Feel the Heat: A Contemporary Romance Anthology (33 page)

I wish. But I smile, happy my friend is back on my side. “Thanks. I’m glad we talked.”

“Me too. And have fun, okay? You’re on vacation.”

“I will. I promise.” We hang up.

Bright and early, first thing, I will set my life right.

Christopher’s presence, while unfortunate, will not stop me.

I
’m sitting
on my yoga mat, staring out into the ocean, the tropical breeze lovely on my skin. The sun is warm, breaking out over the horizon. Yes, I’d dragged myself out of bed for a yoga class at dawn because what better way to start a new chapter of my life?

My hair is in a ponytail, and we’re waiting for the instructor. I arrived early, wanting an unobstructed view of the water, and there are only two other women here so far. The mats were set up on an open veranda overlooking the ocean, the instructor mat is in the front, allowing the students to have the best, most scenic view.

It’s beautiful and I feel peaceful. My chat with Ruby did me good, and I’d actually slept well. A flush spreads out over my cheeks. After I’d spent hours reliving my night with Christopher.

I hadn’t let myself come though, wanting to stick to my plans, so I’d fallen asleep hot and achy and wet, but I’d still slept like heaven. And, for that, I was thankful.

Now I could focus on peace. My transformation.

I put my hands face up on my knees and touch my finger and thumb together like I’ve seen people do. My eyes drift closed and I take it all in.

The silence. The tranquility, the break of the waves in the distance.

I let it wash over me.

When a thought flits through my mind, I capture it and let it loose in the air like my guided meditations have told me to do. When I hear the shuffle of feet and the sound of people sitting, I drown them out with a mental,
ummm
.

I sit like that, not thinking until the instructor issues a soft, “Good morning,” in a soothing melodious voice.

I lift my lashes to take in the yoga instructor, a bronzed beauty. A gorgeous, dark-haired woman with huge melting-chocolate eyes and a fit body that could rival a
Sports Illustrated
model. One look at her and I instantly regret my thousands of piña colada calories from yesterday.

“Today we’re going to start in mountain pose.”

I stand, my gaze on her as she demonstrates the posture. I mimic her, feet together, raising my arms to the sun, before bringing them down to heart center and closing my eyes again at her instructions.

“Breathe in.” Her voice is slow and soothing. “Breathe out.”

I exhale. Feeling proud of myself for taking this first step.

“I’d like you to begin by setting an intention for class and sending it out into the universe.”

Please, universe, don’t let me run into Christopher for the rest of the trip. Lead me away from temptation. Not toward it.

“Your intention can be whatever you desire, it can be about nothing more than being present in your surroundings and in this moment. Or it can be greater, more encompassing, like world peace.”

Okay, so maybe I have a little work to do in the intention department, but hey, I’m a work in progress.

“Today, I want you to feel strong, so using your breath, move to warrior two.” I watch as she swings her arms wide, and shifts so her body is thrust out to the side, her arm straight, her gaze over her right fingers.

I follow suit, paying attention to my form, looking out over my fingers only for my eyes to collide with Christopher’s spectacular bare back, and even more magnificence ass encased in tight shorts that sit low on his hips.

Oh my god!

What the fuck, universe.

* * *

T
his is a silent
, beachside yoga class, Ashley may not break the rules by speaking, but her body language speaks volumes. When I’d seen her sitting there on the mat, her hair back, her face free of makeup, and her eyes closed I’d thought the gods had smiled upon me, because I certainly hadn’t planned this. How could I have?

Of course, I could have sat down behind her, so she wouldn’t notice me, but that’s not what I wanted. I want her notice. I want her aware.

I’d tried to smile at her, but instead of returning it, she looked like she might murder me. I didn’t let that faze me. I’m going after Ashley. Maybe we got off on the wrong foot. Maybe she’s older than me. Maybe I don’t have time and she doesn’t have time. Maybe she’s made some vow of celibacy. And maybe none of it makes any sense. But I don’t care about that. There is something between us that deserves exploration.

I’m not letting life stand in the way.

So I smile every time our eyes lock and she shoots back daggers, her jaw is clenched, and not at all relaxed, despite the class’s best intentions.

In all honesty, it’s not the most relaxing class I’ve ever taken.

We hadn’t spoken but tension, sexual and otherwise, hums like a live wire. Despite my years of practice, I kept losing my focus, getting distracted by Ashley’s fantastic body decked out in miniscule yoga clothes. Every bend and stretch, every flex reminds me of our night together. The things we’d done. The ways I’d taken her.

“
Namaste
,” the instructor says, raising her pressed hands to the middle of her forehead. “Thank you for joining me on this beautiful morning.”

