A Secret Between Friends: A New Zealand Sexy Beach Romance (Treats to Tempt You Book 6) (11 page)

Genie waited for Niall to repeat her toast, but her smile faded as the moment stretched out and he still didn’t say anything. He removed his sunglasses, and the determined look in his eyes took her aback.

“To us,” he said, holding up his cup.

She touched the rim of the beaker to his, not quite sure what to say, and sipped the wine. The cool liquid flowed down to her stomach, and she drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly.

Like a house built on sand, their friendship was shifting, subsiding gradually into something else. What, she wasn’t sure yet. She was almost too afraid to breathe, to break the spell. Niall’s eyes were intense, as if he was burning to say something, but couldn’t find the courage, or didn’t know how to phrase it. All this had sprung out of nothing. She certainly hadn’t planned on initiating a relationship with him on returning to the bay. She wasn’t sure that was what she wanted now. But she couldn’t deny that something was happening between them. After his initial inspection of her cuts and grazes, he’d politely kept his gaze averted from her, but after her toast the perusal he’d given her had definitely held heat. Her skin still sizzled from it.

Emboldened by his declaration of “To us” and the way he was looking at her now, she finally examined him the way she’d wanted to the moment she’d seen him naked on the deck. There, she’d been too self-conscious of his reaction to her scars to give him more than a passing glance, plus she hadn’t wanted him to think she was gawping when he’d been polite enough not to stare.

This time, as the alcohol threaded through her system and took away the remaining tension, she looked at him properly. There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him, and he was trim and toned, from his neck, shoulders, and arms all the way down his torso to his thighs and calves. He didn’t quite have the six-pack of a bodybuilder, but she knew the muscles of his chest and stomach would be firm beneath her fingertips. An attractive layer of light brown, almost golden hair lay scattered across his chest, the happy trail leading to the curly thatch in his groin.

She let her gaze linger there. The guy was generously proportioned. It wasn’t his size that brought heat to her cheeks, however, but the sheer fact that he was naked. She’d read that Victorian gentlemen could grow aroused at the sight of a lady’s ankle because they were always hidden, and she comprehended why now. It wasn’t just that she could see his manly parts; it was his hips, his flat stomach beneath his navel, and his inner thighs. They were visible where he sat with his legs crossed, paler than the rest of his body which was usually exposed to the sun, and they were sprinkled with hair. Even though she’d understood when he’d said how people on naturist beaches managed to separate nudity from sex, sitting there looking at him, at the bare parts of his body that so few people were ever allowed to see, it was all so incredibly intimate and erotic.

“You carry on looking at me like that,” he said, “we’re going to have a problem.”

The look in his eyes was like a summer evening, hot and sultry, and sweat broke out over her body at its intensity. She had the feeling that, like her, he hadn’t expected this attraction to spark between them, but now it had started, he didn’t seem to want it to stop either.

The anticipation was so delicious, though, that she wanted to draw it out as long as she could. She pulled the tub of cheese and biscuits toward her, layered two crackers with cheese between them, and handed it to him before preparing one for herself. “Is that supposed to make me stop? If so, you don’t understand me very well.”

He crunched the crackers, keeping his gaze on hers, his lips curving as she ate and wiped delicately at the corners of her mouth.

“Are you trying to embarrass me?” He picked a couple of grapes from the bunch and popped them into his mouth. “Because it won’t work. I don’t get embarrassed.”

“We’ll see what we can do about that. I enjoy a challenge.” She chose a strawberry and bit into it, closing her eyes briefly as the summery sweetness filled her mouth, knowing he was watching her.

She licked the juice off her lips. “It must be difficult, being a guy.”

He made himself another cheese and cracker sandwich. “Why so?”

“Because you can’t hide when you’re turned on.”

He grinned. “It’s a good job I have iron control, then.”

“Iron control, huh?” She picked a couple of grapes, feeling a surge of mischievousness. “So…if I were to describe to you in great detail about the time I stayed at a girlfriend’s house and we…experimented, that wouldn’t affect you at all?” She popped a grape into her mouth and raised an eyebrow.

Niall stared at her, then looked out to sea for a moment. She had the distinct feeling he was counting in his head.

