Moonflower Read online

  Sophie smiled. 'Does he need to see me right now?' she asked, pressing a towel to her wet hair.

  'Soon as you can,' Patience said, then turned and floated elegantly down the rickety wooden steps that usually protested loudly under Sophie’s bigger feet.

  She went inside, combed her hair, pulled on a pair of linen drawstring trousers and a red sleeveless button-up t-shirt. She stepped into her flip-flops and did her best to stop thinking too far ahead, which was not hard to do because she had no idea what the evening held for her. Would he try to make love to her, or ask her to explain her costings? Her heart may be beating like a nervous duiker for what could turn out to be a conversation about the state of the farm’s wildlife.

  Sophie sat herself down on the bed for a moment while she got the facts straight in her mind: she would not be used as a distraction by a man who took his pleasure wherever he chose. She would never allow her career to be derailed by a force of sexual attraction that was no doubt a passing fancy. Those were the facts. The rest was all sensations and feelings, and she was stronger than that.

  She stood up from the bed, and twisted and pinned her damp hair into a large crocodile clip, then left the cottage.

  She took the path that would bring her to the verandah of the main house, instead of cutting across the lawn.

  'Huh!'

  She gave a start as Mr Solomon popped up from behind a rose bush. With a hand clutched over her heart, Sophie admonished, 'You're going to have to stop doing that, Mr Solomon. My heart might give out!'

  'Nothing wrong with your heart,' he said, and handed her a rose. It was the deepest red; the kind found in the dying embers of an African sunset—the last light before the sun sinks below the horizon, disappearing into the mysteries of the dark.

  'I suppose your roses are worth having the life scared out of me.' She lifted the perfect bloom to her nose and breathed in its sweet fragrance.

  'There's nothing wrong with your heart,' Mr Solomon repeated. 'Trust it, you hear me?’ he said sternly. ‘Get going now.' He flapped his hands towards the house.

  Sophie thanked him and turned in that direction.

  She found Reuben pacing the verandah. He looked up impatiently when he heard the soft slap of her footsteps on the tiles. 'I thought you'd bailed on me,' he said, watching her closely.

  'Why would I do that?' Sophie asked, puzzled.

  'There's something I want to show you,' he said, ignoring the question. 'Follow me.'

  Sophie fell into step behind him. He was dressed as she’d never seen him before: in jeans that did far more for his strongly muscled legs than the business suits ever could. Sophie was aware of the slow melt in her groin. She tried to ignore it. He wore a loose linen shirt he’d left hanging over the waistband.

  They reached the garages, and once inside, Reuben held open the passenger door of a Land Rover. Sophie sensed that now wasn’t the time for questions. She slipped past him, her back brushing his chest, her nerve endings fizzing and sputtering like drops of water on a hot plate.

  Reuben climbed in beside her and turned to look at her for a moment. It was a thoughtful stare, head cocked to the side. Sophie smiled in encouragement. Reuben nodded, turned back to the windshield and fired the engine.

  They set out into the veld. Neither spoke, but with every bump and jolt on the dirt road they sped along, Sophie was aware of a steady building of tension, like the silence and peculiar clarity of light that heralded the beginning of a storm. She felt it in her body and sensed it in the man beside her.

  Reuben brought the vehicle to a stop outside the old hikers' cottage. Sophie made no move to get out.

  ‘Why are we here?’ she asked, outwardly calm, although their arrival at the cottage had brought back fresh images of her pressed beneath him, breathing in dank and dust under the wall hanging, his knee between her thighs.

  Reuben did not respond. He climbed out of the vehicle, came around to her door and held his hand out to her. ‘Come.’

  Sophie placed her hand in his, almost missing her footing as sensation sparked in her fingertips. She would have quickly drawn her hand away, as if burned, but his fingers closed around hers, squeezing gently as they started towards the cottage.

  The quality of his silence, the straightness of his back and the fingers he kept entwined in hers caused a calmness to settle over her. She knew then. Was utterly certain that what was about to occur would change her forever. She knew that her entire life had been leading to this moment, to this door, this man beside her, her hand in his.

