Then the shower snapped off, and this latest variation on the act of love was achieved in a cubicle engulfed in warm, sensual steam…
* * *
For days they carried on like that—long, lazy, sensual days when they seemed to become so absorbed in each other that they could put the rest of the world right away.
The ate together, they slept together, they played in the sea or simply lazed beneath the shade of one of the big flame-trees together, supposedly content to read a novel each, but really it was usually just another way of enjoying the sexual tension always, always present between them. Her fingers trailed delicately over the fine, crisp hairs on his arm as she read; his hands lightly caressed her sun-kissed thigh as he did the same.
And, of course, they made love all the time—any time. His appetite seemed utterly insatiable, and hers rose greedily to meet his with little encouragement.
But that didn’t mean she didn’t have moments when she allowed her thoughts to drift towards the blunt reality of why they were here at all. But if she so much as mentioned home or work or, more importantly, the obligation they both had to Todd and Cliché, he would simply shut her up in the most effective way he could find.
Sex. But she did allow herself to wonder, during those few brief moments before he made her lose touch with the sensible part of her mind, if these were deliberate manoeuvres applied to stall her for some deep, dark reas
on of his own.
The trouble was that she wanted to be manoeuvred. She wanted to think of nothing else but this and him and—God—make believe it all really meant something.
Why? she asked herself frowningly one morning when she sat modestly covered by her bathrobe in front of her mirror, rubbing at her damp hair with a towel.
And she was almost bowled over by the power of the answer which suddenly erupted inside her. Her hand went still, she looked up and focused on the new, helplessly vulnerable expression now colouring her blue eyes.
No. She shook her head, glanced away, refused to accept it. She could not be falling in love with him as well!
As well as what? she asked herself tautly.
As well as being so sexually obsessed by him that she could barely look at him without wanting him badly!
‘Damn,’ she muttered shakily, glad that he was still in the bathroom and therefore not there to witness this revealing bit of self-analysis taking place.
Love. She tried tasting the word carefully.
Had she become one of those poor, wretched creatures—a woman in love?
God. Yes, she admitted, and covered those knowing eyes with a decidedly shaky hand.
She was in love with him. Of course she was in love with him, or why else had she let herself become such a slave to all of this?
And it isn’t even real! She pulled her head away from her hand to take that blunt realisation full in the face. This—all of this had begun as one huge set-up!
A week ago he was committed to hurting you, Annie! she told herself. And, despite what happened in between, a few days ago he was still using blackmail to force you to bend to his will!
And what about Todd? Did he still intend using his power as Adamas to make Todd bend to his will?
She knew by experience that he could be downright ruthless with that power. Susie meant a lot to him—he had said as much during their fight down on the beach the other day.
But—now? After all of—this? Was he still intent on forcing a split between herself and Todd simply for his cousin’s sake?
César used that moment to walk into the room, arrogant in his nakedness. Annie—in breathless silence, via the mirror—watched him saunter towards her, bend to brace himself with his hands against the dressing table, either side of her body, smile a heart-achingly tender smile into her wary eyes then lower his head to taste her throat, his damp hair swinging in a slick, heavy pelt to one side.
Could this man who could smile at her like that still want to put his cousin’s feelings before her own?
‘César…’ she murmured hesitantly, her blue eyes anxious as they watched him nuzzle her throat.
‘Hmm?’ She quivered as the soft sound vibrated across her skin. He felt the response and did it again. Only the ‘hmm’ this time was an expression of pleasure.
Annie closed her eyes and tried very hard to concentrate—not on him but on the question she wanted to ask.
‘Todd,’ she said. ‘What are you going to do about Todd and the Cliché launch?’