by Dee Tenorio
“David…” Her whisper, laced with confusion, tore at him. Why didn’t she understand? He could hear the hurt in her, feel it in the tremble of her lips against his jaw. He clenched his eyes shut, wanting to wrap his arms around her just as tight.
She shook her head. “This isn’t helping anything.”
“Yes it is.” He let his hand duck under the open edge of the robe to grasp her still-slick hip. He continued to stroke her cheekbone with his thumb, drawing small circles along the curve. Her breath shuddered across his throat. “I’m trying to tell you. I know you can hear it, the same way I hear it from you. Hear me, Krista.”
It took a moment—a long, trembling moment—before she leaned into him, her body softening. Warm, welcoming. Perfect.
He let his stroking hand course up her back, feather light, dipping over each contour of her ribs. Following the outer swell of her breast to where it joined the muscle that led to her shoulder. It was a deep groove, a purely feminine line he would give anything to put his mouth to and worship. He traced it back down, his touch circling the deep mauve point of her nipple. It was already taut, but he rubbed it gently anyway, before covering it with his palm. Her heartbeat fluttered wildly under his hand. He bowed his head to press a kiss there, over her breastbone. Chaste. Not to seduce, though he knew that’s where this would likely end. But not before she knew, without a doubt, that he wasn’t trying to silence her. He wasn’t trying to force her to stay. He just wanted her to know how much she meant to him.
He would kiss every inch of her body, soothe her with touch, give her an infinite amount of time and every drop of his effort. She needed to feel what he couldn’t seem to say in a way she’d accept. She wanted smooth and flowery words. Not struggles. Not tangled thoughts that defied explanation. He might never be able to give that to her, but there was no mistaking his meaning this way. If he’d wanted just sex, he could take it and she’d enjoy it, but it wouldn’t be this. This was loving her, promising her everything he was. Only her. Only ever her.
“Please, David, don’t do this to me,” she murmured and he froze.
“Do what?” he asked carefully, breathing in the soft floral scent of her skin. As he said the words, his lips grazed the highest curve of her breast. His mouth watered, wanting a taste.
Her voice was thick, an almost strangled whisper. “You’re trying to make me feel and it’s not fair.”
What wasn’t fair about it? He felt. Or didn’t that matter? “Nothing about this situation is fair,” he decided, thinking of how much she needed that he hadn’t seen, hadn’t realized she wanted. It wasn’t fair at all that he’d been so unprepared to give any of it to her. But he could learn. He was learning right now. “We can fix that.”
“With sex?” Her ire was starting to get past the desirous glaze to her eyes.
“No.”
The ire disappeared, eclipsed by a flinch of true pain. She closed her eyes, slowly, her body somehow heavier with the weight of her disappointment. Damn it. Before he could fix the bluntness of his tone, she started pushing at him, her cheeks red now for all the wrong reasons. Her gaze stayed on the floor at their feet. “David—”
He couldn’t hear her tell him no. Couldn’t let her go, though he knew he should. He covered her lips with his, taking a wet, desperate taste of her. Her hands curled around his biceps and for a second, he was sure she was going to shove him. He held her tighter, deepened the kiss until he felt as if he were drowning in her. If this were the last kiss, the last time he’d hold her this way, he needed it to last.
Except, she didn’t shove. Frozen for precious seconds, she did nothing, her response completely absent. Then, when he almost gave up, her grip tightened and her tongue darted against his once, twice, before laving in a full, sensual stroke.
Taking his first relieved breath since waking up to find her gone, David let his hand drift from her jaw, easing to the back of her head to guide her into a better angle. A deeper angle. She moaned her approval, tugging urgently for more. He filled both hands with her breasts now, releasing her mouth so he could taste the mounds in his palms.
Yes, he’d had the right word before. Worship. Putting every feeling he had into her hands, across her shoulders, down her belly to the heart of her. Delving into her, drinking her down and diving in for more. But to do it the way he wanted, he had to lay her back, give her a soft place to relax. He lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist and took her to the bed. He stepped on the robe as he strode toward it, lowering them both onto the thick duvet.
