They drove onto the floor of the crater, stood up in the roofless Jeep to get a better view of the abundance of animals. In the magnificence she forgot her fight with him—and herself.
‘What’s your inner beast, Seb? Lion? Oh, no, I know.’ She smiled sweetly. ‘Cheetah.’
He shot her a look. ‘No. Elephant.’
‘What,’ she asked innocently, ‘because of your big trunk?’
‘Thanks for the compliment, sweetheart, but no. My memory. I might not have known much about you, Ana, but what I did learn I’ve never forgotten.’ He leaned and whispered into her ear. ‘I remember what you like. I remember how you like it—how fast, how deep, how often.’
Desire gushed into her belly at his boldness. Knew it was payback for her heeled-shoes moment.
‘You know what kind of animal you are?’ He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
‘Don’t you dare say giraffe.’ She reminded herself to breathe.
‘Wouldn’t dream of it.’ His eyes gleamed. ‘I was thinking more along the lines of a gazelle.’
And she was in trouble again when he looked at her like that. ‘You’ve got to be kidding.’ She was a giraffe—all tall angles and gangly. Not remotely like one of those nimble, petite, pretty things.
‘No, I mean it. Jumpy.’ He seemed to be closer still. ‘Skittish. Takes fright.’
‘I don’t take fright.’ She inched back further against the hard railing of the Jeep.
‘Yes, you do,’ he said softly. ‘That’s OK. I’m patient enough to stalk my prey.’
She refused to be his prey. ‘Elephants are vegetarians.’
‘Well, then, I guess I must really be a lion.’
Ana lifted her chin. ‘Actually more often it’s the lioness who hunts.’
‘Really? Go on, then,’ he murmured. ‘Show me your claws.’
She pulled the last millimetre she could away.
‘See. I was right first time.’ Somehow he took up even more of the cramped space. ‘A little, jumpy gazelle.’
She sucked her tummy in and spun on the spot, turned her back to him to lean forward over the rail, determinedly focused on the view. No more verbal sparring—he always seemed to win.
She breathed in the sights: the flamingos in the distance on the lake, the hippos hanging out in the water, the hyenas creepily stalking around. And he seemed to let it lie. Pointed out shots for her, took pictures of her. Grinned with her when they found the lion, stretched in the shade, who didn’t seem to care about the humans standing up in the open-topped Jeep with their cameras clicking like crazed paparazzi. She couldn’t believe she was so close to it, and her heart stopped completely when a cub came into view with its mother.
‘Look, Seb!’ she whispered, turning to make sure he’d seen.
He wasn’t looking at the animals. He was looking at her with the fierce stillness and concentration of a hunter. But it wasn’t the animals in danger.
‘Are you taking anti-malaria pills?’ she asked curtly. ‘I’m thinking you might be running a fever or something. You have this glazed look.’
He reached out and put the back of his hand against her brow. ‘But you’re the one looking hot.’
She ducked back out of the way. ‘There’s no cure for you, is there?’
He grimaced. ‘Apparently not.’
Seb sat squashed up to her for all the horrendous drive past the campsite of the previous night, and all the way back to the snake park where the truck was waiting. Hours of driving and having his length pressed to her. The frustration was going to be the death of him. Hard up against his body he could feel each ragged inhalation as she tried to regulate her breathing. She strained back from him. Looking down, he could see the outline of her nipples pointing up at him through the thin stretchy bikini top. He could see every little indentation of what he knew were deliciously large areolae, and the tight hard nubs that he ached to nibble on.
Desire surged through him, it had been so damn long. And he knew she felt it too—they were dancing around it, moving ever closer with words and looks.
But they weren’t suited. He’d never forget the hurt in her face when she’d asked him if he’d only married her to get his partnership. What had she thought? That it was true love? OK, yeah, she had thought that. But while they’d been having a wild and fabulous fling, that was all it was. He’d been blinded by lust—both for her and for his promotion—and the marriage had just been an opportunity to secure them—for a while at least. But as if he really believed in it? He spent his life finalising the end for so many marriages she couldn’t have thought he’d meant it—it had been for his work. And his own parents had taught him time and time again how easily such vows were broken and forgotten. But she hadn’t known about that, had she? He hadn’t told her a thing about himself.