Page 82 of Hard
‘No idea. Somewhere hot. Pack light. I don’t expect you’ll need much more than shorts and a couple of bikinis.’
‘How do you know I own a bikini?’
‘Don’t you?’ he asks, pausing in thought as though this might be a possibility.
‘Excuse me,’ I say as he takes a step backwards. I don’t like the space between us, so I step into him. ‘Have you met me?’
‘I have,’ he answers, smiling down at me. ‘You’re trouble, and I like you just fine.’
Chapter 28
PAISLEY
‘Flynn chose well.’ Keir sighs with contentment. Balancing his pineapple cocktail on the palm of one of his large hands, he digs his toes deeper into the sand. He’s quite a sight, not that he at all notices other woman as they check him out.All those muscles on display. That golden tan and tussled hair.
He’s right. Flynn did choose well—epically so. The Seychelles has been a wonderful escape in more ways than one. Endless blue skies, golden sands, and blue ocean as far as the eye can see. I haven’t hooked up to the internet once since arriving four days ago, other than to talk briefly with Chastity who, thankfully, had nothing to say about the newspapers, photographers, or exes.
‘I hope Flynn is looking after Princess well,’ Sorcha says, looking up from her white sandcastle next to our pillow-festooned daybed. It’s hard to take her slight frown seriously when looking at the painted blue strip of zinc plastered across her nose. She made friends with a family of Australians staying in the same resort, promptly adopting their method of UV protection, which includes a liberal application of multicoloured zinc war paint every day.
‘She spoke with you yesterday.’
‘Cat’s don’t speak, silly.’ Sorcha sighs. ‘And she was more interested in playing with Flynn and that mouse on a piece of string.’
‘True, cats aren’t big on FaceTime,’ I say, hoping to reassure her. ‘And Flynn is just entertaining her until you get back. You’re her person, Sorcha. Flynn is just the cat sitter. She won’t forget you.’
Somewhat placated, she returns to her bucket and spade.
‘It’s almost time for an afternoon siesta.’ Keir peers over the top of his pineapple, his eyes green and full of mischief in the light.
‘Any more of those,’ I reply, peering over my sunglasses balanced on the end of my nose, ‘and sleeping is all you’ll be doing.’
‘Wanna bet?’
‘Why? What else have you been doing?’ asks Sorcha, her head popping up over the bed again. I need to remember to engage my brain before my mouth when she’s around. She really doesn’t miss a thing, which has made for some interesting conversations. ‘Because Agnes says siesta is sleeping time, and if I don’t sleep, I can’t stay up late.’
‘Agnes is right.’ Keir leans back against the pillows, his eyes falling closed as though that’s the end of the matter. Or maybe it’s just his version of playing dead.
‘Yes, but what have you beendoing?’ she persists. ‘If Paisley says you’ll go to sleep after too many pineapple rums, that must mean youhaven’tbeen sleeping when I go for a nap.’
‘I’ve been busy,’ Keir replies, opening his eyes again. ‘I’ve got trouble to take care of... while Paisley’s in bed. Take yesterday, for example. She lay very, very still... ’ Mainly because I was tied to the bed, arms above my head and my ankles secured to the edges. ‘While I worked hard. Very, very hard, trying not to make any noise.’
His gaze slides to mine, and I shiver, a whole body kind of affair as I recall the silken feel of the rope strapping me down. The feather-light touches of his fingers and mouth. As for a lack of noise, that’s true. He promised to make me come until I couldn’t breathe. And he did. Though I’m pretty sure I screamed my release when he eventually slid into me.
It’s definitely a good thing Sorcha and Agnes are staying in the hotel. Meanwhile, Keir and I have a villa at the edge of the resort. A beautiful place—all teak wood, thatched roofing, and billowing white cotton. Best of all, there are views of the Indian Ocean from three sides of the building.The infinity pool, the bathtub, and the veranda. And we’ve made love on them all. Because even when we’re fucking, Keir makes love to me.With his eyes. With his hands.It seems so much more since our vacation began.
But I can’t get carried away. This isn’t reality, but a break from it. Besides, he hasn’t mentioned marriage again.And why would he?whispers a voice in my head.
‘Daddy, why are you looking at Paisley like you’re trying to steal the thoughts from her head?’
‘Am I?’ He immediately adopts a blank expression. Meanwhile, I grasp my own cocktail to snigger behind. ‘I was just thinking of all the hard work I’ll be doing when you’re sleeping this afternoon. That’s the problem with trouble, you see,’ he says, all rumbly and sexual. ‘It needs managing.’
‘Are you sure you’re not just having sex?’
I inhale, choke a little, and sneeze a little mai tai from my nose. ‘Oh, that burns,’ I complain, holding the cocktail napkin to my nostrils.
‘I-I beg your pardon, young lady,’ Keir splutters, adopting the tone of someone’s elderly maiden aunt. Back in 1870, maybe.
‘S-E-X,’ she returns, spelling it out oh-so helpfully. ‘Toby says you can only have sex when you’re married, but I told him that Tiger Blossom’s daddy has had sex with both her mummy and her nanny. That’s why she’s getting two baby brothers next year. And a divorce.’ She taps her finger to her lip, considering something for a moment. ‘But maybe Toby is right because, technically, Tiger’s daddyismarried. What do you think, Daddy?’
