Cracking the Dating Code (10 page)

The zip came down and her bra clasp came undone beneath Seb’s hands. He started at her shoulders and, with excruciating slowness, bodice and bra parted ways with her body.

‘I’m not complaining, really I’m not, but do you think you could hurry it up?’ she begged him when he seemed determined to once more kiss a leisurely path to her other breast.

‘Honestly, Ophelia,’ he murmured against the curve of her breast. ‘You need to catch a train?’

But he set his mouth to her nipple after that and her hands went to his head and she arched into that warm and wicked mouth and cried out when he closed his lips around her and sucked.

‘Again.’

So he did it again, to a point just shy of pain, and Poppy writhed and trembled and clutched at his head even as he cursed and drew back before rolling her onto her back and putting a calloused hand and hungry lips to her other breast.

Poppy lay there in thrall to the sensation raining down on her body. The heavy weight of his legs across her own, the rasp of his shirt buttons across her stomach, and his mouth, heaven help her, his mouth was moving down her stomach now and taking her silk dress with it.

Poppy clutched the bedspread, her eyes not leaving him as Sebastian slid the dress from her body, and her panties, and her shoes. His
shirt came off, and then his mouth came back to hers and when he pulled away she lifted her head and body off the bed, not ready to give up those kisses just yet. Not until she realised where he was going with that kiss, and how it was down her neck and throat and then on to her stomach and lower.

Languid now, as skin met skin he moved down over her body until his chest was nestled between her parted legs. He kissed her stomach and her hip, then slid one arm beneath her thigh and brought that up to meet his marauding lips too.

Feather light now, the touch of his lips and tongue against her skin, as he rocked against her and she rocked back, her skin chasing his mouth the way her lips had done.

He chased her curves down into the crease where leg met hip and Poppy closed her eyes and let him, her chest rising and falling fast and her breathing loud, every part of her focused on his mouth and where it was and the exquisite tension that came of wondering where it might go next.

He got there eventually, and when he did Poppy’s eyes shot open before slowly, slowly closing again as he found a rhythm and kept to it.

Her body responded and her breathing grew louder.

She grew boneless beneath his hands and his knowing, caressing mouth. Boneless and gasping until finally he sent her spinning to the stars.

He let her catch her breath. He put his forearm to the bed beside her waist and traced patterns across her lower stomach with lazy fingers. He let her return to earth.

And then he smiled and asked her if she wanted to do it again.

And Poppy said, ‘Yes.’

But when he put his thumb to her centre she said, ‘No. Not your thumb, Sebastian. That really won’t do.’ She slid down and put a hand to his trousers, and found the button and then the zip and undid both before pressing down hard on his arousal. ‘This.’ So hard and huge against her palm. ‘This’ll do.’

The rest of Seb’s clothes came off and the lamp light played over Seb’s magnificent frame, the hard stomach and the muscled thighs, his erection proud and jutting. He let her look and he let her wonder about function and fit, and he let her kneel and put her hand to him, and he threw back his head and stared at her through hooded, half-glazed eyes.

‘Firmer,’ he growled, so she pressed firmer
and his hand covered hers as he showed her how he liked to be touched, and that touch was slow and firmer than she’d imagined, and there was more of him than she’d imagined too, as he came down on the bed again and brought her with him.

Condoms. He found one and took care of it.

‘Get on top of me,’ he ordered gruffly.

So she straddled him and closed her eyes for he was thick and long, and hot and hard, nestling close to where she wanted him, but not in. Not yet.

A question in his eyes, then. A question in hers.

And then she put her palms to the bed, just above his shoulders and bent down to kiss him and he came up on his elbows and deepened the kiss and Poppy’s nervousness ran away.

She wanted this. Wanted him, with an intensity bordering on obsession.

Impatient now, as she ground down against him. Gasping, as his teeth grazed her neck.

One of his hands on the globe of her buttock as he sat up even more and positioned her for entry. The cords standing out in Seb’s arms and his neck, the blackness of his eyes and the strain on his face. ‘I’m not going to
move,’ he whispered hoarsely and repeated it like a mantra. ‘You just…take your time.’

