Impulse (Isola dei Sogni) Read online

  "No, madam. It's one-way glass around your garden."

  Mia spun round, and let go of her luckily empty goblet. The most spine-tingling man she had ever met expertly caught it.

  Okay, so I'm having a fantasy anyway. Too much champagne and stop talking to yourself, Mia.

  The fantasy laughed.

  "Oh god, I said that out loud!"

  He nodded. "You did"

  In spite of her embarrassment, Mia laughed with him. And took a good look. If she really were into fantasies, she'd be happy to have him in it. Tall, with long, almost black, shining, and clean hair that curled over his collar. Now that did remind her of her misspent youth. His looks weren't poster-boy handsome but just right for her dreams. Dark eyes, dark hair, and a dark soul? Damn, stop it already. The only downside as far as she could see was his age. Cool it, Mia. There are toy boys, and then there are toy boys!

  "Um, seeing as I'm embarrassing myself anyway, how old are you?"

  Dylan looked at her and liked what he saw. He judged she was around five-feet-five inches tall and probably about ten stone in weight. As far as he was concerned, she was perfectly proportioned. Long dark hair curled over her shoulders, its darkness shot with streaks of fire that could perhaps hint at a hot temper. The tips caressed breasts, which Dylan decided were to die for.

  His cock hardened at the thought of delving between those perfect globes. They were round, full, lush, and as perfect for attention as the rest of her womanly body. Suddenly, he was glad he'd offered to help out in the dreams and fantasy side of the business for the week. Maybe they did have some merits. His uncle—his younger—uncle would never let him hear the end of it if he admitted that out loud. There may only be five years age difference between Blaine and himself, but Dylan often felt much, much older. Blaine had told him more than once he was old before his time.

  Dylan had long decried the way their island was used, and chose only to involve himself with the legal aspects. It was, he had been told by his father and uncle, a sad misuse of his talents. Now he wondered whether they'd be put to good use. Therefore, did he lie or tell the truth? He opted for truth.

  "Thirty-seven. How old are you?"

  Mia considered. "Too old."

  "Too old for?" He could sense her mind ticking, but he wouldn't look. Not this time.

  She blushed. Whatever her thoughts were, she'd been embarrassed by them. Dylan wished he hadn't been so altruistic.

  "Um, I'll plead whatever you plead when you don't want to answer. Let's just say considerably older than you."

  "Why?" He was genuinely interested. "How much is considerable? A year? Two? Twenty? Age is irrelevant. You're only as old as you feel. And" —he drawled, suddenly slowing his speech— "as I'm only thirty-seven, when you feel me . . . that's what you'll feel."

  "Did I hear that properly? Oh god, do I hope I did or do I hope I didn't? Have they set me up with a fantasy and not told me?" She stopped speaking and put her hand over her mouth. Her face was as red as the flowers growing outside the French windows. "Oh shit. I beg your pardon, what did you say?"

  He did his best not to smirk at her chagrin, but she looked so mortified at her faux pas, it was hard to keep a straight face. Dylan decided the week had taken a turn for the better. He shook his head and his hair stuck to his cheek. With a huff, Dylan blew it away, and tucked it behind his ear. Either he was going to have to start tying it up, or have it cut.

  "Not a good enough answer. Pardon," he said, hoping to annoy her enough to explain. "It's not a good enough answer. You heard, and . . ." He hoped she understood his devilment. "You will enjoy." Dylan tried very hard to keep a straight face as he watched the myriad of emotions in her expressions. He was beginning to get a kick out of their exchange. He was damned sure he was going to appear in all her fantasies and dreams even if he had to direct Mia to them himself.

  Mia considered him, her head to one side like an inquisitive sparrow. This time he cheated, and did look into her mind. She was wondering what to do next? Well, one thing was fairly straightforward. She was hungry. Sadly, just for food. Before he had a chance to formulate a question that didn't sound suspicious, Mia spoke.

  "How do I order my meal?" she enquired. "And come to think of it, why are you here?"

  "To hand you this." Dylan passed her a menu. "To ask you where and how you wanted to eat. And to see if you needed anything put into action for your fantasies? Oh, and before you ask, I knocked, you did answer—or so I thought—and I came in. I'm Dylan and I'm here to be your helpmate this week. Anything you need, you just ask." He opened his mind to her and decided cheating was now acceptable.

