ROXIE breathed deep and smiled—to keep her good vibe even. She knew all about laughter therapy—that if you were down, even just putting on a smile lifted your mood up a few notches. Not that she was down, of course. No way could any kind of sadness sink her now—after all, she’d gotten what she’d wanted. The most incredible experience. Now it was finished and that was fine. She wasn’t going to fall for him. No, if anything, what she felt was gratitude. He’d given everything she’d ever wanted—fun, courtesy, ecstasy. She knew it all now. And sure, she could see why some girls went crazy for the guy who gave that kind of absolute joy. But she wasn’t going to lose it.
Having said that, it had to be a one-time-only. Once definitely had to be enough. And honestly it was—she was so exhausted she could hardly move. No way could she manage a replay anyway. She stepped out of her hot shower and pulled on a fresh tee shirt. She curled up on her camp bed, pulling her pillow under her cheek, and relaxed as tiredness overwhelmed her. Tiredness and satisfaction—that tiny hint of forlorn determinedly forgotten. She forced herself to focus on upcoming European destinations. But as she drifted to sleep it was him she dwelt on—his smile, his tease, the comfort of his arms.
‘Roxie.’
She moaned and rolled over. Dreaming of him, of the way he’d groaned her name as he’d surged inside her.
‘Roxie!’
Okay, he didn’t usually shout like that—not in her dreams.
‘Open the damn door!’
She pushed her hair back from her face, blinking rapidly to try to bring her brain back from the sensually charged sleep state it had been in the last couple of hours. She stumbled to the door.
‘Is everything okay?’ he asked as soon as she opened it. ‘I’ve been knocking for ages.’
He was wearing shorts and a fitted tee and had clearly been out running. She could hardly drag her eyes up to his face. Her dreams broke their boundaries, sending images—some real memories, some utter fantasies—scrolling through her mind. All involving him without those shorts.
‘Sure,’ she mumbled. ‘I was sleeping.’
She looked into his face; his eyes were focused on her and a heavy frown had obliterated his earlier satisfied expression.
‘Is there something you wanted?’ Her question trailed off. There was something going on with her body; she could feel it priming again. She breathed in, her senses filled with nothing but him—his height, his scent, the harsh sound from his throat as he’d hit his release. She squeezed her pelvic floor muscles to try to stop the melting sensation. It only made it worse.
‘You were really asleep?’ The dark centres of his eyes swelled.
‘Sure,’ she said, starting to laugh. ‘I was tired—it was a late night.’
‘You’ve really been asleep this whole time?’
‘Well, I had a shower …’ She stepped back as he pushed past her and hunched down by her bar fridge. He drew out the bottle with the V marked on it.
‘Why didn’t you come back here this morning and have a champagne brunch to celebrate your new non-virgin status?’ Now he had the smile on—that rakish one.
‘I was waiting to have it with dinner tonight.’ Truthfully she’d forgotten about it. ‘But maybe I’ll open it now.’
Her mouth was so dry, the drink would help. She held out her hand for it.
‘You know, you don’t deserve it yet.’ He stood and held the bottle out of reach.
‘I’m no longer a virgin, Gabe, as I do believe you know.’ She couldn’t resist the husky reminder.
‘I disagree.’
She gaped at him. ‘Tell me I didn’t dream it.’
‘No,’ he chuckled. ‘But there are so many ways in which you are still a virgin. So you’ve had a little vanilla sex. Missionary style. Shouldn’t you be trying out all the options?’
‘What other options did you have in mind?’ Fascinated, she moved closer.
‘Strikes me you have an interesting mind of your own, Roxie. What have you thought about?’
The heat flushed through her body. She didn’t know if she should answer that.
His eyes gleamed and he leaned closer so they were almost, almost touching. ‘Don’t try and tell me you haven’t thought about a few things.’
Okay, so it was going to be more than once. He was right, there was a lot she’d yet to experience. And she wanted to try it all with him.
‘You might regret asking this,’ she breathed. ‘Because the whole time you’ve been out exercising, I’ve been sleeping. You might not have the stamina to keep up with me.’
‘Somehow I think I’ll cope.’ He swallowed. ‘So you want to investigate this further?’
‘There isn’t a “this” between us.’ There couldn’t be. She was free; that was the whole point.
‘No, I meant your sensual nature. Don’t you want to explore that some more?’
Oh, she did. She really, really did. With him.
‘And which was more fun?’ he asked. ‘The fantasy or the reality?’
‘This is all a kind of fantasy,’ she said honestly.
‘Okay.’ He nodded. ‘But while you can pretend your hands are mine, there are a couple of things you need me in the flesh for, right?’
Oh, yeah, she needed that flesh. Badly. She moved another step towards him. ‘I’m going away at the end of the season.’
‘We’ll be done before then anyway. Easy, right?’
‘Really easy.’ Oh, just so easy, so nothing more.
He walked closer to meet her. ‘So what other ways, Roxie? Standing, sitting, doggy, on a table, in the shower?’
‘Reverse cowgirl.’
‘What?’
‘Reverse cowgirl.’
A distracted look crossed his face. ‘Sure, that too.’
‘Shall we draw up a list?’ ‘Cos she had a large number of ideas in her head already.
‘By all means write up a list. So long as I can add to it. Hold this.’ He thrust the bottle into her hands then swooped and picked her up. She giggled as he strode out of her little flat, down the stairs, not stopping ‘til he’d barged into his own bedroom. ‘And there has to be some room for spontaneity.’
It seemed sometim
es spontaneity involved a champagne shower.
When Gabe woke the next morning—alone—he spotted a single sheet of paper Blu-Tacked to the wall. On it was a neatly written list. Bullet points and everything. He both blushed and chuckled as he read it. Seemed Roxie had a flair for fantasy—or had some tantric sex manual stashed somewhere, because even he wasn’t sure what she meant by some of those suggestions. But, man, was he happy at the thought of finding out. On the negative side, it meant his day at the stadium dragged unbelievably slowly.
She was in the garden when he got home. But he thought he should try to hold off for at least five minutes, to prove to himself that he could more than anything. He made a show of looking at the ridiculously huge, abundant green garden, trying not to explode at the way she stroked his chest in explicit welcome.
‘You have enough vegetables here to feed the team three times over,’ he said.
Roxie gave the beds a fleeting glance, really not caring about them that second. ‘There’s not that many. I can eat a lot.’
She saw him glance over her sceptically.
‘When you only eat plant, you eat a lot of plant,’ she pointed out.
‘Is now a bad time to admit that I come from generations of farmers? With several farms. Beef, dairy and sheep.’ He even looked sheepish as he said it.
‘Meat central, huh?’ She shrugged. ‘I guess we do live in New Zealand—fifty sheep per person and all that.’
He chuckled. ‘I don’t think it’s that many. And I didn’t follow the plan, did medicine instead. That make me more acceptable?’
Oh, the man was so much more than acceptable. But she couldn’t afford to admit that, and his ego didn’t need fattening. ‘Marginally.’
‘Marginally?’ He looked affronted. ‘Doctors save lives.’