Chapter 35

Chapter Thirty-Five

B ritt stepped into the Crusoe Suite, the air whooshing from her lungs as she realised what Nick had done.

Every detail of the incredible room—the sheer ivory chiffon draping the open-air French doors leading to a stunning horizon pool, the raised alabaster king-sized bed, the countless tea-lights shimmering in the dusk, the heady scent of frangipani lingering in the air—indicated Nick remembered.

He remembered.

Her gaze lingered on the picnic blanket spread in the middle of the spacious room: the feast of chocolate-dipped strawberries, double-roasted almonds, and petit fours, with a bottle of chilled Moscato in an ice bucket.

All her favourites, in her ultimate fantasy room.

When had she told him? Their first date? Their second? Their tenth? Irrelevant, considering he'd remembered her island fantasy and recreated it to perfection in this breathtaking suite.

'I'm glad you came.'

Like something out of a movie, Nick stepped into view, brushing chiffon aside to enter the suite. If the room was gorgeous and the view sublime, Nick was out of this world.

Wearing formal black trousers and a crisp white shirt open at the neck, his hair ruffled by the ocean breeze, he padded barefoot towards her, every step accelerating her heart rate towards cardiac arrest.

'I had to say goodbye,' she managed on a squeak as he swept her into his arms, strode to the picnic blanket, and gently deposited her, nuzzling her neck in the process.

'Shh…' He brushed a soft kiss against her lips, a kiss to fuel dreams, a kiss laden with promise. 'No talk of goodbyes. We have the whole night and I intend to make every second count.'

If his kiss rendered her speechless, the clear intent in his eyes clammed her up because there was little doubt once they'd eaten he'd be feasting on her.

'Here, drink this.' He handed her a wine glass, his knowing smile telling her he knew exactly how he'd flummoxed her.

After several unladylike gulps, she cleared her throat and managed to speak. 'This must be the most popular suite in the hotel.'

His eyes glittered as he shook his head. 'It's never been booked.'

'I don't understand.'

'This room is never available. It's never been used.'

'But—'

'Tonight's the first.' Raising his glass in her direction, he said, 'Rather fitting.'

He couldn't possibly mean…he wasn't implying…

'Are you saying—?'

Swooping in for another stolen kiss, he whispered against her lips, 'This is your room, Red. Your fantasy. Surely you know I could never share it with anyone else?'

Her heart swelled with love for this amazing man. She loved him with everything she had but she couldn't silence the doubt demons perched on her shoulder, whispering in her ears what she'd be giving up, what she'd be risking if she stayed now.

While she'd taken the first tentative step towards forgiving her father, everything she'd been through with him had moulded her into the woman she'd become today: a strong, independent woman too scared to rely on anyone else, a woman wary of loving too much.

This room might be her fantasy, but could she say the same about her marriage?

It had started as a pretence, built on shaky foundations, something transient and intangible that could vanish as easily as any dreams she once had for the two of them.

'Why did you build a room like this when you had no idea I'd ever see it?'

He shrugged, his expression bashful. 'I've built my dreams from nothing. And when you have nothing, hope is a powerful motivator.'

She shook her head, confused. 'You hoped I'd come back?'

‘I counted on it.'

His confident smile set her pulse racing.

'I used to come into this suite for some time out.' He pushed to his feet and gestured at the room. 'Did some of my best thinking here.'

Confused, she said, ‘But I only came back for work and we married out of mutual benefit for our businesses. How could you have known I'd ever get to see this?'

'You would've come back, Red. It's fate.'

She refrained from snorting, just. 'I don't believe in it.'

She made her own luck, ever since she'd had the sense to flee home and relocate to London. Fate had dealt her a bum hand in the paternal stakes and she'd lost faith in it a long time ago.

Smiling, he held out his hand to her. 'It's the Italian in me. We believe in higher powers.'

So did she at that moment as she placed her hand in his and he tugged her to her feet.

'I also believe in us,' he said, holding her close.

She wanted to lose herself in the fantasy, but logic wouldn't be denied. She had to leave tomorrow and wanted to make sure he knew where things stood with their marriage.

'You didn't believe in us ten years ago,' she said, struggling to hide her bitterness. ‘Not enough to make us work.'

He swore under his breath and hugged her tighter. 'I was young, idealistic, and an idiot. Let me prove to you how much you mean to me.'

'You don't have to—'

He crushed his mouth to hers, eradicating her protests, her rationale, her reason.

She shivered with longing as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping inside her mouth to touch hers, his hands tugging on the sash holding her wrap dress together.

It slithered to the floor in a hiss of silk, leaving her flesh bare to his exploring hands. They skimmed her skin, his fingers trailing up her thighs, lingering at the edge of her panties before delving beneath.

She melted against him, clung to him, her need for Nick astonishing in its all-consuming power.

She couldn't think when he grazed her clitoris, didn't want to think when he thumbed it, circled it, backing her slowly towards the bed without breaking tempo.

'Step up, sweetheart,' he murmured, guiding her like a maestro when they hit the dais before gently laying her on the bed, playing her body with his mouth and his tongue and his fingers until she could've sung encore arias all night.

He kept her on the edge, tormenting her with pleasure as she arched her back, thrust her hips up, desperate for him, begging for release.

'Nick, please…'

'We have all night.' He kissed her, swallowing her plea, toying with her until mind-numbing need made her incoherent.

After a torturous eternity he picked up tempo, his thumb circling her clitoris with perfect pressure, and on the next stroke spasms rocked her body, wave after wave of intense, mindless pleasure drenching her.

Before she could catch her breath he'd whipped off his pants, sheathed himself, and thrust inside her. Hard, insistent, demanding everything she could give.

Spent and listless with satisfaction, Britt watched as Nick drove into her, again and again, smooth and unrelenting.

She reignited, tensed, and climaxed at the same time he did, their cries mingling on the night air before fading away to contented silence.