Australia: Wicked Mistresses. Robyn Grady
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carry you.”
“All the way to the resort?” She half coughed, half laughed. “Your arms will break off.”
He cocked a brow. “I assure you they won’t.”
Her cheeks pinked up before she gave a conciliatory sigh. “Look, I appreciate everything you’ve done. You’ve been two hundred percent chivalrous and I’ll be forever grateful. But I’m not exactly a flyweight.”
Correct. She was shapely. Voluptuous, really. Precisely how a woman ought to be.
He cut short his discreet assessment at the same time as she pushed back up on her elbows and sent over an all-settled, I’m-used-to-getting-my-own-way smile. “So, we’re agreed?”
His hand on her shoulder eased her down again. “Lie flat.” She didn’t need to risk nausea or dizziness. “I’ll do whatever needs to be done.”
“That can’t include giving yourself a heart attack.” Her eyes lit up. “I know. You can go for help and I’ll wait here.”
“You need medical attention now, not later.”
Besides, he wouldn’t leave her alone. She might get it into her head that she knew best and try to limp back to the resort.
“You don’t understand,” she said. “I was big-boned before getting friendly with the food here. If you’ve tried the desserts, you’ll know you can’t stop at one.”
Her lush lips were soft and parted now, and a delicate pulse beat at the base of her throat. I wonder what that pulse would feel like against my tongue? Gabriel thought.
Wonder what she’d be like in bed?
“Hello?” she cooed. “Are you listening?”
He grunted, drove a hand through his hair. “Sure. Delicious. No control.”
She nodded, then winced and touched her head. “You’re all fired up, and obviously capable, but I can’t have you putting your back out.” She pushed up again. “And, seeing I have final say in the matter—”
“Absolutely you have a say.” He tipped her back down. “You can say, Yes, sir.”
Her mouth dropped open and a mew of outrage escaped.
Doubly determined, she pushed up again. “I didn’t realise I’d joined the army.”
“I’ll count to three,” he warned, half hoping she’d defy him.
She didn’t disappoint. “I’m more than capable of making my own decisions, thank you very much.”
Done with words, he pointed at the ground. When her face hardened with a you-can’t-make-me look, his jaw shifted. He admired spunk, but only one person was in charge here and it was time she learned who that was.
In one smooth, purposeful movement, he angled closer, crowding her back as he bent forward until, eyes gone wide, she lay horizontal again. By the time he stopped crowding, his head was slanted over hers and their mouths all but touched.
His gaze licked her lips as he grinned.
“You were saying?”
CHAPTER TWO
STARING into the wicked eyes of a beast, Nina kept still and swallowed hard.
There she’d been, wondering if she could possibly get out of that fix alive, then pow! So broad through the chest, so capable and infuriatingly confident, this superhero type showed up out of nowhere.
But she was confused. Where did he fit on her character chart? Was this man exceptionally good, or primarily perfectly bad?
Anyone with half a brain and a pair of scales must see he couldn’t carry her all the way back to the resort. Nevertheless, he hadn’t merely dismissed her suggestions. He’d gone so far as to pin her body beneath his to get his point across.
She was trapped. She should be fuming!
Instead her nerve-endings simmered with indisputable awareness, and her fuzzy brain kept wondering how well his lips might fit closed over hers.
“You’re quiet,” he noted, his mouth a hair’s breadth from hers.
Wondering if he might manacle her wrists next—and not wholly against the idea—she squirmed. “I’m thinking.”
“About behaving, I hope.”
His voice was rough, dangerously deep, and the whisper of his breath against her lips felt far less invasive than it ought to.
“Do I need to point out,” she said, “that I’m not the one behaving badly?”
“Won’t make a difference. If I let you have your way, you could do yourself another injury.” Wet dark hair flopped over his brow when he cocked his head. “Or would you rather I ignore the fact you might have concussion?”
“I’d rather you quit with the caveman mentality.”
He growled and leaned a smidge closer. “You’re only alive because that caveman mentality got me to you before the sharks tucked in for dinner.”
She held her breath while her heart thumped high in her chest.
Oh, crap. She hated to admit it, but his brutish logic made sense. He would never convince her he could carry her all the way back to the resort, but her head did feel light. If she stood up now, tried to walk, she might very well fall over. Maybe even knock herself out a second time. Like it or not, in a roughish kind of way, he was still rescuing her—protecting her—this time from herself.
She issued a reluctant nod and, fire fading from his eyes, he curled away.
As he repositioned himself beside her, the sinking sun fell behind his head, bathing his splendid form in a golden-rose halo. Nina squeezed her eyes shut, then looked again. He wasn’t an angel. She was certain of that now. And yet his presence, this scene, everything about this time here with him seemed surreal. Make-believe.
Maybe she was still unconscious? Maybe her lungs were filled with water and she’d hallucinated all this while succumbing to the final phase of drowning? Was she experiencing some incredible dream on her way to the hereafter? That wasn’t so unlikely. She’d heard stories before.
Was any of this real?
Determined to find out, she reached and touched his pec, an inch above that small flat nipple. Her fingertip sizzled like creamy butter on a hotplate, at the same time as her centre glowed and blood tingled with fresh life. As her fingers fanned over the black, crisp hair, bolts of crackling electricity ripped through her veins. His flesh was so firm, so masculine and—
She stopped.
Inched her gaze up.
He was looking down his aquiline nose at her fingers—which were kneading the warm cushioned steel as if they belonged there.
Tilting his cleft chin, he raised a dark brow and his entrancing eyes met hers.
“Let me know when it’s my turn.”
She snatched her hand away. Her breathing was all over the place again and her face was flaming. Simply put, she wanted to die.
“I was just … er … just making sure they were—I mean, that you were—” Embarrassed beyond words, she spat out the rest. “I was making sure you were real.”
“Oh, is that what you were doing?”
His lopsided grin drew a crease down one side of that highly kissable mouth. And his eyes …
They were so clear and bright and laughing.
Laughing at her.
She understood why. She was acting like a loon. A suspicious, ungrateful, concussed, groping loon.
But