He turned his amused gaze back to her, drained the rest of his wine, and reached for a strawberry. “Nope.”

Reaching for the bottle, she unscrewed the lid and poured them both another cup. “So, anyway, we snuggled up under the covers one night. It was hot, so we took off our nightdresses. We were fifteen, so, you know, on the verge of womanhood, breasts beginning to fill out, innocent and yet not innocent, you know? All that potential, that
hunger
.”

She stretched out, not bothering to cover herself up, knowing he wouldn’t be able to stop himself looking at her breasts. Her heart raced, and an ache was beginning between her thighs. Was this turning her on more than him? Surely he wasn’t the one man in the world who
wasn’t
turned on by girl-on-girl action?

But she hadn’t finished yet. “We’d heard about French kissing, how you were supposed to use your tongues, but neither of us had tried it, so we decided to practice on each other. We moved close to each other—I remember her breasts brushing mine, our soft, girlish nipples touching…”

“Genie…” His voice held a hint of warning. His eyelids had lowered and he positively glowered at her, but she pushed on relentless.

“Her lips were so soft, and her tongue slipped against mine, slick and hot. We kissed for ages, until our lips were sensitive and swollen, and I remember being puzzled as to why I had this ache between my thighs…”

Niall huffed a sigh, rolled onto his front, and rested his head on his folded arms, looking away from her. “I’m not listening. I’m going to have a snooze now.”

She stifled a giggle and moved towards him, not touching, but close enough to feel the heat from his skin. God, she was desperate to touch him, to see how hard those muscles were beneath her fingers, but she forced herself to lie still.

“I can’t remember who made the first move, but suddenly we were touching. Her body was young and tight, and she moaned when I stroked my hands over her breasts. I couldn’t help it—I bent my head and covered one of her nipples with my mouth. It was like sucking a chocolate truffle, soft and sweet, and I was amazed at the way it hardened on my tongue.”

He rested his forehead on his arms. “Genie, seriously…”

“I had to touch her. Down there. I slid my hand between her thighs, and she was swollen and wet. My fingers slipped easily through her folds, and as I stroked her, she sighed with pleasure. I continued to stroke, fascinated with how I was making her feel, and eventually I slipped my fingers into her tight virgin body and felt her clench around them as she—”

“Enough!” he snapped.

She stopped and bit her lip, taken aback by his gruffness. Had she shocked him? Heat filled her face—she’d got carried away. She was only playing, but not all guys were into dirty talk. She hadn’t taken him for one of them, but he’d said Tamsin hadn’t been into anything kinky. If she had been a bit prudish, maybe he wasn’t used to that kind of sex play.

“I’m sorry…” she said. Clearing her throat, she pushed herself up to a sitting position. Had she ruined everything? “Did you want to go back to the lodge?” Please, don’t let him say he wanted to go home.

He lifted his head to look at her. To her surprise, his eyes didn’t hold anger, just a nice mixture of amusement and exasperation. “After that? I’m going to need a few minutes.”

She stared at him, realization slowly dawning. He’d rolled onto his front because he had an erection.

She grinned. “That worked, did it?”

He rolled his eyes. “Where on earth did you learn to talk like that?”

“School for sluts.”

He laughed and bent his head so he could sink his hands into his hair. “Jesus.”

Delighted it had worked, she lowered herself back down, checking along the beach to make sure they weren’t being watched. They weren’t—everyone was much too busy with their own business to pay attention to the two of them.

Aware that getting too sexy on a nudist beach was a big no-no, nevertheless she didn’t see what harm a little teasing would make. She plucked a long blade of grass from the bank beyond where they were sitting and trailed it down his back. “Sure you don’t want me to carry on?”

“Not here. I’ll end up embarrassing myself, and we’ll get reported for indecency.”

“I would
love
to be reported for indecency. I should have put that on my bucket list.”

He laughed and turned his head to look at her. “You’re incorrigible.”

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out.” She continued to trace the blade of grass over his back for a while, then when he didn’t complain, decided it was pointless to pretend she wasn’t dying to touch him and threw the grass away.

