Page 67 of Taking the Heat

Exhausted, I bade her goodbye, needing my strength for the next challenge. Just as I was about to close my door, Chris came sprinting up. ‘Babe! I wanted to say goodnight!’

A tight happy feeling clutched at my lower belly. ‘Thanks. Do you want to come in?’

‘Sure,’ he said enthusiastically. ‘I’ll make you a tea.’

We slipped inside, closing the door to the outside world. The two glasses of white wine I’d consumed with my seafood dinner flared inside me, driving my barely suppressed lust for Chris to the surface.

Wickedly, I raised an eyebrow at him. ‘Actually, I’m just about to take a shower. Do you want to watch?’

Chapter 22

So, Chris watched me shower. That’s it.

(Male producer, in a slightly strangled voice:That’s it? I mean, don’t you want to talk about it?)

I don’t know … you guys don’t really want to hear that stuff, do you?

(Yes! Please, it would be really great for our viewers to have a greater insight into your mindset at the time—)

Admit it. You’re dying to hear all about it.

(In a purely professional sense, I’m sure we’re all curious.)

You’re sitting kinda funny. Are you feeling okay?

(Ah … um, yes, it’s these pants, you see—)

Oh my god, you guys are so easy to mess with.

So, anyway, I asked him the question while kicking off my wedges. Watching me, Chris said, ‘Babe, you know I can’t say no to that offer, but isn’t this dangerous?’

‘Why?’ I asked, unbuttoning the top of my white pants. Chris’ mouth fell open slightly, his lip trembling. ‘We’re allowed to hang out, as long as we don’t touch.’ I slid the fly down, then began to ease the jeans over my hips, my white lacy thong exposed.

Chris couldn’t tear his eyes away. ‘I meant dangerous because if you’re naked, I don’t know if we’ll be able to stop ourselves.’

‘I trust you.’ My pants crumpled to the floor and I stepped out of them. Sashaying to the bathroom, I glanced back over my shoulder. ‘The offer is there, but it’s nothing you haven’t seen already. If you want to leave, that’s fine too. I’ll see you in the morning.’

He moved like a blur, his breath against my neck before I’d even turned my head. ‘Woman, you will be the death of me,’ he growled.

My naked thighs began to burn in response to his nearness. It wasn’t only the sexual tension between us—even though that was at an excruciating level. I’d fallen asleep the previous night by taking a couple of sleeping pills the island doctor had given me, and most of the day was occupied with activity, but I was afraid if I stopped and let myself think, I’d realise how very close I’d come to having something awful happen to me out there in the jungle with Dante.

Then, during my afternoon nap, nightmares had haunted me. Thrashing in my bed, I’d dreamed I was back in the jungle, Dante right behind me. This time as he smashed me against the tree, my guardian angels didn’t show, and Dante’s hands crawled all over my skin, violating me. I cried and wailed as his face grew into a demonic mask, dripping and melting, the enormous mouth reaching for me with pointed teeth. I was trapped and alone. Waking up in a cold sweat, I felt dirty all over again.

I needed to do something with Chris that was life-affirming and positive. I wanted to purge Dante from my skin and brain by offering myself to Chris at my most vulnerable.

We entered the bathroom. Chris sat on the bamboo chair in the corner, while I turned the taps on to hot, in an optimistic hope that the steam would cloud the hidden mirror cameras. I’d made peace with being seen naked on TV, but I didn’t want to encourage high-definition replays.

Chris leaned back in the chair, his arms behind his head, his crystal blue eyes dark and lidded low. With only the sound of the water rushing, we could have been the only two people in the world.

‘Imagine my hands are your hands,’ I said, my voice throaty. ‘When I touch myself, it’s you I want.’

He didn’t answer. I don’t think he could have formed a sentence if he tried.

Staring directly at him, I pulled the pins from my bun and allowed my hair to unwind and dance around my shoulders. The strands tickled my already sensitive neck, and my nipples hardened, ready to join the party.

Chris groaned softly as I lifted the hem of my floaty shirt and oh-so slowly raised it up and over my head. My braless breasts bounced loose, the globes pointing at Chris, the areolas crinkled and firm. The soft steam felt like a caress on my skin as I let my hands skate down past my nipples, ignoring the way they cried out to be pulled and tweaked.

Hooking my fingers into the elastic of my panties, I turned around to give Chris a view of my round backside. As the lace pulled away from my skin, I felt a burst of dampness from my core, my body responding to the voyeurism.

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