Throwing back her head, she laughed, the sensual sound of her voice bubbling up from her throat. “Me like it much.”
Emily was still smiling as he rose to his feet and walked away to get her food. Her admiring gaze lingered on his tall, slim body. His navy blue tailored suit jacket fell with expert precision from his wide shoulders, while the matching slacks ended with the perfect break above his highly polished loafers. She knew that Chris had amassed an extensive wardrobe to accommodate the fluctuation in his weight. Tonight he had opted not to wear a tie when he selected a navy blue banded-collar silk shirt.
Good things come to those who wait. The caption beneath her photograph in her high school yearbook came to mind. She had waited a long time, but it was only now that she could acknowledge that the wait had been worth it.
Perfect. The single word summed up exactly who and what Christopher Blackwell Delgado was.
Emily felt a presence to her right and turned to stare up at a man she hadn’t seen in years. He pulled back her chair and she rose to her feet, a wide grin creasing her face.
“Reginald!” He gathered her to his chest. The familiar fragrance of patchouli swept over her as she pressed her lips to his smooth ebony cheek.
“Emily Kirkland.” His refined accent caressed her ear. “I had to look twice to make certain it was you.” Easing back, his dark gray eyes surveyed her critically. “How long has it been?”
She calculated quickly. “At least ten years. My family had come down the Christmas before I celebrated my twenty-first birthday.”
Holding her at arm’s length, his gaze swept appreciatively up and down her slender body. “You’ve really grown up. The last time I saw you, you were still a little girl.”
Emily shook her head. “I was a woman, Reginald,” she reminded him in a gentle tone.
It was his turn to shake his head. “What was it that wouldn’t permit me to see that?”
Emily affected an attractive moue. “I believe it was someone named Edwina Bramble.”
“Who?”
“You men are all the same. How quickly you forget.”
She had to admit that time had been very kind to Reginald Wallingford. Ten years her senior, he hadn’t changed much. She was still stunned by his incredibly smooth, sable-brown skin. His coloring was the perfect foil for features usually attributed to one claiming European ancestry. Local rumor claimed that Reginald’s mother had become pregnant during an extended vacation in England but had returned to Jamaica to give birth and raise her only child. At the beginning of each year a check arrived from London with enough money for Margaret Wallingford to live quite comfortably.
“I could never forget you, Emily Kirkland.”
“Or I you, Reginald.” There was a time when she had a crush on the tall man who taught British history at the University of the West Indies.
“How long will you be in Ocho Rios?” he asked her.
“I plan to leave here on the twelfth.”
“Are you returning to the States?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“Are you here with your family?”
“No. I came without them.”
Reaching for her left hand, he surveyed her bare fingers. “Would you mind if I come by and see you before you leave?”
“We’d love to have company, wouldn’t we, mi amor?” said a male voice with a distinctive American Southwestern drawl.
Emily spun around to find Chris standing behind her. His smile was cold, lacking any trace of humor. He set a plate on the table, then extended his right hand to Reginald.
“Christopher Delgado.”
Reginald took the hand, recovering quickly. When Emily said that her family hadn’t come with her, he’d assumed that she had come to Jamaica alone.
“Reginald Wallingford.”
Chris pumped the hand vigorously, adding to the other man’s uneasiness. “When do you plan on visiting with us?”
“I’ll call and let you know. The telephone number hasn’t changed, has it?” Reginald asked, directing the question to Emily.
“It’s the same,” she confirmed.
Leaning forward, Reginald kissed her cheek. “I’ll be in touch.”
Emily knew his promise was an empty one. She had seen the silver gleam in his gray eyes dim with Chris’s approach.
“I’ll wait for your call, Reginald.” He inclined his head, then turned and walked away.
Emily and Chris shared a knowing glance before they retook their seats. Both knew their chances of seeing Reginald Wallingford again during their stay in Ocho Rios were very slim.
She ignored the plate of food on the table and picked up her glass of rum punch. Taking a sip of the tropical concoction, she stared over the rim at Chris. The drink was liberally laced with rum, a little potent for her taste, yet she welcomed the warmth spreading through her chest. The realization that she and Chris were now a couple had not been apparent before Reginald’s approach. In the past they went to mass, concerts and attended family gatherings together. But that had been before they declared their love for each other.
The tempo of the music changed, and a slow, sensual ballad filled the large space with its haunting melody. Emily smiled at Chris. “Will you dance with me?”
Rising, he rounded the table and pulled her gently to her feet. They joined the other couples on the dance floor, their bodies melding as they swayed to a classic love song that was usually played at wedding receptions.
Chris’s warm breath swept over her ear when he lowered his head, his nose nuzzling the side of her scented neck. “I’m starving,” he confessed in a raspy whisper, “and you look and smell good enough to eat.”
A roaring heat swept through her, as if she had opened the door to a voracious furnace to feed it more coal. His erotic confession left her shaking, and she doubted she could remain standing without his aid.
“Not here, Chris.”
He tightened his grip on her waist, pulling her closer. “Why not?”
