Floored (26 page)

She pushed him away. “I bet Fetch’s beard was less prickly.”

He brushed his knuckles over her cheek where he’d rasped. “It’s a short-term insurance policy.”

“How do you figure that?”

“It’ll help me keep my hands off you till tonight.”

She laughed and turned her back to him to open the car door. “You were just too lazy to shave.”

His hands came down on her hips and she started. He pulled her back towards him, anchoring her backside to the curve of his pelvis.
Oh God
. She had inspired a very good morning. He scratched her cheek as he whispered in her ear, “I’m a conniving bastard. I can have problems with impulse control, and don’t you forget it.”

She drove. He drove her mad, but happy mad, gently sun-tanned by the high beam of his attention mad, giggle stupid mad. He sat screwed around in the seat, one foot folded underneath him, leaning against the passenger front door, watching her. It should’ve been distracting as all hell. But it was right on track with the new rules.

He peppered her with questions. A whole bunch of inconsequential stuff. Favourite colour, movie, book. Actor, musician she’d give him up for. Dream house she’d like to live in. Imagined holiday she’d like to take. Plus some other stuff she’d rather have avoided. That’s how he learned about the naphthalene and how driving for the bucks’ nights made her feel. That’s how he learned she wasn’t intending to go back. It felt like the right thing to do, to tell him now before they got more deeply involved. To keep things straight between them and put a limit on their exposure to each other so the developing process they went through didn’t strip them of their colour.

“So it wasn’t just my natural charisma in combination with my spending power that made you agree to drive me?” His posture was still relaxed, but there was an inside edge to his voice that made her glad she’d chosen to dump that on him in the car where he couldn’t walk away.

“They both played a part, but the ultimate determination was how little I had to stay in Sydney for.”

“Do you still feel that way?”

She shot him a look and then eyed the white line again. That wasn’t an edge, that was a whole chasm, a Wilpena Pound of attitude in his voice. Did he think some runaway infatuation; a holiday romance would change the course of her life? “Yes.”

“Hmm.” He shifted in his seat, faced around to the front windscreen. It felt like a withdrawal. She had a moment of regret for telling him so soon. It could’ve waited a few days. “I’ll have to work harder then.”

“At what?”

“At you.”

She looked across at him. He made her heart try to climb up her throat and take the wheel. She wanted to launch herself into his arms. Why couldn’t he have been a baker, or a council worker, or a sandwich hand?

“Did you know Ceduna is the oyster capital of Australia?” he said.

“You read that in a guide book.”

He laughed and turned sideways again. “Yes I did. Do you like oysters?”

Out of his mouth the word ‘oyster’ had the same impact as the word ‘buckle’. It sent a shudder of longing through her body. She was glad for her sunglasses, they gave her a measure of privacy under his examination.

He laughed again. “I don’t think you’re thinking of oysters.”

Goddamn
.

She was thinking of what she’d done to him in the car last night. Made him hiss with the effort of holding back; growl into her mouth with his eyes tight shut. He’d been burning up under her hands, sweat slicking his chest, all his sense on hot alert, all his reactions arrested, waiting for her next move, testing his own limits.

He moved suddenly, leaning across the console, his hand shooting between her legs. He gripped her thigh and her knees parted for him. “Hard to tell what I’m going to enjoy eating more.” His hand slid up the seam of her cargo pants till his little finger grazed against her centre. She gasped and death gripped the steering wheel. He leaned across and spoke into her ear, his breath hot. “Oysters or you.”

Just as suddenly he was back on his own side of the car and she could breathe again.

“You’re going to cause an accident.” She tried to sound stern, because it was true. If he did something like that again, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t steer them straight into the scrub and red earth at the side of the road.

“There won’t be anything accidental about it, Cait. How about I tell you what I want to do to you tonight?”

“How about not? I’d like to get to the oyster capital in one piece.”

He laughed. “Okay. I’ll behave. But so you know. I’m thinking about slowly stripping you out of a dress.”

“Stop it.”

“Inching that zipper down, bit by bit. Tasting the skin beneath it lick by lick. And when it’s all the way down—”

“Stop. It.”

