White-Hot Christmas Read online

  “I have an ear for languages.”

  “Oh? Can you speak any others?” He ducked under an overhanging branch. A couple of the trees formed a natural nook by a cluster of rocks. He sat on one, and she perched across from him. Her sundress had a split at the bottom and it now parted, revealing her pale and shapely legs to mid-thigh. Her hands rested on the rock, and as she leaned forward, her breasts strained at the fabric, and he had a terrific view down her cleavage. Wow, she was hot. He blinked and tried to concentrate on her face.

  “I’m fluent in French and German, and I can get by in Spanish and Italian. And I can insult you in several other languages.”

  He laughed. “Go on then.”

  She thought about it. “Caesar si viveret, ad remum dareris.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s Latin—it means ‘If Caesar were alive, you’d be chained to an oar.’”

  He burst out laughing. She smiled, studying him for a moment. He got the impression she was trying to decide something, but he couldn’t guess what she was thinking.

  He took off his sunglasses so he could see her better, putting them in his pocket. She blushed as he surveyed her, the same as she had when they first met, and he smiled again. She really was lovely. Her blue eyes were wide and serious. She swallowed, as if she was nervous, although he couldn’t think what about.

  Finally she gave a little, resigned sigh. “Voulez vous coucher avec moi, ce soir?”

  He grinned. “Even if I hadn’t heard the song, French happens to be one language I am familiar with.”

  She studied him, her face serious. Then, taking him completely by surprise, she said again, “Voulez vous?”

  He stared at her. His eyebrows rose as he realised she wasn’t just repeating the phrase, she was asking him if he wanted to sleep with her tonight.

  He was completely stunned. Not because she’d been so forward, necessarily—there was nothing wrong with women taking the initiative, as far as he was concerned, and in fact he found it quite a turn-on normally. But that Merle should say something so blatant…

  They studied each other for a moment. He felt baffled. Was she serious? It wouldn’t be the first time he’d misunderstood the signs—every guy had a story like that, and once he’d even been slapped, although in his defence he’d only been fifteen at the time. But Merle certainly seemed serious.

  He couldn’t make her out at all. Her face was devoid of emotion, her eyes calm. Was this a regular thing for her? Did she sleep around a lot? Again, that didn’t particularly bother him—he enjoyed sex, so why shouldn’t women? But he couldn’t think that was the case. Jake had said she wasn’t impulsive, that there was no way she’d be interested in a holiday romance, and that she never went to bed with anyone without dating them for six months first. Was she really suggesting sex then? If so, how come she was so composed, so emotionless? He frowned, completely at a loss as to what to say.

  He’d just started to formulate a reply in his head when he saw the pulse in her throat. It beat rapidly, and as he looked farther down, he saw her breasts rising and falling in rapid succession, in spite of her apparent lack of emotion. He glanced back at her face. Her eyes shone with panic. And then he understood.

  She didn’t do this all the time. In fact she’d probably never done it before in her life. Suddenly he doubted she’d had many partners at all. She was dedicated to her career, and that would mean little time for love or romance. But she’d travelled across the other side of the world for a little freedom from the ties of her everyday life, and she’d decided to take the opportunity to be adventurous, to step out of her comfort zone, desperate for some excitement, for hot but meaningless sex. And out of all the men in their group today, she’d chosen him.

  In spite of the fact that he knew many women found him desirable, Neon felt flattered. It was a superficial attraction, sure—she’d made it clear she hadn’t been drawn to his intellect. But he’d made her laugh several times that day, and anyway, what was wrong with straightforward physical attraction, in this setting anyway? She wasn’t looking for a meaningful relationship. She was looking for fun.

  And that he could understand.

  Merle’s mouth had gone dry. She’d expected him to jump at the offer of sex with no strings attached, but his frown made her realise there was more to him than she’d thought.

  Oh great, I’ve picked a hot guy with principles. It had taken an immense amount of courage for her to say what she’d said, and now he was going to turn her down. She would have to walk back to the group rejected and excruciatingly embarrassed. What on earth must he think of her?