Man was a saint.

She took her time and she took his mouth, and she clung to his shoulders as she tried to make things fit. But her breath caught and it wasn’t with pleasure now, and she tore her lips from his and put her forehead to Seb’s forehead instead as she looked down to see what the hold-up was.

‘Smaller would be better,’ she said in a little voice and he laughed and set his thumb to her and she sank down on him a fraction further.

‘Wrong,’ he murmured. Nothing but the tip of him inside her and for that she was grateful. He bent his head and caught her nipple in his mouth and sucked.

Soothed her then, with his tongue on her breast and his thumb on her clitoris, lazy circles both, before he took her other breast in his mouth and pushed into her again.

Poppy measured time in millimetres after that, until the pleasure began to build again and her body began to demand more. Seb knew it, too, as he pulled her down onto him and this time he thrust into her in one smooth inexorable movement.

Poppy was no virgin after that.

‘Are you all right?’ Concern in Seb’s voice and in his eyes. He knew what he’d just done.

Poppy nodded, not trusting herself to speak. Or breathe. Or move.

Seb solved that particular dilemma by rolling her smoothly onto her back on the bed, hooking his arm under one of her knees to raise it, and keeping them locked in deep coitus.

‘Breathe,’ he whispered, so she breathed.

‘Kiss me,’ he ordered, so she lost herself in the sensuality of his kisses.

‘Trust me,’ he whispered as his lips teased one corner of her mouth.

And finally she rocked against him and together they began to move.

Time got measured in pleasures after that. The small pleasure to be taken from making him groan as she set her teeth to his shoulder. The ever-increasing pleasure to be found in Seb’s possession, until finally she abandoned all inhibition and hooked her legs around his waist, stayed with him as he went to pull away and cried out her release.

Half a dozen savage strokes later, Poppy came again and this time Seb came with her.

He carried her to the shower some time later and stood them both beneath it. Modesty had
no hold on him, and Poppy took her cue from that and let him wash her with gentle hands, and the soap made sliding easy, and his smile made smiling easy.

‘Was it what you expected?’ he rumbled as she turned the soap on him.

‘Better,’ she countered and felt a rush of satisfaction as his nipples hardened beneath her hands. ‘Best lover I’ve ever had.’

‘I’m so flattered. You think I don’t realise I’m also the first lover you’ve ever had?’

Satisfaction in his voice, laced with a hint of concern.

‘I’m not even going to ask what kind of lover I made,’ she continued. ‘I’m a learner lover. I get points for trying. I hear finesse comes later.’

‘You do okay.’

‘Actually, I did very little. For example, I barely touched you.’ She ran her hands down his arms slowly, to his wrists and back, learning him now, because she’d been too preoccupied to do so before, and he leaned back against the shower-stall wall and let her. ‘That’s got to be a mistake, hasn’t it?’

‘Under those circumstances, no.’

‘What about
these
circumstances?’

‘Depends what you’re after.’

‘More,’ she murmured. ‘We’re not done here yet. Are we?’

He looked at her, saying nothing. And then he leaned forward and kissed her and his hunger answered for him.

P
OPPY
had spent the past few days on the island waking with the dawn, but the curtains in the hotel room blocked all light and the clock showed eight-thirty when finally she opened her eyes. She sat up slowly and looked around, bringing the sheet with her in an act of belated modesty that no one was around to witness.

The sheet fell to her waist. ‘Seb?’

No Seb.

She got up and reached for the hotel robe she’d discovered after her shower last night. She did a quick scan of all bench and table tops in view.

No note.

Seb’s overnight bag was still sitting on the luggage rack beside the wardrobe, though, and a black men’s toiletries case was in the bathroom, so presumably he planned to return to the room.

After all, it was his room.

Was she supposed to be gone by then? Poppy put her hand to her hair and tried to think through her options. She had no idea of the protocols involved in morning afters. Especially when the night before had been one long and leisurely exercise in education of the flesh.

