Half Moon Bay (27 page)

Ellie felt dirty, not just because of her filthy clothes, but because the fear from the afternoon still clung to her skin, her hair, her fingernails. Her muscles were tense. She touched her face, feeling the puffiness under her eyes. Alex was dead. She lay back again, gathering the rug around her and knowing it would take time for that to become fact. The rug smelt of Nick, that indefinable hint of sandalwood. She buried her face in it. What she really wanted was the comfort of his arms around her, his lips touching her skin as if she were the most precious and fragile thing in his world.

Every new detail she learned about him coloured the picture in her mind, casting a different hue over what on that first morning in Half Moon Bay had seemed to be a black-and-white warrior. He was strong but not brittle, driven but idealistic, tough but capable of great tenderness. A soldier who sought to build, rather than destroy. War must weigh on a man like that, and demand a high price. Was that the attraction between them? That they’d seen the worst that men could do to each other? They knew that life was fleeting and unpredictable, and too uncertain.

Surely Nick wouldn’t mind her using his bath? She didn’t want to stand up in the shower right now. She pushed open his bedroom door, feeling uncomfortably like a voyeur. The bed was immaculately made and not a piece of clothing out of place. It must be the military upbringing.

She turned on the heavy taps and let the water run. A small bottle of oil was next to a simple black burner and she shook a few drops into the water, inhaling the lavender. Who had he bought this for? she wondered. An ex-girlfriend?

Her toes didn’t reach the other end when she slid into the bath. She eased back in its encompassing warmth, feeling the tension release as her spine relaxed, the grime of the day lifting from her skin, washing some of the sorrow from her soul. She ran the flannel over her arms and legs. It was impossible not to think about sharing this tub with Nick, not to wonder about the slick slide of his skin over hers. She didn’t want to think about Alex right now, didn’t want to examine how she felt about his betrayal, then his redemption, nor about his death. She wanted to contemplate the future and she knew she couldn’t walk away from Nicholas Lawson. Surely the truth couldn’t be that bad? she willed, as her body started to relax and she drifted in the water’s embrace.

The sound of a voice penetrated her foggy mind. She struggled awake, realising the water was now cool, the room dark. Damn, he was home. In panic, she stood up in the bath, water running down her body, hair flowing around her shoulders as she reached out for her towel. At the same instant Nick skidded round the corner and flicked the overhead light switch on.

‘Oh.’ He shut his eyes momentarily.

‘Sorry.’ Ellie sat back down with a splash, the towel forgotten as she crossed her arms over her chest and drew her knees up to meet them.

When Nick’s thick lashes opened again he kept his eyes trained resolutely on her face. ‘I did say make yourself at home, but . . .’ He shook his head. ‘Next time, don’t leave me wondering if you’ve been abducted.’ The heavy-lidded eyes, the faint stain in his cheeks and the unmistakeable desire in his expression were at odds with the nonchalant jut of his hip and the rueful smile. Ellie gave in to the reckless urge to shock him, to force him into action, to break through that veneer . . . Life was unbearably short and impossibly cruel. Why the hell was she waiting for tomorrow? She wanted to live, to love, to feel something other than regret and sadness.

‘Well,’ she said, stretching her legs and uncrossing her arms, her mouth curving in a tiny smile. ‘As you can see, I’m safe and sound.’ The water was opaque, but she knew her tightly puckered nipples would still be visible. She draped her arms along the side of the bath, her heart hammering at her own audacity. His eyes flicked down, scorched over her, his lips parting a fraction as his chest rose and fell. He was human, after all. Heat poured through her. This thing between them was real, tangible, worth fighting her fears to claim.

‘I can see that,’ he managed to say. Strong emotions played across his face and she thought for an agonising moment he was going to walk away. She wasn’t going to let that happen. She’d been hiding from life for too long. No more.

Water cascaded down her as she stood up. ‘I’m sorry for not asking first, but you do have a spectacular . . . bath.’

‘I’ll leave you to it.’ He half turned, his voice husky and low.

‘Nick?’

‘Ellie.’

‘Towel?’

