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Surely now...?
‘As enticing a prospect as that is, I think we’ll have breakfast first,’ Chase said, and Millie let out a huff of breath.
‘Stop reading my mind.’
‘It’s too easy. Every thought is reflected in your eyes.’
‘Not every thought,’ Millie objected. She knew she had some secrets and she wanted to keep it that way.
Didn’t she?
‘More than you think,’ Chase said softly, and he drew her towards him for a lingering kiss. It was the kind of kiss you had after you made love, slow and sated. It didn’t have the urgency she expected, that she felt. Because today was day three of her week’s holiday and since she’d met Chase time had started slipping by all too fast.
‘Soon,’ Chase murmured against her lips and she groaned.
‘Stop that.’
‘Actually, I think you kind of like it.’
She didn’t answer, because she knew he was right, even if the way he read her so easily was seriously annoying. She liked being known. ‘What are we doing today?’ she asked as she followed him out of the bedroom into the kitchen. Sunlight poured through the picture windows and Chase, still only wearing boxers, was reaching for the coffee grinder. Within seconds the wonderful aroma of freshly ground beans was wafting through the air.
‘I thought you could decide that,’ he said as he poured the ground beans into the coffee maker.
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. You’re not just along for the ride, you know.’
‘I sort of thought I was. Your terms, remember?’
‘Exactly. And my terms state that today you decide what we do. Of course, I have the right to veto any and all suggestions.’
‘Oh, I see. Thanks for making that clear.’
‘No problem.’
What did she want to do today? As Chase got out fresh melon and papaya and began slicing both, Millie considered. What did she want to do with Chase?
‘I want to paint you.’
He paused, a mug in each hand, eyebrow arched. ‘Too bad your paints are in the rubbish bin, then.’
‘I can draw you,’ Millie said firmly, surprised by how certain she felt. ‘I brought charcoals too. They’re in my suitcase.’
‘So you’ve changed your mind about the painting thing?’
‘Technically I won’t be painting.’
‘You are such a literalist.’
‘Yes,’ Millie said quietly, and it felt like a confession. ‘I’ve changed my mind.’
Chase stared at her long and hard, and the moment unfurled, stretched between them into something that pulsed with both life and hope.
‘OK,’ he said. ‘Breakfast, and then you can draw. I assume you’d prefer a nude model?’
She laughed and shook her head. ‘You can keep your boxers on. For now.’
After a breakfast of coffee, fresh fruit and eggs Chase scrambled while Millie sat at the table and imagined just how she would sketch him, she fetched her paper and charcoals and they headed outside.
The day was warm, the sun already hot, although a fresh breeze blew off the sea. Millie had changed into a polo shirt and capris, and Chase had, on her instruction, put on a tee-shirt and shorts.
‘Are you sure you don’t want me nude?’ he said, sounding disappointed, and Millie shook her head.
‘Far too distracting.’
‘Well, that’s something at least.’
‘Just try to act natural.’
He gave an exaggerated sigh. ‘Whenever someone says that, you can’t act natural any more.’
‘Try.’
‘I bet you’re a real ball-breaker at work.’
‘That,’ Millie informed him, ‘is a horrible, sexist term.’
‘But you are, right?’ He positioned himself on the sand, hands stretched out behind him, legs in front. ‘This OK?’
‘Perfect.’ She found a comfortable spot just a little bit away and laid the sketch pad across her knees. After staring at Chase this morning, she realised how much she wanted to draw him, to capture the ease and joy of his body and face so she could remember it always.
So she could have something of him even when this week was over.
She swallowed, also realising just how much she was starting to care for him. Forty-eight hours—forty-eight intense hours—were changing how she felt. Changing her.
‘You going to put pencil to paper this time, Scary?’
‘Yes.’ Swallowing, she looked down at her paper, began to roughly sketch the shape of him.
‘So you haven’t been doing the art thing for a while,’ Chase remarked, gazing out to the sea so she should capture his profile. ‘Why did you stop?’
Millie hesitated. She knew she should remind him about the no-talking rule, but it seemed kind of pointless to keep at it now. She didn’t even want to. She could still control what she told him. ‘Life happened,’ she said. ‘I got too busy and drawing seemed kind of a silly pastime.’ And totally out of sync with her and Rob’s focused, career-driven lives.
‘And then you finally took a holiday and thought you might like to try again?’
‘Basically.’
‘So why did you throw out the paints when I first met you?’
‘All these questions,’ Millie said lightly. ‘You are so violating our agreement, Chase.’
‘But you’re answering them,’ he pointed out. ‘For once.’
She didn’t speak for a moment, just sketched faster and faster, the feel and look of him emerging from her charcoal. ‘I didn’t like how obvious it seemed,’ she finally said. ‘Like I was trying to find myself or something.’