Wait, people had told her.

Wait until your emotions are engaged. Well, she’d waited, and they had been and Seb had been patient with her, and very tender. Altogether mindful of her pleasure.

Maybe a little bit
too
mindful, for he hadn’t lost control with her during the night. Not once had she glimpsed the rawness in him that she’d felt two nights ago out on the balcony. There’d been pleasure for him, of that she was fairly certain. There had been need. Just not the all-consuming, ‘I don’t even know where I am’ need that she’d felt for him.

It was this last point that made Poppy’s decision to return to her room easier.

Give the man some space; he obviously had need of it or else he would be here.

Heading for my room then breakfast,
she wrote on the hotel notepaper just in case she was wrong. And then she slipped last night’s clothes back on and made her way back to her
room, and if other hotel guests saw her and labelled it a walk of shame, well, that was not Poppy’s take on it.

She’d wanted this, wanted Seb and there was no shame at all in that.

The only pressing concern she had this morning was how Seb might be feeling and how—should he be feeling just fine—she could conceivably ask for more.

Sebastian Reyne was restless. He’d gone down to the marina and the boat this morning to check on the moorings that had been twice checked last night. He’d gone down there because he’d needed the walk and because he’d wanted to clear his head when it came to what had happened last night.

And to try and figure out what to do with Poppy West now.

She’d wanted experience and he’d had it to spare.

She’d asked for one night and he’d given it to her, hadn’t he?

And he’d held himself in check and he’d made it good for her. He’d made sure Poppy’s first time had been worth the wait.

But some time during the early hours of the morning, between one caress and the next, he’d realised that he wanted more time
with this woman. More nights with her, only wilder. More days like the ones they’d already shared.

And he didn’t know if that was on Poppy’s agenda at all. Hard to tell if she even
had
an agenda beyond facing her fears, seizing the opportunities a moment might bring and being on her way.

He found her in the breakfast atrium, seated at a table for two by a window that overlooked the lagoon. There had been no overnight change to her looks or her wardrobe. Nothing at all to signify that she was now a sexually experienced woman of the world. Her clothes were still on the conservative side, her demeanour just that little bit reserved.

She met his gaze with a guarded one of her own and whatever it was that she saw in his eyes it caused her to blush and drop her gaze. Seb smiled as he eased into the seat opposite her.

Well, well, well.

Maybe the analytically inclined Ophelia West hadn’t given much thought to her endgame after all.

‘What’s good?’ he asked, nodding towards her almost empty plate.

‘The eggs Benedict and bacon’s not bad. Watermelon’s good.
And
they have dragon fruit.’ She put down her knife and fork and reached for her tea. ‘You forgot to leave a morning-after manual.’

‘Do you need one?’

‘Wouldn’t hurt.’

‘Sometimes you’ve just got to go with your instincts,’ he murmured. ‘This morning, for example, I’m probably going to ask you how quickly you need to get to your brother’s beach house and how long you plan to stay there and where you might conceivably be going after that.’

‘And you’re asking this because…?’

‘I’m curious.’

Seb leaned back in his seat, trying to decide just how at her disposal he wanted to place himself. Blushes aside, she hadn’t touched him this morning, hadn’t solicited his touch in any way. Maybe she did need a morning-after hint or two when it came to making a man feel wanted. And maybe she was following her instincts, as directed.

‘I do need to get this new information about Jared back to my family. Especially Lena, who’s currently at the beach house. There’s a heated pool there. She uses it for physio.’

‘Physio?’

‘Lena got gut shot eight months ago. A bullet nicked her spine and messed up her ability to use her legs for a while. She’s walking again and hoping for a full recovery. She’s making remarkable progress.’ Sorrow clouded Poppy’s eyes. ‘Everyone says so.’

‘But?’ he asked softly.

‘But I’m not sure she’ll ever have the level of physical fitness she once enjoyed. I’m not sure she’s admitted that to herself yet. She still talks about getting her old job back. It seems a little unlikely.’

