Australian Escape: Her Hottest Summer Yet / The Heat of the Night

“What I meant,” she said, now choosing her words with care, “about me not being able to imagine you in Sydney, is that you seem like you were made for this place—the scorching sun, the squalling sea, the immense sky. Sydney would be a big grey blur in comparison. Which sounds ridiculous now I’ve put it into words—”

“No,” Jonah said, frowning and smiling at the same time. “No.”

“Okay.” Avery hugged her arms around her belly to contain the tumbly feelings as they softened down to a constant hum. “So what happened with you and—”

“Rach? Real life.”

“It has a way of getting in the way of things.”

“You ever come close?” Jonah asked. “Marriage. Kids. The whole calamity.”

“Me? No. Not unless you include Luke, of course, and he wasn’t even aware of our impending plans.”

Jonah laughed. An honest laugh. Confident, this man. Why wouldn’t he be, though? Look at him. One hand resting casually on the wheel, a shoe nudged against the foot of the helm, eyes crinkling in the sunshine as he eased the boat around the reeded bends of the river.

This was a man who knew where he belonged.

The boat hit a wider stretch and Jonah slowed the engine to a throaty hum.

Maybe she still had to figure out where she really belonged. Not here. A ride on a dilapidated old boat at the top of Australia was probably a bit of a stretch considering where she’d come from. But here, so far away, made her realise how much of her life she spent trying to sort out her parents’ lives. And the seed was now sown; to find her place. It would be hard. It would mean unravelling a decade’s worth of ties before weaving them into something new. Something better.

Later, she thought as her throat began to constrict with the thought of it. Right now, the summer was hers. All hers. Nobody else’s. And she no longer had any doubts about how she wanted to spend the time she had left.

Avery slipped off her stool and slipped under Jonah’s arm, finding a perfect spot for herself between his knees. She rested a hand on his chest; the other took the cap from his head. His slow intake of breath and the darkening of his eyes created pools of heat low in her belly.

“So, Jonah North, what do you say we put all that behind us and just have some damn fun? No promises. No regrets. Do you want to be the man who makes my summer holiday one to remember?”

A muscle ticced in his jaw a moment before he grabbed her by the waist and drew her into him, covering her mouth with his. No finesse this time, no interminable teasing, just pure unleashed desire.

Lust rushed through her, unfettered, thick and fast, and she kissed him back, the heat of his mouth, the slide of his tongue driving every thought from her head but more, now, yes!

She threw his hat away—the man was hot but kissing a Sox fan would be sacrilege—and tucked her hands under his T-shirt, revelling in the warm skin, the rasp of hair, the sheer size of him. He was so big and hot and so much man he made her feel so light, like a breath of fresh air. As if nothing else mattered but here, now, this.

He tugged her closer, the ridge of his desire pressed against her belly, and her head fell back as anticipation shivered through her with the surety of what was to come.

“What time do you have to have the boat back?”

Holding her close with one hand, Jonah grabbed his phone with the other, punched in a message, waited a long minute for a response, then with a wolfish grin said, “Never. The boat’s mine.”

Avery’s knees near gave out. In her life she’d been wooed with bling, with tables at impossible-to-get-into restaurants, never had she had a man want her so much he’d bought the real estate under his feet in order to have her.

In one swift move he lifted her floaty top over her head, taking the hat with it. “Hell,” he said, spying her bikini top which was made of mostly string a shade or two paler than her skin.

“You like? I found it in this wicked boutique in the Village—oh...”

Jonah proceeded to show her just how much he liked it by yanking it down to take her breast in his mouth. When she thought herself filled with more pleasure than she could possibly bear, his mouth slowly softened, placing gentle kisses over the moist tip.

And the thumb at her hip dipped below the beltline of her shorts. He found her button, snapped it open; the slide of her zip rent the quiet river air like a promise.

His hand slid an inch within. Her breath hitched, then he lifted his hand to run the backs of his knuckles over her stomach and her breath trembled out of her.

When his hand sank into the back of her shorts, the calloused pads of his palm cradling her backside with such gentleness, such reverence, she bit her lip to stop from crying out.

