Fiona McArthur - Dreaming Of... Bali

Letting her breath out slowly, she settled into the moment, grateful to him for allowing her to be a part of it. They sat like that for a while. Everything about the evening cloaked them in intimacy.

Gratitude that he had given her a chance, that he’d let her be a part of this, and some unknown sensation she couldn’t stem welled up inside her. And beneath it, Riya felt a sliver of fear that she was crossing into unknown territory. “Nathan, I’m very sorry for everything that...for all the hurt we caused you. I can’t imagine what you must have felt learning about Jackie and me so soon after she died. I’m so—”

His arm around behind her, he turned, and his finger landed on her mouth. “I don’t require an apology from you.”

Raising her gaze to his, Riya forced herself to focus on his words rather than the sensation of how her own mouth felt. “Is Maria right? All these years, would you have come back if Jackie and I had been gone?”

“No, I wouldn’t have. Leave the past where it is, Riya. Come out of your cocoon, and live your life, butterfly.”

The warmth in his endearment caused minute little flutters all over her.

“Just because I don’t stand hundreds of feet in the sky and touch the clouds on a regular basis doesn’t mean I’m not living,” she countered.

His long fingers landed on her jaw, the abraded tips pressing into her skin. Their legs tangled in front of them. He shifted sideways until he was all she saw. Found herself staring into languid pools of molten hunger.

Desire punched through her, every inch of her thrumming with alarm and anticipation.

They were hanging in the sky with a slice of paradise laid out beneath them for as far as she could see. And the man in front of her, the most gorgeous, the most complex man she had ever met. In that moment, something she had held tight inside her, something she hadn’t even realized existed, slowly unraveled.

Just a little movement of his head and suddenly his breath feathered over her nose.

Her fingers landed on his chest, to push him back. But the thudding roar of his heart beneath muted any rational thought. A slow fire swirled low in her belly, spreading to every inch of her.

One long finger traced her jawline in reverence, the tips of the others grazing her neck. “I think it’s the most terrible thing in the world that you don’t know whether you enjoyed a kiss or not, butterfly. The most horrible thing that no man has shown you, without doubt.”

Liquid desire darkened the ice blue into the shade of a cloudy sky.

Every other thought faded from her mind except this man, every other sound faded except the loud peal of her own pulse. Every other sensation fled except for the insistent and answering thrum of her skin at the hunger in his eyes.

The brush of his lips against hers was at once cool and hot, testing and assured, bold and yet inviting. His beard rasped against her tender skin, wreaking havoc on her. The contrast of his soft lips and the roughness of his beard...her entire world came crashing around her.

It was her own response to the press of his soft mouth that blew her apart, the strength of the deep longing that jolted to life inside her. Her fingers crinkled against his shirt as he increased the pressure and the back of her head hit the leather.

Heat, unlike any she had ever known, slithered and pooled in every molten muscle as he licked her lower lip. His body teased against her own, a soft invitation to press herself against the hardness.

She purred, like a stroked cat, and gasped at the curl of pleasure and instantly, he pushed on. Only when it vibrated through her did she realize that it was a groan that fell from her mouth. Pleading for more, demanding more.

And it wasn’t just their mouths that were touching anymore. His fingers inched into her hair and held her slanted for him; his lean body enveloped her; he was everywhere.

He felt alien, yet familiar. Her thighs trembled, locked against the tensile strength of his; her belly dipped and she groaned.

The tenor of the kiss went from slow, soft appraisal, a testing of fit and sensation to pure, exploding, ravenous heat.

He bit and stroked, nibbled and licked. He kissed her as if they would both drown if he stopped, and that’s how it felt. So she let him. Stayed passive and panting under his caresses, let him steal her breath and infuse her with his own.

A freeing desperation joined the molten warmth inside her.

When he stopped, when he sucked in a shuddering breath, everything inside Riya protested that he did. She flushed as he pulled back and locked eyes with her. His gaze was the darkest she had seen yet, his breath coming in and out a little out of sync. The pad of his thumb moved over her lower lip, and she shivered again.

“Did you enjoy that kiss, butterfly?”

Riya fell back against the couch, her fingers on her still-trembling mouth.

That kiss had been beyond perfect. But the mockery in his eyes grated; the laid-back arrogance in it stung. It was nothing but a challenge to him. Whereas the entire foundation of her life had shaken.

“I would have been surprised if I hadn’t,” she said, dredging up the cool tone from somewhere. Her fingers still on his chest, she glared at him. Her heart still hadn’t resumed its normal pace. “Very altruistic of you,” she said, a little hollow in her chest, waiting for him to deny.

He grinned instead. “I haven’t been called one of this generation’s greatest philanthropists for no reason.”

“Forgive me if being your charity case doesn’t fill me with excitement.”

Turning away from him, Riya sought silence. Fortunately for her, she felt them coming down again. They had just stepped out of the enclosure when they saw Sonia waiting there, her gaze stricken, her features pinched with pain.

Mortification came hard at Riya. Had the entire crew seen them kissing? If Nathan hadn’t been satisfied with proving his point and stopped, how far would she have let him go?

Next to her, Nathan turned into a block of ice, and Riya fled fast, wondering what she had stepped into. Reaching the villa, she couldn’t help casting a quick look at Nathan and Sonia.

The way they stood close but not touching, the tension that emanated from them, their body language so familiar with each other—it was clear they were or had been lovers. And the pain in Sonia’s eyes had been real enough.

Here was one clue to his past, an answer to the unrelenting curiosity that had been eating through her. A streak of jealousy and self-doubt held her still.

Shaking, Riya wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. If only his taste would come off so easily. But her mind rallied quickly enough.

He had stopped so easily when he was done. She was nothing but a naive, curious entertainment to a man who built castles in the sky, to the man who made billions by selling an experience.

* * *

Riya avoided Nathan over the next few days. With enough workload to challenge her and the very real threat of losing Travelogue, it was easy. Not that she had been able to get that toe-curling kiss or Sonia and her stricken expression out of her mind.

Determined to assure Sonia, and herself, that there was nothing between her and Nathan, she had gone looking for her the next evening. Only to find that Sonia had left the island that morning.

The fact that Nathan had so neatly, and quietly, dispatched her infuriated Riya. How dare he comment on her conduct when he possessed no better standards? Was this the true Nathan, flitting from woman to woman and walking away when he was done? Why did she even care?

But she kept her thoughts to herself, the very absence of his easy humor over the next few days enough of a deterrent.

He was her employer, and Robert’s son.