The Pleasure of His Company

by Lindsay Evans

  “Whoa, girl!” He fumbled fast for his seat belt.

  “I heard Alexander got that magic tongue,” Carlos teased from well out of Annika’s reach. “After the bedroom looks you and her—” he jerked his chin at Kingsley and Doe Eyes “—have been giving each other all night, she’s eager to get in some lovin’ of her own.”

  “Don’t be jealous, Carlos.” Annika flashed him a dangerous look. “I told you I can share Alexander with you whenever you’re ready.”

  Steven’s shout of laughter drowned out Carlos’s response.

  With their teasing and laughter, the ride toward the south part of the island passed quickly. They talked about Annika’s interesting relationship with the couple, Elina and Alexander, that had lasted well over a year now and was, in her words, more satisfying than any she’d ever had before.

  “Doesn’t anyone get jealous?” Carlos asked, looking voyeuristically fascinated.

  “There’s nothing to be jealous of,” Annika said with a shrug.

  They pulled into the drive of the small house. It had the soft, pulsing beat of trance music pouring from beneath the front door. After a quick rap on the red painted door, Annika pushed it open. Once inside the smell of marijuana smoke and the sound of “Glory Box” greeted them, promising a laid-back, if slightly illegal, vibe. Walking behind Annika, Kingsley stayed just behind Doe Eyes as they made their way into the open living room, whose intimate darkness was amplified by multicolored Christmas lights. It reminded Kingsley of an off-campus college party. He suspected there was a keg or two stashed someplace.

  Despite his desire for the opposite, he was ready for Doe Eyes to change her mind and tell him she wanted to go home. Her eyes darted to each face in the room as if trying to make the decision about whether or not to stay based on the expressions she found there.

  Everybody seemed like they were having a good time. Some swayed in the center of the living room to the beat of the music with bass heavy enough to vibrate in Kingsley’s chest. Others sat in chairs or on the floor, talking or laughing or drinking from their red plastic cups. The house was so full that guests overflowed into the backyard.

  “I need a shower,” Carlos said from behind Kingsley.

  “Go have a shower then,” Annika said. “The bathroom’s through there.” She pointed down a darkened hallway past a couple passionately dancing together near a wall, their hips pressed together but their mouths and eyes set in a way that seemed like they were also having some sort of serious discussion. Maybe a discussion about politics.

  “Cool.” Carlos headed in the direction she pointed.

  “Is there another one?” Steven asked, making Kingsley jump since he’d completely forgotten the other man was there. “This sand is squirming into too many places.”

  “Sure,” Annika said without hesitation. “Use the one off the master bedroom.” She waved Steven toward the same hallway. “And if you want some clothes, just grab some from the cupboard in the bathroom. The green cupboard, not the black.”

  “Does that mean we have to wait our turn?” Kingsley asked, trying hard not to think about showering with Doe Eyes.

  He focused instead on how his thin shorts were drying against his skin, making him feel like an alligator with salt water and sand stuck to him. He had another pair of shorts in his bag to change into. While riding over in the van, he’d vaguely thought of going home to shower and change but knew once he went home, he wouldn’t want to leave.

  “You can do whatever you want,” Annika said in response to his question, turning a speculative gaze toward Doe Eyes. “There’s an outdoor shower by the pool if you’re desperate.”

  He turned to Doe Eyes. “Are you desperate?”

  That must have been the cue to leave because Annika turned her back on Kingsley and walked away.

  “What did I say?” When Doe Eyes just shook her head, he dismissed the whole thing with a shrug. “How about a drink?”

  Now she actually smiled. “Why are you offering me a drink at someone else’s house?” There was a hint of nervousness to her words that made him want to gather her close.

  “I’ve been here enough times,” he said, trying to pitch his tone to one of reassurance.

  She plucked at the hem of the shorts, not looking any less anxious. “I don’t even know why I came here with you.” White teeth nibbled at her full lower lip.

  “Because you enjoy my company, obviously.”

  Her lip was getting more bruised and soft-looking the more she bit it, and Kingsley was having a hard time keeping his attention away from her mouth. In desperation, he cast his eyes around them, taking in the DJ and competitors he recognized from Hi-Winds who came to Aruba nearly every year. The house was full, and, although he didn’t want a drink, he urgently needed something to do with his hands other than wish they were touching a certain tempting woman.

  “Let’s go grab that drink,” he said. “It’ll relax you and help take your mind off the whole needing-a-shower thing. At least until Carlos and Steven get out of the bathroom so we can have a turn.” She hissed softly in reaction, and he stared down at her. “Get your mind out of the gutter,” he said. “I meant our separate turns in the bathroom for a shower. If I wanted to invite you for sex, that wouldn’t be the way I’d do it.” There were a thousand more elegant ways and more convenient places.

