by Rissa Brahm
And just when he thought she was done, her arms crossed in front of her, and her thin white tank came up and over her head. Her bikini top held and lifted her breasts perfectly.
Damn, this was hard.
And now he was hard. Rock hard. He lowered her purse a few inches, to cover his auto-reaction.
“Hey, so, where’s your purse today?” Her brows danced with pride at her playful dig, then not a moment later, she keeled over laughing, taking his wrist to keep herself steady.
Though he’d craved her touch, God, since he’d picked her up from the hotel, he still had some defending to do. He cocked his head and narrowed his eyes. “If you must know, I left my messenger bag—”
“Your murse, you mean…” More hysterical giggles. “AKA, man purse.”
“Oh, that’s it.” He swung her purse onto his shoulder, lifted her up from her bent-over laughing fit, and pulled her into him and his very well-maintained hard-on.
Her laughter halted. Her eyes widened then showed a glint of surprise-to-heat-to-need.
“As you can see, or rather feel, I’m plenty man enough to carry a ‘murse’—aka ‘man purse’, if you’d prefer to—”
Her mouth cut off his words, her lips and tongue taking what they wanted from him as she pressed her purple sarong-wrapped center hard into him.
Holy hell.
His pulse pounding through him, he groaned into the depth of their kiss, completely unable to keep his hands in one place. Her face then neck, her shoulder blades, her graspable ass then silken arms and around to the smooth center dip of her spine… If only he could touch all of her all at once. Because damn, he wanted all of her, this, all the time.
From the strength of her hold, the caress of her lips, it seemed so did she, which sent relief and more ecstasy rocketing through him as their early morning lip lock continued. Her sudden need danced with his…until whooping and hollering from the loitering car washers broke through their bubble, their little corner of parking-lot paradise.
Between the guys’ applause, Preeya’s resumed giggles, and his racing heartbeat, he found it hard to hear or focus or breathe. But when her hand went to his chest, over his heart, and her gaze met his, he found his grounding.
He kissed the top of her head. “Our audience got their fill for the day, I think.”
“Yeah, I think so.” A puff of laughter, then she licked her lips. “Here, I can take my purse back now.”
He hiked her purse strap up higher on his shoulder—and shifted his stance to adjust his now extremely snug-fitting shorts—proudly. “No, no. I’m good. I felt naked without my murse, anyway.” He winked while she shook her head at him and sighed. “But, hey, I did bring the sunscreen.” He reached into the car and pulled out a travel size bottle. “And my special waterproof phone-and-wallet pouch.” He tugged on the lanyard around his neck, the pouch under his shirt.
“So very prepared, Doctor.”
“That, I am. However, I have nothing to carry the sunscreen in. Gosh, if only I had brought my bag, I wouldn’t have to ask you to carry this in yours.”
“Touché. Now, gimme the lotion.” She took the small bottle and tied a triple knot around its neck with her brand new sarong. “How’s that?”
“Perfect.” Perfect Preeya.
“Anything else I should tie on here?”
“Nope. And…I’ll lock your purse in the trunk if that’s cool?”
“Sure.”
“Need anything from it first? Your phone…though I don’t think it would even fit in my handy water-proof pouch…”
She took a second to think. “You know what…it’s my solo-cation. It would be good to be off the grid for a bit…and anyway, you have your phone in case of emergency.”
“Which won’t happen because, damn it, we had enough emergency the other day to last us a lifetime.”
“Definitely.” Preeya shook her head and flicked her eyes to the sky.
“So…I think we’re all set.”
She took his hand, laced her fingers in his, and smiled at him with her eyes. Those eyes. “All set.”
“You know those eyes will be the death of me, Preeya Patel.” He squeezed her hand as he led her to the marina entrance.
She blushed and squeezed his hand back.
“I need to ask, does anyone else in your family have the same violet hue?”
She glanced up at him, then out to the bay ahead of them. “My mother.” Her voice got thick. “I have my mother’s eyes—and her flightiness, too, so says my aunt.”
His breath paused a beat as he studied her. That deep sea of surfacing sadness flooded her heart, and now his. “You okay?”
