by Brock, V. L.
“It is not wood, beautiful.”
“Of course it is.”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s not, it’s a facade.”
I freeze, cocking my head, and frowning with tangible confusion. Hayden flashes a smile before placing our belongings at our feet and begins my history lesson. I smirk as I idly contemplate that I am having sex with my boss, who also happens––in this case––to be taking position as history tutor also.
“Hotel parks around here would always fall victim to fires because of their wooden structures and the natural heat. So when this place was built in the early twentieth-century, to save from the same fate, they poured concrete into rough-hewn wooden forms and stained it to look like redwood.” He points up to the wooden planks of the building.
My eyes widen. “Wow…you learn something new every day.”
“There is a lot we can learn from the 1,170 square miles that surrounds us, beautiful, but that’s for tomorrow. Right now, I just want to get you inside. Come on,” and he leads me once more to the entrance.
Our suite is breathtaking. As we enter the Parlor Room to the Library Suite, we are instantly enveloped with mahogany floor to ceiling bookshelves on either side, closing in and offering warmth and luxury. A fleeting contemplation of how this elegant, gracious entrance would be a nightmare for any claustrophobic, springs to mind.
The room opens up into an exquisite sitting-room with a dark wood desk resting against the wood paneled wall along the left of the room. Two table lamps perched at either end.
Bright light inundates the suite as it chars through the four sectors of the great window at the far end of the room, reflecting every small detail upon the highly polished hardwood flooring. The large beige couch in the center is framed by two armchairs angled at either end, and a beige footrest on a native, mauve rug resides in front of the large, romantic fireplace along the primary wall. There is a painting of the sunset overlooking Half Dome, with the sky a blend of pale blue, lilac and burnish orange hanging above the hearth.
“There’s another sitting-room up here, Sam,” Hayden calls from around the upper right corner. Oh, my God, this place is enormous.
My jaw drops open. “Wow.”
Another couch rests against the back wall to my right, chocolate suede in color. A large window sits in front of the couch, and a dark oak dinning-table with warm, velvet red, mid-back dining chairs is tastefully placed beneath the windowpane to give the best possible view of the National Park.
My mind has switched off entirely. I am speechless. The views, the freedom, the easiness…and not to mention the man that made this possible, the man sacrificed his own leisure time to book all of this for me…for us. I’m…I’m…
“You look as though you lost a cent and found a dollar,” he jokes. Setting our belongings down at the couch, he snakes his arms around me, pulling me into his body. “Are you okay, beautiful?”
“Hayden…you have rendered me speechless. I’m overwhelmed by all of this, and by the time that you have taken to… I just…” I don’t know what I am, words fail me. I suck the air between my teeth and tighten my lips into a firm set line.
Hayden removes his arms from around me and cradles my face between his hands…his warm, considerate hands––skilful hands. He looks down at me, concentrated and passionate. “I want you…to stop thinking.” My brow creases at his unexpected words. “Stop thinking, and enjoy, because when you think too much, Samantha…I lose you.” Pain and mystification creates the foundation of his tender spoken words.
“Lose me…I––”
“I have brought you here, for us, beautiful. We are going to enjoy ourselves, we are going to relax, have fun…and do what comes naturally to us.”
I smile, and push his statement about losing me at the back of my mind. Losing me? No, Hayden…you don’t lose me, I was lost, but you found me and brought me back from the place that I no longer belonged.
Fisting my right hand through his hair, I graze my left hand down his body, and back up to hold his jawline between my thumb and index finger. Drawing him down to me, my mouth finds his, our tongues searching in the darkness of the other’s mouth. Pressing myself up against his taut muscular frame, I moan in admiration for my man while he kisses me with a boundless passion.
I feel the cool air upon my face as Hayden removes his warm hands off my skin. Adjusting his body he scoops me up into his arms. I shriek at the sudden, unexpected action, but we still remain passionately linked to each other as Hayden carries me tenderly and purposefully into the bedroom, to embrace our natural impulses.