“This is not the place.” Her voice had lowered to a sultry whisper.
He swung her around and around, forcing her to put her arms around his neck to keep her balance. “I don’t need a bed to make love to you, Emelia.” He verified his assertion when he breathed a kiss under her ear.
Sinking against his cushioning embrace, Emily was conscious of everything that made Christopher Delgado the worldly, handsome, elegant and passionate man she had fallen in love with. It was apparent that he was much more sexually experienced than she was, yet he was a selfless lover.
“Am I embarrassing you?” he asked.
She nodded, her face pressed against his warm throat. “A little.”
Pulling back slightly, he stared at her, his gaze narrowing. “You’ve had a long time to get used to us being together.”
Emily glanced up, meeting his penetrating stare. “Knowing each other is very different from us getting to know the other.” His confusion was apparent when his curving black eyebrows lifted questioningly. “I know you,” she explained, “because we’ve practically grown up together.”
“Shouldn’t that be enough?”
“No.”
“Why not?” he shot back.
“Because there is a part of you I don’t know. A part that makes you seem like a stranger.”
He pulled her closer, burying his lips against her hair. “Which part?”
“The physical part. I don’t know what I have to do to bring you pleasure.”
The soft sound of his laughter vibrated in her ear. “You don’t have to do anything, Emily. All you have to do is be yourself.”
“But—”
“No buts,” Chris interrupted quietly. “I’ve fallen in love with a woman who ha
s been blessed with not only an incredible beauty but brains. A rare combination indeed. A woman who is so secure with her own femininity that I’ve found myself comparing every woman I meet with you.”
It was her turn to laugh. “I was jealous of your women.”
Closing his eyes, he smiled. “There was nothing for you to be jealous of, baby girl.” Snuggling closer, Emily pressed her lips to his. He opened his eyes. “I think you must have cast a spell on me the day you asked me to kiss you in your grandparents’ garden.”
She went completely still, missing a step as he tightened his hold on her body. “You remember that?” Turning her head, she stared over his shoulder. “That was the most embarrassing day of my life.”
“Why? Because your cousins saw us kissing?”
“That, and because I was so brazen.”
“You were more curious than brazen.”
Chris was only half right. She had been curious, but there were other young men she could have asked to kiss her. Young men who had been invited to Aaron and Regina Spencer’s wedding, the sons of her uncles’ business associates. But she had asked seventeen-year-old Christopher Delgado because she had felt comfortable with him. She hadn’t yet realized that she had developed a serious crush on her best friend’s brother.
Her gaze swung back, meeting his. There was a gleam of determination in her laser-green eyes. “Right now I’m going to be more than brazen. I want to go back to the house. I want you to make love to me,” she stated with a confidence that hadn’t been there before. “I want to be in your bed, in your arms and feel you in me when the clock strikes midnight to signal a new year.”
It was Chris’s turn to stumble at this erotic confession, but he recovered quickly, leading her through the throng of swaying couples. The silver-flecked eyes of Reginald Wallingford watched their retreat, a slight smile curving his mouth. The petite woman standing beside him noted the direction of his gaze and looped her arm through the sleeve of his suit jacket, recapturing his attention.
Emily felt as if she had been holding her breath until she sat beside Chris in his rental car. She didn’t know where she had found the courage to utter the words she had buried in her heart, but now that they were out she felt free—freer than she had ever been in her life.
For almost two decades she had repressed her feelings and sexuality because she had been waiting for one man to acknowledge her as a woman. She had managed to control every phase of her existence, but there were times when she felt as if she had relegated herself to a prison without bars. She did not want to begin another year of her life denying her true feelings.
The year before she began seeing Keith Norris she had found herself accepting dates from men she had turned down in the past. It had reached a point when she did not want to spend a weekend alone, so she went out to dinner, shared brunch, attended sporting events and concerts with a lot of men with the hope that she would meet someone who could make her forget Chris.
After a while she had tired of trying to keep their names straight, so she began seeing Keith exclusively, and because his major league baseball schedule would not permit her to see him every week they were able to develop a comfortable relationship wherein they made the most of their limited time together.
Keith had waited two months to ask her to sleep with him. She’d turned him down, saying that she would let him know when she felt the time was right for them to take their relationship to another level. It was apparent that Keith had become impatient and, without her approval, had announced their engagement.
Keith and all of the others were her past, while Chris represented now, and she was mature enough not to project more into their relationship than that moment.
Chris’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel as he navigated the unlit road. He replayed her erotic entreaty in his head, remembering the exact timbre of her sultry voice when she told him what she wanted. I want to be in your bed, in your arms and feel you in me when the clock strikes midnight to signal a new year.
A slight smile curved his mouth. He would fulfill her desire, and in doing so would also yield to his own.
* * *
There was a profound silence as they entered the house and climbed the narrow, winding staircase to the second floor. Chris pulled Emily gently into his bedroom, his gaze never leaving her face. The light from a bedside lamp cast a soft glow in the sparsely furnished space. The hands on his travel clock indicated that there was another twenty minutes before the advent of a new year, and at the stroke of midnight he intended to grant Emily her most fervent wish.