‘What’s the job?’

‘Special intelligence recon. Same as Jared. Same as Trig. They were all in East Timor together, checking out an abandoned factory, when she got shot. Lena says they were ambushed. Jared didn’t say much at all. He was the one in charge of the recon. He took Lena’s injuries hard.’

‘I can imagine.’

‘He holds himself responsible.’

‘I can imagine that too.’

Poppy smiled a little ruefully. ‘I’m sure you can.’

‘Is that where he’s gone?’ asked Seb. ‘To right a wrong? Is that why you’re so worried about him?’

‘Maybe.’ She shrugged, still not inclined to trust him with other people’s secrets, no matter what liberties he’d taken with her body the night before. He could understand her reasoning. Didn’t mean he had to like it.

He still hadn’t touched her yet. Time to rectify that.

Seb stood and stopped by her chair, one hand on its back and one on the table as he bent down and kissed her lips, lightly at first, and then a whole lot more thoroughly as he met with eager response. ‘Want another coffee?’

‘Thank you for last night,’ she murmured. ‘And no, thank you to the coffee, but yes to another slice of watermelon.’

Seb ordered his coffee and filled up a plate from the smorgasbord selection. He added watermelon and headed back to Poppy.

‘So what are
your
plans for the next few days?’ she asked lightly.

‘Make arrangements to visit Bonnie,’ he said, for he’d put it off too long. ‘Get that sorted.’

‘Bonnie lives in Darwin?’

Seb nodded. ‘Then I need to put in an appearance at work before Wendy resigns. Again. It could be some time before I manage to clear the backlog. Ever been to Darwin?’

‘No.’

‘Want to?’

‘Are you asking me to come with you?’

‘Not directly. It’s more of a fishing expedition. I want to see if the idea has any appeal whatsoever before I commit to an actual invitation.’

‘Oh,’ she murmured. ‘Smooth.’

‘Yeah. You probably want to find yourself another mentor when it comes to morning afters. Trust me. I won’t be offended.’

‘I like the sound of visiting you and seeing you again,’ she said, and picked up her tea cup with slender fingers. ‘It doesn’t really matter where.’ She regarded him with a hint of a smile in her eyes. ‘Should I have been more elusive?’

‘Blunt is good.’

‘Good. I’m trying to think of a place that we could both get to with relative ease. Me from Oxford and you from Darwin. How do you feel about Dubai?’

‘Unenthusiastic.’

‘Singapore or Hong Kong?’

‘Same.’

‘Why?’

‘Maybe I’d rather see you in your working environment. Your normal living environment. Maybe I want you to see me in mine.

See if you’re interested in me for anything besides the sex.’

‘You’re feeling used?’ Poppy couldn’t quite hide her dismay. ‘I told you I needed a manual. You need to look at this from my point of view, Sebastian. I practically begged you to have sex with me. For all I know, I’m nothing more to you than a pity—’

‘Don’t,’ said Seb gruffly. ‘You’re not.’

‘I needed to give you an out.’

‘Consider it given. And ignored.’

Poppy eyed him uncertainly. ‘You’re very welcome to join me at the beach house some time over these next few days if it happens to fit in with your plans. And you’d be welcome to visit me in Oxford, once I get back there. Stay with me or stay with Tomas. I can’t say as I plan to discuss bedding you with Tomas but I certainly don’t plan to deny that we have an ongoing association if it turns out we do.’

Association.

Non-committal word. Maybe she hadn’t been as enamoured of their lovemaking as he’d thought. ‘Did you have a good time last night?’

‘Yes. But then, you made very certain of that. Too blunt?’

‘No.’

‘Did
you
have a good time?’ she asked.

She seriously had no idea what she’d brought to their lovemaking. The joy of discovery. Unselfconscious abandon. Delight. In him. ‘I had a good time.’

‘Because it seemed to me that you might have been holding back a little. At times.’

He leaned forward and placed the watermelon on her plate. ‘Don’t complain.’