She met his gaze again. “Sorry…yeah, I’m good.” The corner of her lips crept up. “No, I’m really good.”
He sighed then smiled. “Me, too. I’m really good, too. And God, Preeya, you’re gonna love the island. And the falls. They’re pure magic.” He leaned in and kissed her lips. “Sadness-stripping magic.”
His secret spot, the one he’d found after Jamie died. He’d gone back there each and every day for a week blinking mental snapshots of the cascading falls with his grief-stricken lenses. Trying to stop time, and then maybe trying to rewind it?
But today, to his relief and to his enthrallment, he wanted the water—and time—to move forward. He wanted to move forward. Maybe he wanted to move forward with this woman?
Ben, don’t jump so far ahead. Right over that waterfall’s edge.
The Vallarta Adventures guide came into view, waving to them from the dock.
“Okay, ready for our adventure?”
“Absolutely, Dr. Trainer. I’m so, so ready.”
*
He held her around the waist the entire boat ride out to the Marietas. A firm, protective hold. And although it was ninety degrees by 9:00 a.m., the brisk stream of ocean air chilled her to the bone. He somehow knew it and held her closer to him.
The group on the boat was pretty small. Beside Ben and her were Pedro the guide, his assistant, Surfer Dude Ted—he’d actually introduced himself that way—and two retired couples from Canada—so said their hats, bags, and other touristy paraphernalia branded from their home country.
The two couples were funny, Preeya thought. She nudged Ben to witness the hilarity. The two silver-haired men, one thin as a rail and the other with a healthy beer gut, spoke to each other, while the cute older ladies chatted away together like little clucking hens. Occasionally the respective husbands did a kind of grunt-and-nod to their wives when they needed something. Sunscreen, or a snack or what have you. And in response the respective wives would grimace at their husbands, but would then provide the requested item. Disgruntled, but fulfilling the need nonetheless.
Ben just shook his head and laughed. He leaned in to her. “It gets that way pretty fast.” The whispered comment, just loud enough to compete with the boat motor and ocean wind, sounded like it came from experience. She laughed to herself. She would have thought Ben and his late wife too young to have gotten to such a state of grumpy telepathy. But she couldn’t possibly know.
Ben sat back, pulling away from her ear, and shifted so his arm supported her back better. Now square and centered in their seats, she and Ben both faced their boat mates. To find four pairs of eyes staring at them. A common wonder—no, pure awe—had come over both couples’ faces. The ladies’ frowns had morphed into wide grins while each reached a hand to their longtime partners. And the men each returned close-lipped smiles and patted their respective wives on the backs of their hands.
“Are you newlyweds?” the thinner man asked.
“Us? Oh God,” Preeya laughed, looking at Ben with a total loss for words, the spotlight being just too much for her.
“Is it that obvious?” Ben answered confidently, taking Preeya’s hand, bringing it to his lips, and kissing it sweetly.
“You make a lovely couple. Don’t they, Charles? Don’t they make a lovely couple…can you remember when we were that in love?”
“I can’t remember what I ate for breakfast, dear. But I’m sure it was delicious, since you made it for me,” the rounder man answered his wife.
“Oh, Charles, we went out to eat this morning,” she scoffed, slapping his hand lovingly with a hint of what might have been a very standard frustration.
“You have an extraordinary time together, you hear? And make every second count,” the lady with the sun hat interrupted her friend. “Because it goes fast, I’ll tell ya.” She winked, then she shot up to her feet. “Dolphins!” She pointed a sun-spotted arm out toward the front of the boat. “John, get the camera. Get the camera!”
And the four older folks rushed to attend to their necessary proof-recording devices, while Preeya, still in shock at the interaction, tilted her head at Ben. “You are something else…”
“What? It made them so happy. Why not just go along with their hopeful version? And give them a little vicarious…good stuff.”
“Is that what we have here?” She motioned between their bodies, huddled tight together. “Good stuff?”
“Yeah. Good stuff.” He nodded and smiled, holding her gaze in his. “And it’s not too far off base, is it?”