  The door opened and they stepped inside.

  The cabin had been transformed into a fantasy bushveld haven of browns, creams and ochre; linen, silks and woven thread.

  ‘How?’ she breathed, gazing around her.

  ‘You approve?’

  ‘Do I approve? It’s beautiful. But when did you do all this? We were here… four days ago. It was in a complete mess…’

  ‘When there’s something I want, Sophie, I stop at nothing ’til I get it.’

  The thudding of Sophie’s heart told her he meant every word he said. He had spoken with utter certainty. He was standing so close to her she had felt the breath of his words against the bare skin of her shoulder. He was a phenomenon. A whirlwind. A tornado. Passing through her life with such force she wondered if she had the strength to survive the encounter.

  Despite her statuesque body, strong and toned from years in Africa’s wild spaces, she felt delicate and fragile beside him. And she wanted to give in to him so badly. Lose herself in him. Be carried along by his strength, the sheer force of his masculinity that felt far more powerful than she was.

  She had worked hard for many things in her life, but nothing had ever felt this right, so inevitable, as if the universe had conspired to put her here; exactly where she was meant to be.

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Sophie breathed softly, feeling calm, at peace; as if she moved in the eye of the storm.

  ‘It’s for you, Sophie.’

  The tenderness of his words made her tip backwards, towards him, knowing he would not let her fall. She felt the press of his chest against her back. She knew why he had brought her here, the reason he’d done this for her, but she wanted to hear the sound of his voice, that sent a frisson of pleasure up her spine. ‘Why?’

  He touched her shoulder; ran fingertips lightly down and along her bare arms. He kissed her shoulder, his lips feather-light against her skin. ‘Because I can’t promise you anything… except this, Sophie; here and now. You deserve more, but I’m not the one to give you that. Still, I want this to be special for you…’ He paused. ‘This has to be a time apart. There’s no future in it. Do you understand that, Sophie? Do you accept my terms?’

  Sophie was surprised that his words hurt her. She had fallen further than she thought. But he was acting with integrity and she understood the logic of it. She could walk away and wait for the man who would one day give her a ring, a wedding, babies and evenings on a porch. Or she could take this moment as a gift, this man who made her feel as if she were the most vital of women, and deal with her heart at a later stage.

  She turned slowly to face him, tilted her chin to look into his deep blue eyes. She allowed herself to dive in as if they were deep pools; she wanted to float in them, carried on a current too strong to resist. She wanted to twirl and spin and float and trust this force to carry her wherever it chose.

  He was waiting for her. Waiting for some signal, and it caused a deep well of tenderness to bubble in her chest.

  She nodded, smiled, reached up to touch his cheek, then his lips that parted beneath her fingers. He sucked and nibbled the tender pads of her fingertips. She sighed deeply. His jaw tensed with arousal as he took her in his arms, his hands pressed to her back, fitting her body to his. His lips brushed her mouth and he breathed her name. She pressed her lips to his; she the impatient one, but he would not be hurried.

  He teased her lips, his fingers tangling in the just-dried curtain of copper h
air, holding her back, stopping her pressing forward and finding his tongue. She felt his fingertips against her scalp, a tingle that travelled down her neck and along her spine. At her desperate whimper, he pulled her harder against his body and took her mouth with a hunger she was sure would be impossible to sate.

  She was relieved he held her so tightly, because her head was spinning and her legs threatened to give way beneath her.

  Sophie felt her lack of sophistication then. For a fleeting moment she worried that she could never live up to the prowess of the women he’d been with in the past. She wished she had some sort of technique, a series of steps she was sure would take him from one level of arousal to another, but all she knew at that moment was the urge to tear at his clothes, to nibble and bite.

  Her growl had the fierceness of a lioness, and in answer, he swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. She felt the coolness of the sheets against her burning skin, saw the gossamer mosquito net float above his head.

  Greedily she searched his handsome face, lines hard with passion, skin suffused with heat. She reached up and pulled him to her.