  'Now there's a thought. Me, who thought her only fantasy was not to have a fantasy! I'm getting quite hot and bothered. Think I'll write a book on how to enjoy your chocolate and drool over a hot bod.' Dylan decided he was definitely going to be receptive to her thoughts.

  "Well, I'd quite like something to eat." She took a quick glance at the menu and winced. "Who on earth thought up these names? For goodness sake."

  Dylan winced with her. He totally agreed that eating something called Passion Filled Prawns or Hedonistic Ham Slithers, was enough to put you off food for the week. Unless, of course, that was the intention. As for Slithering Sensuous Champagne Dip, words failed him.

  "I've no idea, madam," he said. The spark in her eyes made him decide to reply with care. "But there's nothing to stop you renaming the dishes yourself."

  Mia glanced at him and sniggered.

  "True. Oh, and please no more 'madam', eh? Strangely enough, this isn't a brothel, and I'm no madam. Though I am beginning to feel a bit like a mad woman. My name is Mia. I don't have any fantasies."

  That was a lie. He'd read her.

  "Except for champagne, chocolate, and a good book," she added with a blush.

  "Well, we can certainly cater for that, Mia. And for your food?" He raised an eyebrow in query. "Would you prefer to eat alone or with company?"

  'If it's you, oh yes, please.' "What sort of company?" Mia asked. Caution oozed from her. It hit Dylan in waves.

  Dylan looked at her and wondered how far he could push her. Not that push was his preferred method of action. All of a sudden, sweet seduction followed by hot sex was ever more enticing.

  "Well, as I'm your assigned helpmate, I could accompany you. Or?"

  "Or nothing. Yes, please. Your company would be." She stopped and ran her hands through her hair. The long dark strands sparked with fire in the sunlight. Dylan felt his cock tighten against his well-worn denims.

  "Be?" Her thought gave nothing away. They were blocked by the surge of negative emotion that pulsed from her.

  "Hold on, what am I letting myself in for here?" Her voice was wary.

  "Nothing at all that you don't want," he replied soothingly. "This is your holiday; you're in charge. I'm just along for the ride" Or so I hope. "Signor Dei Sogni and his team are here to do everything you desire. As I said, I'm not a regular member. I'm just here to help out. And," thanks to Christophe, "I'm here for you." Now he knew why he got the 'I really need your help email'. At least he thought he did. Because if it was for any other reason, Dylan decided there and then they could go and fly.

  "Right." Mia closed the menu. "I'd like company, champagne, and crab patties, please. In about an hour? First, I'd love to go for a swim, if that's okay."

  Dylan bowed and picked up her hand. The fine tremors that run through her and into him made him want to pull her close and hold her tight. He accepted that it was too soon, and contented himself with a kiss to the back of her hand. She gasped, but to his delight she didn't try to take her hand away.

  Emboldened, he turned it over and nipped the mound of Venus. Her moan made his balls tighten and his skin tingle. Such a small sound, but it created images that sent his pulse soaring. She looked up at him with wary eyes. Her teeth nipped at her bottom lip and her tongue traced her mouth.

  "You've marked me? What the fuck?" She stared at her palm as if he'd car
ved his name into her hand. He hadn't, but he'd bitten hard enough to leave a tiny bruise. The carving could come, one day, though a nice inscription on her arse might be more appropriate.

  "Don't. It's okay. I had to mark you as mine, that's all. One day, I'll ink you. Just here." He traced an arc on her left buttock. She made a noise that he couldn't decide whether was in delight or disapproval. "Shh. Everything's okay. Go and swim. I'll go and get everything ready for your meal. If you go out the door to your left, and follow the green and gold lights, you'll come to your own private pool."

  He could tell Mia was startled without dipping into her mind. Sometimes, she was so easy to read. It was obvious she hadn't realized just how much privacy was going to be hers. The thought of skinny-dipping with her was enough to bring pre-cum to the tip of his cock. Dylan decided he'd better leave before he scared her, and embarrassed himself. He turned to leave the villa. "Can I help you in any other way?" Before I go and help myself. He made sure the tone was bland, the words innocuous. He was sure she cursed under her breath.

