To Love, Honour and Disobey. Natalie AndersonЧитать онлайн книгу.
what about you, Seb? Why are you travelling alone? Is there no one to warm your sleeping bag?’
‘You can if you want.’ He laughed outright at her look. ‘Well, you asked.’ He rubbed his knuckle against the stubble of his jaw and a hint of rue flickered in his eye. ‘Actually it’s been a long time since I even kissed someone.’
She turned from the chameleon. ‘You expect me to believe that?’
‘Well, yes.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Sebastian, I’ve been with you. I know what you’re like.’ She knew exactly his potency—his ability to move far faster than that crocodile ever could.
‘I haven’t been with anyone since you. What happened between us wasn’t normal, Ana.’
‘No.’ She managed a smile. It certainly wasn’t for her.
‘I don’t usually ask women to marry me.’
She laughed. ‘Has the experience put you off all women for good, Seb?’ Wouldn’t that just have served him right?
Coolly he held her gaze. ‘Perhaps.’
Wow—there wasn’t a hint of jest in his tone.
‘Have you met anyone else?’ he asked.
‘Not that many men like a woman who towers above them.’
‘You don’t tower. I’m taller than you.’
‘You’re not most men.’
His gaze dropped, she felt his focus skim over her as if it were his hand. ‘Most men love long legs.’
She shook her head—he was so wrong. ‘Most men run a mile.’ He still looked so disbelieving she got cross. ‘It’s OK for you. You’re a man. It’s an asset. For a woman to be as tall as I am? It’s freak status. I see them, Seb, staring, laughing, coming up to stand behind me at the bar, measuring themselves against the giant woman.’
His brows contracted. ‘It really bothers you? But they only stare because you’re beautiful.’
Yeah, right.
He stepped closer. ‘There’s really been no one else?’
Was that all he cared about? ‘No,’ she answered, unable to lie or to stop her own huskiness. ‘But that’s irrelevant, Seb.’
He glanced back to the chameleon. ‘Maybe.’
She wasn’t going to let him confuse her. She wasn’t going to allow the past to rear up and toss her off course again—not now she was finally on top of it.
She turned to walk back to the safety of the others. But Seb moved, standing in front of her, not touching her, yet not letting her pass by. She looked up at him, trying to make her lack of interest plain. A little difficult, though, given that her body was determined to be interested.
He almost smiled. But his eyes were too sharp and his body too tense.
‘Dinner will be ready.’She broke the taut silence with a voice almost too husky to be heard. ‘I’m starving.’
She ate quietly, listened to Seb chatting to the others. He offered no reason for his appearance, didn’t explain their relationship and thankfully everyone was too polite to ask. But she could see them warming to him just as everyone who came in contact with him did. She had—so had Phil—when they’d been out on the town that night. It was impossible not to be charmed by the smile, the attentiveness, the goddamn brilliant social skills. They were out in play tonight. She could see the boys thinking he was a good guy and the girls giving her sideways looks as if they were wondering how the hell she got so lucky.
If only they knew. The kind of warm attentiveness he showed here was nothing on the focus he showed in bed. Her cheeks burned with fast-flying provocative memories. It was as if he dedicated every bit of himself to the art of pleasure—time and time again. She’d thought it would be endless.
She shifted. Went and did the dishes even though it wasn’t her turn on the roster. She just couldn’t sit still, couldn’t be near him.
The darkness was swift and complete. And even though there were millions of stars they were miles away and threw no light on the ground. She wouldn’t sleep in the open air here—there were too many scary things about like snakes and scorpions and, heaven forbid, lions. But Seb was big and strong and would just have to handle it. In the tent she curled up in her tee shirt and tried not to feel guilty.
Hours later, still awake, she heard the splotch, splotch, splotch. Recognised it immediately and registered the quickening tempo. It hadn’t rained often on her trip, but when it rained, it really rained. It only took three of the super-sized drops and you were saturated. She shut her eyes and cursed the weather gods. But not even she could leave him out there to drown in warm mud.
She flicked on her torch and unzipped the canvas. ‘Seb. Get in here.’
He was only a few yards away and already sitting up, muttering beneath his breath.
‘Come on, hurry up.’
He was in sooner than she would ever be ready for. His big frame took up the bulk of the space and he stuffed his sleeping sheet in too.
‘Damn.’ With one swift movement he whipped his shirt up over his head.
‘What are you doing?’
He tossed the tee into the corner. ‘What does it look like?’
‘You’re…’ Oh, my. He was amazing. She remembered the muscles—back then she’d been amazed too, had wondered how a man who spent so much of his life in a suit got muscles like those. But now he was even leaner, his body even more defined. The six-pack was rock-hard and her fingertips begged to trace the shape of the muscles in his arms.
‘Taking off my wet clothes, yes.’
He was undoing his shorts, his big hands working smoothly. She remembered the feel of them on her. How close he’d pulled her to him. The heat of the night and the beat of the music. The madness that had swept over her, making her sigh yes, yes, yes.
‘You know there are scorpions around—you might get bitten,’ she snapped.
He looked amused, took his time about peeling off his shorts and revealing the brief boxers beneath. ‘I might get bitten by something a lot bigger than one of those.’
She flicked the torch off.
‘Hey.’ He reached across and flicked it back on. ‘I want to find my sleeping bag, you know.’ He chuckled. ‘You wouldn’t want me making a mistake and getting into the wrong one, would you?’
She looked at the way his eyes were dancing; the old Seb shone out at her—the joker, the tease. He made it too easy, so much fun. Oh, yeah, she and every other woman on the planet could do nothing but say yes to that smiling good humour.
She curled her legs up under her big sloppy tee and dived into the silk liner of her sleeping bag. Boiling already.
As she stared up at the roof of the tent, her legs drawn up, the silence was agony. She could hear every rustle. Her own breathing was too loud, too fractured. How the hell was she going to sleep when her whole body was wired? It was as if he was this great source of power that made her hum when he got within ten feet. Now within one foot she was just about floating off the ground hoodoo-voodoo style.
She closed her eyes and counted as she breathed, trying to think of something—anything—but him. But as the rain pelted down the futility of it got to her and she started to laugh. Once she started, she couldn’t stop.
And he laughed too. Deep and rich and loud. That wonderful warm sound sliced through her tension, freeing her to feel a weird kind of relief. She loved the sound of his laughter.
And then suddenly she was filled with tension again. That stupid yearning as she remembered hours of rolling and laughing