Her eyes glowed like a beacon, appearing large and trusting as she stared up at him, waiting—waiting for him to make the first move. Moving closer, his hands came up and curved around her upper arms, his fingers caressing the silken flesh.
Lowering his head, he brushed his mouth over hers, and her lips parted automatically. Moist breaths mingled, then fused, and tongues tasted, while banked passions stirred restlessly.
Emily placed her hands on Chris’s chest, feeling the strong, steady pumping of his heart under her palms. She wanted to beg him to take her and assuage the flames of desire heating her thighs and groin. She wanted to climb the walls of ecstasy again and lose herself in the explosive currents that had taken her beyond herself.
Her hands moved across his chest to his shoulders. Deepening the kiss, she pushed his jacket off. Hearts pounding in unison, their hands were busy as they slowly, methodically, undressed each other, Emily taking an inordinate amount of time to slip each button on his shirt from its fastening. By the time she had relieved him of his belt and had unzipped his slacks she found herself clad in only her heels and panties. Her dress and demi-bra lay in a heap on the floor next to his shirt and jacket.
She inhaled audibly, the sound reverberating off the walls as his fingertips skimmed across her breasts in a slow, sweeping motion, bringing the nipples into prominence. His hands worked their magic, tracing every dip and curve of her body and molding her flesh like heated wax. Closing her eyes, she reveled in the tingling sensations coursing through her swollen breasts. His touch, his heat, the scent of cologne on his bared flesh transported Emily to another time and place.
Chris’s right hand moved slowly down the length of her body to cradle her sex through a layer of silk and lace. Squeezing gently, he measured the slight pulsing against his palm. It matched the intense throbbing in his own blood-engorged sex—a throbbing that had him close to exploding.
His hand moved upward, cradling her face gently. “I love you,” he whispered reverently. “I want you so much.”
Emily answered his plea, her hands cradling the solid bulge straining against his briefs. Opening her eyes, she smiled. “I want and need you.”
Chris returned her smile. “And you’ll have me. All of me.” Pulling out of her gentle grasp, he slipped out of his loafers, pushed his slacks down his legs and stepped out of them. His socks and briefs followed. He stood in front of her—proud, naked and magnificently aroused.
Her gaze lingered on his face, then moved lower, very slowly. Her luminous eyes caressed his lean, muscled form as gently as a caress.
“Oh, Chris.”
The awe in her voice nearly sent him over the edge, and he feared embarrassing himself by spilling his passions on the floor. He hadn’t waited this long to have it end up with his not being able to complete the act, like an anxious adolescent during his first sexual encounter.
Bending down, Chris removed her heels, then slipped her black lace panties off her hips and down her long legs. Straightening in one smooth, continuous motion, he cradled her face, his mouth moving over hers and devouring its succulent sweetness.
Emily wasn’t given the opportunity to catch her breath once she found herself in Chris’s arms. He placed her on the bed, paused to protect her and then moved over
her trembling limbs, supporting most of his weight on his arms.
Rising slightly, he reached down and positioned his sex at the entrance to her vestal body. “Easy, baby,” he whispered.
Emily bit down on her lower lip until she tasted blood as her virginal flesh stretched inch by inch to accommodate her lover’s rigid tumescence. The burning and the pain subsided once he was buried deep inside her; then the pleasure returned, the all-consuming passion she had experienced earlier that morning rushing back as he began moving in a slow, rocking motion that touched her womb.
The fists pressed against his back unclenched, her outstretched fingers sliding up and down his spine in an agonizing slowness that sent waves of heat throughout Chris’s body. He kissed the pulsing hollow at the base of her throat, moved to the fragrant column of her long silken neck, then the moist sweetness of her lush mouth.
Emily felt his hardness sliding in and out in a strong, measured rhythm that took her higher and higher until she trembled in a shimmering desire that had her gasping for breath.
Her desire for him was uncontrollable, whirling, careening and tilting the earth on its axis. Looping her arms under his shoulders, she held him tightly and rode the waves of ecstasy buffeting her through a fire that completely swept her away.
The pleasure he offered her was pure and explosive, and she gasped in sweet agony. Love flowed through her like hot honey at the same time as she cried out her release, taking Chris with her in a shared free fall.
The sound of exploding fireworks reverberated in the stillness of the night; someone had used a more public way of celebrating the new year.
Emily lay in Chris’s arms, listening to the thundering sounds and knowing that what they had just offered each other had changed them—forever.
Chapter 11
January 1
Streams of light slipped through the partially closed jalousie shutters framing the second-story veranda, inching their way across the floor and bed with the rising sun. The buildup of tropical heat intensified the redolence of ripening fruit and blooming flowers as a gentle breeze from the ocean carried the wafting scent for miles. Ocho Rios was wide awake with the raucous cries of colorful birds hopping nimbly from tree to tree while chattering noisily.
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