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‘That’s where you’re wrong.’
His hands cupping her face, he pinned her back against the wall and lowered his mouth to hers. She tasted every bit as sweet as he recalled, but this time it was laced with a hint of ferocity, as though heightened by the frustration of their last encounter. He caught her lower lip in his as her hands inched up his arms to rest on his shoulders, her body moulding itself to his despite the uniforms in the way.
This needed to stop. It wasn’t the way he wanted things to go between them.
She flicked her tongue over his.
With another groan Ash deepened the kiss, so long and deep that his only thought was that he could drown in her kisses and never want to come up for air. Heat licking over him, his hands glided up her body to rest at the underside of her breasts. He wanted to touch every incredible inch of her body, and have her touch every single inch of his.
As abruptly as he’d started it, Ash drew away, his voice rasping. ‘Now do you see that you’re the kind of woman who can drive a man wild with longing?’
Without another word, he hauled open the door and marched to his own room before temptation undermined him.
Closing the door, he leaned heavily on it.
This was no longer just a matter of a distraction from the blackness inside him. Or about getting past Fliss’s prickly armour. It was more than that. It had become a matter of exerting his own self-control. He wanted her with a need that actually scared him.
He couldn’t allow his emotions to rule him like that. If he could control the course of the evening, rein in his hunger for Fliss long enough to get through a date, then enjoy one incredible night with the woman before walking away and never looking back, then maybe he could indulge in his desire for her without losing his prized self-control.
He had to. If he didn’t, then stirring any emotions tonight could bring the whole lot crashing down.
CHAPTER SEVEN
FLISS SCREWED CLOSED the lid of her new mascara bottle with shaking hands as she checked her reflection in the mirror with a hesitant smile and tried to quell the rolling in her lower abdomen. An orchestra of crickets might as well have decamped in there. She rarely wore make-up, certainly never at work, but she’d found a few perfect supplies at the local market—not too much, but enough to enhance her sun-kissed glow—and couldn’t help wondering if Ash would like what he saw.
Logically, it shouldn’t matter; she’d learned a long time ago not to care what anyone thought. But nothing about Ash was what she was used to. Logic seemed to fly out of the window when he was around, as did practicality. She should have refused the moment he’d raised the idea of seeing the carnival. After the last couple of emotional weeks, it threatened to unearth things best left forgotten. Instead, she’d let Ash talk her into it.
She was acting on pure lust and complete gut instinct. It was absurd and it was terrifying.
And it was also intoxicating.
She couldn’t even remember when she’d last been excited about going on a date, let alone excited about getting ready to go on a date. She’d heard girls giggling about it over the years, but she’d never understood it. Until now. It was why she’d actually enjoyed spending a portion of her afternoon, when she would otherwise have preferred to be sleeping, going down to the local tourist market and uncovering unexpected treasures like the tiny pot of powder and brush, the subtly sparkling lipgloss and the wand of mascara. She’d even managed to squeeze in an appointment at the hotel’s hair salon. Elle would never have recognised her, but she could hear her friend’s approving voice in her ear, urging Fliss to just have fun for once.
Well, she definitely intended to do that.
Satisfied, she reached for her keycard and new clutch bag and then for the door handle.
It was ten to seven and she was going to be early—dating rules probably dictated that she shouldn’t be, but Fliss couldn’t help that. Punctuality was ingrained in her. She couldn’t change that now.
Taking every last ounce of confidence in her hands, she stepped out of the door and made her way to the lift. The last person she expected to see standing there was Ash, a crisp shirt doing little to conceal those broad shoulders or honed physique which had already marked him out as an eligible male within a contingent of the females down here. Somehow he managed to appear even more powerful and commanding than he did in his military uniform.
A hint of possessiveness shot through her, mingled with a pinch of smugness that she was the woman he was waiting for. But then her heart plummeted; he didn’t exactly look pleased to see her hurrying straight over to his corner.
Served her right for her hubris.
‘You’re early too.’ She nervously smoothed down her black jersey trousers to hide her unease.
The trousers might have been old but they were also comfy, flowing prettily around her legs. The perfect foil to her new, uncharacteristically sexy, cleavage-revealing halter-top, which she was suddenly thinking might be a little too nightclub for her.
‘Felicity—’ he looked genuinely thrown ‘—you look...incredible.’
With a start, Fliss realised that he hadn’t immediately recognised her, but now he had he treated her to a full, very heated appraisal, darkened eyes taking in the visual of head to toe, and everything in between.
Her confidence bounced back a little. He clearly liked what he saw but, when he hadn’t appreciated it was her, he hadn’t been about to flirt with the stranger heading in his direction. The crackle of crickets leapt around Fliss even more madly.
‘Your hair,’ he managed.