The moisture on her skin seeped through his shirt when he lay fully above her. She stared up at him through passion-stained eyes, that flush of color he loved to see pinking her skin from her nipples to her cheeks.
David caressed her lips with his, drifting over her jaw, down her throat. He licked at her nipple, laving it while he copied the motion on the other nipple with his thumb. She shifted restlessly and he drew the peak into his mouth, sucking hard and gently pinching on the other side. Her hands clenched at his wrist and in his hair, holding him in place. She quivered beneath him, reacting to each touch as if it were a firebrand.
Against her whimpers, he continued down her body, moving down her open thighs until he faced her open folds, already glistening for him. He touched her first, petting the swollen outer lips lightly. He watched her face, watched her bite her lower lip to keep from crying out when he parted them and circled the edge of her opening. The cry escaped when he did the same to her erect clitoris. Sliding a finger on each side of it, he lowered his mouth and slowly, carefully, let his tongue surround it.
It was hard not to smile while she screamed, her sex fluttering around the finger he’d slid deep at the same time.
He let her ride the wave of her orgasm, soothing her with gentle swipes of his tongue, letting her internal muscles squeeze around his fingers with only the slightest motion of his hand. He wanted her to fully enjoy each and every explosion of passion he could give her. So when her breath became slow and relaxed, he began all over again. Licking the sweetness from between the folds, replacing his finger with his tongue, sinking it inside her, pulling free only so he could suck at her clitoris again, driving them both into a frenzy he only vaguely realized he wasn’t controlling. All that mattered was bringing her to a new height, drowning her in sensation the same way she drowned him. Until words didn’t matter any more and all either of them could do was feel.
He meant to be gentle, to be careful with her, but he was ravenous and she wasn’t complaining. She was insensate, her nails scratching his shoulders, even after he folded her knees upward—almost to the mattress—so that he could tongue deeper. But it wasn’t enough. They both needed more. Needed now…
He rose up, already yanking at his shirt to pull it up over his shoulders like a T-shirt. He stopped, though, at the sight of tears streaming from her eyes. She’d cried the last time, too, and he’d ruined everything by not paying good enough attention. Letting his need for everything to be just fine get in the way. Not this time.
He reached out, touching her temple where the tears had melded into her wet hair. “Don’t cry, Krista.”
She shook her head, her lips shaking. “Why are you doing this to me? I’m finally trying to do the right thing for both of us. Why are you making this so hard?”
His whole body ached to join with hers. To ignore the emotional storm in her eyes. Instead, he reached for her hand, lifting it so he could place it over his heart. “You know why.”
She pulled her hand free. “Missing me isn’t love, David.”
“Then what is it?” What was it that made him feel absolutely hollowed out at the thought of never being with her again? Never touching her, never seeing her smile at him with that complete abandon that only she had. Wasn’t it love, then, that drove him past all reason and sense whenever she needed anything from him? That drove him to put her needs—the ones he knew about, anyway—ahead of his own? That made him willing to give up anything, even hi
s soul, if she just asked for it?
“Let me give to you, Krista.” Give the only thing he knew how to give her right. He leaned over her, his kiss so desperate that even he knew he was this close to begging. “Hear what I’m trying to tell you.”
“I can’t,” she whispered against his mouth, and he couldn’t tell if the pain in his heart was hers or his own. But she held on to him, kissing him back. Her legs squeezed around him and her arms wound over his neck. He started to pull back, not sure at all what she meant, but she clamped tighter, lifting her hips to his. She groaned into his mouth, releasing her hold only when he burrowed his arms beneath her shoulders. How could she be so close, yet give him the insidious impression that she was slipping irrevocably away?
