Red-Hot Honeymoon. Joss Wood
be at his mercy, neck-deep in a situation that might become very sticky, very fast.
But he didn’t give off any creepy vibes, and she had pretty good intuition. It’s your soul talking … you can trust it. She suspected he was exactly what he appeared to be: a guy who’d had the emotional carpet yanked from underneath his feet; battered, who was bruised and trying to find his feet, to regroup.
But was she prepared to risk her life on her intuition?
‘I’ll need character references.’ she blurted out, hoping that he would understand that she needed to protect herself. ‘Just to make sure that you aren’t a weird psycho. I can give you references too, if you want.’
At that, Finn did smile—possibly the fullest and most genuine smile she’d yet to see from him. ‘Nah, I’m good. I already know that you’re slightly psycho,’ he teased.
‘Funny …’ Callie muttered, although in truth he was. It was a relief to realise that behind that gruff, stoic exterior was an offbeat sense of humour. When you travelled with someone a GSOH was the minimum requirement.
Callie put down her glass of wine and linked her fingers around her bare knee. ‘Are you sure about this, Finn? You don’t know me. After two days with me, you might want to shoot me.’
Finn lifted the beer bottle to his lips, took a long sip and swallowed. ‘If we were at a resort and I had to say to you that I wanted some time alone, some quiet, what would you do?’
Callie thought for moment. ‘I’d find something to do—go hang out by the pool, read my book, flirt with the barman. I’d give you your space.’
‘And if I said let’s go bungee jumping or white-water rafting?’
‘I’d say go on your own,’ Callie replied quickly. She held up her hand and looked at him askance. ‘Is me being a thrill-seeker part of the requirement? Because if it is then I might have to bail now. You might be Indiana Jones, but I’m not a run-through-the-jungle-barefoot type of girl.’
She had been at one time. Right up until her late teens—until her car accident—she’d tried anything wild or woolly once … probably twice.
Finn’s mouth twitched with amusement as he glanced towards the photos on the wall before looking back at her. ‘Fair enough. You might change your mind.’
No, she wouldn’t. He could take that to the bank.
‘You have a better chance of falling pregnant,’ Callie quipped before turning serious again. ‘Look, Finn, I’m honoured and flattered that you’ve asked me to go with you, but this will only work if you feel you can be honest with me, that you can treat me like you were taking a mate with you.’ Her brows pulled together. ‘Why aren’t you taking a friend with you? Surely you have someone you could ask?’
‘You keep forgetting the honeymoon angle.’ Finn pushed his hand through his short curls. ‘The magazine is paying through the nose for me to do this, and there is no way they will allow me to go on my own or with a mate. They were expecting me to go with my wife, at the very least my girlfriend, at the very, very least with a woman.’ Finn placed his beer on the wooden coffee table between them. ‘So what do you think? Yes? No? Hell, no?’ Finn raised a solid black eyebrow.
Callie nodded. ‘I think so.’ She slowly answered him. ‘Let me have a bit more of a think.’
Why was she hesitating, being coy about this? She wanted, needed, to get out of Cape Town, and Finn was offering her a brilliant way to do that. She found him easy to talk to, he seemed to like her, and she was attracted to him.
What was holding her back?
Exactly that, she realised. The fact that she was so immensely attracted to him. Nobody had ever created such an intense longing in her and that made her wary … a little scared. If she were less drawn to him she wouldn’t have any doubts and she’d be packing her bags already.
You are so weird, Hollis, Callie told herself. Fruitcake nuts.
‘I’d love to know what is going through that very sharp brain of yours, Callie.’
There was no chance of her telling him what she was thinking. I know that you were about to be married, and that you’re probably hurting and missing your fiancée, but I’d really like to have you leaning over me, sliding on home …
She didn’t think so.
On the other hand she really didn’t want to be someone’s backstop. If Finn was making love to her then she wanted him to be with her, thinking of her and not of the lover he’d lost. She wasn’t prepared to be his escape, his emotional aspirin, a distraction from the pain. She’d be his friend, but if he made love to her then it would be because he wanted her.
While she was prepared to be a fake wife, she refused to be a second choice or a substitute lover. Maybe if she knew why he was so suddenly single she would have a better idea of how emotionally battered he really was. And the only way to get that information was to ask.
‘Why did your engagement blow up?’
Finn glared at her. ‘You are like a dog with a freakin’ bone. Do you ever give up?’
Innate honesty compelled her to speak. ‘No.’
Callie stared at him with big eyes as he stood up, walked around the table and gripped the arms of her chair, caging her in. Callie sucked in air and along with it the masculine, indefinable essence of Finn. A kick of spice, a hint of citrus, a tiny bit of natural musk. The hair on her arms and on the back of her neck stood up and she felt her skin prickle as his eyes locked on hers.
‘Are you always this stubborn?’
Callie shook her head. ‘Sorry to tell you that I haven’t even hit stubborn yet.’
‘Crap. Well, let’s see if a little distraction will work,’ Finn replied, his voice silky. ‘And if my kisses don’t distract you at least they’ll get you to shut the hell up …’
Callie sucked in her breath as his mouth brushed her lips. Harder, thinner, masculine lips that knew exactly what they were doing as he nipped and teased her mouth. His hand came up to clasp the side of her head and he tipped her face sideways. Then his kiss deepened and his mouth became more insistent, asking—no, demanding—more.
‘Kiss me, Callie. Open up and let me taste you,’ he muttered against her lips.
Callie couldn’t do anything but obey—didn’t have the thought processes to do anything but follow where he led.
Instead of plunging inside, forcing its way in, his smart tongue explored her bottom lip, teased the corners of her mouth, deliberately avoided tangling with hers.
Frustrated with his teasing, Callie pushed against his chest and, keeping her mouth locked on his, found her way to her feet, looping her arms around his back and pushing into his hard frame. Breast against chest, stomach against his steel erection, mouth under his. Needing more, she pushed her tongue into his mouth, sliding it against his and taking the kiss from hot to steamy to erotic, from wild to crazy.
His hands raced down her back, palmed her butt and lifted her up and into him. Her legs automatically wound around him and she tipped her hips so that his erection could rub her clit as his kisses—God, was it possible?—got deeper and steamier.
She wanted more … she needed more … This was just sex, lust! Six months was far too damn long, Callie realised from a place way, way outside of herself. She needed him—Finn—now.
Her hands were sliding down the back of his shorts, trying to feel that magnificent ass she’d been fantasising about, when Finn pulled his mouth off hers. He lifted his hand from the inside of her bra and one arm kept her anchored in place. He brushed her hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ears. He looked rueful.
Callie felt her feet touch the floor and she held on to his arm to make sure