Kiara woke up alone in the giant hotel bed with its hedonistic tumble of pillows and satin quilt. Alone was the key word. She gathered up the quilt, wrapped it around her and went over to the window seat to think things through.
Barely dawn, the river had the sheen of shimmering steel, and shadows and mist clung to the trees.
Last night, Selwyn had controlled the situation. He’d called a halt to their love-making, departing for a cold shower and leaving her confused. What sort of man said he wanted her — needed her — then vanished?
A man who protected his privacy and himself with a fierce lack of trust.
The instinctive answer had her raising her chin from her knees and staring out at two ducks paddling in the shallows.
It wasn’t just her who was freaked by the idea of letting someone into the heart of her life. Selwyn wasn’t sure either. They were dancing — together and apart — wanting and fearing. It was part of who they were: independent beings.
For her, growing up as the stranger in a strange land, she’d learned to hold herself aloof. She protected herself from letting anyone too close, a trait caused by all the friends she’d left behind when her parents moved on to their next job. It was safer to be complete in herself, and she’d thought Selwyn astute to realise he’d need to catch her away from her ordinary life, cut off from her defences of work and routine.
Instead, he was struggling with his own demons. As a celebrity, his privacy must have been invaded so many times — perhaps even his trust betrayed — that he had to control a situation to feel comfortable.
He was finding it hard to let her into his life.
The sun rose over the horizon and flooded the river with gold.
Kiara reached for her phone.
***
‘Wait.’
Selwyn paused with his hand on the door to the hallway. He had an early-morning date with the gym, but the voice of the woman he’d run out on last night, halted him.
Kiara didn’t sound angry, but she had every right to be. No woman wanted a coward.
He braced. Hours spent thinking of her hadn’t inspired him with the words of apology needed. He’d run from his own vulnerability. She could become more important to him than his own life, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. Wanting her, feeling a connection to her and knowing that with her background she’d understand the demands of his work had all seemed solid reasons for pursuing a relationship — that and he couldn’t forget her. But last night, watching her climax had undone him. It wasn’t sensible to want her as much as he did, and that freaked him. He was all about control.
He wouldn’t handle rejection from her well.
‘Good morning.’ When he dared look at her, her smile shocked him.
‘Morning.’ Bright, sunny, with a hint of Cheshire cat grin, she walked up to him. ‘I have a plan.’
‘You do?’
‘Relax.’ She actually patted his chest. ‘It’s not sex.’
‘About that…about last night.’
She ignored him. ‘I thought we’d go sailing. A friend’s lending us his sloop. I can sail it single-handed.’
‘I can sail.’
‘Great.’ She gave him an up and down glance. ‘You might want to change your clothes.’
‘Five minutes.’ He took two steps to his room, swung back and kissed her, hard and fast.
‘What was that for?’
‘For not packing and leaving.’
‘Ah.’ She smiled faintly.
He didn’t try to interpret that mysterious expression, but stripped off his gym clothes for jeans and a windproof jacket that matched her outfit.
‘We can grab breakfast on the way.’ Kiara straightened from leaning against the back of a sofa and strolled to the door. ‘The sloop is back at the docks. I thought we could sail up the river for a bit while the wind’s good.’
‘You’re the skipper.’
‘I’m glad you’ve realised.’
He knew the casual statement had a deeper meaning. Their incipient relationship was not his to control. There was give and take, an equal partnership. He could do this. ‘You can keelhaul me if I disobey.’
She glanced back at him over her shoulder. ‘Oh, I can think of something more fun.’
‘That sounds like a dare.’
‘We’ll see.’
***
Kiara abandoned herself to the physical joy of sailing. It had been months since she’d been out on a small boat, and although the skills remained, she felt the burn of the unaccustomed activity, of different muscles at work. She breathed the chill air off the water as she stood at the tiller and watched Selwyn.
He balanced easily on the Fairweather as he responded to the wind and the river, and Kiara’s skippering. He could have been a Viking on holiday; in command of and rejoicing in his element, the sea. Yet, he kept his word and followed her orders. Although his half-grin dared her to ask for more, dared her to try to control six-foot plus of arrogant male.
She was shocked, almost uncomfortable, with how that challenge aroused her.
There was an honesty in sailing. You worked together or the boat floundered. The raw, deep-in-the-muscles-and-nerves knowledge that sex between them would be just as honest and even more satisfying had her aching.
If she were to kiss him now, his lips would have a trace of salt from sea spray and his skin would be cool from it, warming at their contact. If his hands were cool when he slid them under her clothes, she’d shiver at his touch; a piercing pleasure-pain that would have her pressing into the heat of his hard body.
‘Do you see the dolphin?’ He turned to her, smiling. The smile died as their eyes met. He cast a quick, assessing glance at the sails and the empty water around them and crossed to the tiller. He gripped her arms, hauled her in close and kissed her.
With the tiller at her back, she braced her feet against the rocking of the boat and her own rocketing emotions.
The cold wildness of the sea was on his lips, vanishing as their kiss heated everything. She hated having to draw back to watch the sloop as the wind filled the sails. She turned to adjust the tiller.
‘Head home.’ He kissed the tender skin below her ear, his hands smoothing over her hips, tugging her into the V of his legs.
She stretched her spine like a cat, relishing the full-body contact. ‘If we do, no changing your mind.’
