what was going to happen next.
And then he was jerking away from her, snapping the connection of their gazes and shoving a hand through his hair, and the world carried on its business.
‘Kit?’ she murmured, reeling from the intensity of the moment and the abrupt way it had ended.
‘You winced,’ he muttered, jamming the lid on the vinegar and standing up. ‘I’m sorry if I hurt you. But now you’re done.’
‘Nothing to worry about,’ she said, scrambling to her feet, the pain now wiped out by a wave of mortification and the sting of rejection. ‘And thank you.’
‘We’d better head back.’
‘Good plan.’
* * *
Returning from a visit to the clinic, where her foot was checked and given a cleanish bill of health, Lily stalked into her villa, threw her bag on the sofa and then flung herself on the bed, frustration, disappointment and tension practically tearing her apart.
Kit didn’t want her. Physically or otherwise. That much was now blindingly obvious. So obvious, in fact, that she was kind of stunned she’d ever got into her head that he did.
How could she have been so stupid, so deluded? Well, her sister had a lot to answer for, she thought darkly, rolling onto her front and burying her head in a pillow. If it hadn’t been for that stupid phone call she’d never have leapt to the clearly wrong conclusion that he might still have feelings for her.
Zoe had said she thought that Kit might still love her, but might also meant might not, didn’t it?
And if that was the case then she’d been wrong to read so much into the look he’d given her in the bar when she’d first turned up for supper the day he’d arrived. She’d thought she’d seen so much there in his eyes, but perhaps she’d only seen it because she’d wanted to see it. And perhaps she’d been wrong to imagine, wonder, hope even, that things between her and Kit could be anything other than what they were.
Which was absolutely devastating, because while the last few days hadn’t resulted in a tumble in the waves, they had highlighted all the reasons why she’d fallen in love with him in the first place: his enthusiasm for everything he did; his live-life-to-the-full attitude; the way he made her feel protected and cherished; his generosity and inherent kindness.
They’d also highlighted the fact that despite all her assertions to the contrary, despite everything she’d told herself over the last five long, horrible years, she’d never fallen out of love with him. She knew now that she still loved everything about him. Always had, always would.
While he was completely indifferent to her.
As her heart twisted Lily let out a muffled wail and thumped the mattress with her fists. Oh, what a mess. So much for wondering where they were going, she thought desolately. They weren’t going anywhere. Apart from home. Tomorrow. And then on with their lives. Separately.
As a stab of despair shot through her at the futility of it all she rolled onto her back, sat up and looked gloomily out of the window.
At least the weather, having taken a turn for the worse, was vaguely sympathetic to the blackness of her mood.
Ever since they’d got back—and what a hideously awkward journey that had been—the air pressure had been dropping and the temperature had been rising to what was now an almost unbearable level. The clouds that had started scudding across the sky when they’d moored the boat back at the jetty were now so dense and dark it felt as if the island were lying beneath a heavy, hot and humid blanket.
Even though it was only mid-afternoon it felt like dusk. Not the soft, balmy dusk of the last few days, but an edgy, malevolent dusk that was laden with an ominous kind of portent. The wind was whipping up the sea, bending the trees practically double, and the air was crackling with electricity that she could feel vibrating through her too.
She felt weirdly on edge. Prickly. As if a whole hive of bees had taken up residence inside her.
And what exactly was she going to do for the rest of the afternoon? She couldn’t read. Couldn’t work. Couldn’t do any of the activities the resort usually had to offer as everything had been cancelled due to the storm that was brewing. There was the gym, but even if that had appealed Kit had muttered something about heading that way when they got back, which ruled it totally out.
And