Sunday, 28 February 2016

Poppy's Caribbean Adventure Part 16

Poppy took the champagne glass from him and turned away, leaning on the balcony parapet and looking out over the tumbling surf. He glanced past her to the beach below. It was late, and the beach was empty now. They might have been alone in the world.

He moved to stand beside her, his elbow brushing hers on the railing, and took a long, slow sip of the champagne.

When he glanced sideways at Poppy, her gaze was set resolutely on the ocean, but the rapid rise and fall of her breathing gave her away. She was turned on. She wanted him. As much as he wanted her.

“I don’t mix business and pleasure, Poppy.”

She had to clear her throat before she could answer him. “I know.”

“But I want to. Have wanted to for a very long time.”

At last she turned to face him, her eyes widening. Her pupils were so dilated in this moonlit darkness he could see himself reflected in them.

“We have this private suite for three days. Three days away from the office, with no prying eyes…”

She licked her lips, then finished the thought for him: “Three days to mix business with pleasure?”

“Exactly.”

She sipped from her glass, eyeing him over the rim. “And when the three days are over, we go back to London and carry on as if nothing ever happened?”

He hadn’t really thought this through. Should he tell her now about the intended promotion? That things wouldn’t be the same when they got back… But he didn’t want to appear as if he was trying to buy her sexual favours.

He downed the last of the champagne in his glass and set it down on the small table behind them. “Sure… why not?”

She pursed her lips in the telltale sign she disagreed with him, but he soldiered on. “Maybe once we’ve got this out of our systems, we can get back to work without this damned tension between us.”

At least, he bloody well hoped so. Because they couldn’t carry on as they’d been going, dancing around one another. He needed his concentration back.

Her eyes glinted in the darkness. She didn’t answer him, but she didn’t need to. Her chest rose and fell, her breathing rapid. Slowly she set down her own champagne glass and reached for his hand.

She held his hand between hers, as if examining the palm. The softer pads of her fingers brushed over the hardness of his. Then, with a hint of a smile, she brought his hand to her breast.

“Yes,” was all she said.

Thursday, 11 February 2016

Happy Valentine's

Definitely my most romantic Valentine's Day in years. This one will be spent in the French Alps with Luca. He has booked us a romantic weekend away of skiing, Kir Royales and roaring log fires...


May your Valentine's be every bit as romantic and sizzling hot...