This time she touched the pad of her forefinger to the nape of his neck. Slowly, she drew it across his shoulders, then down his arm, following the muscles and bones, enjoying the feel of his damp skin. She traced over his shoulders, around his ribs and down his spine, then across to his hips. Down the outside of his thigh, up the back, across his butt, and up his spine to his shoulder.

“Want me to stop?” she murmured.

He sighed and closed his eyes. “No.”

So, smiling, she didn’t, taking her time to explore him, keeping her touch light. He had such a beautiful body. Strong, lean, taut, the skin tanned and unblemished, enough hair to be manly, not too much to turn her off.

She wished she was brave enough to ask him to turn over onto his back so she could do the same to his front. She’d trail her fingers over his pecs and abdomen, then follow his happy trail down to where she could take his erection in her hand and give him long, slow strokes. The skin would slide over the head, velvet over steel, then expose the swollen tip, where a drop of moisture would bead on the end. She’d feel every vein and ridge beneath her fingers, and she’d continue like that, faster and faster, until he shuddered and came, spilling silky fluid over her hand…

She’d been circling her fingers over his butt, and now raised her gaze to his face to see him watching her.

She stopped, embarrassed by where her thoughts had taken her. “What?”

He smiled. “You look as if you’re enjoying yourself. Your eyes have glassed over.”

“I am.”

“What are you thinking?”

She nibbled her bottom lip, letting her fingers play in the dip at the base of his spine. “Not sure I should tell you. I think I did enough damage with the girl-on-girl lust.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. Give me a hint.”

Chuckling, she traced down over his butt to his thigh. It was far too wide and solid for her hand to circle, but she curved her fingers around the muscle and stroked, up and down, keeping her eyes on his.

He said nothing for a moment, his green eyes surveying her, thoughtful and intense. Once she knew he understood, she returned her fingers to his spine, feeling down the vertebrae.

“I’m shocking you,” she observed.

His gaze slid down her body before returning to hers. “A bit.”

She paused, guilt fluttering through her. “I’m sorry.”

He smiled. “Don’t apologize. It’s not a criticism.”

“Then…”

“I’m just not used to a girl being so…direct.”

She was right, then—Tamsin had obviously been uninspiring in the bedroom. “Does it make me a loose woman?”

“I’m sure in some parts of the world it would. Not in New Zealand though.”

They both smiled.

She lifted her hand to his hair and slipped her fingers through it, tracing the curve of his skull around to his ears, then down his neck. Men’s necks were divine—solid and muscular, especially when they led to delightfully short hair up the back like Niall’s, which prickled her fingers like a hedgehog.

“I like that you say what’s on your mind,” he said. “And that you’re not ashamed of it. I’ve never understood why some women think it’s shameful to feel sexy, or to enjoy sex.”

Genie brushed her thumb and forefinger down either side of his spine. “Is that what Tamsin was like?”

He hesitated, and she cursed herself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t pry. I know you don’t like talking about her.”

“It’s not that—I feel disloyal. I don’t know why. We’re not together anymore.”

“No, you’re not.” She said nothing more, but hoped her words gave him permission to talk. She wasn’t the sort of woman to laugh at another for being reserved or prudish. Nobody had any control over how they were brought up, and she wouldn’t mock anyone for the way they were. But she did want to understand him. And she did want to show him that not all women were the same. He deserved to be admired, to be loved.

And she thought she knew the perfect woman to show him.

Niall’s eyelids fluttered shut as Genie traced over his buttocks and down the backs of his thighs.

He honestly didn’t know what to say to this sexy, sensual woman, who’d spoken so openly about her fantasies, and who very clearly was interested in doing unnamable, erotic things to his body. When she’d stroked up and down his thigh, he’d struggled to keep it together, more turned on than he could say by the notion of her taking him in her hand and teasing him until he came.

Her fingers had returned to his back and were exploring his muscles there again. There was no way he’d be able to dispel his erection while she was touching him, but he was loathe to tell her to stop. He opened his eyes to survey her. She didn’t look impatient; she wasn’t looking out to sea or daydreaming about her shopping list or what to have for tea. Her lazy, sexy gaze was studying him, devouring him, maybe, enjoying his nakedness, and possibly conjuring up other things she’d like to do to him.

