It was just like it had been when they were dancing. He was so solid, so hot and male. She wanted to melt into him. To chase after the riot of sensations that were moving through her body at lightning speed. To finally know what it meant to share sexual pleasure with someone else.
She pushed away from him, wobbling again, but she managed to get her balance on her own. She took a sharp breath. Just the small distance between them afforded her more clarity of thought. But when she touched him … she forgot everything. Everything but her steadily growing desire for him. Well, not really for him personally, but for his body. Gage was the last man on earth—okay, not really the last man but he was low on the list—with whom she would choose to have a real relationship. But something about him physically, probably his undeniable sex appeal, got to her more than any other man ever had.
It was raw and elemental, beyond common sense. And she really, really hated it.
“Sorry,” she said, her voice breaking and, she knew, revealing just how much the encounter had affected her.
“Be careful,” he said. His voice sounded thicker, huskier. That was when she knew. Knew that he was affected by her, too, that her touching him, pressing against him, was doing the same thing to him that it had done to her. And that did not make things better.
She twisted the engagement ring on her finger and reminded herself exactly why she didn’t need a relationship, with Gage or anyone else. She didn’t want anyone to own her. Didn’t want anyone to control her and manipulate her with her own foolish emotions. She’d seen how it worked, what love did to you, what it asked of you. It wasn’t anything she wanted a part of.
She followed him the rest of the way, more slowly and more carefully, until they reached the house. It was set up on stilts and made from solid dark teakwood with the traditional curves of Thai architecture, mixed with a modern sensibility. The large, covered outdoor living area that wrapped around the house made the most of the natural environment and the view. It appeared rustic in a sense, but she knew that inside it would have every modern convenience available, and even some that weren’t available. Not to mere mortals anyway.
“I love it,” she said, meaning it.
“I like it, too,” he said. “I designed it, actually.”
“You did?”
He shrugged. “That was how I got into property development. Architecture has always interested me. I like building resorts that are functional and beautiful, and blend in with the natural culture and landscape.”
“You really have to start saying these things in public,” she said.
Now she knew something about Gage, she realized. And he knew something about her. That caused strange tightening sensation in her chest.
“Why? Then your job would be easy.”
She rolled her eyes, ignoring the persistent roll of her stomach. “Can’t have that.” She walked up the exterior stairs of the house without waiting for him and went inside.
It was gorgeous, the décor simple and traditional, a muted color palette that caused all attention to be drawn to the view outside, to the vivid colors of the beach that could never be rivaled by anything man-made.
She moved through the open living room and into the kitchen, which was outfitted, as she’d predicted, with top-of-the-line equipment. Stainless steel appliances and granite countertops. The kitchen flowed seamlessly into the dining room, which went back around into the living room.
“Where’s my room?” she asked, starting to feel desperate for a little bit of space. He was making her whole body feel restless and jittery and she needed a break.
“Just through here,” he said and gestured to another open doorway just off of the living room.
There was no door, just a cleverly angled wall that kept the bed from view. The bedroom was open to a massive bathroom that was, again, only private in part.
“Are there no interior doors in this house?” she asked, feeling panic start to pick at her calm, fraying the edges a bit.
“No. I thought it would compromise the integrity of the design.”
“It compromises common decency. That’s what it does. That’s … that’s my concern,” she said, feeling her heart rate rise.
“I promise I’ll keep to my quarters.”
She hated that she couldn’t play like she was fine with it. Another thing she was revealing about herself, which was one reason she valued her privacy so much. How many other twenty-seven-year-old women had such a hang-up about sharing space? Especially with a man. Most women her age shared space with men frequently and happily.
“I just … I live by myself for a reason.”