Mistresses: The Consequences Of Desire. Оливия Гейтс
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but he could hear her hesitation.
‘Sure you do. It’ll be fun.’ He took her hand, lifted it to his lips and buzzed a quick kiss across her knuckles. ‘You’ve come all this way. And I’ve acted like a jerk. So I owe you.’
‘That’s really not necessary.’ She chewed on her bottom lip, the indecision in her voice crucifying him a little more.
‘Sure it is. One dance. By way of an apology? That’s all I’m asking.’
The shy smile was enough to tell him she’d forgiven him. But the sparkle of anticipation was tempered by caution. ‘Okay, I don’t see how one dance could hurt.’
‘Awesome.’ He placed his hand on her waist to direct her back into the bar, the spike of lust making his throat go dry when her hip bumped his thigh.
‘It may be thirsty work, though,’ she shouted above the bump and grind of drums and bass. ‘Perhaps I should go back and get my Rum Swizzle?’
‘Let’s work up a sweat first,’ he said, placing firm hands on her hips as he slotted them both into the packed dancefloor, the sweat already slick on his forehead. ‘I’ll buy you one later.’
Dancing with her was bound to be really thirsty work, but he didn’t plan to let her have any more Rum Swizzles. Those damn things were lethal, especially on an empty stomach—and with her tiny frame and that little stumble at the bar after only half a glass, he would hazard a guess Ella Radley was a really cheap drunk. He wanted her fully conscious for the rest of the night, so he could enjoy her company—and anything else she wanted to offer him.
Her perfume—a refreshing mix of citrus and spices—drifted over him as she placed her hands lightly on his shoulders and rolled her hips to the riotous bass beat in a natural, unaffected rhythm that was more seductive than original sin.
She grinned up at him, the cute smile a tempting mix of innocence and provocation, then jerked up on her toes to shout in his ear. ‘Aye-aye, Captain. But be warned. I’m on a mission tonight to get whatever I want.’
His hands tightened on her hips as her belly bumped against him and his groin throbbed in time to the music. ‘Not a problem, sweetheart.’
Because so am I.
* * *
‘That’s enough of that.’ Coop lifted the sunshine drink out of her hand and held it easily out of reach. ‘I want you able to walk out of here.’
Ella sent him a mock pout, but couldn’t disguise her happiness as his gaze settled on her face. The way it had been doing all evening, with a gratifying combination of possessiveness and desire.
They’d danced until they were breathless to the band’s medley of soca anthems, then eased into the seductive moves of the soul tunes when they slowed the pace later in the evening.
It was well after midnight now, and the bar had begun to empty out. His large group of friends, most of whom had come over to their table to banter with Coop or introduce themselves to her, had mostly drifted away, leaving only a small group of die-hard couples on the dance floor still bumping and grinding with gusto and a scatter of people by the bar.
She’d danced with a few of the other guys, enjoying that relaxed, casual camaraderie that reminded her of her own friendship group back in Camden. But most of all she’d enjoyed the feel of Cooper’s gaze on her throughout the evening—that said to everyone they were a couple. That—how had he put it?—she was with him, for the night. It had made her feel as if she belonged here, even though she was thousands of miles from home.
But more than that, his constant attention and that quick easy smile had both relaxed her and yet held a delicious tension, a promise of what was to come. Because she had no doubts whatsoever about where this was all headed. The smouldering looks, the proprietary touches, the irresistible scent of him, tangy and salty and spicy, wrapping around her in a potent blend of pheromones and sweat. And the delicious press of his erection outlined by the slow, seductive, sinuous moves of his muscular body as they danced.
The coil of desire had been pulsing in the pit of her stomach for hours now. Ready for him to make the next move—and if he didn’t, she was ready to take the unprecedented step of making the move for him.
It was official. Ella Radley’s flirt was now fully operational, the intoxicating buzz of the Rum Swizzles nothing compared to the glorious buzz of anticipation.
‘And where exactly would I be walking to?’ She arched an eyebrow, her tone rich with a confidence she’d thought had died inside her a lifetime ago.
His thumb brushed her cheek, his irises a mesmerising moss green in the bar’s half-light. Resting his forehead on hers, he closed his fingers over her nape, that wandering thumb caressing the frantic pulse in her neck. ‘My hut’s down at the other end of the cove. You ready to take a stroll with me in the moonlight?’
It was the invitation she’d been waiting for, but the surge of excitement still made her giddy. She could already feel those rough, capable fingers on the slick flesh between her thighs. She wanted to taste him, touch him, inhale that delicious scent, and take the impressive ridge in his pants inside her. Her sex clasped and released, hollow and aching with the need to be filled.
Touching her lips to his, she licked across the seam of the wide, sensual mouth that had been driving her wild all day. The shot of adrenaline was as stimulating as the pulse of reaction when she heard him drag in a ragged breath. His fingers plunged into her hair, then clasped her head so his tongue could plunder.
She let him in, her tongue duelling with his as they sank into the ravenous kiss.
He broke away first, the pants of his breathing as thready as her own. ‘I’m going to take that as a yes.’
She nodded, not sure she could speak around the joy closing off her throat.
Standing, he gripped her hand and hauled her out of her chair. He tossed a few dollars on the table, and sent Henry a parting salute. She waved her own goodbye at the barman, who was stacking glasses, a rueful smile on his face.
‘See you around, pretty lady.’ Henry waved back, shouting over the murmur of goodbyes being thrown their way by the bar’s other remaining patrons. ‘And don’t you be doing anything I wouldn’t, Coop.’
Coop dragged her outside, sending her a wicked grin over his shoulder as the night closed over them. ‘Given what you would do, man,’ he whispered for her ears alone, ‘that gives me a hell of a lot of options.’
For some strange reason she found the comment riotously funny, her chuckle blending with the fading beat of music and the sound of the rolling and retreating tide as they stepped off the deck onto the beach. He laid his arm across her shoulders, tugged her into his side to lead her along the sand and into the darkness.
Crickets and night crawlers added an acoustic accompaniment to the flickering light of the fireflies in the undergrowth and the hushed lap of the water. She kicked off her sandals, picked them up, and let her toes seep into the damp sand.
The walk in the moonlight he’d promised went past in a blur, neither of them speaking, the only sound the sea, the insects and the rhythmic bump of her own heartbeat. A one-storey shack raised over the beach on a wraparound deck appeared as if by magic out of the undergrowth on the edge of the sand. A lamp suspended from the porch rail shone like a homing beacon, illuminating the rudimentary clapboard structure.
He dropped his arm from around her shoulders, to lace his fingers through hers and lead her up the steps onto the porch.
‘You live here?’ she asked, enchanted by the spartan dwelling.
‘Yeah, mostly.’ He held open the screen door to reveal a large, sparsely furnished, but tidy room. A sofa with well-worn cushions made up the living area, while a large mattress, the sheets neatly folded across the bottom, stood in front of the open deck. A tiny kitchenette cordoned off by a waist-high counter took up the hut’s back wall, next to a door that she deduced must lead to