“It’s not enough,” she growled, her hands snaking between them, scrabbling at his belt. She had him free in what felt like seconds, her hand gripping his shaft tight, directing him into her heated slickness. She ran him through her wetness, the head gliding just past her opening and angling up over her clit, where she stroked them both against each other well enough to make him grit his teeth. Just when he couldn’t take any more, she dipped him downward. He surged into her, pushing deep and fast. She cried out, her walls tightening around him while her knees rose on either side of him.
Her fingers, he understood somewhere in the back of his fevered mind, hadn’t released him. She kept two of them and her thumb wrapped around the base of him, stroking with each movement of their bodies. He quaked, too much sensation robbing him of any chance of regaining concentration. Her other hand grazed his belly with each thrust, her rolling knuckles a tease he’d never felt before. Like a shock to his brain, he realized she was touching herself, stroking them both past oblivion.
Thought of any kind incinerated.
Recklessly, he plunged into her, conscious only of her wild cries and the tight, convulsing grip of her body. She arched beneath him, the angle of her hips changing from merely drugging to utterly mind-bending. Lost, he felt the end coming at him like a freight train. Too soon, too strong, the climax surged over him, robbing him of his breath and his strength like electricity streaking down his back.
Overwhelmed, he dropped his head to her chest, listening to her heartbeat settle from its rampaging pace to a steady one that gave his something to align itself to. He allowed himself to melt over her, lax and sated.
But not quite satisfied.
Something had been different. She had been different.
He lifted his head, catching his breath, but she wasn’t looking at him. When she brought her hand to his shoulder, she didn’t seem to have any difficulty in pushing him away. Confused, unable to do anything else, David rolled to her side, all at once feeling ridiculous and over-exposed by his own mostly dressed state. His pants were open, but every other article of his clothes was still perfectly in place. As if nothing had happened to him. And as he studied her face, her profile blank and cool, he almost wondered if anything had.
How could she be so distant? She still didn’t look at him as she slid free. Briskly, she rushed back to the shower. He listened, disbelieving, as the water turned on again. Taking the bizarre respite for what it was, he righted his pants and sat up. He ran his hand through his hair and tried to find his equilibrium. This wasn’t what he’d meant to do. It hadn’t been wrong either. So why did it feel that way?
Analytically, he tried to view the last twenty minutes with some kind of equanimity. He’d tried to touch her, to show her how he felt. Tried to reassure her. She’d balked, but she hadn’t given any indication that she didn’t want him. Even as she’d rejected his feelings, she’d clung to him, as if she were afraid to let him go. Then…then she’d taken control.
That was it. That was when the whole experience had lost what he’d been trying to give her. It hadn’t been about love. It had been sex. Raw, uncontrolled lust.
David watched her walk out of the shower, wrapped in a proper towel this time, her gaze most assuredly not on him. He could still see the blush on her cheeks as she gave him and the bed a wide berth. Blinking, he let her pass, waiting for a word, a sign, some kind of indication of what the hell had just happened.
He heard her moving around, gathering things from the closet. The rustling of her getting dressed. When she finally walked into his sights, crossing to the vanity with its massive mirror, she wasn’t wearing the nightgown he expected. Not even the fluffy white bathrobe still trampled on the floor. Instead, she wore a red-and-white-flowered sheet of some kind, wrapped around her body and knotted between her breasts, leaving her creamy shoulders bare. He straightened away from the bed, his mind racing at what was or wasn’t underneath. To his shock, she grabbed her handbag again and headed toward the door. Without a look, she moved past him.
“Where are you going?” he asked when it looked like she’d walk straight out without another word.
“Back to the party at Cobb’s.” She turned, the fabric of her outfit parting around a slim, pale thigh. Thighs that he could almost still feel clenched around his ribs. Clearly that didn’t matter anymore. “And don’t even think of following me there. You’re not invited.”
Cobb. The man she’d been with on the pier. He stifled the anger that tried to bubble through his thoughts. “I thought we would talk.”
