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‘Now wait a minute...’ She paused, then jabbed her finger at the tinted glass with barely disguised delight. ‘There. Is that Hector’s?’
He knew the drive without even looking.
‘That’s Hector’s.’
‘Come on, then.’ She was out of the door the minute the car pulled up. ‘I reckon today might be the day for a little payback.’
He vaulted after her.
‘Payback, huh? Care to wager?’
‘How much?’
‘Not money. A forfeit.’
She wrinkled her nose.
‘What kind of forfeit?’
‘Winner gets to choose.’ He shrugged, striding ahead and slapping the money on the counter of a rather disinterested-looking young man.
‘Surely that’s not Hector?’ Archie whispered as they ducked through the paint-chipped turnstile.
He wasn’t fooled.
‘Changing the subject, Coates. Are you that doubtful about your crazy golf abilities?’
‘I am not.’ She selected her club and thrust her chin in the air. ‘Fine. A forfeit. Winner’s choice.’
In the event, the game was more fun than he had anticipated. Light relief after the tension. He’d never thought that revisiting any element of his past could ever be anything but painful, but he was beginning to understand that in his need to bury his childhood he had lost many happier times. Almost always concerning the Coates family, the way her father had taught him to be a man, or the way Robbie had shared everything with him, or the way Archie had treated him like another annoying big brother. They had made him feel like any other normal boy. A person, not an it.
All too soon, they were at the final obstacle, their game almost over, and Archie hadn’t been quite as appalling as he’d remembered.
Still, Kasper knew it was a mistake the moment he moved behind her, her back against his chest, his arms skating down the length of hers, her delicate hands under his, all under the pretext of holding the golf club with her and allowing her to help him make his winning shot.
Until that moment it had been a good game. Simple, uncomplicated fun, a round of crazy golf on a balmy afternoon. They had exchanged banter and laughed and she had teased him, coughing and doing funny dances to try to put him off his shots, like a grown-up version of the Little Ant he had known. Her ploy hadn’t worked, his shots had been true each time. But occasionally he’d pretended her antics had put him off, making some melodramatic mishit that had only made her laugh all the more.
A genuine, throw-her-head-back laugh, which was surpassed only by the vivid sparkle in her glorious eyes. The more she did so, the more he yearned to make her do it more. The intense pleasure it gave him to be the person making her so outwardly happy had taken him back, made him forget who or where he was. It seduced him into focussing on Archie and himself together, simply playing crazy golf. Like when they’d been young, carefree, their whole lives ahead of them.
She’d played well but he’d played better. Of course he had. Because everything in life was a competition for him. And yet, right at that moment, he’d wanted them both to take that winning shot. He’d invited her to join him and she, without even thinking about it, had skipped almost girlishly to comply.
The moment his body had touched hers everything changed. The innocence of the moment was gone, replaced instead by something far more charged. Far more sensual. Only then did Kaspar admit it had been there all afternoon. Simmering quietly. Just waiting to catch them unawares.
He should move back. But he couldn’t. He could barely even breathe. His head was over her shoulder, his cheek brushing her ear as they both stared at the ball. Archie’s own breathing was shallow, fast, although he knew she was trying to fight it, desperately struggling to control it. He could take the shot, pretend he didn’t feel what she felt. But he was powerless to move. Rooted where he stood.
He turned his head, so very, very slightly it should have been imperceptible. But Archie noticed. She knew. Her head mirrored his, and now their mouths were an inch apart and the beast inside him was roaring with the compulsion to close the gap. His body wanting her with the same ferocity it had all those months ago.
He had to walk away.
Now.
CHAPTER TEN
KASPAR DROPPED HIS head but misjudged it. Or rather he judged it perfectly, his lips skimming the bare skin just above the neckline of her T-shirt. Archie shivered and he was lost.
Before he could think once, let alone twice, Kaspar tilted his head and then they were kissing as she pressed her back into him, their hands still holding the grip of the golf club and his feet still positioned on either side of hers.
He drank her in, her taste, her feel, her scent every bit as perfect as the recollection imprinted on his brain, and yet also a hundred times better. He remembered kissing every inch of her skin, tracing it with his fingertip, his mouth, his tongue, and as his body tightened against Archie’s perfect bottom, she pushed back against him, then gentlest of moans reaching his ears.
