The Complete Red-Hot Collection. Kelly Hunter
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His green eyes glinted, the black of his pupils expanding with each heavy breath. ‘I thought it wasn’t finders keepers?’
‘Sometimes you have to take what you want,’ she whispered.
So he did.
His lips came down on hers as he thrust his hands into the tangled length of her hair, pulling her into place. She offered no resistance, opening to him as one might offer a gift. His scent invaded her, making her head swim and her knees weaken.
One large hand crept around her waist and crushed her to him. The hard length of his arousal pressed against her. Unable to stop herself, she slipped her hands under his shirt, smoothing up the chiselled flesh beneath. The feel of each stone-like ridge shot fire through her as their tongues melded. His knee nudged her thighs apart and she gasped as though she were about to come on the spot.
What happened to banishing bad choices and focusing on your career? Abs do not give you a free pass.
She jerked back, and the cool night air rushed to fill the void between them. She shook her head, though in response to what she wasn’t sure. Her head should have been in the game, focusing on getting her into a proper dance company. Instead she was gallivanting around on a yacht, kissing a man she should have stayed the hell away from the first time.
‘I’m sorry. That shouldn’t have…’ She struggled to catch her breath, emotions tangling the words in her head.
He waved his hand, ever the cool customer. ‘Alcohol and sea air—it’s a dangerous combination.’
The stood barely a foot apart, unmoving. The muscles corded in his neck as he swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing, pupils flaring. He might look calm on the outside, but his eyes gave a glimpse to the storm within.
Around them the night was inky and dark. The breeze rolled past them, caressing her skin as he had done moments ago.
‘Very dangerous.’
Brodie woke with a start, the feel of Chantal’s lips lingering in his consciousness. Had he dreamed it? He rubbed his hands over his face, pushing his hair out of his eyes. White cotton sheets were tangled around his limbs like a python, holding him hostage lest he get out of bed and do something stupid.
Groaning, he sat up and stretched. His mouth was dry and he desperately wanted a shower. The digital clock beside his bed told him it was barely seven-thirty—why was he up at this ungodly hour? He listened to see if a noise had woken him. Were his guests up already? But the only sound that greeted him was the gentle slosh of waves against the boat and the occasional cry of a seagull.
Brodie showered, relishing the cool water on his overheated skin, and then made his way to the kitchen. He didn’t drink much coffee, but there was something about being awake before eight in the morning that necessitated a little caffeine.
He fired up the luxurious silver espresso machine; it had been chosen specifically to balance the champagne tastes of the company’s clientele with ease of use. Within seconds hot, dark liquid made its way into his cup and he added only the smallest splash of milk before wandering outside.
He stopped at the edge of the cabin, realising he wasn’t the only early bird this morning.
Chantal stood in the middle of the deck, balancing on one leg with the other bent outwards, the sole of her foot pressed against her inner thigh, hands above her head. She stayed there for a moment before lowering her foot and bending forward until her hands were flattened to the ground, her butt high in the air. Brodie gulped, unable to tear his eyes away from the fluid movement that looked as though it should have been performed to music.
Flexibility didn’t even begin to describe some of the shapes that Chantal could form with her body. Her legs were encased in the tiny black shorts, leaving miles of tanned skin to tempt him. Her hair was free flowing, the dark strands fading into a deep gold at their ends, bleached by hours in the sun.
As if she could sense him she looked up sharply and caught his eye. Unfolding herself, she gave her limbs a shake and made her way over to him.
‘Enjoy the show?’ A smile twitched on her lips.
‘Always.’
She leant forward and breathed in the billowing tendrils of steam from his coffee. ‘Got any more of that?’
He motioned for her to follow him and they walked in silence into the cabin. She climbed up onto the chrome and white leather stool at the bench near the kitchenette, her long legs dangling, swinging slightly as she propped her elbows up on the polished benchtop.
‘What was that you were doing outside?’
‘Yoga,’ she said. ‘It’s part of my stretching routine—keeps me nice and limber.’
‘I could see that.’ And he had a feeling he would never unsee it.
‘It’s good for relaxation too—helps to quieten the mind.’ A flicker of emotion passed over her face, but it was gone as instantly as it had appeared. ‘Are we all set to sail back to Sydney soon?’
‘We sure are. Scott and Kate have plans this afternoon. I promised I’d get them back before lunchtime.’ Brodie filled another cup with coffee and handed it to Chantal. ‘Are you performing again tonight?’
‘No, I have an audition today.’ Her face brightened, a hopeful gleam washing over her eyes.
‘Oh, yeah. Amy said. In Sydney, right?’
She nodded. ‘This is a big one.’
‘I’m sure you’ll ace it.’
‘Let’s hope so.’
The doubt in her voice twisted in his chest. Someone with talent like hers should never be in a position to doubt herself, but she seemed less confident than he remembered. Even last night there had been a hesitancy about her that had felt new—as if she’d learned to fear in the eight years since he’d seen her last.
‘How come you’re not with a dance company at the moment?’
Brodie studied her, and saw the exact moment her mask slid firmly into place as if she’d flicked a switch.
‘I’m waiting for the right opportunity. No sense in taking the first thing that comes along if it doesn’t tick all the boxes.’
He chuckled. ‘You always were one of those girls.’
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
‘You’re a check boxes girl. Everything has to fit your criteria or it doesn’t even come up on your radar.’
She tipped her nose up at him. ‘It’s called having standards.’
‘It’s narrow-minded.’ He sipped his coffee, watching as her cheeks coloured. Her lips pursed as she contemplated her response.
‘And I suppose you think it’s better to drift through life unanchored by responsibility or silly things such as priorities or commitments?’
‘You always thought I was such a layabout, didn’t you?’
If only she knew what had brought him to the resort in the first place. Most of the kids working there had been on their gap year, looking for a little fun before hunkering down to study at university. He’d been there because he’d devoted himself entirely to taking care of his sister Lydia after a car accident had stolen her ability to walk.
His mother had pushed him to go, and in truth he’d needed the break—needed some space for himself.
‘It wasn’t just my opinion, Brodie. That’s the kind of guy you are—fun-loving and carefree…’
‘You underestimate me.’ He narrowed his eyes.
‘I didn’t mean it as an insult.’ She sighed and squeezed his hand. ‘We’re different people, that’s all.’
He