“I’m going to pull it gently from your shoulders, and trap your arms by your sides so I can—”

“Sean!”

“Bite your neck and—”

She jammed her finger on the volume control on the steering wheel and sent the sound soaring into the cabin, cutting whatever he was going to say off with a blast of trumpets and Jimmy Barnes singing
Hold On I’m Coming
. It was the most inappropriate song, but whole lot more effective than putting her fingers in her ears and singing, la, la, la, la, and way more likely to keep them on the bitumen.

She still heard his roar of laugher over Barnesey’s raspy vocals and though she refused to glance at him, she knew what he’d look like. Smug, self-satisfied and totally ‘pull over at the side of the road, why wait for tonight’ fuckable. Without trying.

When they pulled in to Ceduna it was early afternoon. They had a late lunch of fish and chips shared with some aggressive seagulls on Alexander’s Beach. The comfort food, the salt smell, the balmy air, the hunky male combined to deliver a peace of mind that washed over Caitlyn in a wave of calm and stillness. This was a different mood to anything they’d experienced yet. Nothing like the guarded fear that bled into wary interest, the hungry banter that fed growing attraction, or the all out sensual assault of the last two days. Sean seemed to sense it too, pulling her wordlessly into his arms and simply holding her while they watched a group of kids turn lopsided cartwheels and splash in and out of the shallows.

There was a kind of acceptance in their silence. All the guessing was nearly over, all the waiting almost done. He’d been right to want to slow down. They were more than strangers crashing together now, more than an accident. He wasn’t her kidnapper, she wasn’t his hostage. The only issue was what that made them now. What it would make them to wake together in the morning.

When the sun started playing tag with the horizon, painting vibrant colours across the sky, he hauled her to her feet.

“You get your own room, but you know I want you with me tonight.” He was giving her an out, a Plan B she didn’t need.

“We only need one room.”

“And if it all goes to shit?”

She rattled her pocket, car keys jingled. “I’ll floor it out of here so quick the locals will think you’re a serial killer.” And with no hire car service in town he’d be stuck till he organised another way to get to Perth.

He got them a deluxe room. Deluxe in that way hotels in small towns had of being pleasant but hardly luxurious. It had a queen bed, a spa bath and a balcony overlooking the foreshore and the jetty. When the business of getting into the room was done it was abruptly hideously awkward. The stale air was saturated with expectation and the bed was a giant symbol of what might go wrong. Caitlyn’s calm fizzed into nervous fidgeting. Maybe it would’ve been smarter to get two rooms. She moved about, opening the bar fridge, testing the lounge chair, looking in the bathroom, avoiding the bed. Finally she flung the balcony doors open and stepped out. He came out and stood behind her, hands either side of her hips on the railing. His chin resting on the top of her head. He said one word. “Don’t”. She knew he meant, don’t doubt, don’t worry, don’t over-think.

She rested back on him. “How do you do that? How do you know what’s inside my head?”

She felt his shrug. “It’s easy with you. It’s all over your face.”

She gripped the railing. If it was that easy she was back to being unsafe with him.

He kissed her neck. “I told you I was a good poker player.”

She exhaled and let his body soothe hers. She was throwing off anxiety and he was guessing. If she relaxed she wouldn’t give him anything to be suspicious about.

“I’m going for a run. Why don’t you have a soak in the tub?”

“You’ll make a thoughtful husband one day.”

He groaned. “I was going for dark, mysterious lover.”

She turned in his arms. “You already got there.”

“If I kiss you now, we won’t get out of this room.”

“Would that be so bad?”

“That would break the rules.”

She laughed, the tables so turned. Sean wanting structure, while she’d abandoned any hope of putting conditions on him. Why did they need to leave the room? She lifted her head and kissed him. His response was gentle, but his eyes closed and his hold on her tightened. She cupped his chin, feeling the prickle of his stubble.

He let her deepen a kiss, but his response was muted. “You don’t play fair.” He gave her a little shake. “Pushing my buttons will only get you into trouble.”

She was already in so much trouble with this man, what was a little more in the scheme of things?

