Bedroom Seductions: Two Weeks in the Magnate's Bed

How could she relax when he was stroking her flesh, his strong hands splaying over her back, her defences unravelling as fast as her muscles unwound?

His fingers kept snagging the tie of her bikini bra, though she didn’t dare suggest he undo it. That would be her final undoing. She might be immune to his charms, but her body, long neglected, was enjoying this way too much.

‘Why don’t you turn over, and I’ll do your front too?’

Just like that, her muscles twanged back to tense. The thought of him rubbing her stomach sent heat surging to her cheeks.

‘Not a good idea.’

She flipped onto her back and held out her hand for the tube.

‘Why not?’

‘Because I’m perfectly capable of rubbing lotion onto my tummy.’

His eyes glittered and she shivered at their taunting glint. ‘But where’s the fun in that?’

Her skin prickled some more and she itched behind her ear.

‘Give me the tube.’

He held it overhead and waved it around. ‘Only if you ask nicely.’

Clenching her jaw, she stuck her hand under his nose. ‘Please.’

He chuckled, and dropped the tube into her palm. ‘Actually, it’ll probably be just as much fun watching you do it.’

‘Pervert.’

‘Just interested. But you already know that.’

His low, suggestive tone had her squeezing way too much lotion into her palm, and rather than taking her time to ensure she didn’t miss any spots she slapped the stuff onto her belly and made a few half-hearted circles before leaping from the sand.

‘Right. Hope that water’s warm.’

‘It’s perfect.’

His heated gaze slid over her before meeting hers and she bit the inside of her lip to stop it quivering. He totally unnerved her, from his roguish smile to the devilish glint in his eyes.

He was toying with her, she knew it, but with every compliment she let her guard down just that little bit more.

She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe he thought she was perfect. But she wasn’t a fool. Not anymore. Objectively, how could he find her less-than-a-handful breasts—another Jax-ism she hated—no waist to speak of, and thighs with the first hint of dimples perfect?

‘Oh-oh, you’ve got that serious look on your face. Come on—race you there!’

He flung the words over his shoulder and took off, tearing across the hot sand before she could move. By the time she’d caught up he’d dived into the water.

‘Not fair. You’ve got longer legs.’

‘Nothing wrong with your legs, from what I can see.’

Rolling her eyes, she waded into the cerulean lagoon, sighing at the blissful feel of the water.

‘Now, if you hold off on the flirting for just a few minutes, I might actually enjoy this swim.’

He pushed her head under water in response.

She spluttered and spat salt water as she surfaced, clawing at him, trying to return the favour, only to have him slip out of her grip.

‘You’re in trouble, sailor boy.’

They tumbled in the water for the next few minutes, arms and legs flailing wildly, laughing so hard she got a cramp.

She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun. Her long work hours weren’t conducive to play, and when she went to the beach at the weekend it was to swim for exercise rather than leisure.

When they finally emerged, she clutched her side. ‘You’ve given me a stitch.’

‘Good. I’ve never seen you laugh like that.’

He touched her cheek, a brief, fleeting glance that had her fingers digging painfully into her side to stop herself reaching up and touching the skin he just had.

‘That’s because you’re not that funny.’

‘Ouch.’

He laid both hands over his heart and she chuckled. ‘The day I wound that enormous ego of yours is the day I’ll go skinny-dipping in the Pacific Ocean.’

‘I’m wounded! I’m wounded!’

He fell to the sand in a pathetic heap, writhing as if he’d just been stung by a lethal jellyfish, and she laughed.

‘I’m going to dry off. When you’ve finished with the theatrics, I’ll see you up there.’

She pointed to the palm trees and headed off, ignoring his call of, ‘You’re no fun.’

She knew he’d meant it as a joke, a fly-away comment, but the words echoed as she towelled off.

She wasn’t fun—didn’t know how to have fun. Not when she’d spent her whole life trying to do the right thing.

Beth had once called her a nerd, and she’d shrugged, pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up her nose and scuffed her sensible shoes, agreeing with the assessment but hurt all the same.

Everyone saw her the same way: no fun. People at work, her cousin, even Zac—and while his opinion shouldn’t matter, considering she wouldn’t see him after the end of next week, it did. As he joined her, and she watched water droplets run in rivulets down his muscular torso as he bent to pick up his towel, she really, really wished her newfound confidence extended to having a little fun.

‘I’m just going to dry off in the sun for a while,’ she said. And blink away the sudden sting of tears for feeling inadequate and inexperienced and inept.

‘Don’t be too long. These UVs can seriously burn.’

She grabbed her towel and laid it on the sand a few feet away—an ill-chosen spot, considering she had a clear view of him stretched flat on his back—his long, lean body, his abdominals composed of ridges of hard muscle…