  Panic overwhelming her, she opened her mouth to blurt out she’d been joking when his frown lifted, his lips curving in a smile. Relief flooded over her.

  Standing, he moved closer to her and took her hands in his, pulling her toward him. She stood, toes sinking in the sand, heart thudding as he stroked her palms with his thumbs.

  “You want to play with me?” he asked mischievously.

  What a great way to put it. “Yes please,” she said breathlessly.

  He gave a little laugh, his eyes crinkling with affection and amusement. “How British! So polite.”

  She didn’t know what she expected him to do next. She’d practically given him carte blanche to do anything he wanted, and wondered if he would grab her butt, or her breasts, and try to tune her in like Phil used to do, thinking it turned her on to have her nipples squeezed until she winced.

  She didn’t expect him to link her fingers with his, still by their sides, fix her with a gentle smile and lower his mouth to hers.

  He kissed her softly, just a brush of lips, but it made her zing all over, an ice-cube running down her spine, her breasts and thighs tightening. Her heart pounded, but she made herself remain calm, though she knew her breath was coming quickly, and her nipples were standing through her dress like buttons.

  He pulled back and looked at her. His brown eyes were warm as melted chocolate, full of smiles. “You know what a hongi is?”

  “Is that the Māori greeting?”

  He nodded. Leaning forward, he pressed his nose gently against hers. “When we hongi, we share the breath of life. You’re not a manuhiri anymore—a visitor. You’re tangata whenua. One of the people of this land.”

  “Oh.” She blushed. “What a nice thing to say.”

  He chuckled. “A gift from me to you.” He released her fingers and stepped a bit closer, resting his hands on her hips. “And here’s the same thing in pakeha—that’s non-Māori.” He lowered his lips again.

  Merle rested her palms on his bare chest as they kissed. His skin was warm, dusted with a light coating of sand. He slid one hand onto the small of her back, pulling her gently toward him, pressing their hips together. She felt him against the flat of her stomach, hard as a rock, and sighed, her mouth opening under his. He inhaled in response and his tongue brushed hers, warm and soft. It was an incredibly erotic, slow kiss, with the sun warm on their skin and the rush of the waves in the background. She raised her arms around his neck, slipping a hand into his damp hair, pressing fully along him, her breasts touching his chest. He ran his hands up her rib cage, then slipped them around her back, tightening his arms around her. It was the nicest kiss she’d ever had, and she wanted it to go on forever, trying to capture the moment so she could replay it in the future when she returned to cold, wintry England.

  When they eventually drew apart, they were both breathing heavily. He widened his eyes with the mischievous look she’d begun to realise was his default setting. “You’re sexy as,” he said, brushing her cheek with his hand.

  “Sexy as what?”

  He laughed. “That’s what we say here. Sweet as. Hot as. Sexy as. All three of which you are.” He glanced back at where the rest of their group were starting to pack up. “Time to go back.” He looked at her. “I’m sleeping outside tonight—I’ve got a tent. It’s small, but if you want to join me, you’re very welcome.”
/>   “Really?”

  He laughed again. “Absolutely. Only we’ll have to keep our voices down—the tent is hardly soundproof and there’s no lock. Think you can do that?” His eyes gleamed.

  She felt breathless with anticipation. “I’ll do my best.” Heart thumping, she gave him a saucy look. “You’ll have to cover my mouth if I cry out.”

  His eyes went hot. “Oh my.” He grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s get dinner over with. I don’t think I’m going to be able to wait.”

  The next few hours passed with agonising slowness. Merle picked at the barbecued fish and tried not to cast longing glances at Neon. He looked over at her occasionally, and every time he did, her heart pounded at the thought of the events to come.

  In spite of her desperation for the time to pass, Merle had a great evening. With loud music on the radio, several bottles of wine being passed around and the Kiwis being such good company, she had an unusually good time being sociable for once.