  ‘You mustn’t make me wait,’ she told him.

  ‘It’ll come, Sophie. Be patient.’ But his eyes blazed with a passion that demanded satisfaction.

  Sophie reached between them as his body hovered above her, finding the bulge beneath his jeans.

  Reuben let out a ragged breath. ‘Wild creature,’ he said, before pressing his mouth to hers again.

  Sophie reached up to bring his hips towards her, pressing the centre of herself against his hardness.

  Never once taking her mouth from his, she shifted her hand beneath his shirt and ran her fingertips over his chest, then moved from his chest to his belly. Massaging the skin in small circles, delighting in the sound and feel of his breath quickening against her neck, her cheek, her mouth.

  She grasped the top of his jeans, trying to coordinate the movement of her fingers through the fog in her brain; his tongue a constant distraction, leaving small wet circles along her lips, her jaw, her neck. Finally she unbuttoned his jeans and pushed her hand past the waistband, lower until she felt the tip of him against her fingers.

  Reuben lifted his mouth from hers, his head tilted back. He closed his eyes and moaned, a rumble, a vibration from deep in his chest. His body trembled beneath the lightness of her fingertips and Sophie was triumphant, felt real power then and, far from shying from it, she wantonly indulged the sensation, let it spread through her, like music to move to. She wanted to tell him.

  ‘Reuben,’ she breathed. She took his head in her hands. ‘Reuben.’

  He opened his eyes. She put her palm against his cheek. He looked into her eyes.

  ‘Nothing in my life has ever felt this good,’ she told him.

  ‘What a magnificent creature you are, Sophie. A man could lose himself in you if he weren’t careful.’ He moved his hand to Sophie’s breast and squeezed gently. One by one, he undid the buttons of her shirt, peeling back one side, then the other as if he opened a most exquisite and delicate gift.

  Sophie watched his eyes widen, then the lids lower sensuously at the sight of her nakedness: the tender, firm round breasts and rose-pink nipples that ached to be touched.

  She reached up, touched his lips, drew his head to her breast. Reuben reached for the other, cupping it in his hand as his mouth closed around the other breast, sucking gently, filling his mouth with her. She arched her back, gasped as his teeth closed over her nipple and tugged gently at the hardened tip.

  When he left the nipple to tend to the flesh around it, Sophie opened her legs and curled them around his hips, pressing his denim hardness to her centre. She knew she couldn’t wait much longer. She wobbled on an edge that with just the slightest touch could send her spiralling over it.

  ‘Go inside me now, Reuben. No reason to wait.’

  Her breath came in small gasps and whimpers as she fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, tore at the fabric, desperate to remove the last barriers between their skin; needing to feel his nakedness against her, the power of him inside her.

  ‘I’m sorry…’ she gasped. ‘I need to…’

  His mouth still worked at her breast, his palm circling over the other, grazing an aching nipple.

  ‘Reuben, help me!’ A small cry of frustration escaped Sophie’s lips as she struggled to remove his jeans.

  He broke away from her, shrugging out of his shirt, then pulled off his jeans. Finally free, Sophie reached for him, circling him with her hand, marvelling at the heat and hardness beneath soft skin.

  Driven half mad by the thought of him inside her, she began to fumble with her own drawstring pants, her entire body trembling. ‘Oh, damn,’ she panted, fumbling with the tie.

  ‘Lie back, Sophie,’ Reuben commanded. ‘Let me do it.’

  She’d never heard a voice so full of arousal, so tender. She did as he told her, watching the top of his dark head as he hooked fingers into the top of her trousers and pulled them down slowly. Sophie lifted her hips, moaning as the material slid over her sensitive skin, feeling the cooler air on her naked body. She slipped her hands into his hair, gently kneading his scalp as he dipped his mouth to her belly, sipping from her, licking the sensitive skin, soft sucking motions that made Sophie cry out. And still he kept moving lower and lower. Burying his nose in her copper curls, breathing her in.

  ‘Please, Reuben,’ Sophie gasped. ‘You’re driving me mad. I’m ready now.’

