To Love, Honour and Disobey. Natalie Anderson

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СКАЧАТЬ stirred. Memories he’d buried. The scent, the laughter, the sparkle in her eyes and the satin of her skin. And her heat.

      He was stifling hot now—it was Africa though, wasn’t it?—not because of her. It was the dry, inescapable heat of a continent almost always in drought.

      Well, not quite. Because not only was he hot. He was hard. He suppressed the unexpected flare of desire. Surely not. Not going there again. He looked back on that week and it was like this blurred rush of events that had knocked the breath from his lungs and the sense from his head. Even now he couldn’t work out how it had happened. How he’d come to commit such folly.

      Then he refocused on her. Felt the tightening deep within. And knew. Sexual drive, physical compatibility, instant lust. Whatever you wanted to call it, they’d had it—by the oversized shipping-container load. But they hadn’t had anything else. They hadn’t had time for anything else—and no interest either. He never had interest in more.

      He felt a vague stirring of panic. So he’d seen her. She was fine—clearly absolutely, completely, utterly fine. But now he was stuck on a truck with her for another week. Not well planned, Seb. He wanted to call out to the driver, to get off again, but they were out of the town now and heading towards some national park wilderness. OK. He sat a little further away from her. He could handle this, couldn’t he? He could control his more insane animal urges. Hadn’t he spent the last year discovering the meaning of discipline?

      Ana looked out of the side of the truck and blinked. Trying to stop the fog from clouding her head. She’d forgotten. She’d totally forgotten. OK, so she’d made herself forget. It had been the only way to get through the heartache, by blanking out the electricity that had arced between them. But here it was back again. Like a flash, before she’d even realised it was him—making her body want to bend towards him.

      As he was almost six foot five people couldn’t help but notice Sebastian—and that was just the height thing. While she knew all about that, that was where their commonality ended. When you added the rest of Seb’s body, the smile and the ice-blue eyes, you had an awesome package—something that definitely couldn’t be said for her. She was just overly tall, overly angular, overly shy. And there was something more about Seb. Something that transcended the physical. Something that made not just women sit up, but men too. That unspoken authority, his confidence.

      A man in control—the man in control.

      That was Seb. The one everyone said yes to. But she wasn’t going to let him take control of them again as he had that week. There was no them.

      Confidence rippled through her. Yes. She was no longer the pushover he’d met back then. In fact the strength she now had was partly a result of his attention. There might have been nothing else, but that extreme passion had been something for her to cling to. No one had ever wanted her—or indeed had her—the way Sebastian had in that week. And for someone to have wanted her like that—even for just a short time—had been a huge boost to her self-esteem. For the first time in her life she’d felt beautiful. Such a shame, then, wasn’t it, that what had then happened had happened? But she’d learned from it—moved on and become determined to make something more of herself. Really she ought to thank him for giving her the fuel, the firepower to finally take charge of her life. ‘So you’re joining the truck?’

      ‘Yeah.’

      Oh, well. That was going to be interesting. ‘It’s almost over.’ No hiding the thank-goodness-for-that in her tone. She smiled brighter to make up for it.

      ‘I’m staying on for a bit after.’ He grinned too, as if he knew her sentiments and understood the relief. ‘Doing some sightseeing on my own.’

      ‘Great.’ Good luck to him. She’d be on the plane and getting on with her life. But before then they had a week to get through. She processed the thought: they didn’t need to mix together much—could sit apart. Yet it was such a small environment on the truck. If only she’d made more of an effort with the other passengers she could hide amongst them. But she’d kept herself to herself—just quietly taking in the sights and enjoying her freedom.

      The truck bounced along the road taking them further from the village. For once Bundy seemed intent on picking up the speed. Ana kept her focus on the vast landscape, enjoying the slight wind cooling her burning skin. It was a converted old army truck. The tarpaulin roof was invariably pulled right back so they could see all around, and be slow cooked in the sun. Only it was no slow cooker today—she felt as if she were being grilled on high.

      The bang was loud. She lurched forward, bumped her head on the seat in front of her and in the same instant was thrown back into her seat.

      ‘Ow.’ It was the shock more than anything that made her cry out.

      Swearing voices seemed to surround her. Loud and lots. Bundy in the cab hollered up an apology and an explanation. A blown tyre. She kept her eyes closed, feeling sick at the way her brain still rattled back and forth against her skull.

      Fingers gripped her shoulder. Skin touched skin. She was compelled to turn. The sizzle kick-started her heart and she squeezed her eyes tighter together. Not wanting to acknowledge what he made her feel.

      ‘Ana, are you OK?’

      She said nothing.

      ‘Ana?’ His fingers moved, stroking her shoulder, her arm. Every spot he touched burned. It was a wonder the smoke wasn’t curling up between them as he kindled her senses.

      She opened her eyes. Looked straight into the face that was so familiar yet was so different. Leaner, somehow more taut. He was looking right back at her—too close; their gaze locked. Instantly the voices of the others were muted. She heard nothing but the growing rush in her ears. It had been so very long. So long since her toes had curled in instinctive delight, so long since she’d felt that restlessness inside.

      Her brain was thickening, but her blood thinning—zinging with mercurial fluidity around her body. She was melting, her core defrosting as yearning rose—for the passion that once made her mindless. His passion.

      Her lips parted but no sound emerged. Mesmerised, she watched the lights shift in his eyes. The pale blue sharpened—reflected the shock. Then his pupils swelled, the darkness swallowing the ice. She could see the tension as the tiny muscles worked, narrowing his gaze just that little bit.

      Her own eyes were fixed wide—she couldn’t blink, couldn’t breathe.

      After an age his attention dropped. She could feel his focus. Could read his mind and for just one moment she wanted it.

      A kiss.

      She jerked, pulling away from him. Concussion. Had to be. That could be the only explanation for that random moment of lunacy.

      His hand fell and she heard him mutter the word she’d once ached to hear.

      ‘Sorry.’

      So was she. Sorry he’d just walked back into her life. Even sorrier that her body seemed determined to celebrate the fact.

      ‘I’m going to help with the tyre.’ He stood.

      She pasted another smile on her face as if that halfsecond had never happened. ‘Great.’

      A week with Seb on board. She could handle that. Sure she could. No problem.

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