“What made you think that? Was it when you rudely interrupted my conversation—”
“With another man,” he interjected, not sure if his temper or his ego was stinging more. She couldn’t be serious about acting like what had just happened meant nothing. Or was she pretending it hadn’t happened at all?
She went blithely on. “Or was it when you imposed yourself on my hotel room?”
It wasn’t easy to argue when she wasn’t wrong. But she wasn’t right regarding everything. “We need to talk, Krista.”
“About what? I don’t see how anything has changed.”
“What about us? What we just did?”
She shrugged, her eyes darting to the side. “Sex, pure and simple.”
“That wasn’t just sex. You felt it. You know what it was.”
Those green eyes that had always watched him with heat were cold mirrors now. “You’re right, I do. It was you hoping you could seduce me into changing my mind about us. But sex was never our problem, David. It doesn’t answer anything. It just makes us believe things we know aren’t true. We’d be stupid if we confused chemistry with emotion. I’ve been stupid long enough, thanks.”
So he was right. She’d felt what he was trying to tell her and it scared her. There weren’t a lot of feelings he knew at first glance but he knew fear. He’d lived with it all his life. He hated that she felt it now—that she felt it because of him. “Running away won’t help anything. Believe me, I know.”
“Who’s running?” She pulled the short strap of her handbag up over her shoulder. “I’m walking away, guilt free. The way I should have months ago. You wanted to be here. Fine. Enjoy the room, but don’t kid yourself that I plan to be in it. We’ve already made enough mistakes for one day, don’t you think?”
Icy anger flooded his senses. “Krista.”
She grabbed the door handle and pulled it open. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date with four muscle-bound men in the next bungalow.” Then she did something truly amazing. She winked. “Don’t wait up, lover.”
And she was gone.
Chapter Eight
A strange haze gave way to the clear blue water of the ocean. Krista blinked at the misty sunlight, not entirely sure how she got there. Wasn’t she just…?
Warm hands smoothed down her back, the touch as familiar and exciting as ever. David. Just like that, the worries faded away. It didn’t matter that she wasn’t sure where she was. Or where anyone else was. The beach was deserted and it was just the two of them in a private lagoon. So private he was untying the back strings of her bikini.
“What are you doing?” Was her voice echoing?
“Touching you.” She could feel his war
mth against her skin, hear the water droplets echoing as they fell from his wet hands. The top fell away and his hands replaced it, drawing a groan from her as her head fell back onto his shoulder. Her nipples, hard and straining, were rolled between his fingers, making her ache from the tips of them all the way down to her warming core.
“You’re not supposed to be touching me,” she remembered. She didn’t like it when he touched her, but she couldn’t quite remember why. It felt good. His touch always felt good. He always knew exactly where to touch, how to make her melt for him. To make her scream, if he wanted to. Though, strangely, even now his touch wasn’t exactly right. It wasn’t as…intense. Usually, his hunger, his need, was like a flame around them both. This time, he was gentle. Unhurried. Un-intense.
Maybe that’s what she didn’t like.
“Maybe you feel guilty,” he murmured, kissing the side of her neck, licking here and there with teasing strokes.
“Why would I feel guilty?” She had nothing to feel guilty about. She was setting him free. Setting them both free, from a marriage plan that had lost its logic. If it ever had any to begin with.
His hand roved over the bikini bottoms and they disappeared. Just pfft! Gone, and his long fingers were sliding through her folds, hidden just beneath the water line. She watched the back of his hand against her pale belly, the slow ministrations as erotic as the feel of his fingertips gliding around her clit, delving into her entrance. His hand rolled, creating tiny waves as she shivered, her want overwhelming the questions in her mind. Then he was inside, one finger…two, moving in and out while rubbing the heel of his hand into her, heightening her need until she burned. And then he just kept giving her more. His strokes soon had her arching, moaning. Becoming desperate for a fulfillment that he wouldn’t give. “Please, David.”
“I’m trying to please you.”
Her clit throbbed in response to his voice.