One Summer At The Beach: Pleasured by the Secret Millionaire / Not-So-Perfect Princess / Wedding at Pelican Beach

Something important. Something useful. Something fulfilling. ‘I don’t know yet. Does it matter?’

‘Yes—to you. That’s what you’re looking for, isn’t it? A way to make your mark? Something positive.’

Too astute by half.

‘You’d make a good teacher,’ he persisted. ‘Teachers are really important.’

‘I know.’ She sighed. ‘You sound like my brother—actually he’s a builder, or was. Now he’s into commercial property development.’

‘Great.’

A bland response if ever there was one. But Sienna wanted to hone in on some commonality—wanting something to link them besides the physical ache for each other. And he was so damn reticent when it came to talking about himself. ‘You do residential property? People’s houses?’

‘Uh? Yeah.’ He looked away from her, down her legs again. ‘Tell me more about this list of yours. Is multiple orgasms on it?’

Rhys was still deep inside her, the overwhelming sensations still reverberating in his brain and body when she spoke.

‘What about you? You have some things you want to do before you die?’

‘I guess.’ He could die now a happy man. No. Correction. He needed to experience her softness again. It registered that he wasn’t going to be happy again until he’d had more of her. A lot more.

She’d said she wanted to live life in the moment—to make the most of it. He realised that he felt more alive when he was with her like this than he had done in years. She was more addictive than the most dangerous narcotic. The way she felt, the way she smelt, the sounds she made, the touch she gave. All combined to hit him with a natural high that he wanted again and again.

But it was just sex. He hadn’t focused like this in a while, that was all. Hadn’t lain in bed all night and half the day with a woman and done everything and anything on a whim.

But it wasn’t quite just sex. She was interesting. He was interested in learning more about her—and not just her body. She had a refreshing outlook, a different drive from other people he knew. She wanted to make the most of every moment. He wanted a piece of her attitude for himself. ‘I think we should trade.’

‘Hmm?’ She was drowsy, looking dazed and sleepy.

‘Something I want to do. Something you want to do.’ Hell, she wanted to frolic in a fountain. As if that’d be hard. But he could give her some challenges. He could set up some things she’d never forget. It seemed important she never forget because he had the discomforting feeling he’d never forget her. Never forget the moment he’d first laid eyes on her. Certainly never forget the moment his lips first got to touch hers. ‘Deal?’

The blue in her eyes deepened. ‘What kind of things?’

He shrugged. ‘All kinds of things. Like on your list. Let’s cross a few off this week.’

‘You want to trade items on our life to-do lists?’

He was intrigued to see colour flood into her cheeks. ‘Exactly.’ He raised a brow at her blush. ‘What do you say?’

‘Oka-a-ay. But I’m a tad nervous about what might be on your list.’

He laughed. ‘Nothing illegal, honey.’

CHAPTER EIGHT (#ulink_5ac63992-fafe-5e55-8a93-a305a95c63ad)

SIENNA woke early and found her body ached all over—serious workout stiffness. Rhys hadn’t been kidding when he’d suggested testing how much she was capable of. He’d pushed her to the edge and beyond.

A huge chunk of her loved the hedonism of it—her body revelling in the physical release. But inescapable thoughts niggled at her. There was a part of her searching for more. Wanting more from him.

A couple of times in the night he’d turned to her, saying nothing but taking her again with an almost desperate desire. As if he was seeking something from her, but she didn’t know what it was. She wished he’d open up. She was used to listening to people, getting their stories out, but he was that guarded, didn’t offer up a thing—not verbally. His actions told her. He drove inside her as if the physical satisfaction she gave pacified some other, deeper demon inside him.

She rolled over and watched him sleeping. His expression was relaxed, dark lashes curved on his cheek, his mouth soft and sensuous in repose. She was sure he had needs, certain he had hurts, but she couldn’t figure them out—couldn’t figure him out. She didn’t know if she was going to have time to. But she was damn well going to try.

He opened his eyes, looked about with a fidgety air that signalled he wasn’t quite a natural hedonist either. ‘We need to get out of this room.’ He threw back the sheet and slid from the bed. ‘Come on, we’ll come back and shower. Right now I’ve got something you’ve got to do at least once in life.’

She pulled on her skirt, then hunted for her tee—a crumpled mess half under the bed. With a grin Rhys handed her one of his shirts. The relaxed intimacy of his action made her gooey inside. She didn’t bother with a bra, just slipped a couple of buttons through. Suddenly not concerned about covering the scar. It was early, there’d be no one about and Rhys had seen it all. The loose cotton was cool and wearing his clothing made her feel sexy. His sparkling expression hinted he liked it too.

‘Let’s go before I get a better idea.’ He laughed and she felt freedom—to explore everything with him.

Barefoot, he led the way down the stairs. She watched, amused at his vitality and good humour. He grabbed a bag from the back of the reception counter—the light was on but for once it seemed Curtis wasn’t home. They snuck out across the quiet street and onto the beach.

She followed him across the sand. ‘What?’

‘Beach volleyball.’

‘Oh, no.’

‘The tiny bikini is not mandatory.’ He winked. ‘Well, it would be if this was our own private beach—actually then we’d be having a naturist tournament. Sadly, it’s not, and as you are is just fine.’

‘Rhys, I really suck with balls.’

He froze. Shot her a look. Started to laugh.

Fire-engine-red, she laughed too.

‘I have a feeling you’ll do just fine. Anyway, it’s early, no one’s around to watch.’

Yeah, just you. It was all right for him. She watched the way he bent and pulled a ball from the bag. He had effortless grace, natural style.

He tossed the ball from one hand to the other, obviously amused by her reluctance. ‘I thought you wanted to live now?’

She lunged for the ball as he threw it. ‘You were one of those guys who could do any sport, weren’t you? Rugby in the winter…’

‘Cricket in the summer.’ He laughed. ‘Basketball, swimming, sailing.’

‘And you were good all round.’ She retrieved the ball from where it had rolled along the sand, lobbed it back.

‘Excellent all round.’

She raised her brow.

He threw it back and spread his hands in mock humility. ‘Well, that is the family motto.’

‘You have a family motto?’

His humour dimmed and his grin became barely there. ‘Do the best, be the best—excellence all round.’

‘Wow.’