‘That’s up to you,’ he said.
She looked at him over her shoulder.
His blue eyes were intense. ‘Will you make room for me in your life in Sydney?’
He wanted a commitment, not casual sex. Not a commitment for forever, but for more than she usually gave anyone.
‘Yes.’
The run home showed her just how much Selwyn had understated his sailing expertise. He didn’t try to replace her as skipper, but he was only seconds from anticipating her orders. Lines and sails moved with rapidity. She needed all her familiarity with the river to match his skill. It was exhilarating. Her blood pulsed and her breathing quickened. She laughed aloud from sheer joyous anticipation.
Once onshore and with the sloop secured, she dumped the remains of their sandwich lunch in the bin.
He rattled the car keys. The teasing failed to mask the need in his expression. His eyes followed her every move.
She dusted her hands on her jeans and walked up to him. Her balance was good. She stood on tiptoes and kissed him. Okay, maybe her balance wasn’t so good. Her knees wobbled. ‘Why did you choose a hotel so far out of town?’
A hint of dimple indented his left cheek at her wry complaint. ‘Poor planning.’
‘Mmhmm.’ She leant into him for a minute, inhaling the clean male scent of him. Pheromone overload. She wanted him naked, skin to skin.
‘Get in the car,’ he ground out, no smiles now.
They were suddenly past teasing.
He drove in silence, hands competent on the wheel and the speed of the car controlled. Rain began to fall. The tyres hissed on the wet road.
In her mind, he stopped the car on a side road, completely hidden, no houses, just shrouding trees, and they made out like teenagers. Desperate, just-discovering sex teenagers.
But they weren’t teenagers. Sex wasn’t divorced from life or without consequences.
In the hotel car park there was a moment of complete silence, of stillness, when he switched off the engine. If either of them were going to change their mind, now was the time.
He got out of the car, walked around it and opened her door. He held out his hand.
She took it, stepping out, straightening up and moving into his embrace. ‘Yes,’ she whispered against his ear.
Hand-in-hand they walked inside the hotel, up its grand staircase and into their suite. The door closed behind them and the lock clicked.
No words were needed. They shed their jackets and then other clothes, scattering boots and shirts and underwear in a trail to his room and the giant bed that dominated it. Kisses had never been so drugging, stealing away her inhibitions so that she could walk naked the last few steps to the bed and fall onto it.
She ran her hands up the rigid muscles of Selwyn’s arms as he braced himself over her. He was beautiful, the shadows of rain-filtered light emphasising the masculine lines of his face and body. Over his shoulders and down his back she traced patterns, learning his body while they kissed and kissed.
He tore his mouth from hers. ‘I want to suck your breasts.’
The bluntness worked for her. Her thighs jerked, one leg bending up at the knee as her spine arched.
‘Uh-huh.’ He rolled off her, piled pillows haphazardly behind him and pulled her towards him.
‘Oh yeah.’ She braced against his shoulders as he teased a nipple. ‘This would be better…’
He stopped.
‘…if you were inside me.’
He had the condom on in seconds.
Too long. She forgot about foreplay. All she wanted was him, as hard and as fierce as possible. She flipped onto her back and the plain old missionary position was both challenge and invitation.
One that he accepted.
Nothing had ever felt so good.
His eyes blazed with emotion that she was too far gone to read, but which riveted her attention. There was no looking away, no hiding. He watched her orgasm claim her, and then she watched and felt and held the power of his.
She was falling without a safety net, crashing into him, trusting that he would catch her; trusting that he was in as deep as her.
He smiled. ‘Now can I kiss your breasts?’
***
The rain continued to fall outside. Selwyn lit the fire in the fireplace and they ordered room service. They’d made love twice, first with the urgency that had been building since Kiara disembarked from the icebreaker, and then slowly, with all the time in the world to learn what delighted the other, what made them shudder or go a little crazy.
He cupped her knee as she lounged beside him on the rug. He drew a circle with his thumb and wasn’t surprised when she tugged his hair in lazy protest and approval. Knees were a thing with her, he’d discovered. He kissed the knobbly kneecap, then blew a raspberry on the soft skin of her inner thigh.
Her laughter spilled around him, even more golden than the dancing firelight on her skin.
‘Time for bed,’ he said.
‘To sleep?’ She raised an eyebrow, mocking him.
‘Why would we waste time with sleep?’
***
The phone call came at five am. Kiara surfaced to the buzzing sound and then to Selwyn’s low-voiced murmur.
His voice sharpened. ‘Where?’ The satin quilt slid down his bare shoulder and his chest as he sat up.
The answering female voice was loud enough and clear enough that Kiara heard every word. There’d been an earthquake in Armenia, magnitude seven, and hitting a populated region. Roads damaged, chaos and — ‘Your friend, Berkay, is in Dogubayazit, near Mt Ararat in Turkey. He says he can put a team together — three paramedics and two drivers, supplies in the back of the trucks — if you can guarantee funding.’
‘Do it,’ Selwyn said.
Kiara rolled to her side, switching on the bedside lamp. The warm light revealed the tension in the set of his shoulders and the golden scruffiness of his fair hair and incipient beard. She put her hand on his back in a gesture of support and concern.
He stood, moving away from her as he spoke into the phone. ‘How soon can you get me there?’