  "Oh, er, n-no thanks, I'll be fine." 'Why am I stammering like an embarrassed schoolgirl? I'm forty-five for goodness sake, not five. If that's what a few words in a velvet voice does to me, heaven help me if he really turns up the heat. And that's no fantasy, that's fact.'

  Dylan whistled silently. That was one thought worth overhearing. He beamed broadly as he left the suite and took Mia's meal request through to the chef. Christophe stood in the dining room, which—no surprise there—was empty.

  "You, Papa, are a very devious man."

  "True." Christophe nodded complacently. "And?"

  "And thank you. I can't think of a hopefully nicer way to spend my week away from the office. Here's Mia's menu. She'll be ready in an hour. Oh, and make it times two, please."

  "Fast worker," Christophe murmured. "Have I done the right thing?"

  Dylan hoped so.

  Mia stared at her pool in amazement. To her delight it wasn't a tiny plunge pool as she had expected but a good-sized proper swimming pool. Edged in green and gold lights that continued her suite's color scheme, and lit under the water as well, it was pure pleasure.

  She checked the area around it, and gave in to the whim of laughing as she spun around with her arms in the air.

  Bliss. Beautiful, and they said it was totally private. How, when she could see across the gardens to the sea, she had no idea, but for once she didn't care. She remembered Dylan had said something about one-way glass, but try as she might, Mia couldn't see any glass about. She considered her options. Dare she?

  For goodness sake, you've done it before. Before she could change her mind, and remember she'd been younger and less responsible, Mia took off her bikini and threw it in the direction of a sun lounger. The top landed on the rim and dangled like a flag, as it swayed in the light breeze. Her bottoms landed with a slap in the middle of the seat. Mia sniggered. They were covering a seat of some sort, at least. She walked to the edge of the pool, had a quick look around, and jumped into the sparkling blue-green water. There was certainly no one around to see her wobbly bits.

  The water was like liquid silk, as warm as a soothing bath and as sensual as a soft sigh wrapped all around her. Mia felt all her cares and anxieties fall away. Even the ones I didn't know I had. Sod it. I will relax, enjoy myself, and savor my time here. And enjoy the fact I don't have a fantasy I feel I need to fulfill.

  She floated aimlessly around the pool, enjoying the unfamiliar feeling of the smooth water directly on her skin. So wrapped up in mindless nothing, she didn't hear Dylan approaching, until he spoke.

  "Mia?"

  Mia choked, went underwater, and emerged cautiously, spluttering at the same time.

  "Do I need to come and give you the kiss of life?" He hunkered down on his knees and held out his hand.

  She shook her head. "No, you don't. You startled me. I thought you said this was totally private?" She sank as low as she could. No way did she want to put him off his dinner.

  "It is. There's only you . . . and me here."

  Damn it, that voice. Talk about instant orgasm. If he bottled it, he'd do a roaring trade.

  Mia stared up at him. His trousers stretched over his thighs and across his stomach. She glanced at his cock and away again in a hurry. The bloody man had a hard on. Just by looking at her under the water? Pervert. I'm all blurry and wavy, surely? Mia had a quick glance down to reassure herself. She wasn't going to admit, she was wet from more than the pool water, and her skin tingled with arousal. Even her scalp itched in a good way.

  Damn it. Here I am with the most interesting male I have met in a long time in close proximity, even if he is too young, and I'm under water, wet hair flapping around my face, because typically, I forgot to pin it up, with no clothes on, and all of my unimpressive bits sort of on show. I could never be a femme fatale, that's for sure. But he's hot to trot. Hmm. How do I get round this? She cleared her suddenly dry throat.

  "Why did you say you were here?"

  He grinned. Pure. Devilish. Wickedness.

  "I didn't. Do you want me to say something deep and meaningful, or do you want the truth?"

  "The truth." Well, she hoped she did.

  "Okay, so I did bring champagne. And unbreakable glasses. But . . . I was hoping for a sneak peek at that gorgeous body in the buff. A bit poetic, but truthful. I wanted to see you naked. Oh, and I'm here to cater for your every desire."