“Samantha…beautiful…” Hayden’s velvet soft voice hooks and reels me in, pulling me slowly from my much needed, deep slumber. I feel his fingertips softly browsing the front of my hairline. “Time to wake up, sleeping beauty,” he whispers.
Even when I’m not fully conscious, he still has the ability to send tingles through my body, a tightening at depths only Hayden and I visit together.
“Mm…”
“Come on, I have things I want to show you.” He plants a kiss that is bursting with early morning affection on my lips, and I battle with my body as my eyelids flutter.
“What time is it?” I ask fuzzily, rubbing my eyes free from sleep.
“7:00 a.m.”
“I thought we were on a weekend vacation…don’t we get lay in’s?”
He leans over me and the back of his knuckles smooth down the left side of my face. “Normally we would…but there are new memories I’d like to create with you.”
Raising my right hand, I reflect his actions and reach up to his cheek. My thumb pad traces fondly over his kissable lips––lips that were claiming every inch of my body last night, sensations that still make me quiver at the mere thought. Who knew that feeding each other Red Velvet Fudge Cake and Passion Fruit could become so erotic, so sensual? My breathing hitches and my heart thrums painfully against my chest.
“What did I ever do to deserve you, Hayden?” Before I can suppress them, warm, salty tears fall down my temples and land on the white and red embroidered pillow.
“Don’t cry…please don’t cry, beautiful.” Hayden dries my tumbling tears then rests his lips on mine.
When he pulls away, I push myself up to a seated position, and dash my fingertips over the vein-trails my tears created, drying any overlooked residue from my cheeks.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize and briefly blush at my emotional breakdown.
“Don’t be sorry, crying shows you’re human. Believe me, I have shed many a tear the last year to last me a lifetime.” He rewards me with a placating, shy smile, his eyes teeming with honesty. I cannot help but wonder the reasons behind Hayden’s tears, he is so confident and in control, I can’t imagine seeing him that vulnerable. The thought is enough to tug and weigh my heart and make my stomach somersault.
The bathroom has a boutique charisma about it; with the gold chandelier in the center with crystal droplets hanging elegantly. A royal blue velvet and gold boutique chair rests against the window, surrounded by a bricked wall. Wall lights on either side of the large, vanity wall mirror, and a white top that houses a double washbasin, with black granite on the underside surface.
Lifting my face to the torrent, I allow the hot, steamy water to cascade down my body…every bead of moisture revitalizing me in my still tired state. The glass surround soon steams up, and the black granite tiles in the shower cubicle hazes as vapor rests against them, causing droplets to form, and trail their journeyed path down the cool surface. Grudgingly, I finish off my shower, removing the remaining tackiness off my breasts and stomach that the Red Velvet Fudge Cake left behind last night.
“So, beautiful…I was thinking––”
“Did it hurt?” I tease, giggling at him feigning offence. His brow creases deeply and his eyes narrow.
He pushes himself up from the edge of the bed, and stalks across the open area to where I stand, holding the soft Egyptian cotton towel around my naked body. I hold my hand up ha
lting him and caving to my defeat, while my other hand clings tightly at the material that covers my breasts and a very small amount of my thigh.
“I was kidding. I was kidding,” I shriek, my eyes widening in a feeble attempt to pause him in his roguish tracks.
Hayden shrewdly shakes his head, the combination of his intense, I-am-going-to-make-you-pay-for-that-sarcastic-remark look, and his full, slightly parted lips as he clicks his tongue in charmed disapproval sends a cocktail of sensations gushing through me: adrenaline, excitement…arousal. I feel my sex throb minutely as muscles constrict and my nipples strain. I’m panting and all Hayden has done is look at me. Damn, he is so fucking hot.
His hair still slightly damp from his morning shower, but his natural side parting causes his silky, drying hair to tumble over the right of his brow. His stubble is thickening somewhat at the sides of his mouth, chin, and upper lip. My body hums as the power he wields over me becomes evident while I remember the prickly, rough sensations that left in its wake last night.