Ashley jerks her head in my direction, glares at me, jumps up and stomps off, heading through the arches leading into the hotel.

I grab my discarded shirt and follow, jogging to catch up to her. Her stride is brisk as she walks down the corridor, and when I reach her, I grab her elbow and swing her around. “Hey, wait up.”

Her brows slam together. “No, I will not! Let me go.”

“Just wait one second.” I tighten my hold. “I want to talk to you.”

“Well, I don’t want to talk to you.” She jabs her finger into my chest. “Stop following me.”

“I didn’t follow you.” I flash her my most charming, most affable smile. “It’s fate, Ashley.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s not fate.” She waves her free hand toward the veranda we just vacated, where the rest of the class still sits enjoying the scenery. “Do you honestly expect me to believe you take yoga?”

I laugh. “Yeah, but that class was a little tame for me. I usually take Bikram Yoga three times a week in Lakeview.”

“You do not!”

“I’ll take you there if you don’t believe me, but be prepared to sweat.” I stroke my thumb over the tender curve on the inside of her elbow. “I’ve taken it for a couple of years, it helps with the demands of residency.” Another brush over her skin and when she shivers under me, I’m filled with satisfaction. “I also run and lift weights.”

Unable to help herself, her gaze drifts down my body, where my chest is still bare and a flush stains her cheeks. She grits her teeth and hisses, “Let me go.”

She yanks her arm and I look down at her. I’m significantly taller than her—six-two compared to her probably five-five. I’m not above using my height to remind her of all the things I can do, like pick her up and hold her against the wall while I thrust into her. Like I’d done in the closet, and again on the way home, in between two buildings, our mouths frantic and hungry.

I gaze down at her. “Are you going to run?”

“Yes.” Her attention flickers on my mouth then jerks away.

“Can you just listen to me for a minute?”

“There’s nothing to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want, you can just listen to what I have to say.”

She shrugs a bare shoulder. “I can’t stop you.”

I loosen my hold, and run my fingers up and down her arm, pleased when goose bumps break across her skin. “You can run if you need to, but I’m still going to catch you.”

She shakes her head.

I’m not going to bother arguing with her. I know I’m right. There’s something here. I skim my fingers over her shoulders, the curve of her neck, and her pupils dilate, her breath quickens.

“What do you want to say?” Her voice is breathless. Needy.

I curl my hand around her nape, and our eyes lock. Sparks, flicker and ignite, and heat fills the space between us. I slide my other hand along her waist, her bare skin smooth and warm to my touch.

She lets out a little whimper.

I walk forward, tightening my hold, and taking her with me as I guide us backward into a little alcove. The second I have some semblance of privacy, my mouth covers hers, and lust explodes around us.

I press her against the wall.

Her hands climb up my chest and clutch my shoulders.

My tongue slides between her lips.

Her nails dig into my skin.

My head tilts, deepening the contact, as I become consumed with her mouth. Her taste. The press of her lips. The feel of her tongue.

That same possession that took residence in me that night rears up.

The kiss turns hotter. Wetter. More insistent.

I’m generally an easygoing guy, I like sex fun and playful, but Ashley brings out something insatiable and feral in me.

I grip her tighter.

Our bodies slide together, the contact making us both lose our breaths.

She shifts, lifting up, and my cock nudges between her legs. It’s so fucking perfect. She’s so perfect.

I grip her hip, rocking into her.

She gasps, surging up to meet me.

A frantic, almost desperate quality fuels the melding of our mouths.

Any control I have over the situation is quickly fraying, ready to snap.

Before I end up taking her in public, I rip away.

She pants up at me, her blue eyes glazed and glassy. Her lips swollen.

I suck in air while I try and gain control over my body. I run my thumb over her lower lip, wet and red from the bruising of my mouth.

She’ll wear the evidence of me all day. I like that idea entirely too much.

When I speak my voice is deep. “My conference goes until five today, but I will come looking for you later.”

She shakes her head and whispers, “Please don’t.”

I don’t think she realizes how her fingers tighten on my skin, as though she doesn’t want to let me go.

I trace her mouth with the pad of my thumb, wanting nothing more than to stay with her, right here in this hot, needy place where nothing but the two of us seems to matter. But I have to go. “I will see you later.”

I kiss the no from her lips.

“I’ll find you.” Then I turn and walk away.

I
’m sitting
in the main dining room of the hotel at a table, on the balcony overlooking the ocean, sipping wine and waiting for my dinner salad to arrive. I wanted to hide out in my room, but sheer pride won’t let me. I would not let Christopher’s presence ruin my vacation. I would not hole up in an effort to avoid him.

This was my time. I was taking it.

It’s been a strange day. After the shattering kiss with Christopher I’d gone back to my room, shaken, my body needy and desperate.

