Natalie Anderson - One Summer At The Beach

She stared up at him, the blue in her eyes shadowed with the purple of pain. Looking all the more intense in the unnatural pallor of her face.

He boxed on. ‘I never did get to show you my scar. You walked away before I had the chance.’

‘You froze over. Colder than, than…’

‘I was unprepared.’

‘It’s good that way. Then I get an honest reaction.’

‘It’s not fair to set someone up. What was I supposed to do? Of course I was going to be shocked. How could I have predicted that? Anyway, it looks to me like some kind of life-saving scar.’

She looked away from him then, seeming to focus on a speck of dust hanging in mid-air.

‘Did it work?’

‘Clearly.’

He hid his smile at her caustic tone. ‘Come on.’ He tugged on her hand, hauling her out of the chair. ‘I’ve got something to show you.’

‘Rhys, I really don’t want—’

‘Come with me.’ He spoke quickly and then gave a cheeky grin as he realised the double entendre of his words.

She looked less bruised, more baleful.

‘Please.’ He kept hold of her hand and led her up the stairs, away from Curtis’ grin and to the privacy of his own room.

‘You know, yours isn’t really much of a scar. Mine is much bigger.’

She blinked. He’d taken her aback. He undid his jeans and pushed them down so he could step out of them. He hadn’t bothered with boxers so his erection thrust up. He suppressed his satisfaction as he saw her eyes widen at the sight of him. Her deadened look disappeared. Her cheeks flushed. Yes, he still wanted her. Now she knew it.

He twisted his leg to show her the place on the outside of his thigh where the glass had gone deep. The scar was old and jagged but still angry-looking.

She was totally diverted. Frowning at it. ‘That’s not a life-saving scar.’

‘No.’ It had been a life-taking scar. A constant reminder to him of that day of youthful folly and painful helplessness. The kind of day he’d determined never to experience again. The mistakes he’d never repeat, the inability to do a damn thing…

‘I don’t really want to talk about it either.’ He pulled back his leg. ‘So, I win on the scar stakes.’ He shut out the memories, shut away the emotion. No room for that kind of emotion here. Only fun—a fling with the sexiest woman he’d ever seen.

They’d just forget their wounds for a few moments. He reached out to her, touching his fingers to the back of her hand, sliding up her arm, stepping closer. But she held back, stiff, head away, not melting into his embrace. He thought he knew why. So they weren’t going to be able to forget the scars just yet—at least not hers. He kissed the corner of her mouth. Spoke right into her ear.

‘Sienna, for the record. You are not ugly. Your scar is not ugly.’

‘I don’t think I’m ugly.’ She pulled back and he saw vehemence in her eyes. ‘That’s not what worries me. It’s more that people take one look and start acting like I’m going to collapse in a corner any moment. When I wear a low-cut top, I see their curiosity. People look at me, then quickly look away thinking either I’m a circus exhibit or I’m on borrowed time.’

‘And are you?’

‘Well, I might be able to do the splits but it’s going to take me years to learn to juggle.’

‘You can do the splits?’

The big blues glinted back at him. ‘Three ways.’

‘OK, you can prove that to me later, but for now you’re saying you’re not a circus exhibit and you’re not going to collapse in the corner in the next five minutes?’

‘You got it.’

He waited, knowing there was more. Despite the gentle humour she wasn’t ready yet and he wanted to hear all she had to say.

She stumbled her way through it. ‘Last night…last night was amazing.’

‘Yes.’ He agreed quietly—major understatement.

‘You didn’t know.’

He thought for a second, trying to figure where she was going—she thought it was amazing only because he didn’t know? ‘You think it’s going to change now I do?’

The flush in her cheeks deepened but she looked him square in the eye—he found himself understanding the expression ‘true blue’ precisely, such was the painful honesty reflected there. ‘I just want to fully enjoy everything like normal people do,’ she mumbled.

He started to see even clearer. ‘You don’t want any soft treatment because of your history.’

She nodded.

‘You want to be just like anybody else.’

She nodded again.

He chuckled. ‘I’m sorry, honey, but there is no way on this earth you’ll ever be just like anybody else.’ He finished his thought before her mad look got madder. ‘You’re special.’ Very special and his body was harder than it had ever been. He asked, ‘Do you want to be pushed to extremes, Sienna?’

She stared. ‘What sort of extremes?’ She sucked in a breath as if she were tasting fresh mountain air for the first time. ‘Like last night sort of extreme?’

It was his turn to nod—slowly. ‘Yeah.’ He slid his hands to her hips, wanting to keep her near him. ‘Shall we find out exactly how much pleasure your body is capable of?’

The shiver shook her from head to foot. Huge blue pools stared up at him, mirroring her thoughts—incredulity at what he’d said, excitement, temptation.

He couldn’t quite believe he’d said it himself, but now he had, he knew it was exactly what she needed. And what he needed—the most wonderful challenge. The opportunity to forget himself, his life, and just bury deep into her, make her forget the trauma her body had been through, show her how much fun she could have.

He saw the moment she was sold—the flash in her eyes, the parting of her mouth.

‘OK.’

He hugged her, holding her close to the beat in his own chest, savouring the satisfaction in knowing she wouldn’t be running out on him again, that he’d have all the time he needed to quench this lust. Thank God they were finally in agreement.

No one had ever stared at her before with such a look of want. Did he really not mind it? Did he even notice it? Did he not wonder?

‘Is it OK if I touch it?’

So he definitely saw it. He ran his finger down the white line that bisected her from base of her throat to diaphragm. Then he looked to the side. He grinned. ‘Is it OK if I touch these?’ He cupped her breasts; his thumbs stroked her nipples through her bra. ‘Very pretty. Pretty flowers, but what’s underneath is even prettier.’ He pulled the lace down so her nipples played peek-a-boo over the top. Bent and pressed kisses along the rising slope of one, stopped just shy of her nipple—it was so hard it hurt. He slid his hands around her back, loosened the catch and let the straps fall from her shoulders.

‘Extreme…’he muttered. ‘Let’s see if we can do extreme.’

She held her breath, refusing to let her body sway towards his, one last doubt needing to be dealt with. ‘I don’t frighten you?’

He laughed. ‘A slim little thing like you?’

‘No.’ She jabbed a finger at her chest. ‘This doesn’t frighten you?’

‘Honestly?’ He stared straight into her eyes. ‘No.’ He grazed the back of his knuckles against her nipples. ‘I’ll tell you what frightens me. The thought of not having you for one whole night where I can lie with you and we can go at it like rabbits.’

She giggled, spontaneous effervescence bursting through her solemnity. ‘How do rabbits do it?’

‘I don’t know but they do it lots. Let’s just go with the lots for now, OK?’

‘OK.’

He pulled his tee shirt over his head. Then he returned to her breasts, finally fitting that heaven-sent mouth around her pointed tip and letting his tongue rough over it.