To Love, Honour and Disobey. Natalie Anderson

he sighed, sounding as if he regretted it as much as she. ‘I did.’

      Chapter Three

      WHEN Ana opened her eyes Seb was sprawled next to her, taking up far too much of the tent to be fair. She was cramped up between him and the top of her pack. And from the sound of his regular breathing, he was still asleep. Carefully she rolled towards him, leaned a fraction closer to study his face in a way she wouldn’t dare when he was conscious and could catch her. But stealing a look now could do no harm.

      Wrong, because there was his scent, curling around her—the suddenly familiar heady scent of Seb. How could she have forgotten that? Her heart thumped in her chest. Tension mixed with something else as she remembered sensations she’d forced from her memory months ago. He had stubble on his jaw—she remembered the feel of that beneath her fingers, tickling her stomach, gently abrading her upper thighs…

      She breathed out. Don’t go there—

      But his lips were full and she remembered how they’d felt, how they’d drawn everything from her. She looked down from them. His chest was free of the silk sleeping liner, his shoulders broad and bared and so incredibly muscular. Every cell in her tightened at the sight. He was still the most handsome man she’d ever known.

      ‘Ana.’ It was the tiniest whisper but the husky note plucked deep within her.

      Slowly she turned her attention from his torso to his eyes. A hint of drowsiness lingered, but something else glinted in their depths. A seriousness. He knew she’d been looking—all too hungrily.

      For an instant neither moved.

      ‘I’m on breakfast duty.’ She was too close. Her fault. She yanked on her shorts and grabbed her bikini top. She’d slip it on under the sloppy tee behind a tree or something. Just as he sat up she escaped, ignoring him when he called her name again.

      But she trembled as those senses she had thought had been dulled roared back into life: sight, smell, sound, touch.

      Taste. She ached to taste.

      How could she still want to? How could she when she knew getting close like that before had meant nothing to him and everything to her? When she’d been through something so terrible because of her affair with him? How was it possible?

      But her body wasn’t listening to her brain, wasn’t interested in those memories. No, the muscles were remembering something else. The weight, the sensation, the pleasure that his body had pulled from hers haunted her now. Her body yearned for it again. Uncaring of what the consequences had been before.

      She walked to the heart of the campsite where Bundy already had the fire going and the billy boiling. She poured a cup of tea and drank it hot and black, wincing at the burn on her lips and the roof of her mouth. The superficial pain was a good reminder—that she didn’t need any more of the real kind.

      Breakfast was over in a rush. She didn’t look at Seb. Her muttered ‘thanks’ barely audible when she saw he’d packed up the tent and had her pack ready alongside his.

      The Jeeps arrived to take them to the rim of the Ngorohgoro Crater. She jumped up from the grass and walked towards them, but Seb was beside her before she’d taken two paces. His eyes danced as he tossed everything of theirs into the back.

      Ana fidgeted, longing to fall back on her old defence—to run. But here there was no escape—not when he held the door and then climbed in right beside her.

      The road was the most appalling surface she’d ever been on. Craters instead of tracks, cavernous potholes, mud dried harder than concrete all combined to jerk the Jeep from side to side and had them all suspended in the air above their seats several times. Seb simply reached up above and held onto the frame of the Jeep, and put his other arm around Ana, pulling her into his side, steadying her. But she’d have been better off bumping against the steel frame, because he felt harder, more solid than any metal framing.

      Finally they got to the campsite near the top of the crater rim. The Jeep pulled up and they spilled out. Tomorrow they’d go in and see the wildlife. Ana could hardly wait—she had some live lion feed to toss over the side.

      Seb stretched the cramps out and watched Ana walk a distance towards the lounge facility. He couldn’t stop walking after her as he saw her take off her tee shirt. Wearing just a bikini top, with low-slung cotton shorts, her incredible body was open to view. How could she possibly think those legs were too long?

      He lengthened his strides, took them faster, reached for her arm and turned her. Her cheeks were lightly flushed. The blue of her eyes shone bright and deep and she watched him as slowly, deliberately, he looked down her length.

      ‘What is that?’ He cleared his throat. Hadn’t realised he was hoarse.

      ‘What?’

      He pointed a finger at her belly button. ‘That.’

      ‘Oh.’

      He watched with masculine pleasure as the colour deepened under the skin of her cheeks. ‘A navel piercing.’

      Yeah, he knew that, but it felt damn good to see her react to him like that—knowing she still felt something too. Because his body was going out of control. ‘When?’

      ‘A few months ago.’

      ‘Why?’

      She looked about to roll her eyes like some sulky teen caught out using peroxide for the first time. ‘It was a suggestion in a self-help book. Do something out of character—like get a tattoo or a piercing. I went for the non-permanent option.’

      ‘You did it because a book said to?’ He wanted to laugh but he was too busy staring. ‘What sort of a book is that?’

      ‘Quite a good one, actually.’

      ‘So you’re empowered now?’

      ‘Assertive.’

      He did laugh then, for just a second. Ana was assertive? As if. Then he sobered and couldn’t resist touching. He pressed his hand flat to her belly, the navel ring centred between his thumb and forefinger. He felt her muscles quiver, felt the warmth of her skin. Felt the need for her bite harder. ‘Did it hurt?’

      He lifted his gaze for her reply.

      ‘No.’ The challenge was back in her voice. ‘I’ve been through worse.’

      The blue of her eyes was incredibly deep—ultramarine—and way too easy to drown in. And he was so close to kissing her.

      If she was assertive, as she reckoned, he’d probably get a slap for it. And he deserved it, didn’t he? Because she’d taken their marriage seriously when he’d intended it to be a fun fling, never a forever kind of deal. He’d thought it was obvious, a holiday romance on steroids, but looking back he knew they’d been too busy sleeping together instead of talking about what they actually wanted. And still he wanted to sleep with her. The fire still burned—even now, months after she’d walked out.

      ‘Uh.’ He scrambled for words, any kind of coherent thought so he wouldn’t make a fool of himself. ‘What did your mum say?’

      She blinked, obviously surprised. ‘About the navel ring? Seb,’ she laughed—a humourless choke. ‘My mum’s dead.’

      It was Seb’s turn to blink. Was that a recent thing? He’d had no idea. ‘Hell, Ana, I’m sorry.’

      ‘It’s OK. It was a long time ago.’

      ‘Oh.’ He matched her small smile and aimed to lighten. ‘So what did your dad say?’

      Her smile faded. He should have known better—total foot-in-mouth syndrome.

      ‘They died together in an accident, Seb. I was six.’

      Seb sucked in a breath. ‘Ana, that’s terrible.’

      She stepped back, was going to walk away. But he didn’t want