A Star to Steer Her By

by Beth Anne Miller

  I dropped our stuff on the floor and ran my hands down his back to cup his butt. He rocked against me, and I tightened my legs around him, my body crying out for more.

  I was vaguely aware that we’d turned away from the wall and were moving across the room. He let go of me with one arm, the other holding me tightly against him. There was some rustling behind me, and then he knelt, laying me down on something soft and stretching out beside me. I took a quick look around the room.

  The cabana was being used for storage. Lounge chairs were stacked along one wall and umbrellas lay along another. And beside us was a pile of cushions, the top one askew from where he’d knocked a few to the floor.

  He traced his fingers over my face, catching some strands of hair and tucking them behind my ear. His fingers tiptoed down my neck and over my shoulder, and then his lips followed. He nudged aside the strap of my dress to kiss the hollow of my shoulder.

  His hand slid over my collarbone and down, dipping into my cleavage and gliding over the fabric covering my breast. A shiver ran through me at the intimate caress.

  “I can’t keep my hands off you, Ari,” he breathed.

  “I don’t want you to,” I whispered back. After so many starts and stops, it was finally happening between us, and nothing short of a hurricane tearing the roof off our little hut would ruin this moment.

  His lips came down on mine once again with a hunger that awakened every nerve ending in my body. His fingers grazed over the side of my breast and trailed down my ribs. He ran his hand down my thigh, pulling my leg up around his hip, bringing my body flush against his. I could feel him hot and hard against me, his desire for me thrilling. I’d had other relationships, had other guys want me, had been intimate with one of them, but it had never felt like this before. There hadn’t been love, only lust. This, with Tristan, was different—I could see it in his eyes, feel it in his kiss, his touch.

  His hands wound through my hair to stroke down my back, then up again. His lips left mine and he dragged his open mouth down my neck. He traced a path down the center of my chest, then ever so slowly moved to my breast. He caressed me, sending a sizzle of pleasure through my body. I arched into his touch, my hands sliding down his sides and around to his waist.

  I dipped under his shirt and trailed my fingers up his belly. The muscles there jumped beneath my fingers, and Tristan dropped his hand from my breast and grabbed my wrist to stop me. “Ari, wait,” he gasped, drawing back to sit on his knees.

  “No more waiting. In two days, our voyage will be over.” Tears welled in my eyes, and I blinked hard, annoyed at myself for getting choked up. I didn’t want anything to kill the mood, to chase him away. “Please.”

  He sighed. “Ari, I want this—want you—more than anything. But I forgot…I don’t have—why are you smiling? I’m serious.”

  “So am I.” I reached for my purse, withdrawing a small packet Jenny had slipped inside before I left. In case you decide to get rumpled, she’d said, a small smile on her face. I’d been mortified at the time, but now I was grateful for her forthrightness, and for thinking of it when neither of us had. “My fairy godmothers thought of everything.”

  I laid the packet on the floor and reached for the hem of his shirt once again. And this time, he simply raised his arms over his head so I could draw his shirt up and off.

  As soon as I tossed aside the shirt, he wrapped his arms around me and kissed me with an urgency that hadn’t quite been there before. No more thinking about tomorrow or the next day and what would become of us. This moment was all that mattered. I gasped as his hands wound through the heavy mass of my hair, the gentle tug against my scalp inflaming me even more.

  He tipped my head back to kiss his way down my throat as I arched into him, delving my fingers into his hair, pulling it free from its ponytail.

  As his mouth returned to mine, he skimmed his fingertips over my breasts, then up and around my neck. He traced the sensitive skin there, then began to fumble with the halter ties of my dress.

  I pulled back, and he immediately dropped his hands. “What’s wrong?”

  “You have to leave the dress,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks grow hot.

  His face fell, but he quickly recovered. “Oh. Of course. We can stop.”

  Such a gentleman. But that wasn’t what I wanted. “No! I mean, no, I definitely do not want to stop.” His relief was so profound, I nearly laughed. “But you have to leave the dress.”

