Just for You Read Online Free

that he wasn’t going to spend another minute of this last day of his holiday in this pokey room. So he pulled on togs and a T-shirt, shoved his feet into jandals and grabbed a towel, thought about taking the car, and decided to walk.
    Well, jog, because somehow he always ended up jogging, even in jandals. Walking was so
slow
. Ten minutes over the hill, seeing a few early-morning drivers, a dog-walker or two along the way, and he had turned down the steep track through the bush to Long Beach. A few more quick steps, a hop down the bank, and he was kicking off the jandals and dropping the towel onto the beach, only a couple holidaymakers visible in the distance, a single swimmer in the water making pretty good progress toward shore.
    The swimmer’s strong crawl brought her closer, and he stopped walking. She stood up in the water that reached just above her knees, and it was Reka.
    Reka, in a bright yellow bikini that was doing some hard work to keep her naughty bits covered, and Reka had some
very
naughty bits. Her hair in a long braid, the water glistening on her brown skin, the wet fabric clinging, and he stood for a moment and just looked.
    Finally, though, he walked towards her, and she saw him and stopped where she was, at the edge of the water.
    “Morning,” he said. “I was just about to have a swim myself.” Another bloody brilliant opening line.
    She glanced at him, then turned away, headed up the shore toward her things. “I see that.”
    “I could miss that out, though,” he said, keeping pace with her, “if you’d like to go for brekkie with me, as we’re both here. You’re an early riser too, eh.”
    “Thanks,” she said, “but no. I meant what I said yesterday. Not interested.”
    She bent to her towel on the beach, and despite his frustration, he couldn’t help noticing that Reka bending down was a sight for sore eyes. A sight he’d seen before, without the bikini, and a rush of heat filled him at the memory. Reka from behind, bent over the bed, holding on…that had very nearly been his favorite.
    But just now, she wasn’t bending over anymore. She wasn’t trying to show him anything at all. She was drying off with her towel, which he’d have liked to have been helping her with, and then, to his disappointment, she was taking a dress from her bag and pulling it over her head, and all those lush curves were covered again.
    “Do you have a partner now, is that it?” he asked. Why hadn’t that occurred to him? Because he hadn’t wanted to think about it, that was why. And because it didn’t even matter now that he had thought of it, which was wrong of him, maybe, but true all the same.
    “It couldn’t be,” she said, facing him again, “that I just don’t want
you?
Am I the only girl who’s said no, then? Bit hard to believe.”
    He felt the flush rising. “Of course not. But you wanted me once, and it was good. It was bloody good, and you know it.”
    “One time,” she said.
    “More than one time,” he pointed out.
    “One night,” she amended. “And, what? You want one more night? Here you are on holiday again, and here I am, still looking good and so convenient?”
    Which was the truth, but somehow not all of the truth. He was struggling to answer that, but she wasn’t done.
    “I don’t think so,” she told him. “I’m not interested in being your bit of holiday fun. Again. Shouldn’t have done it the first time, but I reckon a girl’s allowed one mistake, and you were mine.”
    He did his best to rally. “That’s what it was? A mistake? Seemed to me it was more than that. Felt pretty good, for a mistake.”
    She looked at him, the scorn coming off her in waves. “Haven’t you learnt any more than that, then? Mistakes can feel good. At the time. It’s what comes afterwards that lets you know if it’s a mistake or not. And what came afterwards between us?”
    “Nothing,” he admitted. “Nothing.”
    “Too right.”
    “Because I didn’t