Hayden stands before me. I bite my lip painfully to stop my craving and pounce on him right this very moment. He leans down, his breath warm and pleasing against the sensitive skin below my left ear.
“Too, late,” he whispers and as he stands back straight, his penetrating, stalking expression alters to one of carefree, fun-loving and lighthearted enjoyment. He whips the towel from my body with expert hands, allowing the cold air to strike at my damp, naked flesh. My nipples harden under the chilly bite from the cool air.
“Hayden, it is freezing…give me the fucking towel,” I demand through our laughter as I attempt to regain possession of the soft, warm material.
“What…? This towel…?” he asks, glancing at the fluffy material he holds up in his right hand then back at me.
I wrap my one arm around my breasts and the other hand, covering my pubic area. “Yes.” I nod my head frantically, matching the desperation that taints my words.
Hayden gazes at me as I bounce up and down on the spot in frantic urgency.
“No…I don’t think so,” he responds pointedly. His words lay heavy and serious between us. He perches himself on the edge of the bed.
Gauging his demeanor, I stare into his eyes. Only then does the nickel drop and I realize why he is doing this. He doesn’t want me to beg for it…he wants me to accept it. The self-conscious, awkward woman who covers up her body because she is scared of the flaws that will be pointed out to her…the woman who still cannot accept a compliment from the man in her life. That is what he is doing. He wants me to accept…me.
I hang my head low and concentrate on my fidgeting feet as I flex my toes painfully against the wooden flooring. I sigh heavy. Closing my eyes, I brace myself to become full vulnerable under Hayden’s scrutiny.
Holding his gaze, he sees that I understand what he desires of me; his dark, chocolate pools of imploring, heartfelt need staring back at me. Squaring his shoulders he holds his head high and rests his right ankle across his left knee.
Swarmed with reluctance, I release my arm away from my breasts and remove my hand away from my pubic area and place them both upon my hips. I stand before Hayden in all my glory, all my faults and attributes presented to him, in the full light of day.
His eyes soften and he curls his mouth in what I can only fathom as admiration and loving.
“Oh, Samantha…” he breathes. Hauling himself up, he strides toward me. “You are so, so beautiful.” He tantalizingly brushes the back of his knuckles down the side of my face, to my jawline and my neck. His eyes greedily following the route his hand is mapping out over my body.
His tongue glides effortlessly over his bottom lip. Retracting it slowly, sensuously, his teeth sink into the pink flesh, a low groan escaping from his throat. The degree of the concentrated expression carved upon his perfect face, so penetrative, so…intimate. His lip rolls from the clamp that his teeth bear upon it and all I want to do is reach up and kiss him. But I refrain, and continue to stand stock-still.
Continuing his journey, he trails between my breasts, down my sternum.
“Your skin is so soft…so flawless.” I shudder internally as he skates down past my navel, to my abdomen. I wait for him to make contact with my sex, but he doesn’t. With sensual force, his hand grabs my hip and trails back up my body. “I love this…” his lips curl upward into a cherishing grin as he traces his fingertip over a beauty spot on the outside of my left breast. “You are beautiful, Samantha…I could gaze upon you and worship your body for an eternity if you would let me. How did that feel?”
I shrug. The burden that I have carried around with me, hovering over me for so long has turned into a weightless silken sheet, floating down and cascading over me, shrouding me. I’m unable to find a better word than the one my instincts are all pointing at.
“It felt…right.” I smile unreserved, my eyes filling with more tears…tears of acceptance…of triumph…of belief that someone who can see my faults, can still find me attractive, and still desire me.
Hayden and I sit at one of the round dining-tables in the dining hall. I feel unfitting with my attire as I sit wearing a turtle neck sweater under a casual sweater, a pair of indigo jeans, and sneakers. And only to think that last night I was dressed in my black lace cocktail dress, with my lace peep-toe stiletto shoes…no wonder I feel out of place.