Her heartbeat blocked her ability to swallow. Or to talk. She could only nod.
He took her chin in his grasp, stopping her head from nodding and her thoughts from rushing. “We’re in public, Ben,” she whispered. “The elderly.”
“I know. But we’re newlyweds, Preeya.” He leaned in to kiss her, and placed a light peck on her cheek, then one light touch of his lips to hers. He followed the sweet kisses with a whispering of words at her ear, but she couldn’t make them out over the boat motor, the oohs and ahhs from the dolphin sighting, and the rushing wind.
She looked at him and his wide amber eyes so deep and soft and warm and…waiting for a response from her. God, he was so sweet and so were his whispered words, she imagined. She tilted her head at him just as the old folks’ excitement peaked—something about a baby dolphin.
And then Preeya could not contain herself any longer. An explosion of laughter—out of the blue, ill-timed and unstoppable. She patted Ben’s thigh and shook her head, trying to tell him through her uncontrollable outburst that she wasn’t laughing at him. That it was the entire scene, the comedic play they’d been cast in, more hilarious than the murse episode, funnier than even her favorite Lucy clip from childhood. This, she thought, was priceless.
And as Ben waited patiently for her to rein in her laughter, she put her hand to his face. She calmed down, composed herself, and found air and words. “I’m sorry, it was just that I didn’t hear you. I didn’t hear what you whispered. Over all this…” Her other hand swept across their airspace, presenting the bay and the people and all.
He shook his head, took a deep breath of sea air, and then just went for it. Loudly. “I said that I love being here with you, and I am as happy as I can remember!” Which paused Pedro and Surfer Dude Ted and the old folks, too, distracting them from their dolphin experience for an interim chorus of “aww” from the women and nostalgic nods from the men.
Ben grimaced, sighed with his eyes, then leaned closer to her. “It isn’t too far of a stretch though, is it, Preeya Patel? Being happy together. For at least the moment?”
He pulled back to look in her face. As if wanting confirmation. Searching her eyes.
In awe of him, of them, she felt like her answer to his question radiated from her. No words needed. And none were even possible. Her heart had leaped higher into her throat, choking her with kinetic joy.
He must have known, understood, seen, because he took her hands. “And this moment.” He met her forehead with his. “And this one.” He brought his lips to hers. Another light feather of a kiss. A dusting of snow on the first day of winter. “And this one here.” The tip of his nose brushed hers as he angled his face and moved his mouth toward hers again, pulling her top lip with his full, moist lips, gently and sweetly sucking, holding. And he lingered there for a heartbeat. And another.
Until she felt him disengage. Her chest sank as the space between them filled with bay breeze and sea spray. But she kept her eyes closed, softly, as if she could keep their prior moment alive, lasting, frozen in time.
And he must have known her need. Because he leaned in again. Warming her again. At her ear now. And completely in his zone, in tune, she could hear his breath and nothing else. Then he whispered, “I am so fucking happy being here with you, Preeya Patel.” Every syllable was clear as the seawater they raced over. And as clear as the blue sky floating overhead. Just crystal clear and real.
She turned to face him. Her mouth at his. Her lips on his. Her breath and thoughts and words, his. Me, too, Ben Trainer. Me, too.
*
Thirty minutes later, she caught sight of their destination—dots growing into spots growing into fuzzy mounds—while she reveled in the afterglow of Ben’s sweet care.
She hadn’t been a recipient to such open and honest affection. Not ever before.
And it felt amazing. Absolutely breathtaking. But scary and unreal as hell. Because now that it had moved beyond “too good to be true” into “really damn good,” the worry now was that it would become “as good as it gets” or “anything worth having goes away.” Well, the last one she’d made up on the fly.
Stop dreaming up worries, Preeya, and just go with it.
Like Ben was doing. Brilliantly, she’d say. God, so perfectly. Going with the flow. And to her credit, to her surprise, they were flowing damn well together, in the now. Yeah, she was here with him. Creating and catching real-live glimmers of joy.
