Seduction Read Free Page B

I nearly swore then; I was so unsettled by my inner struggle. ‘He’s still out on the boat,’ I groaned. ‘Oh God.’
    â€˜You can come over to my room while you’re waiting.’
    I rolled my eyes, trying to hide how rattled I was by the suggestion. ‘No. I need a shower. Oh, it’s so damn hot . . . And my swimming costume is inside so I can’t use the pool . . .’
    He shrugged. ‘Use my shower.’
    â€˜That’s . . . a really bad idea,’ I said with feeling.
    He laughed. ‘I promise I won’t join you unless you ask me. You trust me, don’t you?’
    I lifted my eyebrows without answering. It wasn’t him I mistrusted: oddly, I felt as if I knew him well enough, as if I’d known him for years. In fact it had been less than twenty-four hours.
    â€˜Aha.’ He looked both abashed and slyly flattered. ‘Well, you could always lock the door, you know. And if you don’t want a shower I’ve still got air-con and room service.’
    In the end I went with him to his apartment, which was the same style as ours, with a double bed and kitchen area and a sitting room. I did use his shower, and one of his pristine fluffy towels. I did bolt the bathroom door in fact, but very quietly, so as not to be insulting. And as I stood under the wonderful tepid downpour I kept an eye on the handle, wondering if he’d try it. The thing never twitched, and though I did think I heard his voice at one point, it was so faint it couldn’t have been meant for me.
    Towelling myself down, I felt considerably better for my wash but no less precarious in my virtue. I could just open the bathroom door, I told myself. I could walk out there naked and he’d take one look and throw me onto the bed and fuck my wet hole. I wondered what his cock would look like. He’d be circumcised, I assumed, being American. I wondered how big it would be. I wondered whether he liked to go on top or beneath, and pictured him gripping my ankles and pushing them back and wide as his big stiff cock pounded into my cunt. He’d go for the difficult, gymnastic positions, I thought.
    My freshly washed sex got a little less clean from the mental picture. I stood facing the door and just stared at it for a long, long time. To be honest, I think it was cowardice more than loyalty to Rhys that stopped me walking out there naked. I couldn’t bring myself to take such a huge decision, so I pulled my dress back on, wishing I had a clean change of clothes. I couldn’t bear to wear my sweaty bra and damp panties, though, so I stuffed them in the bottom of my bag.
    The air-conditioner had made a difference to the main room during my sojourn in the bathroom; it was pleasantly cool now. Marcus was sitting on the low divan couch, faced in traditional fabric, that dominated the sitting area of the apartment. Hewasn’t reading or watching the TV or anything, just cradling a whisky glass and waiting for me. He’d changed into a fresh shirt, though. He smiled warmly. ‘Drink?’
    â€˜Gin and tonic,’ I suggested. ‘Or – no, just some cold water. I’ve got a bit of a headache.’
    â€˜Oh? Not too bad I hope?’ he asked, hunting in the mini-bar.
    â€˜No, just from squinting in the sun. It was so bright out there.’
    â€˜I could give you a head-rub if you like,’ he offered. ‘I learned Indian massage a while back.’
    â€˜In an ashram?’
    He handed me my drink. ‘In Canberra. There wasn’t a lot else to do.’
    He wasn’t to know it, but he’d hit on my weakness. I love having my head massaged; it’s the next best thing to sex. So at his suggestion I sat down on the couch and he knelt up behind me to take my newly washed head in his hands and rub it. And he was very good indeed – patient, firm and skilled. He eased all the tightness from the back of my neck and pressed smooth my forehead