‘Were you?’
She glanced up, the sketch book momentarily forgotten. ‘I’m not lost,’ she said sharply. ‘I’m not broken.’
‘You’re not?’ He still spoke mildly, yet she felt that spurt of rage anyway. Her fingers tightened around the charcoal.
‘No.’
‘Because I think you are.’
Shock had her fingers slackening again, and the charcoal fell to the ground. ‘How dare—?’
‘Why do you think you’re here, Millie?’ He turned to gaze at her and she saw a blaze of emotion lighting his eyes. ‘Why do you think you were willing to have this crazy, intense week? And not just willing, but needing it?’
‘I don’t need it.’
‘Liar.’
She shook her head, hating that he saw through her. Hating that she didn’t have the strength to deny it any longer. She was lost. Broken. And she needed this week with him; she needed him.
And he knew it.
He kept his gaze on her, assessing, knowing, and she hated that too. The raw honesty between them in this moment felt more exposing and intimate than lying naked on a bed with him had yesterday.
She reached for the dropped charcoal, her fingers closing around it even though she knew she wouldn’t draw any more. She couldn’t. She stared blindly at the sketch pad, her mind spinning, her heart thudding.
‘Our session is finished, I presume?’ Chase drawled, and Millie nodded jerkily. ‘And now you’re going to go all haughty on me, aren’t you? The Millie Lang armour goes up, and you get all scary and severe.’
‘You’re the one who calls me scary,’ Millie said through numb lips. Every instinct in her was telling her to run. Save herself, or as much of herself as she could. How had she let it get this far? Chase had been so clever at seducing her into an emotional intimacy she had never intended to give or reveal. Damn it, all she’d wanted was sex.
And they still hadn’t had it.
Maybe it was time to rectify that situation.
‘I’m not going to go scary on you,’ she told him, clutching her sketch pad to her chest. ‘But you did say I could decide what we did today, and now I’ve decided.’
‘And it’s not sketching?’ Chase still looked relaxed, still had his hands stretched out behind him like he was enjoying a nice morning in the sun.
‘No, it’s not.’ Her voice still rang out, strident, aggressive. It sounded strong, even if she didn’t feel it. ‘I’ll tell you what it is.’
‘I bet I could guess...’ Chase murmured and, furious that he still seemed to know her so well, she cut across him.
‘It’s sex. I want to have sex with you.’
Chase regarded her with lazy amusement, although he was far from feeling either lazy or amused. He knew Millie felt vulnerable and exposed, but damn it so did he. He hadn’t meant to say any of that. Lost? Broken? He could have been talking about himself. What the hell had he been thinking, getting that honest? That real?
He hadn’t been thinking at all. He’d just been acting on instinct, allowing the deep within him to call to the deep within her. And for a few charged seconds he knew they’d connected in a way that was far more powerful than anything they could do on a bed—or whatever surface they chose.
‘You want to have sex with me,’ Chase repeated. ‘Sometimes, Millie, you have a one-track mind.’
‘I’m serious, Chase. The whole reason we’re having this stupid fling is—’
‘Now our fling is stupid? I’m offended.’
‘You know what I mean. I started this because—’
‘You started it?’
‘Stop interrupting me!’
‘Because I’m the one who walked up to you on that beach, sweetheart. And asked you out.’
‘I’m the one who suggested we sleep together.’
‘I’ll concede that point, but that’s the only shot you’re going to call.’
She stared at him, her face white, her lips bloodless. What had scared her so much? The fact that he saw her need, or that she sensed his own? And how did she think sex was going to solve anything?
On second thought...
‘OK, Scary.’ Chase rose from the beach, turning his face so Millie didn’t see him grimace at the throbbing ache of his joints. It was getting worse. The new medication wasn’t helping as much as he’d hoped. Hell, he was as broken as she was. He just hid it better.
‘OK?’ she repeated uncertainly, the wind blowing her hair into tangles even as she clutched the sketch pad to her chest like it was a body shield.
‘OK, we’ll have sex. I think we’ve had a fair amount of anticipation, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’ She sounded uncertain. He wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t expected him to agree—well, guess what? Sex was probably the only place where he could make her let go of that all-too-precious control. Break the barriers she surrounded herself with, force her to be exposed and empty; only then could she be covered and filled.
Is that what you really want?
Yes. Certainty blazed through him, surprising him. He didn’t know more than that, wouldn’t look farther. No more questions.
Time to act.
‘Come on,’ he said, and reached a hand down to her. She took it gingerly, her eyes so heartbreakingly wide, her teeth sunk deep into her lower lip.
‘Where are we going?’
‘I told you I prefer to make love on a bed, right?’
‘Yes...’
‘Cold feet?’ he jibed softly, knowing she’d rise to that easy bait.