And then, like a wave had come up and over the boat, a sense of relief or forgiveness or easing washed over her, and with it came a stark realization. Being here with Ben was only possible because she’d been honest with herself, and with Evan, ending their stint of complacency. Because if she hadn’t done that, she’d never, ever have known such sweet, attentive warmth here, now, with this man holding her tight in his grasp. So her family thought she was crazy for closing a door to a steady, solid life—probably scared shitless that she really was like her mother, with a taste for the unknown, for life’s dynamic and endless possibilities. But right now she had every confirmation that she’d made the right call. Freeing Evan from her forever-wondering mind, but more, freeing herself to seek out—and maybe just catch—the possibilities that awaited her. Like the possibility sitting next to her on this speedboat to some paradisiacal hidden beach off the Pacific Coast of Mexico. She sighed and glanced at Ben. This kind, bright, sensitive, humble, funny, and sensual man was not a rock star. He was better. So much better. And real. Here. Happening. Now.
And it definitely would not have been. This, their pretend honeymoon, would not have been.
Ben Trainer, where the hell did you come from?
*
The dolphins followed behind the boat the entire way to the magical Marietas, and even a humpback whale showed her flare, heaving herself out of the water and crashing down again with a mammoth splash. They got drenched, absolutely soaked. Ben wiped her face with the bottom of his shirt, and she almost couldn’t stop herself from sliding her hands over his exposed skin, feeling his firm abs, around to his hips, then pressing her body into his.
But she didn’t do that. God, of course she didn’t. But holy hell, she wanted to.
Instead, she had wrung out her ponytail on his head, and began to laugh hysterically. Ocean water dripped down his nose and over his lips, which curled up into a coy smile. “You’ll get yours, Preeya Patel. Oh, you’ll get yours.”
She hoped to God that was a promise.
At that point, the sweet older lady in the sun hat was being less than subtle about photographing them and their water play. Preeya just laughed and pressed her cheek against his rough and so-sexy stubble, filling the newlywed role. Ben played along happily—he pulled her close, kissed her cheek, her neck. Once the onlookers got their fill of photos, the pretend Dr. and Mrs.
Ben Trainer soaked in the essence of the beautiful bay.
CHAPTER 21
The scorching sun had dried and warmed them both by the time the motor clipped to a halt. They were there. At this place Ben Trainer loved so much.
Pedro announced that it was time to jump in the water and swim to where he pointed, a short, cavernous arch in a lush, green-covered landmass some two hundred feet away. “That way is the hidden beach, mi amigos.”
So much for getting dry. She stood up, tightened her new sarong—and sunscreen—tighter around her waist, adjusted her bikini underneath, clicked the life vest closed, then dove in. Ben followed right behind her, meeting her in the water, the palm of his hand on her bare back, as if to tell her he was right there with her.
Their fellow boat mates took a good while longer, their bickering from the boat about who and what was going when and where could be heard from a hundred feet away as Preeya and Ben swam together in the shallow, turquoise waters. They looked at each other and laughed when they finally heard the far-off splashes of their older friends entering the water.
“When we’re old and gray, sweetie, I hope we’re still doing this sort of thing, even if we’re slower and grumpier then.” She winked at him then splashed him in the face with her hand.
He laughed then disappeared under the water.
She looked around her, pulse ramping up a notch—were there sharks and jellyfish in here? Because she thought she’d heard…
A hand slid along the back of her neck, down her back, and snapped the strap of her bikini top.
He popped up, laughing.
“Hey there, buddy.”
“Sorry, but slower and grumpier isn’t my style, Mrs. Trainer,” he teased, then he took a few faster strokes and waited for her to catch up, or rather, to catch him. The playful chase was making her hot in that cool, crisp water. Hot, thirsty, and wanting.
She swam after him and caught him around the waist with her legs. She squeezed for a moment, then pushed herself off before his long, thick arms could bring her in. Yes, she liked this play. She liked this picture of them in general. And thinking back to the ultra-serious, righteous, and slightly cocky doctor she’d met on her flight only nights before—God, how wrong she’d been. And wow, she really, really liked this man.