Using his teeth, he pulled the other half of her bikini top free, and took her nipple in his mouth, his tongue circling the tip but not quite touching. Right as his hand dived into her shorts and a finger swiped over her, once, then twice, then found her centre with the most perfect precision.

She gave in then, crying out. The crocodiles, wherever they might be, would just have to deal.

The gentle moans that followed sounded as if they were coming from a mile away but they were all her. Coming as they did with every slide of his finger, every lathe of his tongue.

Warmth spread through her, building to a searing heat where he touched, where he caressed, where he coaxed her higher, higher, till she reached a peak of insane pleasure. And there she stayed hovering, aching, for eons. And as she felt herself tip, as she began to spill over the other side he took her mouth, his tongue and touch guiding her all the way until she was left shaking in the strongest arms.

He held her there long after while she found herself gripped by mighty aftershocks. He pulled back only when she had stilled. Lifted her face with a finger to her chin, and kissed her. Eyes open. Such deep, absorbing eyes.

She reached between them, caressed the impressive length of him, wondering how on earth she’d coped with all that the night before. Her pulse quickened with anticipation at doing so again.

Grunting, he pulled his wallet from his back pocket, produced a small foil packet, which she snapped out of his grip. And with as much reverence as he’d shown her, she peeled away his pants and sheathed him, stopping every now and then for a sweet kiss, a swipe of her cheek, a lick.

With a growl he pulled her back upright, turned and backed her up against the dash. His eyes were like mercury, all slippery silver as he rid her of her bikini top and her shorts, leaving her naked.

The sun beat down on her shoulders, the dials dug into her back, and there was the occasional splash, the occasional bump of the hull, a possible deadly beast coming to say hello—but she didn’t care.

All that mattered was Jonah, eyes roving over her as if he couldn’t quite believe it. His hands followed, running over her so gently, tenderly, as if he was memorising her shape.

With a hand to his shoulder, she pulled him close, lifted a leg to hook around his hip, and then with a bone-deep sigh he was inside. Filling her slowly, achingly slowly, a sweet scrape that built till she couldn’t stand it. He pulsed inside her, deeper, deeper, deeper than she’d ever been touched.

He came with a ferocity that made her head spin, and half a second later she followed right behind. Sensation imploding until all she could feel was the pulse between her legs. In her belly. In her heart. And Jonah’s heart, thundering beneath her ear as she rested her head on his chest.

As they both struggled to drag in breaths, Jonah laughed, and Avery joined him. She lifted her head to find something fleeting and warming lighting his eyes.

Before she could pin it down he shook his head, hitched his shorts into place, then slumped back on the floor of the boat and lifted his face to the sun. “You’re not the only one having a summer to remember, Miss Shaw.”

Avery kneeled down to kiss him, then stood and spun about the boat butt naked. While Jonah lifted onto one elbow to watch, appreciation and wonder playing about his face.

And Avery wondered where she’d been her whole life.

* * *

Jonah took his time heading back.

One hand on the wheel, the other resting on Avery’s lower back as she leant over the dash in her wild bikini top and short shorts. Sunlight flickering over her through the trees lining the marshy bank; her eyes otherwise cloaked in shadows from the brim of his ancient Akubra, her lush mouth tilted up at the corners.

It was so quiet out on the river, the scenery so rugged and raw they could have been the last two people on earth.

Then a telltale splash tugged at his instincts, and he squinted against the sun beating off the water. “Look,” he said, his voice rough from under-use.

Avery blinked, followed the line of his arm, and saw. A croc. Its long brown body floating below the water snout, beady eyes, and a few bumpy scales cutting through the surface.

She stood taller, her fingers gripping the console till her nail beds turned bright pink. “It’s huge.”

“Twelve feet. Fourteen maybe.”

She tipped back her hat—which had left a red mark slicing across her forehead. “It’s looking right at me. No doubt thinking ‘there’s lunch.’”

“Don’t blame him.”

She flicked Jonah a glance, then licked her lips to cover a grin that made itself felt right in the groin. Then she turned, leant her backside against the dash, her long legs crossed at the ankles. “If, heaven forbid, I fell in right now you’d save me, right?”

