pirates or critters lying in wait for her inside. She wanted a bath and the music on and set about making it happen.
The bathroom in this place had been a glorious surprise.
Sunken bath with floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. These windows actually had pull-down blinds attached to them; she’ddrawn them down before when bathing but not tonight.
Tonight, she wanted the candles around the bath lit, and the stars shining down on her and a glass of wine by her elbow as she shed her clothes and stepped into the water.
Sensation to replace the memory of Seb’s hands on her, and his mouth. Of her mouth on him, and the gentleness in him and the strength. As far as lessons went it had been a doozy. As far as lovemaking was concerned, it had been a revelation.
She wasn’t a wanton, never had been before.
And, yes, there was probably an element of pent-up longing for a lover’s touch in her response to him. Frustration, even.
But no amount of pent-up longing or frustration had ever driven her to the actions she’d taken on this island. The flirting and the cajoling. The lusting.
The begging.
She reached for the soap gel and began applying it liberally to her arms. Cinnamon and ginger, old-spice and cloves. A masculine scent but she wanted it on her, and she wondered, with the stroke of her fingers along flesh, what Sebastian was doing right now and whether he was showering and what hemight be stroking and how hard and how fast, and she closed her eyes and gave herself over to that image very readily, while the water lapped around her and the smell of cinnamon filled the air.
He would give himself over to a shower with the same pleasure he gave himself to the ocean, and the water would stream down his body and find all the valleys as he’d unerringly found hers.
Experience: she wanted it, craved it, but it wasn’t
just
a desire to get laid that had Poppy coming apart beneath Sebastian’s touch.
It was him.
‘Call her back to London,’ Seb told his brother the minute Tom answered the phone. He’d lifted weights. He’d had a shower. He had a cunning plan.
‘And good morning to you too,’ uttered the wise arse cheerfully. ‘What’s she done now?’
‘She’s driving me insane. And I think she’s a virgin.’
‘What?’
‘Innocent. Untouched.’ Mostly untouched, he amended silently. He still hadn’t broken anything. Yet. ‘You want a dictionary? And do you
have
to sound just like her?’
‘I don’t sound anything like her,’ saidTomas. ‘Clearly you’re imagining things. Has she finished her work yet?’
‘I don’t
know.
How would I know?’
‘You seem to know plenty about the state of her hymen,’ muttered Tomas. ‘Call it a foolish assumption.’
‘She’s not my type,’ said Seb.
‘You have a type?’
‘Yes, and she’s not it!’
‘In that case, what’s your problem?’
Seb didn’t
know
what his problem was. But he did know it started and ended with Poppy West. ‘Just call her back to work. Make her leave. That’s all I ask.’
‘I can’t. There’s nothing that would make her come back. Not before she finishes with the code she’s running.’
‘No one’s that work driven.’
‘She’s not. This job’s personal. Poppy needs to finish it. For her sake, and for her brother’s.’
Silence from Seb.
‘You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?’ asked Tom.
More silence from Seb.
‘Would it do any good whatsoever to suggest you at least get to
know
Poppy before you bed her?’
‘That’s what I told
her
,’ he replied curtly.
‘Fall in love first, I told her. Not that she
listens.
She does not listen. She’s a terrible student.’
This time the silence belonged to Tom. ‘Student?’ he enquired warily.
‘I’m teaching her how to fish.’
‘Ah.’
Silence from them both.
‘You know, you really could use a break from the island,’ said Tom.
That did it.
‘
Then
get your lily arse over here so I can leave!
’
‘Whatever it is
The bathroom in this place had been a glorious surprise.
Sunken bath with floor-to-ceiling windows on three sides. These windows actually had pull-down blinds attached to them; she’ddrawn them down before when bathing but not tonight.
Tonight, she wanted the candles around the bath lit, and the stars shining down on her and a glass of wine by her elbow as she shed her clothes and stepped into the water.
Sensation to replace the memory of Seb’s hands on her, and his mouth. Of her mouth on him, and the gentleness in him and the strength. As far as lessons went it had been a doozy. As far as lovemaking was concerned, it had been a revelation.
She wasn’t a wanton, never had been before.
And, yes, there was probably an element of pent-up longing for a lover’s touch in her response to him. Frustration, even.
But no amount of pent-up longing or frustration had ever driven her to the actions she’d taken on this island. The flirting and the cajoling. The lusting.
The begging.
She reached for the soap gel and began applying it liberally to her arms. Cinnamon and ginger, old-spice and cloves. A masculine scent but she wanted it on her, and she wondered, with the stroke of her fingers along flesh, what Sebastian was doing right now and whether he was showering and what hemight be stroking and how hard and how fast, and she closed her eyes and gave herself over to that image very readily, while the water lapped around her and the smell of cinnamon filled the air.
He would give himself over to a shower with the same pleasure he gave himself to the ocean, and the water would stream down his body and find all the valleys as he’d unerringly found hers.
Experience: she wanted it, craved it, but it wasn’t
just
a desire to get laid that had Poppy coming apart beneath Sebastian’s touch.
It was him.
‘Call her back to London,’ Seb told his brother the minute Tom answered the phone. He’d lifted weights. He’d had a shower. He had a cunning plan.
‘And good morning to you too,’ uttered the wise arse cheerfully. ‘What’s she done now?’
‘She’s driving me insane. And I think she’s a virgin.’
‘What?’
‘Innocent. Untouched.’ Mostly untouched, he amended silently. He still hadn’t broken anything. Yet. ‘You want a dictionary? And do you
have
to sound just like her?’
‘I don’t sound anything like her,’ saidTomas. ‘Clearly you’re imagining things. Has she finished her work yet?’
‘I don’t
know.
How would I know?’
‘You seem to know plenty about the state of her hymen,’ muttered Tomas. ‘Call it a foolish assumption.’
‘She’s not my type,’ said Seb.
‘You have a type?’
‘Yes, and she’s not it!’
‘In that case, what’s your problem?’
Seb didn’t
know
what his problem was. But he did know it started and ended with Poppy West. ‘Just call her back to work. Make her leave. That’s all I ask.’
‘I can’t. There’s nothing that would make her come back. Not before she finishes with the code she’s running.’
‘No one’s that work driven.’
‘She’s not. This job’s personal. Poppy needs to finish it. For her sake, and for her brother’s.’
Silence from Seb.
‘You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?’ asked Tom.
More silence from Seb.
‘Would it do any good whatsoever to suggest you at least get to
know
Poppy before you bed her?’
‘That’s what I told
her
,’ he replied curtly.
‘Fall in love first, I told her. Not that she
listens.
She does not listen. She’s a terrible student.’
This time the silence belonged to Tom. ‘Student?’ he enquired warily.
‘I’m teaching her how to fish.’
‘Ah.’
Silence from them both.
‘You know, you really could use a break from the island,’ said Tom.
That did it.
‘
Then
get your lily arse over here so I can leave!
’
‘Whatever it is
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