  She had a couple of glasses of wine to relax her but stopped then, wanting to make sure she wasn’t incoherent when bedtime came. One of the guys tried to top up Neon’s glass at one point and he shook his head. “I’m on day shift tomorrow. And I want to keep my wits about me.” He cast a glance over at her and she shivered at the heat in his dark eyes.

  Eventually people started yawning and everyone agreed it was bedtime. Bree took Merle into the beach house and showed her the sofa bed. “I’ve put you here. Hope that’s okay.”

  “It’s fine, thanks.” Merle couldn’t look at Neon. This was crazy. She’d gone stark raving mad.

  Neon headed out with some of the others to the tents they had erected in the garden. “Good night,” he called to those staying in the house. “My little blue tent is calling me.”

  Merle sat on the sofa bed and drew up her legs, aware that he’d pointed out which tent was his for her benefit.

  “Night, sis.” Bree gave her a hug before disappearing into one of the two bedrooms with Jake.

  Merle went into the bathroom, clutching her night-bag. She swallowed, studying her reflection in the mirror, her heart hammering. Was she brave enough to carry this through?

  Chapter Four

  Neon lay on top of his sleeping bag, staring up at the roof of his tent, just a couple of feet above his nose. It had been about half an hour since he’d left the house, and Merle hadn’t appeared. He’d tried to read for a while but couldn’t concentrate, every little sound making him tense. She wasn’t going to come. Disappointment filtered through him. He’d really thought she wanted to. Clearly her nerves had won out. What a shame. He shifted irritably as a stone dug into his back. It was humid and stuffy in the tent, and he was so keyed up now, he’d have trouble getting to sleep. He wore only a T-shirt and boxers, but it was a warm night and he debated whether to take them both off.

  Then, however, the tent rustled and he heard a zip opening. He pushed himself onto an elbow, looking at the entrance, and flicked on the small lamp by his sleeping bag, filling the tent with a warm glow. Her head appeared, her eyes wide in the semidarkness. “Sorry I’m late,” she whispered. “Jake kept coming out for stuff.” She got her shoulders in then stopped and looked around. “Christ, this is minute! Are you sure we’ll both fit?”

  “We’ll have to squeeze up.” He grinned, pleasure sweeping through him. He stifled a laugh at what she was wearing—if he’d needed any further confirmation that she didn’t usually do this sort of thing, her pyjamas were enough to convince him. They were cotton and covered in pink bunnies.

  She’d got stuck in the doorway, so he leaned forward and lifted her in, and she gave a small squeal, laughing as he zipped up the tent. He lay back, bringing her with him. She was right—it was incredibly small inside, but then it was supposed to be a one-man tent. Not a one-man, one-woman.

  He turned on his side, propping his head with a hand. She did the same, facing him, just a few inches away. Her cheeks were flushed and she’d brushed her hair, and from the mintiness of her breath, her teeth as well. He felt a surprising surge of affection for her, though he hardly knew her at all. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”

  “Well, I haven’t yet.” She rolled her eyes, then giggled.

  He chuckled, reaching out to run a finger down her pink rabbit top. “Sexy.” The smile broke out in spite of his attempts to hide it.

  She looked at the pyjamas and back at him sheepishly. “I only brought two pairs with me and the other one is even worse. Neon—I didn’t come to New Zealand planning this. I don’t usually… I mean…”

  “Hey.” He frowned. “You don’t have to justify yourself to me. You’re over eighteen, right?”

  She stared at him blankly.

  “Merle, please tell me you’re over eighteen.”

  She laughed. “I’m twenty-five, but thank you for the compliment.”

  “And you’re single?”

  “Yes.”

  “So am I—so we don’t have to explain ourselves to anyone. What two consenting adults do in the privacy of their own…tent is nobody else’s business.”

  She smiled. “You have a great attitude to life.”

  “It’s got me into trouble a few times.”

  “I can imagine.” She looked at her hands. “It’s just…I don’t want you to think I do this all the time. I’m not a hussy.”

  He grinned. “You think I’m insulted at your forwardness? Merle, you’re young, you’re beautiful, you’re feeling horny and you chose me to help you out? Hey, I’m stoked!”