I hadn’t put up any fight at all. Worse, I’d melted against him and practically begged for more.

How had he broken through my resolve so quickly? So fast and ruthlessly?

I’ve been with my share of guys. I like sex. Like orgasms. Like losing myself in a guy’s body. I wasn’t naive, or innocent, or kittenish. I enjoy seduction.

But, god, Christopher did something crazy to my body.

I don’t know how to explain, but it was like he made me forget about the performance of it. The game. When he kisses me, all thought drains away and it’s just him and me, and the way he makes me feel.

I don’t like it. It makes me feel out of control.

But I refused to let him win. After yoga, I’d gotten a massage, just like I’d intended. I’d also treated myself to a manicure and pedicure. I rented a bike and escaped the hotel, riding to the local market where I shopped exotic goods before taking tea in a local emporium.

It was actually a good day. Exactly what I wanted and needed.

Only now I was back at the hotel, and had Christopher as a constant threat looming over me. Worse, I wanted to see him. Yes, my determination not to hide was true, but I also know myself. There’s a part of me that wants him to come find me. There’s no denying the kernel of disappointment in my sternum that I’ve been sitting here for twenty minutes and there’s no sign of him.

How weak am I?

My salad comes, and I smile at the waiter, fixing my napkin on my lap to give my hands something to do. Making sure to cover my white, strapless sundress that highlights my new lightly tanned skin.

When I was getting ready I decided to go against everything I’d normally do when I’m trying to attract a man. I wore flat flip-flop sandals instead of heels. I wore my hair in a haphazard side bun, instead of messy bed head designed to make a guy think of sex. Lastly, no pouty makeup. I’d put on blush, mascara, and lip balm.

And honestly, I liked the results. I looked fresh faced. Gone was
that look.
That, oh my god, please make me forget look that had been haunting me since Trevor eloped with the dancer.

I take a bite of my salad, a mixture of leafy greens and mango chutney that is divine, and decide it’s good to be alone. That forcing myself out of my comfort zone is the best thing I can do for myself.

So I ate my salad, order my dinner, and try not to look behind me.

I didn’t even allow myself to read. Instead, I focus on the beauty that surrounds me, so different from Chicago’s urban sprawl. I hope for peace, and manage pretty well, but I’m a work in progress. I can live with that.

“Can I join you?” Christopher’s voice is soft behind me.

I try my best to ignore the shiver that races down my spine, the excitement jumping in my belly. Slowly, I turn and look up at him.

He’s standing there, his butterscotch hair blowing in the breeze, wearing a loose-fitting, un-tucked white shirt, and light gray beachy-type pants. My eyes meet his whiskey gaze and I can’t help but suck in a breath at the sight of him.

Why does he have to be so cute? So irresistible? I’d always gone for pretty boys, so his appeal is a surprise.

The “no” hovers, but wouldn’t tumble from my lips, warring with what I wanted to do.

He takes my lack of a response as an invitation and sits, smiling at me. “Did you have a good day?”

I run a hand over my neck, remembering his fingers there, pressing into my skin. I nod. “I did.”

“What did you do?” He smooths his hand over the white linen tablecloth, cleared away to accommodate my party of one.

I stare at him, unblinking. Trying to figure out what course of action to take. The waiter appears at our side, saving me from a decision when he bows at Christopher. “Are you joining madam for dinner, sir?”

“Yes.” Christopher doesn’t consult me on this; in fact, he doesn’t even look in my direction.

The waiter nods, raises a hand and a minute later a dinner setting is placed in front of him. “Do you require something to drink?”

Christopher takes the napkin and puts it in his lap. “I’ll take one of those strawberry smoothies, thanks.”

And I can’t help it, the smile twitches at my lips.

He gives me a wicked grin. “What?”

“That’s a very manly drink.”

He laughs. “It has rum in it.” He runs a palm over his throat. “I need something ice creamy after spending all day listening to doctors talk about refraction techniques.”

I let the smile spread and put my hands on the table. I think about calling him on his presumption that he could join me for dinner, but what’s the point? I’m not sure I have it in me to get him to leave, even though I should. But, what I can do is lay out some boundaries, preferring to go on the offensive instead of playing defense like this morning.

I meet his gaze. “You sitting here means nothing.”

He shrugs a shoulder. “We’ll see.”

“I mean it. I’m not sleeping with you.” I’m not going to lie, it pains me to say the words, but it must be done. I’ve had too many—just give us this week—talks with my vagina already.

The waiter returns with his drink and Christopher says he’ll have what I’m having before we’re alone again. He turns his attention back to me, eyes narrowed and thoughtful, the intensity of his gaze at complete odds with the pink, frothy concoction sitting in front of him with a little paper umbrella sticking out.

