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"Yes." But not while looking at a woman like her. I don't think there are any other women like her, anyway.
She takes a dainty sip, peering at me over the rim of her glass. "Wouldn't you like to know my name?"
I want that more than she could possibly know, but it's a ruddy awful idea. "That's not necessary. I'm leaving early in the morning, and we'll never see each other again. I'd rather not know too much about you."
"Uh-huh." She taps her fingernail on her glass, studying me with squinted eyes. "I've never slept with a guy without knowing at least his first name."
I lied, of course. I want to know everything about this woman, but getting to know her would only complicate things. My life has no room for dating. Work is all I have time for. And if I know her name, I have a feeling it will be even more difficult to walk away in the morning.
My life has become complicated enough already.
The bikini-clad goddess tosses back her entire glassful of champagne. She shudders, then laughs. "I like drinking bubbly your way. It makes me tingly all over."
Though my mouth opens, I can't speak. Champagne makes her tingly all over? I can see her stiff nipples poking through her bikini top. I love those breasts. I imagine cradling one in my palm and wonder if it will fit perfectly. After the way she shuddered from drinking "bubbly," I want to close my mouth around her nipple and make her shiver for a different reason.
"Enough champagne," I say, snatching her glass away and setting both flutes on the floor. "Where should we shag first?"
"Good thing for you I know what 'shag' means to a Brit, or I might think you're inviting me to install wall-to-wall carpeting for you."
"Carpeting?"
"Yeah. Shag is a type of carpet fiber."
"Oh. Yes, I know." But looking at her scrambles my brain. I should try to unscramble my thoughts, but I don't want to. Responsibility has been my primary concern for as long as I can remember, but it's gotten me precisely nowhere. Successful in business, yes. Well, mostly. Successful in the rest of my life? Not at all. Tonight, with this woman, I want to behave like an unrepentant rake.
I slip an arm under her shirt to encircle her waist, tugging her into my body. "I meant that I want to make love to you, so where should we start? The bed seems awfully prosaic."
She glances around, her bottom lip caught between her teeth. Then she leans into me, spreading her palms over my chest, the warmth of them penetrating my shirt. "Out there. On one of those chairs."
"Where?"
"Right over there, on the patio." She peels one hand away from me to point toward the pair of chaises that occupy the patio. "Out in the open. I've never done anything like that before. Isn't this what tropical vacations are for? Getting wild and dirty? I hope so, because I really want that."
So do I. With her.
"The patio it is," I say, and I strip off my clothes in record time, digging a condom packet out of my trouser pocket. I'd bought a box of those this afternoon too.
My dirty angel pushes the see-through shirt off her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. She kicks off her sandals. "Would you like to undress me, or should I do it?"
Fuck, I want to strip her naked. To touch her. To taste her.
I slide my arms under hers and take hold of the bow that keeps her bikini top in place. While I untie it, she gazes up at me with a dreamily lustful expression that sends what little blood I have left in my brain rushing down to my cock. I undo the smaller bow that secures the strap behind her neck, and the top flutters down to join her shirt on the floor.
She molds her body to mine, those breasts mounding against my chest. "I want you, mystery man."
And I want her, but my voice has stopped working again. Two more quick movements and I've undone the strings on her bikini bottom, then I grasp the fabric and tear it off her body, tossing it away.
I guide her out onto the patio, stopping near the two chaises.
"Lie down," she says. Then she leans in and purrs, "Please."
How can I resist her? I can't, so I stretch out on the chaise.
The naked goddess kneels over me, straddling my thighs. "Condom?"
I suddenly realize I'm clutching the condom packet in my hand. I'd forgotten I even had the ruddy thing, but I thank heaven I held on to enough of my wits to remember we need protection. I raise the packet. "Here it is. Give me a minute to get it on."
She snatches the packet away and holds it between two fingers, wiggling them at me. "Let me do it for you."