  Merle couldn’t help but laugh. Bree had been right—he was nice as well as hot.

  She met his warm gaze and her heart thudded. What should she do now? Did he want her to take her clothes off? She was too nervous, plus she wasn’t sure she had enough room to remove them.

  He reached up and leaned over her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. But he rummaged around in a bag at the end of the tent, and when she looked, she realised it was a small cooler. He extracted two plastic cups and a bottle of wine and held them up, raising his eyebrows. “Fancy a glass?”

  She grinned. “I thought you were on duty tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I’ll only have a splash. It’s more to set the mood than anything.”

  He wanted to set the mood? She felt strangely touched. He wasn’t just going to jump on her then. She took the cup he offered and held it up as he opened the bottle. There was so little room they had to manoeuvre around each other, making them both laugh.

  “Cheers,” he said once they’d tipped an inch into the two cups.

  “Skål! That’s Swedish.”

  “Skål!” They clunked cups and drank.

  He looked at her, smiling. Her heart—which had been beating pretty rapidly all evening, increased in pace. His hair was ruffled and he had a scattering of sand on his arms. He was gorgeous. And he was looking at her as if she were covered in maple syrup and he wanted to lick it off. She couldn’t believe her luck.

  “Are we really going to have sex?” she said before she could stop herself.

  He laughed and fixed her with a hot gaze. “Absolutely.” He pointed to the tent zip. “I’m not letting you out of there until I’ve seen you naked.” His eyes twinkled. “As endearing as those pyjamas are.”

  She poked her tongue out at him. “I may have to leave them on, anyway. I have no idea how I can possibly get undressed in here.”

  “I’m getting you out of those if I have to cut them off.” He finished his wine and threw the cup in the cooler. “Okay that’s it, I’m getting too hot.” He grasped the back of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head. With no room to move his arms, however, he got stuck halfway and she had to help him out with the final pull.

  Laughing, he ran a hand through his hair and then pulled her tight against him. He lowered his lips to hers, and electricity zapped through her from the base of her spine to the top of her head as she inhaled. It was nothing like the kiss on the beach. That had been slow, ten
tative and exploratory. Now she felt the full heat of his passion, the kiss searing her lips, his tongue hot and insistent, sweeping hers firmly. Exhale, exhale, you can’t breathe in continually or you’ll hyperventilate. But it was hard to catch her breath. She’d never been kissed like this in her life. How could she compare this to the fumbling advances of Simon, or the wet, selfish kisses of Phil? That would be like trying to compare a four-course gourmet meal with school dinners.

  Remembering something, she pulled back, placing a hand on his chest. “I forgot.” She slipped her fingers in the pyjama pocket on her breast and pulled out a condom. “I thought we might need this. I stole it from Bree’s purse.”

  He stuck his hand in his shorts pocket and pulled out another. “Hey, snap! I stole this from Jake.” He winked at her. “Now we can do it twice!”

  “Twice?” She felt slightly faint.

  He looked at the pocket on her pyjamas where she’d extracted the condom and slipped a finger inside, wiggling it around. “You got anything else interesting in there?”

  She giggled as he brushed her nipple. “No.”

  “Then time for these to come off.” He pulled insistently at the pink bunnies.

  Her mouth went dry, but he was already undoing the buttons. She watched as he undid them all and pulled the top off her shoulders. She blushed, starting to laugh as she ran out of space to move her arms. He had to help her tug it off, and by the end they were both laughing, hot and aroused in the tight space of the tent.

  He threw the top to one side, and putting his arms around her, rolled onto his back, taking her with him.

  “Wow.” He cupped both her breasts, admiring her. “You are so sexy.”

  She smiled, breathless. “Thank you.”

  “You’re very welcome, Miss I’m-So-Polite.” He brushed her nipples with his thumbs and she sighed, lowering her head to kiss him. Lying full along him, she could feel him hard and ready for her. It was very warm in the tent and her chest stuck to his, which was so erotic the trousers of her pyjamas grew damp between her legs.