Nerves skitter across my skin, disconcerting me, and I manage to say, “I’m serious.”

He nods, picks up his drink and sips from the straw, before holding it out to me. “Try it and it will convert you.”

I do, and it’s so good I moan a little. It puts the piña coladas I’d been drinking to shame.

He laughs. “See, I told you.”

“Fine, you were right.” I can’t help my grin. He’s just so charming.

“Of course I am.” His wink keeps the words from sounding arrogant.

I roll my eyes and he laughs, good-natured.

Several minutes pass before he tilts his head. “While I was supposed to be busy learning today, I spent far too much time contemplating this situation of ours.”

My spine straightens. “There is no situation.”

“Yes there is. And you can pretend as much as you want, but it doesn’t change it. There is something between us and I for one want to see what it is.”

I open my mouth to speak but he holds up a hand, stopping me.

“I know you have a bunch of arguments, and I want to hear them all, but first let me say this.”

I close my lips and nod.

“I think we got off on the wrong foot. That maybe taking you into a closet and giving you three orgasms two hours after we met might have given you the impression I was only interested in sleeping with you. I understand that. And I accept the consequences of my actions. But here’s what I’m asking. Give me a chance to prove you wrong. Give me the opportunity to learn you. All I want is the opportunity to see if there’s something more than the best sex on the planet between us.”

He takes another drink and his gaze skims over my face and down my body. He should look ridiculous, with his girly cocktail and disarming features, but he doesn’t, he looks sexy, confident and sure.

And it hits me, how long it’s been since I’ve experienced genuine interest in a man. I’ve been going through the motions of sex and attraction for so long I’d failed to realize they no longer resembled anything real. That Christopher is the first man in a long time I’ve actually been attracted to, not just physically, but emotionally. I liked
him
. When I’m around him I forgot about the game, the thinking, the strategy, and just...enjoyed myself.

Oblivious to my revelation, he continues. “I know you have your plan to be alone, and swear off men, but we’re here and maybe it is fate, and not circumstance that put us thousands of miles away from home at the exact same time and place. Because I’ve been thinking, remembering. And I didn’t tell you when I was going, Ashley, I said I’d be there for a conference, and I was going to tell you the details, but then I got distracted by the heat between your legs, the way you lifted into my fingers and I forgot. Even though your brain recalled the hotel from our conversation, what are the odds we’d be here, at the same exact time?”

I suck in my breath as I recall that moment on the bench, the orgasm that had pulsed through me, stealing my breath. I give my head a little shake. “I don’t know.”

“Not very good.” His gaze dips to my mouth. “So I have a deal for you. I’m willing to prove myself, and here’s what I’ll offer even though it’s going to be a real challenge on my willpower. Give me a chance to spend time with you. You’ll have plenty of time alone to do the things you came here to do, because I’m stuck in this conference. But when I’m free, and if it works with your plans, I want to hang out with you, to get to know you properly. In return, I promise I will keep my hands to myself. I will honor your vow of celibacy and treat you like my best platonic friend. I promise I will not touch, kiss, lick or fuck you.”

His eyes darken and the air crackles between us. “Unless you ask me to, of course. Then I will do all those things and more.”

I gulp, my throat going dry. He’s offering me a way out.

A chance to have my cake and eat it too. And I want it.

The waiter chooses that moment to delivers our meals. He puts the plates down, asking us if we want anything else. When we say no, he takes his leave, and Christopher turns back to me. “Do we have a deal?”

My fingers twitch on my fork. I want my cake. I want to spend time with him. If it’s platonic, is that cheating? I bite my lip.

This is something I’ve never done. I don’t hang out with guys. And I want to know Christopher. Maybe from this disaster we can learn to be actual friends. Maybe that’s the silver lining. Because something about him calls to me, something I don’t think I can ignore, even though it makes no logical sense. This can be my vacation gift. To learn if friendship is possible. I nod. “We have a deal.”

“Good.” He points to my plate. “Now eat. I’m attending the conference with a group of my closest friends and they are hitting a dance club we heard about in an hour. I thought it sounded fun. Would you like to go?”

I
love
dancing. I pick up my fork and dig in. “Sounds fun.”

He gives me a cocky grin. “Well, all right, but don’t try and lure me into any slow dances.”

I laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

This isn’t what I expected, but it is something new. Something different that’s outside my comfort zone. A night out with an attractive man with no possibility of sex or seduction. I don’t have to try to figure out what he wants, who I need to pretend to be to catch his interest. I don’t have to worry about how I look, or if I’m dressed provocatively enough to get his attention.

I don’t have to be anything, but me.