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CHAPTER 19
Lying in a cramped space with two soft breasts squished against your back was not recommended for getting a decent night’s sleep.
And, he realised as he cracked open an eye as the early light of dawn crept through the windows, it was no longer raining.
He sighed, looked down at the slender hand draped over his hip, the fingertips so close to his groin that his cock obligingly hardened.
He smiled inwardly. Was this what a missed adolescence did for you?
He’d never felt so wild and untamed. So sexually free. But he’d dropped the thought that he was a neanderthal. A man and a woman coming together in mutual consent for acts that he’d once have considered crude or disrespectful wasn’t wrong. It wasn’t something to feel guilty about. It was empowering for both parties. Mind-blowing.
In fact, this whole experience was leading him to question so many of his long-held beliefs and expectations about love.
When he’d met Leonie five years ago, his books and seminars were already attracting media attention and he was on his way to becoming this trendy financial whiz. And when the beautiful Sydney socialite so clearly adored him, Oliver had truly believed he’d reached the pinnacle. Never questioned it. Together, they were splashed across the social pages, and the seminars and engagements started to flood in. And yeah, he’d gotten wealthy, had been looking forward to buying the big house in the eastern suburbs or maybe up the north coast overlooking Pittwater. Marrying his dream woman and, of course, having a raft of kids running around the place.
Something twanged inside him.
Being here, with Felicity spooned against him, had never been in the game plan and he had no idea where it was heading. And not having a plan unnerved him. And yet… the vision of her slender arm draped over him with its dusting of golden freckles filled him with such a sense of belonging he could barely breathe.
Okay, so this wasn’t part of the plan, but itwasgood—fantastic in fact. Further than that, he didn’t need to contemplate. It was finite, of course it was. Limited by her flight back to the UK. Common sense would prevail, and they’d go back to their own worlds. The thought ought to fill him with relief, because they’d definitely drive each other nuts after a few weeks. They couldn’t even agree on how to pack a suitcase, so how would they fare if they tried to take it further?
A relationship was impractical, they lived on opposite sides of the world.
Yep. This was an unexpected—and beautiful—interlude. He just needed to accept it for what it was.
Oliver sighed. Looked down at her hand, the fingers furled so close to his…No! Do not give in to temptation.It was morning, it had stopped raining and it was time to retrieve his trampled tent and pack it away. Properly, otherwise the darn thing would stink to high heaven.
Reluctantly, he removed her hand and she stirred and murmured into his shoulder, her breath gossamer soft against his skin. The temptation intensified to just turn to her and start where they’d left off.
Instead, he got up and quietly put on his clothes before he woke her.
A cup of tea and a bowl of cereal each—and maybe a couple of lingering kisses while they packed up—and they hopped into their respective seats. A long day stretched ahead of them, but as the sun came out, the bush appeared bright-eyed and bushy tailed to match the mood in the Shaggin’ Wagon.
They both agreed simultaneously (and maybe a bit too eagerly) that they’d stay in a motel tonight to let their equipment dry out. Streaky Bay looked like a good spot to stop, Felicity said after surveying Google maps. Their eyes met, an unmistakable moment of intensity passing between them.
Inside his pants, Oliver felt his cock twitch.
Because Streaky Bay was a town. Towns had shops. Shops sold condoms.
When they stopped off at the servo at Cocklebiddy all there was to eat was a sausage roll and a wrinkled Mrs Mac’s pie in the food warmer. Oliver asked if there was anywhere more, you know,gourmet, and the taciturn guy muttered, “Try the Oyster Barn in Ceduna, mate.” To which Felicity protested, “No way. Urgh!”
Oliver kept quiet but half an hour down the road, when a sign appeared for the Oyster Barn, he asked, “Have you ever actually eaten an oyster?”
Felicity was driving, her eyes pinned to the road, no doubt still worried about bowling down kangaroos even though on this end of the highway there was far less carnage. Maybe the roos in South Australia were more street-wise. “No, they look so slimy and like… boogers to be honest.”
“You’re missing a treat.”
She shook her head, her mouth puckered. “How are you supposed to do it? Chew or swallow?”
“A bit of both.”
She arched her brows at him and Oliver felt a flush of pure lascivious pleasure in response. “Come on, stop the van,” he ordered. “We’re doing this.”
“Please don’t make me!”
After a few minutes of laughing and carrying on, he took her by the hand and tugged her out of the Shaggin’ Wagon.
The Oyster Barn was hardly a barn. More like a hut with picnic tables covered in plastic checked tablecloths. But the service was friendly, and now the sun was blazing down, the ocean across the highway was once again brilliant azure.