  He cocked his head to the side. “I, uh, don’t get it. You don’t want to stop, but—”

  I sighed. “So, I borrowed this dress from Jenny, and she had to manhandle me into it. If you—we—take it off, I don’t know if I’ll be able to get it back on the right way.”

  He laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “We’re two fairly clever people. I’m confident that we can put you back into your dress.”

  “I’m not that confident,” I muttered. “And I’ll never live it down if my dress is all cockeyed when we get back to the ship.”

  He ran the palms of his hands up over the fabric covering my breasts, grinning wickedly when I gasped at the sensation of the material rubbing against my skin.

  Screw the dress.

  I stood up and reached behind my neck to untie the halter straps. My eyes locked on his, I slowly drew off the straps, my hands shaking slightly.

  He glanced down, his eyes growing wide when he realized I wasn’t wearing a bra. I let the straps drop, then reached behind me and undid the zipper at the back of the dress. I shimmied it down my hips and let it pool at my feet, then stepped out of it to stand before him in just my pink satin panties.

  He looked up at me once more, his eyes like twin flames of blue. “God, I love you in pink,” he rasped.

  I smiled, loving the effect I had on him. “I know.”

  He rolled to his feet in one smooth motion and raked his eyes over me, from the top of my head down to my feet. He cupped my breasts in his hands, then bent me back over his arm to worship them with his mouth, my body growing hotter and hotter with each pull of his lips and stroke of his tongue.

  Then he drew back and knelt on the pallet once more. His hand reached out to touch my scar, and I flinched slightly.

  His hand froze. “Does it hurt?”

  “No. It’s just sensitive.”

  He pressed his lips to the bottom of it, a few inches above my knee.

  “Tristan, what are you—”

  “Shh,” he murmured, kissing the middle of the scar, making me shiver with pleasure. He looked up at me, his eyes bright. “You’re so beautiful, Ari, every part of you. Especially your scar, because it’s a badge of courage.”

  Tears suddenly filled my eyes. I was speechless. For him to turn the source of so much pain into something that felt so indescribably good…it was a gift I could never reciprocate. The love I felt for him seemed to grow within me, infusing every cell in my body, and I touched his cheek, hoping he could see in my eyes what I had no words for. He smiled, reaching up to lay his hand over mine. Then he bent his head toward me once more.

  He planted soft kisses the rest of the way up the scar, each kiss longer than the last, until my body hummed and my hands were twined in his hair, my tears forgotten. He pressed a final kiss to the very top, high on my upper thigh.

  He drew back, raising his eyes to mine. Holding my gaze, he trailed his fingers up the inside of my thigh to touch me where I ached for him the most, caressing me through the satin of my panties, first with his fingers, then with his mouth.

  My legs trembled and I clutched his shoulders for support.

  “I’ve got you,” he said, rising to his feet and pulling me into his arms.

  My whole body on fire, I kissed him, running my hands down his chest and abdomen until they reached his belt buckle. I opened the clasp, then reached for the fly of his jeans. My clumsy fingers couldn’t manage the button, and he brushed them aside and did it himself. He tugged down the zipper with a hiss and then slid the jeans
down his hips and kicked them off.

  Now it was my turn to ogle him. I stepped back and took in the male body before me. He was lean and muscled from working on the ship. His skin was tanned from a lifetime of being out in the sun and sea air, a sharp contrast to the white bandage on his biceps. His hair was tousled around his face, the ends curling onto his shoulders. He was beautiful and strong. And he was mine.

  He wore a pair of gray boxer briefs that left very little to the imagination. I traced the beautifully-drawn lines of the tattoo on his side, then walked my fingers down his belly until I reached the waistband. I raised my eyes to his and held his gaze as I dipped my hand beneath the elastic band and cupped him. He sucked in a breath, his eyes widening, his hard flesh growing even harder against my palm. He gently tugged my hand free, scooped me off my feet, and lay me on the cushions, settling in beside me.

  He kissed his way down my body, from my forehead to my belly button, then hooked his fingers under the waistband of my panties. He looked up at me, silently asking if I was still okay.

