Page 24 of Beautifully Wild

He sucks in more air as she approaches. She’s six steps away. He braces himself for the impact. Their eyes lock. He sees her and is aware the moment her nipples peak beneath thin nylon. She squeezes moisture from her hair.

Three steps…

Two…

She sits beside him.

Her floral scent crashes through his barrier. He moves slightly to give her more room, ensuring her skin doesn’t brush his. The slightest touch threatens his thin web of restraint. His manhood shifts a gear to drive his thoughts. He closes his eyes to give himself a moment.

For hours, he has prepared several short excuses as to his sudden appearance. Now she has infiltrated his senses, his composure flails. Yet hers has strengthened. Her strength impresses and nevertheless weakens him further.

“How did you know I’d be on this tour?” she asks without looking at him.

“I noticed your name on the booking sheet for the bus at the resort.”

Her head snaps to face him. “You’re staying at the resort?”

Samuel nods, hoping she doesn’t make an assumption. “I’m not trying to scare you. After all, I did tell you about this tour. Yasmine revealed the resort where you’re staying to Michael. I wanted to see you, so—”

“Then why did you leave Rio?”

“I can’t explain it here. We need to be away from everyone.”

“Do you hear how crazy you sound? You have stalked me, you treated me appallingly, and now you’re asking me to be alone with you so you cantryto justify your actions?”

A smile pulls at his lips. She thinks he’s crazybeforehe explains.

15

Eden

Ineedtokeepa level head.

It’s not easy to do when he slides into the seat alongside me, and inside the confines of the muggy interior of the bus, I’m overcome by his manly forest scent. His heat radiates too damn close, inciting desire, and it’s building quicker than I can control. I wage an internal battle—the thoughts ofwhat if? My face warms thinking of the night in Rio. Physically, my body craves him, but hell, he pursued me, and I’m in an unfamiliar country where laws differ from home.

A half-hour passes before I level my thoughts and ask one of many questions. “So, what do you do for work?” A question a stranger could ask on a greeting, and it’s less intrusive than my other thoughts. I turn to catch his expression as though I have an internal lie detector.

“I’m a doctor.”

I nod. “Where did you study?”

“Stanford.”

He didn’t hesitate.

His chin lifts slightly. “What do you do, as you put it?” His eyes flick over my face like he’s assessing me. If I lie, he’ll know it.

“I… work as a marketing coordinator for a hotel company.”

“Where?”

“Adelaide,” I reply. “And you? Where do you work?”

His brow lifts. “Now?”

“Yes.”

He nods ahead, and I peer through the large glass windshield of the bus to the road. “This is my stop.”

---