He glanced at it, then picked it up and Ellie was delighted to see a tremor in his hands as he was forced to walk closer so she could reach. It was a giant of a thing that would cover her completely. Instead she draped it around her shoulders, leaving the front ever so slightly apart. With two delicate steps she was on the plush bathmat with less than a metre between them. He was frozen to the spot with his jaw locked, his hands in fists. Conscious she too was trembling, Ellie reached across the space dividing them and pulled on his tie, loosening the knot. The warmth of his skin against the backs of her fingers gave her a shot of courage. He was human, just as conflicted as she was, and just as real.

Never taking her eyes from his face, she watched him wrestling with himself. Saw him swallow, the pulse in his throat counting the inevitable seconds down. Saw his pupils dilate, heard the intake of his breath.

‘Ellie, please.’ His voice was rough. She heard suppressed desire, anger, pain, and a weakened will.

‘I thought you’d never ask.’ She moved close enough to touch his lips lightly with her own as her hand continued down the buttons on his shirt.

‘Ellie.’ His voice cracked. His hard hands dragged her close. He covered her mouth with his. A tiny triumphant smile lifted the corner of Ellie’s mouth before she surrendered to the surge of liquid fire racing through her.

The towel skimmed down her body like a caress and pooled at her feet, the soft fabric of his shirt slid over her nipples. His hands left a trail of exquisite heat down the centre of her spine and around her bottom as he hauled her even closer to him. The rasp of new beard on his jaw was a tantalising scrape across her neck and collarbone as his lips found sensitive skin. She dragged his shirt clear of his pants, sliding her fingers around his shoulders, loving the solid feel of toned muscles and silky skin. Chest to chest, she could feel his heart racing and for an instant she listened to its beat only to realise her own was hammering just as fast. She rained kisses down on his temple, his jaw, his shoulders. She delighted in the vibrations low in his chest as she traced her own path of desire with her lips. Her fingers explored the hollows and hardness, the angles and rounded edges.

She arched her head back as his tongue circled her nipples, the shudder of want, of need, taking the strength from her legs. His hands spanned her waist, holding her still as those lips scorched lower across the smooth plane of her belly. She couldn’t and wouldn’t stop the moan of longing any more than she could stop her legs from trembling.

‘Ellie,’ he breathed. The mood shifted, deepened as he straightened up and his mouth captured hers again, but this time with a tenderness that made the tears well in her eyes. Each tiny kiss left a warmth behind as he pressed his lips to her cheeks, her eyelids, her throat.

Then he drew away and rested his forehead on hers. ‘I’m sorry, Ellie, I’m sorry. This is wrong.’

‘No!’ She lifted his chin with her fingers, making him meet her gaze. ‘No, Nick, this is so very right.’ She stood on tiptoe and touched her lips to his jaw, clasping her hands behind his neck. Still he resisted. ‘You can pretend you don’t want this, but I know you’re lying,’ she murmured against his lips. ‘You promised me the truth and the truth is you want this as much as I do.’

‘God help me,’ he muttered, before scooping her up in his arms. ‘I do want you; wanted you the first moment I saw you.’ He bent his head and captured her lips again before she could reply. He strode through to the bedroom and laid her down across his bed. Her skin was on fire, her pulse erratic as she opened her body, her heart to a man who gave so much more than he asked for.

The wonderment in his eyes made her reach up and cup his face with gentle fingers. She wanted this moment to last forever, wanted to hold him close until the horrors of the last two years were banished, wanted to lose herself in the strength, the heat of his need.

His hands caressed her body with infinite gentleness and his slow kisses seared a path of desire across her body. Surrender was her only option.

Nick had never felt such profound contentment. The bedside lamp was barely a glow, but its golden pool of light created a tiny space for two, a safe haven. Ellie’s warm body was wrapped round him, her head nestled on his shoulder. Spontaneous combustion would have been cooler than the fire that flared between them. He rested his chin on her head, the light scent of lavender bath oil a soothing balm.

Ellie felt like the missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. He could see the completed picture now, a promise of what life could be. When Nick joined the army his father had been bitterly disappointed. Even as he signed the papers Nick knew he was simply swapping one level of authority for another. Instead of his father shouting at him, it was now a sergeant major. But the ordered existence gave him time to discover who he was, what really made him tick. He appreciated the very tight bond of belonging to a unit that rebuilt towns and villages, roads and bridges, a unit that kept people safe by disarming roadside bombs and securing transport lines.