  In response, I lifted my hips. He smiled, holding my gaze as he drew my panties down my legs and off. He stared at me for a long moment, then pressed his lips to my center. I bit my lip as my hips arched up once more, this time on their own. He moved to lie beside me.

  “Tristan,” I begged, needing his touch.

  “Shh, love, I’m here.”

  Staring into my eyes, he slowly skimmed his hand up my thigh, then finally, finally, he touched me. His fingers caressed me until I was writhing beneath him, my hands clutching his shoulders. He kissed my mouth, swallowing my cries as waves of pleasure crashed over me.

  I lay in his embrace, breathing hard, my body trembling from passion. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted all of him. I ran my hands down Tristan’s back, my fingers edging under his waistband and pushing the fabric over his butt. He took over, yanking his boxers down his legs and off, tossing them somewhere.

  I sat up and pushed him onto his back. This time, it was my turn to touch. I ran my fingers through his hair, then cupped his cheek. He turned his face into my caress, kissing my palm. I trailed my hands down his body, touching soft skin over hard muscle. I sat back on my heels, a thrill running through me to see how much he wanted me.

  I touched him, my tentative fingers growing bolder as he surged into my hand. He laid his hand over mine, holding my gaze as we stroked once, twice. He rolled us over, staring down at me hungrily. I let my legs fall open, held out my arms in welcome.

  He reached under the cushion for the condom, tearing open the packet and quickly covering himself. He settled between my legs, ran one hand down my body to touch me again, making sure I was ready for him.

  I was.

  I wrapped my arms around him, pulled his head down to mine. “Now, Tristan,” I breathed into his ear.

  He brushed a strand of hair from my cheek and smiled down at me. “I love you, Ari,” he said, and joined his body with mine.

  “Love you, Tristan,” was all I could manage before I was swept away.

  I danced my fingers down Tristan’s back, loving the weight of him atop me as we waited for our heartrates to return to normal.

  Tristan lifted his head from my shoulder. “Are you all right?”

  “I’m better than all right. That was…incredible.” The guy I’d dated freshman year was nice enough, but the few times we’d slept together had been just okay—not even in the same category as this—and I’d wondered what the big deal was. Now I knew. Had Tristan liked it? I mean, it seemed like he had, but I didn’t have much to compare it to. “Was it…did you…” His kiss cut me off mid-sentence.

  When we came up for air, he smiled and said, “It was, and I did.”

  He bent his head to kiss my neck, which brought our bodies into close contact again. “Oh,” I breathed, a new wave of desire rushing through me.

  I felt his lips curve against my neck. “Just how thoughtful was your fairy godmother?”

  I reached into my purse and withdrew another packet. “Very thoughtful.”

  Though neither of us wanted the moment to end, getting arrested for trespassing and indecent exposure was not how I wanted to end this voyage. We reluctantly got up and looked for our clothes. I found my panties and pulled them on. As I wiggled them over my hips, I looked up to see Tristan adjusting his boxer briefs and staring at me the way a starving man might eye a steak. My body grew hot all over again.

  “Tristan?”

  Those gleaming laser eyes met mine, his smile slightly feral. “I know. We have to go. But that doesn’t mean I can’t look.” He handed me my dress. “Let’s see if we can get you back into that, aye?”

  I pulled it on, then reached for the zipper. “I’ve got it,” he said, moving behind me. He zipped the dress, his fingers tiptoeing up my spine. His hands came around me, skimmed over my belly, and cupped my breasts.

  I gasped, my body instinctively arching into him. “Tristan!”

  “I’m just helpin’ you with your wee straps, Red,” he murmured into my ear. He dragged the straps—very slowly—over my breasts. “Hold up your hair.” I gathered my hair off my neck so he could tie the straps.

  “I don’t think it’s tight enough,” I said.

  “I’m not finished yet.” And he wasn’t. By the time he’d—not impersonally—manhandled my breasts into the dress and tied the straps securely, we were both so turned on that we almost ended up on the cushions again, the fading light in the room the only thing stopping us.

