Dating the Rebel Tycoon(25)

He turned and saw her there.

Moonlight glowed through the tight mesh, creating glints in his eyes.   Though she soon realised the glints would have been there even if they'd   been in pitch blackness.

The pom-poms on top of her beanie brushed the ceiling, while he had to   bend so as not to stick his head through the top. She glanced up, saw   his hair catching and creating static, went to tell him so, but he   reached out to her, grabbed a hunk of her cardigan and pulled her to   him. Her breath shot from her lungs in a sharp whoosh as her chest   thumped against his.

She desperately clambered for her instincts, hoping they might come to   her rescue again, but they were as immobilised as she was.

He dropped to his knees and she came with him. They were nose to nose,   the intermingling of warm breath making her cheeks hot. Her heart   thundered in her ears. She felt lightheaded. Little tornados curled   about her insides.                       
       
           



       

And she knew, as well as she knew her own name, that she'd done the right thing. Their minute wasn't up.

He snuck a hand along her neck, his thumb stroking the soft spot just   behind her ear. Her whole body responded, opening to him like a flower   to the sun. She immediately contracted in fear at exposure of how much   she wanted this. Wanted him. Was willing to tell herself whatever she   needed to hear to have him.

But then he leaned in and kissed her. Gently. Slowly. And all the last   bits of her that hadn't melted finally did so. She sank into him and   kissed him back.

Sensation so astronomical overwhelmed her until she could only pick out   pieces to focus upon lest she drown in the delectable whole.

The subtle strength of his hand cupped the back of her head. His breath   tickled the column of her neck before he rained kisses over every inch   of her throat. Her cardigan tie slithered across her back as he undid   it.

She came to from far, far away when suddenly it all came to a cruel halt.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her chest. Her chest wasn't all that impressive without a lot of help.

'What on earth are you wearing?' he asked.

She looked down to find his fingers enclosed over a fat, furry, pig-shaped button on her pink flannelette pyjama-top.

She slapped a hand across her eyes. 'My pyjamas. Oh God, I was cold, I was lazy. I was feeling sorry for myself.'

'Rosalind.' The way he said her name …

She let her hand slip away and looked up into his eyes. His deep, dark, bottomless, persuasive blue eyes.

He slipped the first button from its hole, and her breath caught.

And when he kissed her again she felt so frail she believed she might   just shatter into a thousand pieces before the night was through.



Hours later, Rosie stroked slow fingers over Cameron's naked chest while his fingers played gently with her hair.

The rising sun washed beams of gold through the opening of the tent,   leaving his beautiful profile in sharp relief, while she was shielded   from the beams' touch by his large form.

So it had to be. No matter how much they each struggled against their   true natures, he would always be a child of the light, she of the dark.

Perhaps the only moments they could simply still be together were the   in-between moments, right at dawn or dusk, when everything seemed   softer, gentler, quieter. When nothing, past or future, mattered more   than the moment itself.

A great sadness overwhelmed her. Why, she didn't know. After the night she'd had, she should be feeling anything but sad.

She rested her chin on the back of her hands and in the rosy half-light   her thoughts spilled unchecked from her lips. 'I've come to the   brilliant conclusion that you're the human equivalent of Alpha   Centauri.'

He opened his eyes and her sadness slipped away. He turned his head to   watch her, a quizzical smile only adding more character to his beautiful   face. 'Would it be in my best interests to ask why?'

She grinned from the top of her mussed hair to the tips of her bare   toes. 'I'm gonna tell you anyway. Alpha Centauri appears as a single   point of light to the naked eye, but is actually a system of three   stars.'

'You think I have a split personality?'

She held up a stilling finger. 'I think there's more to you than the   face you show the world. You're also bright, eye-catching and seem much   closer than you really are.'

'Eye-catching, eh?' He closed one eye. 'And how long were you lying there coming up with all that?'

She shrugged, her upper body sliding deliciously against his. 'Not long.'

'Mmm.' He lifted a heavy hand and trailed it down her naked back,   sending goose bumps popping up all over her skin. 'So how far away is my   heavenly twin right now?'

'Four-point-three trillion kilometres.'

His laughter lifted her as it echoed through his ribs.

Rosie buried her blushing cheeks in a mound of sleeping bag. 'I'm sorry.   I just compared you with spheres of hot gases. And after all the nice   things you just did for me. And to me. It seems to have opened neural   pathways better left closed.'

'I only have myself to blame.'

She lifted her head and rubbed a knuckle across the end of her cold nose. He lifted his head to kiss the spot.

This was bliss. This made it all worth it. Surely …

She looked directly into his disarming eyes as she said, 'All that Alpha   Centauri stuff-I just meant that you've turned out to be not quite who  I  expected you'd be.'

'A man ought to do his best to exceed expectations wherever possible.'

'Maybe a man ought to, though in my experience not all that many bother to try.'                       
       
           



       

'Your experience?' he rumbled. 'Now, there's a subject I could warm to.'

He waggled his eyebrows, and Rosie felt like she'd blushed enough for one day. Any more and her cheeks might stay that way.

'This is not the time for that conversation.' She dragged herself into a   sitting position. She slipped her flannelette pyjama-top on, and   quickly added the beanie and scarf, suddenly cold now that she was no   longer wrapped in Cameron.

His fingers slunk beneath her top and trailed down her back, creating a   slip and shift of heat that made her want to give in and stay, talk,   confess, believe …

But, like Alpha Centauri, the four-point-three trillion ways he made her   feel safe and secure and precious were illusions all. At the end of  the  day, she was all she had. And that was fine. She could enjoy him in  the  in-between times. And that would be enough. If she told herself  enough  times she might even start to believe it.

'Then how about we put it right up front during a Saturday night drink before my dad's birthday party?' he said.

'Before your who and what?' she asked. Her head whipped round to stare   at him, to find him leaning on one arm, bare chest rippling with manly   gorgeousness that made her sure the canoe, bike and jet ski in his   garage weren't the dust collectors his telescope was.

Her mouth watered. She dragged her eyes back to his-like that had ever made anything any easier!

'My father's seventieth,' he said. 'Something you said has been   percolating for a while now. And last night, as I cleaned the floors of   my house with my hours of pacing, I made up my mind. I'm going.'

'What did I say?'

'That you spent too long wishing you'd had the chance to know your   father, no matter what kind of man he might have been. I need to face   the man, to ease my mind. And, since you're the one who convinced me as   much, I thought you might like to tag along.'

Rosie breathed in and out. In and out. Not eight hours earlier he'd   wanted to cool things down. Now he was making plans whereby she would   meet his parents. His whole family. She tried to figure out what he was   playing at, but all that beautiful, warm skin was making it hard for  her  to see the bigger picture.

'Saturday? I can't,' she said, searching the end of the sleeping bag   with her feet for her jeans and sighing with relief when her toes hit   denim.

'It'll be one hell of a party.'

'I'm sure it will.'

The sleeping bag around her bare thighs slid away as Cameron sat up, and   it pooled low around his hips. Staring at the bland wall of the tent,   she whipped on her cardigan and did the bow up tight.

He leaned in and pushed her hair aside, laying a small, soft kiss on her neck.

She closed her eyes and tried to ignore the warmth washing across her   skin, the grip of his gravitational pull tugging her into oblivion. But   it felt too good. He felt so good. So difficult, so dangerous, but so   very good.

'Cameron … '

'The truth is, I need you there.'