It took him less than five minutes to show her. He swept his arm under her knees and lifted her, backing through the balcony door and throwing her on the bed. He kicked out of shoes and tore his t-shirt off while she tried to catch her breath. He was on her before she had a chance to get her own shirt over her head, pushing her back, lowering himself over her and kissing her with a heat that made white lights strobe under her closed eyelids, and her hips buck against him.

Then he was gone, pushing away, laughing, going to his bag then the bathroom, leaving her flattened, staring at the ceiling, her teeth clamped against the sheer frustration of being denied. Again.

He came out in his trackpants. He grinned at her like the master manipulator he was and sat on the edge of the bed to put his runners on.

“I hate you.”

He laughed, a rumble in his throat. If he spoke she knew his voice would have that husky, smoky, wrecked tone it got when he was turned on.

“I really hate you.” He was too far away to touch without moving and she didn’t think she could move; he’d sapped the energy out of her, melted her bones so she was rag doll loose. He moved though. He dived across the bed and hauled her against his chest. “I hate you too. See you in the restaurant at seven.”

She did soak in the bath, then dressed and cleared the room before he got back. It seemed like the prudent thing to do if she wanted to eat again, and the thought of fresh oysters with salt and lemon, or done Kilpatrick was an incentive.

She knew he’d entered the restaurant by the way the women at the next table got all giggly and she flushed with something like pride and the tittering stopped dead when he put his hand to her back, sliding his fingers under the strap of the dress, and his lips to the top of her head.

“It has a zipper,” he said, delight in his voice. He leaned in for a kiss and suddenly it was all too much. The man, the mood, the way she felt brightened by his affection. He drew back and took her hand instead, threading their fingers together.

“Don’t drive off without me, Caity. Whatever’s got you worried we can work it out.”

But they couldn’t. The only way this would work out was badly. She pushed the momentary feeling of deep unease aside and squeezed his hand. She was greedy for the brilliant memory to come first.

They had oysters and prawns, mango salsa, lobster and scallops. A crisp Adelaide wine, and a shared slice of cheesecake. When the meal was done they went into the bar next door to listen to the band. The place was packed. The band, with a young female lead singer was local and obviously well known. They were doing covers. She was channelling Aretha Franklin via Jessica Mauboy with The Temptations’
Sugar Pie Honey Bunch
.

Sean took her hand. “Dance with me.”

It wasn’t a request. “You dance?”

“I have four sisters.” He eye-rolled. “I wasn’t allowed not to.”

He did. Easy—with rhythm and grace, holding her gently, his smooth shaven cheek against hers. He hummed the song putting wings on her heart and glitter in her vision. When the singer launched into the sexy rhythms of
What A Man
, he danced dirty—with his knee between her thighs, with hands that slid and held and stroked, with sly stolen, sucking kisses. With slow, lingering, bold contact against hip and tailbone, stomach and breast that marked her as his and made her ache to have him closer still. The room dropped away, its stale beer smell dispersed, the disco lights faded, the other dancers were forgotten. There was only the beat and a pulsing, driving, grasping need to be in his arms.

When he was ripped away, she staggered, held up by hands that weren’t his. Work-roughened hands she couldn’t shake off. Their owner said, “Leave the lady alone,” and his two mates pulled Sean further away.

He shoved one of them off, dragged the other forward, roaring above the music. “Fuck off. She’s with me. Get your hands off her.”

In seconds it was a fight, curses yelled, punches being thrown. Those rough hands pulled her further away, bodies getting between her and Sean. She called out to him, and his head came up, he dodged a fist and came for her. In the moment before he was crash tackled from behind she saw his face. Not Sean’s, Fetch’s. Blazing with hate, brimming with vengeance, fleet with cunning and control. He went down, there were too many on him, shouting and screaming. The music had stopped, the lights came on and the hands holding her lifted away.

She turned on her saviour, her attacker. “He’s my boyfriend.” That foreign word was there in her mouth, ready to use.

“He was molesting you. That’s not on here.” The man turned to walk away.

She yelled after him, “You had no right.” She was wasting her breath. Sean was being walked out. There was blood on his white shirt. There was a uniformed cop standing at the door. She could go after him, but he hardly needed her help in this. There was nothing she could do but go back to their room and wait.