He shivered at the thought, and watched her lips curve up at the corners.

She was waiting for him to reply, and he considered what to say. The truth was that she
had
shocked him. Ultimately, his sexual experience was very limited—the occasional backseat fumble with his first girlfriend, a voyage of discovery with his second that featured a few moments he wasn’t very proud of including one that had earned him a slap around the face. And then there was Tamsin.

The red-haired Aussie had intrigued him from the moment he’d met her. Tamsin had been wafer-thin, ambitious, and determined, in both love and work. She’d gone to the same university as him but had studied nutrition, and as a vegetarian, who worked out constantly, she was confident in her own skin, albeit slightly preachy and superior to those who weren’t as careful with their diet or exercise. He remembered her coming across Genie, aged sixteen, halfway through eating an extra-large pepperoni pizza after school one day. Tamsin had told her that if she continued to eat like that she’d be the size of an elephant with skin that looked like the very item she was eating. Genie had told her to fuck off.

Now, it made him smile. At the time, he’d pulled Tamsin away, embarrassed at her self-righteousness, and they’d argued, one of their most memorable rows, where they’d both said harsh and bitter things. Not for the first time, she’d accused him of being soft on Genie—he’d denied it vehemently, his anger born out of a seed of guilt that she spoke the truth. He’d ended up irritated and fraught; Tamsin had cried. It was just one of many similar arguments.

Genie slid her fingers up his nape and into his hair, and he stifled a groan as she raked his scalp lightly with her nails. She leaned forward and pressed her lips against his shoulder before pulling back to continue her exploration of his body. His skin burned, though, where her lips had touched. He wanted them elsewhere on his body. He wanted to kiss her back, and he wanted to make love to her.

 “It wasn’t that she wasn’t into sex,” he said eventually, needing to make Genie understand. “She enjoyed it—I think, unless she faked it every time. I guess that’s a possibility.”

Genie laughed. “I’m sure she’s not that good an actress.”

“I hope not. In the beginning, anyway, it was fun. You don’t know any different, do you, when you’re eighteen? It was fast and furious and there was lots of it, and I didn’t feel any need to complain. But as the years went by, I suppose things became…staid. I’d hear the other guys talk occasionally about things they’d got up to, and I am a bloke for Christ’s sake—I’ve watched enough porn to get some ideas.” He felt odd admitting that, but he guessed that Genie wasn’t the sort of girl who was shocked to discover that guys watched and enjoyed porn. “But if I ever suggested anything, she always made me feel… I don’t know. Dirty, I suppose, and not in a good way.”

Genie smiled, but there was pity behind the humor. “She wasn’t interested in trying other things?”

“Not at all. She made
me
feel out of order for not being satisfied with what I had. I felt that was unfair, but I could never seem to explain myself. Time went by, but when she finally started talking about marriage, I kept thinking, is this it? I wanted more.”

He met her eyes. They studied each other for a while.

“I’m not expecting anything,” he said. “I know you love your career and I wouldn’t stand in the way of that. And I would never assume that you…” He couldn’t think how to phrase it.

“Are up for it?” she suggested, and grinned.

He smiled. “Maybe. I’m not doing this very well. I can only be honest. I have feelings for you, Gin, I always have. Tamsin guessed, although I always denied it. She accused me once of having an affair with you.”

Genie’s fingers stopped on his back and her eyes widened. “Seriously?”

“Yes.”

Hurt flitted across her features. “Charming. As if I’d do that to someone. I could be accused of many things, but I would never take someone else’s boyfriend.”

He smiled. “You’re a strange one, Genie Sharpe. Strong and yet vulnerable. You’ve been dealt a shit hand, and yet you still find something to smile about.”

Her fingers resumed their trail across his back. He closed his eyes and shivered. Tamsin had never explored him like this. Sex had always consisted of him arousing her until she was ready, at which point he’d make love to her. She’d seemed to assume he’d just get aroused by being naked with her, and luckily that had happened, but even so, it was nice, for once, to have someone pay
him
some attention, to have someone who believed lovemaking should be a joint effort.

