In the physical sense, anyway. This unfinished business was about the hunger that still gnawed at them both. It had been in their kiss on that first day, and he’d seen it in her eyes back in the marketplace. It was in the way her breath caught, matching the hitch of his chest as if they were in perfect harmony.
She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. That thing between them had always been so primitive, so feral that it had always seemed to have a life of its own.
It had wound its way through them, binding them together. Hadn’t he learned in basic chemistry—back in that boarding school that had seemed like bliss compared to any semblance of home life his father could have offered—that heat, oxygen and fuel were all the necessary ingredients for a perfect fire triangle?
Take away any one of them and the fire died.
The problem with he and Talia had been that the flame had never had a chance to die out by itself—naturally—the way it surely would have done in time. They’d parted way too early, and that was surely what made this attraction all the more compelling now. They hadn’t given it long enough for the passion to exhaust itself and fade away by itself.
So was this Fate giving him another chance? Not just bringing him to The Island Clinic to run a highly coveted medical case, but also a last opportunity for him to indulge in Talia until they were both—finally—well and truly sated.
Until there was nothing left between them?
Until he finally got his closure?
This wasn’t about renewing anything with Talia, or picking up their life together where they’d left off—they’d both agreed that wouldn’t work. This was about the physical connection. Pure and simple. It was about glutting themselves until there was nothing left. Only then could they finally each go their separate ways without that weighted tether of unfinished business.
As if to emphasise the rightness of his decision, the ocean chose that moment to lift up another huge wave and slam Talia back into him. And if he took the opportunity to manoeuvre himself just a little more directly into its path, to catch her against him, surely that was of no interest to anybody else?
Before she had chance to pull away again he wrapped her legs around his waist and hauled her to him. Not close enough to touch. Not quite. But close enough to feel her heat. And close enough for all that delicious need to pool between them.
She braced her hands on his shoulders but neither pushed him away nor pulled him closer, as if she was engaging in an internal battle as fierce as his own had been moments earlier. And when she finally spoke, her voice caught in her throat; breathier, hoarser than he knew she would have preferred.
A lick of triumph ran through him. Almost visceral.
‘What are you doing, Liam?’
‘Such a redundant question,’ he murmured, letting his words skim her silky, wet shoulders while taking care to hold himself still and not to move against her, even as every fibre of his being ached to do that.
Giving her chance to... He didn’t know what.
‘You made it abundantly clear to me that you didn’t want this.’
Her voice sounded thick, choked. He found he rather liked it.
‘I think we both know we want this,’ he murmured. ‘We just don’t want to want it. But maybe I’m tired of fighting. Maybe I just want to give in to it for once.’
‘Maybe I want that, too,’ she breathed.
And, still, she didn’t move. If anything, Liam fancied that she held herself impressively still, as if to avoid breaking the perceived fragility of the moment.
For several long moments neither of them spoke. The only sounds were those of the birds flying overhead and the water shushing onto the shore behind them.
And still he resisted the waves’ movements as they rocked Talia’s luscious body against his. Her breasts, as full and perfect as he remembered, brushed tantalising over his chest, but he refused to allow contact any lower. Not yet. Though it was nearly killing him not to do so.
‘I want to hear the words, Talia,’ he growled eventually. ‘After the other night, I find I need to hear you say that you want it.’
‘Is that so?’ she muttered.
He felt frayed. His self-control shredded. Reaching out, he wound a coil of deep black hair around his finger and tugged gently. A tiny gesture he didn’t like to admit he’d missed over the past three years. Her sigh was involuntary and instantaneous.
Liam reached for another glorious curl, taking his time. Playing with her. Toying, one might say. She was getting as tightly wound as his hair around her finger, he could feel it in every roll of her body.
With a careful movement, he allowed one hand to sweep over her. Down that uncommonly toned, impossibly soft, expanse of back that he could picture as though even through his very fingertips.
‘Liam...’ she sighed.
‘The words, Talia.’