“From a croc? Not on your life, princess. If he took you under that’d be it. They don’t call it a death roll for nothing.”

Her laughter was shocked, but the gleam in her eye was not. “How do the ladies resist you, Jonah North?”

“Resist me? Why do you think I let Hull skulk at my heels? Without him I’d be beating them away with a stick.”

Her eyes narrowed a fraction, as if the idea of hordes of women coming after him was not one of her happier thoughts. “Ye-ea-a-ah,” she said. “I actually half believe you. It’s counterproductive, though, you know. Only adds to the tragic Heathcliffian mien you have going on.”

“The what?”

“Nothing,” she deadpanned.

Laughing under his breath, he ran a thumb along the red line on her forehead left by the hat. When her eyes flared at the touch, her breath hitching, her cheeks filling with blood, he tucked his hand back around the wheel.

His parents hadn’t been demonstrative. Till then he’d figured he’d inherited the same. But the urge to touch Avery was strong. Too strong. So he did something he understood, reaching and slipping a hand around her waist, pulling her into the cradle between his legs.

His voice was rough as he said, “I notice Hull didn’t scare you away.”

“I notice you didn’t beat me away with a stick.”

The noticing beat between them like a pulse, until he pulled her in for a kiss. Her hand dived into the back of his hair, tugging till his skin thrummed with the sweet pleasure of her touch.

It took him longer than was smart to remember he was navigating croc-infested waters. He pulled away, thoughts all crooked. The intimacy part of this thing with Avery was so fresh, after keeping off every touch like an electric shock.

And yet he already found himself thinking towards the day her summer ended, while his simply kept on keeping on. Which was all he’d ever wanted. To belong here. In this paradise on earth. Where too much of a good thing was daily life.

The boat finally bumped against the riverbank back where they’d started, and Avery stretched away from him, yawning, leaving him to tie off. And get some space. Not that it seemed to help any. Her imprint lingered. Would do so for some time.

“Well, that was way more fun than I’d expected.”

“Can I quote you for the website?”

The yawn turned into a grin. “Your slogan can be Satisfaction Guaranteed.”

The tour operator called out a cheery welcome back, which stopped Jonah from giving her any kind of comeback. Leaving him to watch her head to the back of the boat to collect her stuff, her short shorts giving him a view of a hell of a length of leg.

She might have felt satisfied, but he felt as if his balls were in a vice.

The taste of her, the scent of her, the feel of her stamped on his senses like a brand. So much so he couldn’t remember what any other woman of his experience felt like. Eyes on Avery, it was as if the rest had never existed.

But they did exist. And had taught him valuable life lessons. That things like this always ended. That advance bruise he felt behind his ribs was a good thing. Because this time he knew what was coming. This time it was in his control.

“Hull?” Avery said.

Yanked from his trance by the hitch in Avery’s voice, Jonah looked past her to find Hull, not at the Jeep, but at the edge of the river, pacing back and forth so close to the edge his paws kept slipping into the water.

“Hey, boy,” he called out. “No panic. We’re back safe and sound.” But Hull’s whimpers only increased.

Jonah leapt off the boat the second he had it tied off. But instead of coming to sniff his hand Hull bolted to the Jeep, big paws clawing at the doors.

Flummoxed, Jonah looked to Avery, who hopped off the boat behind him and shrugged. He didn’t know anything about dogs. He’d never had one as a kid—his father had never been home enough for it to be possible.

Jonah eased up to the dog, asked him to sit, which he did, which crazily made his heart squeeze. Then he ran gentle hands down Hull’s legs, over his flanks, under his belly, checking to see if he might be hurt. Red-bellied black snakes liked water. Hull was tough. He’d survived being dumped. Survived where his brothers and sisters hadn’t. He’d be fine.

“He doesn’t look hurt to me,” said Avery behind him. “He looks like he’s pining.”

“What?”

Avery’s mouth twisted, then her eyes brightened. “Do you think he’s found a lady friend?”

Jonah spun on his haunches, ready to shoot her theory down in flames. “He’s three. A little over.”

