Laughter erupted from him in a rush. No one—no one—talked to him like this. Ella Montgomery must have a set of stainless steel ballsanda spine to match. He liked that about her. Far more than he should, in truth. She was compassionate, professional, quick thinking... And she was starting to become more than a short-term distraction.
She’d never be a potential bride, despite his earlier joke, because Liam didn’t do forever. He leased his car. He leased his plane. He leased his flat. Hell, he had term versus whole life insurance. Everything in his life had an end date, even his career. Thanks to sound financial planning, he would retire in sixteen years at age fifty.
So that mythical woman, the one capable of enticing Liam to rethink a forever type of commitment? She didn’t exist. Not for him and, given what he’d witnessed within his peer group, within the business world and, God knew, within his family, not for anyone.
It struck him that if Ella had him shoring up his emotional boundaries and personal beliefs, he should be careful.
Standing, he moved to the front of the catamaran, leaned against one of the masts and quickly outlined his plan.
Seduction would necessarily come first. His. Hers. Theirs. It mattered little so long as it occurred.
Second, mutual physical pleasure—always a fine goal.
Third, he’d get her out of his system, thus removing any craving he might have for her.
Fourth, and finally, he’d ensure there were no strings.
That gave him roughly forty-eight hours to complete his plan before he got back to business as usual.
He’d worked with less.
The dive had been a complete success, and Ella signed the paperwork that made the excursion an official group activity for the wedding guests.
Headed back to the bungalow with Liam, she laid a hand on his arm, hoping the physical contact would smooth the way to her next task. “I know you don’t want to give me guests’ names in order to protect your sister’s identity. I get that. I do,” she emphasized when he looked down at her, face entirely deadpan. “I’m not asking for names. I don’t need them. I just need the guest preferences from your spreadsheet. I can’t do my job, can’t represent your sister’s best interests, without them.”
His arm stiffened beneath her hand before he broke contact, stepping away. “Ella, I understand you need the spreadsheet, and I’ll get it to you as soon as I have a chance to amend it and remove names. You’ll have it in plenty of time to do what my sister hired you to do.”
Irritation brought a hot flush to her cheeks. A fallen coconut lay in the middle of the path, and for a brief moment she envisioned braining him with the shell before stealing his computer and running off to print the mysterious list. Sighing, she toed the coconut off the path and continued walking beside him. “This isn’t a want, Liam. It’s a need. No matter what you may think of my profession, that’s precisely what it is. A profession. I’m a professional. It’s a business, not some fun little hostess-styled sideline thing I do to break the daily ennui of living as a high-society wife.”
“My mother might take offense to that assessment of her monthly luncheons.”
“Then I’ll issue an apology.To your mother.” She shoved her hands through the mass of hair she’d unbraided and let dry in the sea breeze. “If you’ll just give me—”
He wrapped an arm around her waist and led her into the dense tropical foliage that lined the path. It was cultivated but had grown up, taken on a wild feel.
She let out a small squeak of surprise when he took her hips and backed her into a palm tree. Looking over his shoulder, he found the greenery had closed behind them. For all intents and purposes, they were well off the beaten path, not steps off a cultivated one.
Perfect.
“Let’s talk about want versus need.” Shifting, he pressed against her. The fabric of their swimwear did nothing to hide his full, throbbing erection.
“Let’s,” she murmured. Her hands went to his hips. He arched a brow, and she knew she’d surprised him. “Seize every moment or there might not be another, remember?”
“I guarantee there will be another.”
“Then perhaps...” She made as if to step away, and he took one hand gently, firmly.
“I wanted you earlier, Ella. Now?” He swallowed and looked askance, and she wasn’t sure if it was his confession or the sun that deepened the color of his cheeks. “Now, this is sheer, unadulterated need.”
“I understand.”
He cupped her chin and lifted her face to his. “Do you? I’m not playing around, Ella. I hunger for you in a way that defies logic and explanation.”
“Feeling’s mutual,” she murmured.
A group of young adults passed by only feet from where they stood. The teens never paused, never glanced their way.
Ella adjusted her stance so that the length of his cock pressed along the soft, bare skin of her belly. The fabric of his swim trunks was stretched beyond manufacturer recommendations, no doubt.