  But he would still not give her release, only drop his mouth to her soft folds, the lightest flicking of his tongue against her hard pebble that sent lightning flashes of sensation through her. And just when she felt herself moving to the very peak of her arousal, he lifted his head, shifted between her legs, but he still did not enter her. He moved his head to her breasts, teasing one nipple between gentle teeth, then the other.

  Beyond reason, Sophie raised her hips, opening herself wide, small wild cries escaping swollen lips as she felt the tip of him against her. She writhed and clawed at his buttocks, nipping at his chest, trying to force him deep inside her.

  ‘Wildcat!’ Reuben growled at her, as he dropped his hips, thrusting forward and up until he’d buried himself deep inside her. Sophie cried out. A deep, throaty primeval cry of triumph. The call of possession. This man, this masculine force of nature was hers.

  Sophie curled long arms under his armpits, up round his shoulders and clung to him as he shivered for a moment inside her. She was overtaken by a deep tenderness as he began to move out of her, then in again. With hips thrusting upwards to meet every stroke, she muttered words of encouragement as he moved faster and faster, strokes becoming shorter, quicker.

  And in a moment, Sophie felt as if she’d leapt off a mountain, her stomach twisting and turning. Her paraglide finding an upwind as she spiralled up and up until it was as if she’d reached the sun and had flown straight into its mad convulsions of blinding light and heat that threatened to burn her to ashes with its intensity.

  They didn’t move for the longest time. Reuben was utterly spent. He had never in his life felt so deeply satisfied, so drained, empty, contented, happy.

  Eventually, he withdrew from Sophie, but only because he was worried that his weight might become too much for her.

  ‘You don’t have to,’ she said, holding onto him.

  ‘Problem is, if I don’t pull it together, I’m going to stay here far longer than I should,’ he said, reaching down and running fingertips over her belly.

  ‘Mmm,’ Sophie breathed. ‘And you’d be only too welcome.’

  ‘I knew I was dealing with a wild one,’ he said, his hand slipping between her thighs. ‘But I must say, I’ve been pleasantly surprised, Ms Kyle.’ Reuben smiled delightedly as a blush spread across her cheeks.

  But this could be a problem, he thought, burying his face in the sweet scent of her hair. He’d said all he could promise her was here and now, and she’d accepted him on those terms. But he�
�d never expected to be so utterly completed, sexually, by a bubbly, inexperienced twenty-four year old. He was still reeling. Surely they could enjoy each other here, like this, then simply walk away, back to their real lives, a continent apart?

  So, why then did the thought of life without Sophie start a panic in the pit of his stomach?

  Chapter Six

  Labour’s End was a hive of activity on Sunday. Reuben had welcomed the first batch of friends and business associates to the farm that morning and an orderly state of chaos permeated each room.

  Sophie marvelled at how Sara and Rolf kept track of the mountains of expensive luggage while steering guests to the correct rooms and noting requests that ranged from anti-inflammatory foot ointment to cold drinks.

  She helped where she could, putting her foot down only when a florid, sweating man with pale red hair and freckles ordered her to carry his enormous suitcase up to his room. He had an imperious manner about him and never looked at Sophie when he spoke. Perhaps it was her khakis. It was Isaac who eventually hauled the suitcase up the stairs to its destination.

  Reuben so often seemed to be in the periphery of her vision; welcoming guests, chatting easily to them on the verandah. It was then she realised just how sophisticated a man he really was. No one, except perhaps the most watchful of his guests, would have guessed there was anything between them. He never once allowed himself to be distracted by her presence, although every now and then his eyes would meet hers and linger for just a second or two longer than required by casual acquaintances.

  Sophie did her best to emulate his control and professionalism. She had a lot to learn. The effort involved in keeping her lips from curling into a smile or her gaze staying too long on his face took an effort that sometimes seemed beyond her level of skill.

  If anything, he seemed to be enjoying the secret nature of their tryst, turning it into a game of seduction that sent the heightened sexual tensions that already existed between them into the stratosphere.