Jonathan watched her push through the door to her room. A flash of common sense intruded on his thoughts and erased the image of Ann in the blue bikini. If there was any chance of stopping it, now was the time. Was this a mistake?
It would—beyond a doubt—be utterly complicated. And there would, most certainly, be some kind of fall-out. From Pat, from his mother. They would know. His chemistry with Ann would inevitably change, their mark on each other lingering long after their goodbyes.
Then there was the issue of Matt, he thought. Flames, death, bitterness and broken promises. All that should matter, too. But it didn’t. Why? He would leave the answer to that question until tomorrow … or the day after.
Jonathan went on to his own room. He found gym shorts—good enough—and he changed. Then he called down to room service for a bottle of Taittinger.
After the champagne was delivered, he stepped into the hall at the precise moment Ann came through her own doorway. He expected to see that blue bikini and nothing else, but she wore white cotton drawstring pants and a short red top over it. Her blond hair was loose now. Her eyes seemed clearer.
“Ready?” he asked, his voice remarkably mild.
In response, she headed for the elevator and pushed the down button.
They exited at the bubble-domed pool area, looking for the hot tub room. The first door they opened revealed two men with Buddha bellies in a sauna, sweat pouring off them. Jonathan muttered something apologetic and backed out.
The second door led to the steam room, air thick with eucalyptus. Inside there was a brunette in a black thong bottom and a top that wouldn’t quite hold her. Ann closed that door faster than Jonathan had closed the first.
Third door. Nowhere left to go. She eased it open.
The hot tub was empty. For the moment, anyway. Ann sat down and put her feet in the water.
Jonathan couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Those long, long legs. Yellow-blond hair spilling forward, hiding part of her face. Hands clasped together in her lap. The tiny swatch of blue bathing suit barely covering her breasts. The suit fit. Well.
He closed the door behind him and—eureka—it had a lock. Privacy, he thought. He turned the knob and waited for the audible click.
She looked up, her eyes the color of a cloudless sky. “You forgot glasses,” she said.
He looked down at the bottle of champagne in his hand. “Ah. Right. So sorry.”
One corner of her mouth curled.
It hit him with almost debilitating force. He had never wanted a woman more than he wanted Ann right now. Maybe it was the month of teasing that had created such a rush of anticipation. Or maybe the sense of taboo. Or was it the memory—a tall, pretty girl walking away from him on the beach, her long skirt gathered in her hands, making him feel randy and grateful that she would not exchange vows with his brother.
Somehow, Jonathan managed to maintain his dignity and took his place beside her. He put the bottle between them and dropped his legs into the scalding water, wincing at the shock of it.
Ann picked up the bottle and poked a fingernail into the wire mesh holding the cork.
“I’ll take that,” he said, and snagged the bottle from her hands.
Her eyes went pale and wide.
She was in an evident state of panic, he realized. The best thing would be to give her no time to think. He adeptly popped the cork, tipped the bottle and slugged from it. Then he poured a splash straight down her cleavage.
Ann gasped at the cold. Her eyes skirted to his, slid away, came back. It was all the time he needed to put the bottle down and lean into her.
She thought he was going to aim for her mouth. She was ready for that. In some murky inner place, she knew this had pended for far, far too long.
That was why there would be no finesse, she thought. No gentle playing. Just something finally breaking free. And she could handle that.
His mouth slid over her collar bone, diving to her breasts. Ann knew one moment, one nearly shattering moment, of terror. Then it was gone. Her fingers were in his hair, holding his head against her, and she thought no more at all.
His tongue found her skin, sliding where the champagne had flowed. Then it traced over the edge of the bikini top, hot, rough, licking, teasing. Ann felt herself sliding off the edge of the tub, into the steaming water. He went with her, then he brought his head up.
She saw his eyes through the fog rising off the surface. She told herself not to look. She had to close her own eyes and go with this in some deep internal place. That way it would be safe. But he never did anything the way he was supposed to. Nothing in the kind of order she could categorize. And he wouldn’t let her hide.
“Ann,” he said. “Look at me.”
She moaned and opened her eyes. Then his mouth finally took hers. His kiss was nothing like before. This was hard and devastating, pushing her lips apart so she’d meet his tongue. Just when she thought they would play at that for a while, she felt his thumb at her hip. He dragged at the scrap of blue bikini bottom. Down, strangling her thighs.
Ann told herself to get this back onto ground she was used to, where she was in control. But she felt herself kicking the bottoms off frenziedly, her own hands moving all the while, plucking and tugging at the shorts he wore. Suddenly frantic. Hurrying. Now, now, now, she thought.
Now, right now, need screamed inside her. For an immediate sense of fullness. To have him there, where he belonged. They floated together until her back was against the edge of the tub. She lifted her legs and wrapped them around him. She felt him probing, almost gentle at first. Then with a sound like his soul was being torn apart, he drove into her.
They sank beneath the surface.
Breathing was the furthest thing from Jonathan’s mind. He moved inside her, because that was pure instinct. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer still. Too soon, too suddenly, she arched backwards and came. And he thought that if he lived another fifty years, he’d forever see the bubbles rise from her mouth, forever hear her soundless cry, as her eyes flew open then closed, as she floated back to him, connecting one more time.