  Mia considered. What the hell? I'm on holiday, alone, and while not young, free and single, two out of three will do. She made up her mind. Meryl wasn't around, and had told Mia in no uncertain terms before they left home, that she, Mia was on her own all week. Meryl had her own agenda. She spoke rapidly before she could change her mind.

  "Are you married or otherwise spoken for?"

  He shook his head. Mia noticed that now his hair was looped back with a string of leather. Very nice!

  "Nope. Single, well, divorced for twelve years with no significant—or otherwise other—male or female, unless you count the cat. Clean bill of health, only here for a week as a favor to the management. Oh, and definitely financially solvent. So?"

  Okay Mia, go for it. No one will know. He's not likely to fuck and tell, not here.

  "So? Would you like to join me? Hold on." She started to panic as he began to unbutton his shirt. "What about dinner? And what are you going to wear?"

  "For dinner? Up to you. For now? Nothing. Oh, and while I remember. Dinner? On hold 'til you ask for it." His hand went to the next button, and he lifted his brow in silent query.

  In the subtle light, Mia only just noticed, but nodded anyway. His shirt was unfastened, and he threw it onto the lounger to rest on top of her bikini bottoms. Well, now she knew how he'd had confirmation of her nudity. Her bikini top was still fluttering away like a flag at a rally.

  "Okay." She did her best to ignore the rumba in her tummy and the butterflies dancing on her clit. Mia couldn't take her eyes off him as his hands moved lower.

  Oh god, now his jeans. I wonder if he's going commando? And then what?

  "That, love, is your call."

  For fuck's sake, zip it. This 'think it and spew it' is so embarrassing. Unable to look away, but feeling a terrible voyeur, Mia watched as he slowly peeled his jeans down his legs. Her suspicions, or was it hopes, were right.

  Yup. Commando. What a body. Oh sheesh what a . . . .

  Dylan smiled. "Thank you," he said gravely. "Do you want me to stand here a bit longer or shall I get in the pool?"

  "What? Oh hell, I've done it again, haven't I?" She could have sworn she hadn't spoken aloud.

  "'Fraid so."

  "Just get in." She laughed, a rich, deep, sexy laugh that surprised her as much as it seemed to him. His eyes widened, and he chuckled. "But do it slowly," she added.

  Dylan let himself slide into the water slowly, as requested. He winked. Damn, as if he doesn't look as if he's enjoying himself.

  He swam across to stand in
front of Mia. He didn't touch, he just looked, and she thought—hoped—admired.

  "You," he said slowly as he touched her cheek, "Are my fantasy come to life. I want to touch you, explore you. All over. And over and over again. To feel those wonderful breasts pressed against my chest. To discover the taste of them, the feel of them in my mouth. To have your legs wrapped around me, to feel your body rubbing against mine, to make me even harder than I am now. To push myself into you, to feel myself filling you, and exploding in you. To hear you cry as you climax around me. And then to make you feel all those things again and again, with my hands, my mouth, my body—and oh shit, give me a minute here."

  She rather thought he struggled for composure.

  "Thank god for the calming effects of water."

  Mia let out her breath. Noisily. "I'll second that." And for someone who doesn't work here, you sure know how to turn me on. Thank goodness I didn't say that aloud.

  His lips twitched.

  "What?"

  "Nothing, just give me a minute. Then we'll talk."

  She nodded, and Dylan willed his prick to behave. Why didn't the water have its usual shriveling effect? He leaned against the side of the pool and swished his legs, creating ripples and waves that concealed the lower half of his body. Mia swam toward him and trod water.

  "I've decided," she said. "I have my fantasy now. Do you think you'll be able to remember it for me? It's totally out of character for me, but very simple."

  "Go on"

  "You. Your fantasy. I want it!"

  Dylan stared at her. Hard. He shook his head to clear it.

  "Let me get this straight. You want my fantasy. You have no idea what it is, but you want it. I could be into BDSM, or . . . or, well, anything and you want it?"

  'Oh hell, I never even thought of that. But even though I don't really know him, I trust him. So am I foolish or what? I'll soon find out.' Mia swallowed hard.