Hayden seems to be far from affected by the contrast of our clothing in the stunning setting of the Great Hall. Dark hardwood flooring with a thirty-four foot high beamed ceiling, floor-to-ceiling windows encircle us, offering further magnificent views. Chandeliers and candelabras fixed on each rough-cut granite and stone pillar. White linen tablecloths, beautiful china and tall white candles are placed in the center of each table.
I stare over at Hayden intuitively, who is wearing a red zipper sweater and a black pair of cargo pants, with large, deep pockets on the outside of either knee, secured at the bottom with the drawstring, and neatly tucked into his black heavy hiking boots.
“May I help you with something, Miss Kennedy?” he taunts, sensing my stare, concentrating on his Eggs Benedict and Canadian bacon.
I snigger, feeling a little embarrassed that I have been caught watching him.
“I love watching you eat.”
Still chewing, a fresh forkful of food is halted in mid-air as he meets my scrutiny. He smiles and shifts a fraction toward to me, allowing me to revel in the scent of his fresh, masculine cologne.
“That’s the reason why you do it then.”
“Do what?”
He grins, and looks at me indulgently, still not saying a word.
“What do I do, Hayden? Come on…you’re making me paranoid here,” I urge, but still nothing. He stares at me, the left corner of his mouth curling as though waiting for something to happen.
Clicking my tongue once in disapproval, I shake my head, and flash him an exaggerated, bogus scowl and resume eating my three cheese omelette.
Hayden places his elbow on the table, his chin propped up onto the heel of his hand. He studies me with exactness, and I swear I can hear him silently counting down like a space in his head.
Raising the fork to my mouth, I get halfway before the bite size piece of egg falls from my fork and splatters back onto the white china below.
“That,” he beams. I focus on him, eyes wide with embarrassment. “It’s okay, I find it sweet that you are so engrossed in watching me eat, you can’t concentrate on your own meal.”
My mouth falls open, and I feel the flaming heat of my growing blush under my skin.
“It’s our secret,” he smirks.
“Pointing out my lack of etiquette? You are no gentleman, Hayden Wentworth,” I giggle, before concentrating profusely on not dropping the remainder of my breakfast.
It’s crazy how exploring the outside can bring you closer to someone.
Hayden and I hired two mountain bikes from The Village bike stand, and cycle all the way to some Isle named after an emotion,
I can’t fully remember. He laughed at my expense after a very wobbly start. Well, in all fairness, I haven’t ridden a bike in nearly ten years, so I don’t think I did, too badly, regardless of what he says.
“Come on, beautiful, we’re nearly there.” He boosts my moral, seeing how physically drained I am after what seems like a six or seven mile ride.
“Where are you taking me, Hayden?” I pant.
“I don’t want to ruin the element of surprise…”
“You have surprised me immensely the last two days, Hayden. I think you have driven me to become a firm non-lover of them from this point forward.”
We finally reach a raging river with rocks scattered through it. It reminds me of White Water Rafting, but doesn’t look anywhere near as deep. But then again…appearances can be deceiving. The water is thick, and the light mist rising from its surface gives a foam-like appearance.
“Are you feeling okay, beautiful?”
“I’m trying to absorb all of the views, but…they just seem so…surreal,” I yell over the gushing of the raging water as Hayden dismounts the black and silver mountain bike.
Really, how on earth can he make something that simple look so fucking sexy? I growl as the lust I have for this man manifests in my southern, clenching muscles and for a fleeting moment, I am thankful for the level of noise around us.
“We can leave the bikes here. We need to hike the rest of the way.”
There is no-way on this planet could I possibly make a proper hike. We’ve done a few miles on a bike and muscles I never knew I had already feel like Jell-O.
“It’s okay, it’s not that far,” he reassures, emphasizing his statement by shaking his head.
I dismount my cycle with caution. He takes possession of the handlebars and parks it next to his at the rack, before sauntering back to me.
He tenderly brushes my lips with his.
“If you are lying to me, Mr. Wentworth––”
“If you find it too strenuous, then I will just have to carry you.” He smiles and crosses his arms across his chest.
“You wouldn’t!”