‘It was more of an observation.’

‘But not one you need to worry about. Eat your watermelon.’

She sent him a level glance, one he returned in full. She picked up the watermelon and studied it before testing the edge of it with her teeth. ‘I’m getting the impression you like to be in control,’ she said.

‘I’m getting the impression you do too.’

‘I don’t know where you’re getting that impression from.’

Sebastian smiled. ‘Call it a hunch.’

In the end they parted company just on midday, with Poppy’s flight south leaving twenty minutes before Seb’s flight to Darwin. They travelled to the airport together, checked in together and went through Security and into the holding area together too.

Being seen as with someone was a pleasure that was new to Poppy.

Touching Seb in public was a happy new pleasure for her as well. She didn’t overdo it; at least, she
hoped
she didn’t overdo it. But when a touch to his forearm brought her a smile from Seb and an envious glance from the barista at the coffee counter, it was tempting to turn towards him, rather than away, and let her chest brush his as she turned to check the departure board.

That was what people did at airports. Checked departure boards and drank coffee until it was time to go.

They’d exchanged contact details and she’d given him Damon’s beach house address, just in case. ‘Are you worried about what you’re going to say to Bonnie?’ she asked as the minutes ticked away.

‘Little bit,’ he admitted gruffly. ‘Got any advice?’

‘None that’s backed up by experience,’ she said. ‘My mother died when Damon was born but that was a long time ago now. Let Bonnie talk if she wants to talk. Take someone else with you if you think it’ll help. That’s it. That’s all I’ve got by way of advice.’

Seb leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his head bowed. ‘It’s as good as any.’ He shot her a sideways glance. ‘I’ve got a photo of Cam. Someone took it the day
before he died. Hard hat on, manhandling pipe, covered in slick and grinning like a loon. Should I give it to her?’

‘Yes,’ said Poppy and blinked sudden tears from her eyes. ‘I think she’d like that.’

Poppy made it to the beach house just on dusk, to find not just Lena in residence but Trig as well. Separate bedrooms—Lena had been quick to point that out, never mind that it had taken less than five minutes in their combined company to figure that out. Trig prowled about, caught between wanting to coddle Lena and Lena having none of it. Frustration radiated from him in waves to mix with Lena’s irritation. Volatility ruled here, not sense. Which made sharing her news of Jared’s activities an unwelcome task.

‘You look different,’ Lena said suspiciously as she thrust a tall glass of soda water in Poppy’s direction. ‘Trig, does Poppy look different to you?’

Trig looked, his warm brown gaze narrowing as he gave Poppy the once-over. ‘Nope.’

‘Must you disagree with everything I say?’ snapped Lena.

‘You asked me a question. I answered it honestly. Bite me,’ he muttered, but he turned and surveyed Poppy once more, at which
point she lifted her chin and willed herself not to blush. No way could a person take one look at her and determine that Poppy was no longer a virgin. No one was
that
observant.

‘No,’ he said again. ‘Still not seeing it. She’s still an absolute sweetheart, the way I see it. Haircut? Colour? New lipstick? What else do men get into trouble for not seeing?’

‘The error of their ways,’ said Poppy dryly. ‘I want to ring Damon but I don’t know how private a phone call is.’

‘Not private,’ said Lena and Trig in unison.

‘I cracked Jared’s file,’ said Poppy, and suddenly found herself in the receipt of Lena and Trig’s absolute attention. ‘There were barely any details. Jared’s employee number. An initial location—the Blue Mosque in Istanbul. A list of half a dozen dates—the last date being five weeks, six days ago. And at the top of the file there seemed to be some sort of title name or level of authorisation or job name or something. I don’t know what it meant. It was just one word.
Sentinel.
’

‘Never heard of it,’ said Lena. ‘Trig?’

Trig shook his head, but Poppy had the advantage over Lena in that Poppy had been looking at Trig as she’d relayed the information. She’d seen the flash of recognition in Trig’s eyes upon hearing the word
Sentinel.