“That’s twenty-one in dog years.”

Jonah thought of himself at twenty-one and rocked back on his heels. “Aww hell.”

“Unless of course he’s neutered.”

Jonah winced. “Hell, no!”

“Well, then, if your dog has knocked up some poor poodle, it’s as much your responsibility as it is theirs.”

“He’s not my dog.” But even as he said it he remembered the way he’d run after Hull into the forest the night before, panic like a fox trap around his chest. Thoughts catching on the burr of how blank his life would be without Hull in it. “You really think that’s all it is?”

Avery snorted. “When the impulse can no longer be denied...”

Jonah’s eyes swung back to the woman behind him. Her eyes liquid from the bright sun. Her clothes askew. Her skin pink from his stubble rash. Living proof of impulse no longer denied.

He looked back to his furry friend. “Hull.” The dog looked up as he heard his name; all gentle eyes, wolfish profile, wildly speckled fur. “You missing your girl? Is that the problem?”

Hull licked his lips, panted, and Jonah swore beneath his breath. “What am I going to do with you, mate?”

Avery made snipping sounds that had Jonah clenching his man bits for all his might.

He whipped open the car door, and with a growl said, “Get in.”

Hull leapt first, Avery followed.

Jonah took the keys back to the operator waiting in the hut, gave him Tim’s card, and explained his man would get the lawyers together, then jogged back to the Jeep where a hot blonde and a hot-to-trot canine awaited him.

And he wondered at what point his well-managed life had gone to the dogs.

NINE

Halfway through an early morning run up the beach path, Hull at his ankles, Jonah pulled up to jog on the spot. In the far distance he spied the ice-cream van that lived permanently on blocks in front of one of the dilapidated old beachfront homes that housed a half a dozen happy surfers.

Not that he felt like a half-melted ice cream. It was the blonde leaning into the thing that pulled him up short. Long lean legs, one bent so that her backside kicked out behind her, fair skin that had taken on the palest golden glow, long beach-waved hair trailing down her back.

Gone were the huge hat and fancy shoes that had been Avery’s hallmark when she’d first arrived. In their place she wore the odd little fisherman’s hat she’d picked up on Green Island and rubber thongs the local chemist sold for two bucks a pair. But the wild swimwear was all her—this one was strapless, the top a marvel of modern engineering, the bottom barely anything but a saucy frill that bounced as she lifted onto her toes to talk to the ice-cream guy who was now leaning out of the window, grinning through his dreadlocks.

And there but for the grace of God went he. Once upon a time he’d been one of those surfers who sat on that same porch, doing not much at all. It sounded nice in theory. Truth was it had been nice, and for a good while. Until it hadn’t been enough.

Now he tried to carve an hour out of his work day every few weeks for a paddle, the way this kid no doubt carved an hour out of his surf time to put in an appearance at the dole office. The same kid who had all the time in the world to chat to a pretty tourist. And for the first time in years Jonah wondered who really had the better life.

Avery’s laughter tinkled down the beach, and adrenalin poured through Jonah as he took off at a run.

She’d been in his bed near every day for the past week. Staying over more nights than not. And even while it was just a fling, Dreadlocks over there needed to know he wasn’t in with a hope in hell. It was only neighbourly.

In fact “just a fling” had become somewhat of a mantra around his place, during those moments he found himself wondering when next he’d find her sitting at his kitchen table, draped in one of his shirts, one foot hooked up on a chair, hair a mussed mess as she smiled serenely out of the window at the forest-impeded ocean views beyond.

Unlike Rach, who’d set her treadmill up in his office, a small TV hooked to the front of it so she could watch the Kardashians, Avery soaked every moment in. Whether it was sitting on the jetty at Charter North watching him tinker with a dicky engine or on a bed of sketchy beach grass on Crescent Cove beach throwing a stick to Hull. She’d immersed herself in Crescent Cove.

Watching the cove through her eyes reminded him why he’d worked so hard to work himself back into the fabric of the place. And how little time he spent savouring it. What was the point of living in the most beautiful place on earth if you never even noticed?

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