“I know you’re not expecting anything, and that you’d never assume,” she said. “But I think you probably know that I have feelings for you too—always have had. Like you, I suspect, I’m not looking for anything long term. But if you want to go back to the lodge and fool around this afternoon…I won’t say no.”

He sighed. “I would love to fool around with you, Genie Sharpe.”

She grinned, showing her neat white teeth, her eyes sparkling. Shuffling forward, she leaned in close and pressed her lips to his, just a quick kiss, but coming straight after her offer it sent blood racing around his body, and he stifled a groan as she pulled back.

“I’m going for a swim,” she said. “Come and join me when you’re ready. Then we’ll head back.” She pushed herself to her feet and stretched, at ease in her own skin when she forgot about her scars, and limped across to where the ocean lapped at the sand. She waded in, and without further ado, dived beneath the surface.

Niall rested his forehead back on his arms. Fool around… What did that entail? Normally, he had an average guy’s attitude to sex. He enjoyed foreplay and he understood that women needed it, but left to his own devices it was all about finding the quickest way to the end.

The notion of “fooling around this afternoon,” of lazing naked on the bed as the sun went down and taking time to explore each other the way she had just explored his body…

He blew out a long breath, trying not to groan. He had to think about something else for a while or he was never going to be able to get up.

Refusing to look at Genie’s pale body slipping through the waves, he thought about the self-assessment he was going to have to do for the tax office in a month or two’s time, and added up some figures in his head. It took longer than normal, but eventually he felt able to expose himself to the rest of the beach without causing alarm.

He packed up the boxes and beakers, rolled up the towels, and put everything back in the bag. Then he carried it nearer to the water’s edge, left it on the sand, and dived quickly into the water before his body could betray him again.

Once he’d left the warm shallows, the water was cool enough to shock any further ardor from his body. He swam a few feet under the surface, then emerged to see Genie watching him, a smile on her face.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” She spun around in the water. “It’s so refreshing. And clear.” Her lips twitched.

He looked down, inhaling at the sight of her perfectly visible curves. “Wow. So it is.”

She swam closer to him, stopping an inch away. Her eyes sparkled the same way as the water around them. They were just in depth and the water lapped around her shoulders as she moved forward the final inch. Her body touched his beneath the water, the tight nipples on her soft breasts brushing his chest. In spite of the coolness of the water, his groin tightened.

“You’re trying to make sure I can’t get out of the water, aren’t you?” He dipped his head so she could kiss him.

She pressed her lips to his, then laughed. “Maybe.” She swam away. “Come on. Five minutes, then we’ll get out.”

In the end, it was more like fifteen—the water was glorious and the view too beautiful to waste, even though he was eager to see what the rest of the afternoon held. But it was like being really hungry and knowing a delicious meal was waiting for him. The anticipation made him nervous and excited at the same time, and Genie knew it—he could sense it in the way she swam around him, teasing him with tantalizing glimpses of her pale skin.

He was seconds away from telling her he couldn’t bear it any longer when she turned onto her back and began swimming to shore, beckoning with her head for him to follow her. “Come on,” she said, her voice husky. “I think I’m turning myself on more than you at this point.”

He doubted that, but laughed and swam after her, then emerged from the water to shake himself like a dog on the sand. She handed him his towel and he dried his face and hair, but let the sun dry his body as they walked slowly back up to the lodge, Genie taking his arm once again.

“All that way without your cane,” he said as they approached the slope up to the grassy bank. “How does it feel?”

“Okay, actually. I think it’s more the fear of pain rather than the pain itself, you know?”

“Of course. You’re walking well, though.”

“That’s because I’m desperate to get you in the house.”

He chuckled and helped her up the bank, retrieved the key, and opened the sliding glass doors, standing back to let her pass him.

Inside, she went straight to the fridge and took out a bottle of the water she’d put in there when they first arrived, and drank half of it in one go. She passed it to him and he drank the other half, conscious of her standing before him, waiting for him to finish.

Lowering the bottle, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Both of them were breathing quickly.

“What now?” he asked, conscious that his body was on the verge of betraying him again.

She laughed. “Stupid question.” Bracing a hand on his chest, she pushed him back onto the glass, pressed herself up against him, and claimed his lips with hers.