come you got your own space, new boy?’ she whispered.
‘Charm.’ He grinned.
The cabin was basic. Just a narrow single bed and side table, wardrobe and chest of drawers. They both sat on the bed and Bradley twisted the top off a beer and handed it to her.
‘So tell me, Sasha Sinclair,’ he said with a smile. ‘What are you doing all alone by the boathouse when everyone else is having a great time on the beach?’
She shrugged and looked away. She knew it was wrong to be here, but this boy was looking at her as if he desired her.
‘Where’s your glamorous boyfriend?’ he persisted.
‘You tell me,’ she huffed.
‘Uh-oh,’ he said. ‘Lovers’ tiff?’
‘More like my boyfriend just doesn’t appreciate me.’
‘How does that happen with someone as beautiful as you?’
It was cheesy and transparent, but Sasha liked hearing the flattery nonetheless. She could see pure sexual attraction in his eyes, whereas Miles looked at her like she was an embarrassment. A wave of defiance surged up in her. Miles had behaved disgracefully this evening; all holiday in fact. How dare he? Sasha Sinclair was the most popular girl at Danehurst, she had an Elan Models contract, and one day the whole world would know her name. Fuck Miles, fuck them all.
‘Hey, what have you done to your cheek?’ she asked, lifting a finger to touch the red mark.
‘Just a burn. Don’t touch it.’ He caught hold of her finger, then held it, looking at her for a long exquisite second. Up close, he was even better-looking, with thick lashes, and lips the colour of Scottish raspberries. Looking back later at what little she could remember of the evening, she could never pinpoint why suddenly, as if someone had flicked a switch, she was kissing him; softly at first, getting deeper and harder, so their teeth clinked, tongues tasting lipstick and beer.
Bradley drew away, looking stunned, anxious, elated, then taking her face in his hands he kissed her more softly, as if every taste was like nectar. Sasha felt a shiver of anticipation as a sense of danger rippled through her. Miles had never taken his time in their love-making; he always seemed keen to get it over with. Gently, Bradley lowered her down on to the narrow bed. He was firm but unhurried, discovering her kiss by kiss, his urgent breath in her ear, his warm lips on her cheek, her throat. Without thinking, fuelled by anger and desire, she pulled her dress over her head and unclasped her bra. He paused for a moment to take in her naked breasts, ripe and full, cupping them in his hands, then lowered his lips to taste each beige nipple in turn, sucking, savouring them as they grew hard and swollen in his mouth. His need was turning her on and she tugged off his T-shirt, grazing his chest with her long nails. Unlike Miles’ slim, effete limbs, Bradley’s arms were thick and strong from lugging boats and pulling ropes, his hands rough on her tanned skin. Unbuttoning his shorts, she pulled them off over his thighs. He had a tattoo of the sun on his hip-bone which she stroked with her fingertip.
She reclined on her back. His tongue connected with her belly, heading down towards her navel as her spine rose in an arc. She moaned as his thumbs peeled down her thong, spreading her legs as he pushed two fingers inside her, in, out, in sweet rhythm.
She groaned as his mouth swept down over her damp pubic hair and as his tongue connected with her clitoris, pleasure pulsed around her body with an intensity she had never before experienced.
Miles never did this. Never.
His cock was inside her now, pushing into her with hard strokes, his eyes shut tight, his hands clenching and rucking the sheets. He was fit, keen, hungry. Her arms flung behind her head, she spread her legs wider and felt him slide so far into her, so deep, she felt as if she might tear in two.
As the tense block of pressure in her belly slowly released, she grabbed his hair and screamed out, ‘Yes, yes. Yes!’ Oh God, this is what great sex feels like. And then it was over, his spent body buckling and then collapsing on to hers. Her tawny flesh glistening with sweat, she lay back on the mattress trying to catch her breath, and as the passion subsided, reality rushed back in.
Underneath her thighs a damp patch on the sheet felt ice-cold against her skin. What had she just done?
Miles Ashford was her boyfriend. He was one of the world’s most eligible bachelors; had she thrown away a life of luxury for a quick fuck with a boat boy? A quick fuck without a condom. Where the hell was she supposed to get the morning-after pill on a private island?
‘I’d better get back,’ she said.
‘So soon?’ His fingers touched her bare back and she flinched. Naked, she felt more than just exposed, she felt vulnerable.
‘I’ll be missed,’ she said, picking up her Dior bra, part of a set that Miles had bought her for Christmas.
Sasha’s back was towards Bradley as she hurriedly dressed, but she could feel his eyes on her. Finally she smoothed down her dress and glanced at him. Her head was spinning. ‘You’re not going to say anything about this, are you?’
He paused for a moment. ‘Who to?’
‘To Miles, to anyone,’ she said, her heart pounding in panic.
Bradley just stared at her.
‘Well?’ Her tone was brusque and irritable and she immediately regretted it. She was usually so expert at manipulating men, but right now she was spooked, nervous. She knew she had made a mistake that could cost her dear. She wasn’t used to being on the back foot.
‘What’s the matter?’ she said, turning towards him. ‘Why aren’t you saying anything?’