He enjoyed the camaraderie that kept them all sane when they were away from home for such long stretches. He loved knowing that his engineering skills made a difference to ordinary people’s lives. The same people who time and time again were let down by their politicians and leaders. He was doing something tangible to improve their world.

Nowhere in that life had he made time for a woman. Sure, there’d been the soft welcoming warmth of women whose names he’d forgotten, but never had he allowed himself the luxury of imagining a woman by his side tomorrow. He’d had girlfriends in Australia who loved the idea of going out with a soldier, but none of them appreciated the reality of long separations and the constant uncertainty. He’d never done anything to change that, to make a commitment. Now there was Eleanor Wilding with her lofty ideals and passionate pursuit of truth. She made him believe in tomorrow.

Ellie murmured in her sleep, snuggling closer against his chest. His arm tightened round her, revelling in the silkiness of her skin. He barely dared to believe she might stay with him, but he didn’t want this night to be a memory he’d treasure for the rest of his life as they went their separate ways. He wanted to explore, push the boundaries, bind her closer and never let her go. He wanted to capture and keep her humanity, her laughter, her love.

The tears of the day had washed away her reserves and the beautifully wanton woman who’d taken him to bed had overwhelmed his senses. The texture of her skin, the unbearable heat of her body wrapped around him, trapping him fast in her slick depths had brought them both soaring out of control. He felt himself hardening again with the memory.

Could it be possible that, out of all the pain and hurt of Afghanistan, they could both find their way to a better life, together?

He sighed, his chest rising hard against her. Some of his optimism deserted him. Tomorrow was D-day. She’d have to deal with Alex’s shooting and its consequences. They’d both have some more explaining to do. He’d also been advised that Teisha’s body had been recovered from Sydney Harbour, minus one finger. He’d have to tell Ellie some time tomorrow before the police spoke to her. She wasn’t a suspect, but she was certainly in possession of vital information. It had taken a lot of persuading for the police to agree to interview her later rather than directly after the shooting.

He feathered a kiss against her still damp hair. Ellie stirred against him, sliding her leg higher over his thigh. Heat shot straight to his core.

With butterfly touches she followed the curve of his bicep. The tip of her tongue flicked over his chest just below where the downy hair of his armpit finished. He groaned but didn’t stop her. It was exquisite torture.

She propped herself on one elbow, shaking her hair down her back, the light picking out the threads of gold and red. ‘We must live in the moment, Nick. You know as well as I do that life waits for no one.’ She touched the scar on his shoulder and he felt as though she’d seen through his lies. When she leant closer and dropped kisses on the marks war had left behind, he felt his eyes burn. She healed him, took away the toxic memories, made him whole again. Made him believe that anything was possible.

He wove his fingers through hers, fighting against the tension that threatened to steal his voice. He didn’t want to ruin this night. He didn’t have the words to express any of the emotion that swamped him. He went for action instead and kissed each fingertip, then pressed his lips to her palm, his heart racing with the force of his need. She shivered against him, then lay back on the downy pillow, her lips red from his kisses.

He stretched her arm above her head with their hands still intertwined. He captured her lips again. Her breasts rose and fell, brushing against him as he leant over her and nipped her bottom lip. Her body shone like polished marble, her nipples dusky rose tips that pouted to his touch as he trailed his fingers down to her waist. Her legs, still tangled in the sheets, stirred. He ran his thumb over the jut of her hip, traced the curve and dip to the silky skin between her thighs and trembled as her long legs parted to him.

Her scent, so recognisable but so new, surrounded him as his lips followed his fingers, tasting, testing, delighting in each sigh, each ripple, each moan. Her fingers twined in his hair as he touched his tongue to her centre and her hips bucked under him. ‘Nick,’ she breathed and he heard surrender in her words and felt desire in her touch as her hands involuntarily tightened. ‘Oh, Nick . . .’

Her heat, her arousal, disarmed him completely. This moment was for her, for the woman she could be when she let her guard down. ‘Oh, Nick . . .’ As she tumbled over the edge with shaking limbs and his name on her lips he knew he was lost to her. The centre of his world had shifted.