The Helen Bianchin Collection. HELEN BIANCHIN

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СКАЧАТЬ later. It was almost ten when they checked into the hotel, and within minutes of entering into their suite Aysha crossed to the floor-to-ceiling glass window fronting the Broadwater, and released the sliding door.

      She could hear the muted sound of traffic, voices drifting up from the pool area. Adjacent was an enclosed man-made beach with a secluded cave and waterfall.

      In the distance she could see the architecturally designed roof resembling a collection of sails atop an exclusive shopping centre fronting a marina and connected by a walkway bridge to an exclusive ocean-front hotel.

      A few minutes later she sensed rather than heard him move to stand behind her.

      ‘Peaceful.’

      It was, and she said so. ‘Yes.’

      His arms curved round her waist and he pulled her close. ‘What do you want to do with the day?’

      There was a desperate need to get out of the hotel suite, and lose herself among the crowds. ‘A theme park?’ She said the first one that came into her head. ‘Dreamworld.’

      He hid a wry smile. ‘I’ll organise it.’

      ‘Just like that?’

      ‘We can hire a car and drive into the mountains, take any one of several cruises.’ His shoulders shifted as he effected a lazy shrug. ‘You get to choose.’

      ‘For today?’

      ‘All weekend,’ he said solemnly.

      ‘Give me too much power, and it might go to my head,’ Aysha teased, suddenly feeling more in control.

      ‘I doubt it.’

      He knew her too well. ‘After dinner we go to the Casino, then tomorrow we do Movieworld.’ Crowds, lots of people. Which left only the hours between midnight or later and dawn spent in this beautiful suite, with its very large, prominently positioned bed.

      Dreamworld was fun. They played tourist and took a bus there, went on several rides, ate hot dogs and chips as they wandered among the crowd. Aysha laughed at the white tigers’ antics, viewed the Tower of Terror and voiced an emphatic no to Carlo’s suggestion they take the ride.

      It was almost six when the bus deposited them outside the hotel.

      ‘I’ll have first take on the shower,’ Aysha indicated as they rode the lift to their designated floor.

      ‘We could share.’

      ‘I don’t think that’s a good idea,’ she said evenly. Just remembering how many showers they’d shared and their inevitable outcome set all her fine body hairs on edge.

      The lift slid to a stop and she turned in the direction of their suite.

      Inside, she collected fresh underwear and entered the large bathroom. The water was warm and she adjusted the dial, undressed, then stepped into the tiled stall.

      Seconds later the door slid open and her eyes widened as Carlo joined her.

      ‘What do you think you’re doing?’

      ‘Sharing a shower isn’t necessarily an invitation to have sex,’ he said calmly, and took the soap from her nerveless fingers.

      He was too close, but there was no further room to move.

      ‘Want me to shampoo your hair?’

      ‘I can do it,’ she managed in a muffled voice, and she missed his slight smile as he uncapped the courtesy bottle and slowly worked the gel into her hair.

      His fingers began a gentle massage, and she closed her eyes, taking care to stifle a despairing groan as he rinsed off the foam.

      Not content, he palmed the soap and proceeded to smooth it over her back, her buttocks, thighs, before tending to her breasts, then her stomach.

      ‘Don’t,’ Aysha begged as he travelled lower, and she shook her head in mute denial when he placed the soap in her hand, then guided it over his chest.

      Her fingers scraped the curling hair there, and she felt the tautness of his stomach, then consciously held her breath as he’d traversed lower.

      His arousal was a potent force, and she began to shake with the need for his possession. It would be so easy to let the soap slip from her hand and reach for him. To lift her face to his, and invite his mouth down to hers.

      Then he turned and his voice emerged as a silky drawl. ‘Do my back, cara.’

      She thrust the soap onto its stand, and slid open the door. ‘Do it yourself.’

      Aysha escaped, only because he let her, she was sure, and she caught up a towel, clutched hold of her underwear, and moved into the bedroom.

      It was galling to discover her hands were trembling, and she quickly towelled herself dry, then wound the towel turban-wise round her head.

      By the time Carlo emerged she was dressed, and she re-entered the bathroom to utilise the hairdrier, then tend to her make-up.

      White silk evening trousers, a gold-patterned white top, minimum jewellery, and white strapped heeled pumps made for a matching outfit.

      Black trousers and a white chambray shirt emphasised his dark hair and tanned skin. He’d shaved, and his cologne teased her nostrils, creating a havoc all its own with her senses.

      ‘Ready?’

      They caught a taxi to the Casino, enjoyed a leisurely meal, then entered the gambling area.

      Aysha’s luck ran fickle, while Carlo’s held, but she refused to use his accumulated winnings, choosing instead to watch him at the blackjack table. Each selection was calculated, his expression impossible to read. Much like the man himself, she acknowledged silently.

      It was after one when they returned to the hotel. Aysha felt pleasantly tired, and in their suite she slipped out of her clothes, cleansed her face of make-up, then slid into bed to lie quietly with her eyes closed, pretending sleep.

      Moments later she felt the mattress depress as Carlo joined her, and she measured her breathing into a slow, steady rise and fall. Grateful, she told herself, that Carlo’s breathing gradually acquired a similar pattern.

      Why was it that when you didn’t want something, you felt cheated when you didn’t receive it? Aysha queried silently. The size of the bed precluded any chance of accidentally touching, and she didn’t feel inclined to instigate the contrived kind...

      ‘Come on, sleepyhead, rise and shine.’

      Aysha heard the voice and opened her eyes to brilliant sunshine and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee. It was morning already?

      ‘Breakfast,’ Carlo announced. ‘You have three quarters of an hour to eat, shower and dress before we need to take the bus to Movieworld.’

      What had happened to the night? You slept right through it, a tiny voice taunted. Wasn’t that what you wanted?

      They СКАЧАТЬ