  He began scraping his fingers through his hair to pull it back.

  “No, let me,” I said.

  “Let you what?”

  “Let me pull back your hair. I’ve been dying to since the first day we met.”

  He shrugged. “Far be it from me to deny you,” he said, clearly not understanding why I would want to pull back his hair.

  I moved around behind him, pushed him down until he knelt on the cushion. I combed my fingers through his hair from his scalp to the ends to get out the tangles. His breathing went from relaxed when I first started, to faster and faster as my fingers dove through his hair.

  “Are you almost finished?” he said. It sounded like his teeth were clenched.

  “Almost.”

  Taking pity on him, I pulled back his hair, gathering it in a low ponytail. Holding his hair in my right hand, I reached around him with my left and inched my fingers into the front pocket of his jeans. His whole body went rigid. “Red?”

  “Just looking for a hair tie—ah, there’s one,” I said, tugging it out of his pocket and quickly securing his hair. I leaned down and pressed my lips to the back of his neck, then breathed into his ear. His whole body jolted.

  “Payback’s a bitch, isn’t it?” I asked sweetly.

  “Don’t close your eyes tonight, Red,” he warned.

  “I don’t intend to.”

  We cleaned up, putting the cushions back the way we’d found them and leaving no sign that we’d been there. We left the cabana and pulled the door into place, then walked down to the water. The sun was low in the horizon, balanced just atop the sea, as if it were taking that last deep breath before plunging in.

  I felt Tristan’s eyes on me and turned away from the magnificent view to face him. The setting sun cast a fiery aura around him, and in that moment he looked like some otherworldly being that had descended from the heavens, about to unfurl his wings and carry me off to his castle in the clouds. It almost hurt to look at him.

  I turned back to watch the sunset. The flaming orange orb began to melt into the sapphire sea. First the slightest trickle, barely perceptible. Then, as if the warmth of the sun had heated up the surface of the sea, it began melting in earnest, the orange hue spreading into the shimmering water.

  The sky put on a show of its own, displaying increasingly more spectacular colors: first golden yellow, then orange, fuchsia, and lavender, as if it was trying to entice the sun to stay just a little longer. But nothing could hold back the su
n, and it finally slipped beneath the surface of the sea and disappeared, leaving behind extraordinary streaks of color.

  The world, which had gone silent to bid the sun farewell, came to life once more. Gulls cried as they dove beneath the lilac water, surfacing moments later with fish wriggling in their beaks.

  “That was the most incredible sunset I’ve ever seen,” I breathed, turning to look at him.

  He was still gazing at me. “I didn’t notice.”

  I stared at him, speechless. He’d watched me instead of the sunset? He always watched the sunset. “Your hair looked like it was on fire,” he continued, “and your eyes shined like jewels, reflecting all the colors of the sky. You’re so damn beautiful, Ari.”

  He drew me down to sit on the sand, and we sat in silence, gazing up at the dark sky, watching the stars flicker to life.

  “We’d better get back,” said Tristan, his voice husky. He got to his feet and helped me up, and we returned to the marina.

  Just before we got to the Meg, Tristan pulled me into his arms once more, giving me a good-night kiss that was not for our shipmates to see. When we reluctantly parted, he gazed down at me, and the intensity in his eyes made me catch my breath. “Thank you for the most beautiful night of my life, Ari.”

  He’d left me speechless once again. I couldn’t imagine any other twenty-one-year-old guy saying something like that, but his unorthodox childhood at sea, his closeness with his family, the loss he’d suffered—these things had shaped him into someone who was worlds apart from other guys his age.

  Cradling his face in my hands, I kissed him with all the love I felt for him. Hoping it was enough.

  Jenny and Amanda were sitting on deck when we got back to the ship, obviously waiting for my return so they could grill me. Jenny took one look at the top of my dress (which, in spite of Tristan’s extensive best efforts, didn’t look quite right) and gave me a thumbs-up.

  “We’ll take her from here, Tristan,” she said. “She needs to debrief. Say good night.”