  “Fine.” But she dipped her head, looking anywhere but at him.

  Kingsley grinned. “Well, if you do want me to invite you to have a shower with me...”

  She shook her head, raising a hand as if she meant to poke him. But her hand dropped as if she realized they weren’t quite at that stage of their relationship yet. His grin widened.

  At the makeshift bar, he got them both bottles of local beer, then guided her to a narrow and recently vacated space on the sofa that smelled of cigarettes and spilled beer. The impression of being at a college party only grew worse. Funny, he’d been to parties at the house plenty of times and hadn’t gotten that vibe. He shifted next to Doe Eyes and wondered what she thought of all this. The music pulsed, warm and mellow, around them.

  “So what was it you were talking about with your friend earlier?” she asked, leaning close enough that her breath whispered over his cheek, his mouth.

  “I talked about a lot of things,” he said.

  “You were talking about cigarettes and addiction.”

  Ah. His mini-confrontation with Carlos in the boat. He wondered why she was even interested in talking about that. It felt like she was latching on to any conversational straw to avoid acknowledging the attraction between them. But he could play if that was what she wanted.

  “That’s more Carlos’s baggage than mine,” Kingsley said, then paused before sharing information about his friend that Carlos himself was pretty free with. “He’s been in Narcotics Anonymous for a minute, but he replaced drugs with cigarettes. He clings to them thinking that if he gave up cigarettes, then he’d regress to drugs. He goes through a lot of packs in the day.”

  “That’s just replacing one addiction for another. Doesn’t seem healthy.”

  “For him, it’s the safest. Everyone has their own way of coping with lesser demons.”

  As they talked, they leaned more toward each other, and Kingsley didn’t realize the sound of the music was rising, getting louder until they were talking practically with their mouths pressed to each other’s ears. He lifted the beer to his lips, nodding as they talked about addiction and Carlos and the inherent danger of swimming in the sea at night.

  “We don’t always need to see where we’re going in order to get there,” he said. “Sometimes there’s a path already charted for us. We just have to head toward our destination and trust.”

  She turned to him, her mouth damp from her beer bottle. “Are you talking about religion now?”

  “I’m
talking about life.” He looked down at her, watching as she licked away the wetness of the beer but only managed to dampen her lips even more. His own mouth tingled with the urge, ever present now, to kiss her.

  “Do you believe in anything?” she asked him.

  “Of course. Lots of things.” Like the ability of lust to blind him to rational thought and action. With any other woman, he’d already have had her name, maybe even her body spread out in his bed.

  She didn’t ask him to elaborate on his beliefs or lack thereof; instead she tapped her thumb thoughtfully against her bottom lip. “I believe in making the best choices we can to avoid future pain,” she said.

  With a nod, he acknowledged the neat way she avoided talking about religion but still managed to reveal something of herself to him, as casual as the revelation had been.

  “How about making the best choices to encourage present pleasure?” The way he practically shouted the words in her ear was far from seductive, but he felt her move against him, the press of her thigh against his, skin to skin, growing damp together in the room rapidly filling with people whose very presence battled a too-weak air-conditioning unit.

  “Pleasure is fleeting.” Her mouth briefly brushed his ear as she spoke, and Kingsley didn’t even hide the jolt of desire that moved through him. His mouth opened, and his tongue flicked out to taste the air.

  “But it is one of those things that makes this life worth living,” he murmured. “I work to keep my family in the style to which it’s grown accustomed, but also to afford the things that make me happy. My car, my country club membership, first-class plane tickets to Aruba and everything else I can do to get a certain beautiful woman into my...arms.”

  He felt her laughter before he heard it, her body shaking with mirth, a bubble of merriment that vibrated off her skin before he heard it just beneath the pounding bass of the music.

  “You have very eager arms then,” she said.

  “You have no idea.” He lightly closed his lips around her earlobe as he spoke and heard the soft noise she made despite the loud music.

  Kingsley was more than ready to take her to bed.

  “King, baby...” A woman stumbled into their private bubble, her knees knocking into his. “Come dance with me.” She didn’t make it an invitation but a demand, reaching down to grab for his hand.

  At his side, Doe Eyes glanced up at the woman, then at him, slowly blinking away the arousal that had clouded her eyes just moments before. Kingsley wanted to see that look on her again.

  The woman was a few drinks past drunk, so it was easy for him to slip his hand from hers and refuse what she was offering. “Another time, Chris. Find me later on. I’m trying to close an important deal here.”

  Chris made a show of pouting, then swished her hips from side to side in her tight skirt. But Kingsley was used to more compelling incentives than that. He shook his head again, and she shrugged before wandering off to find a more willing dance partner.

  “You’re missing out on a sure thing there,” Doe Eyes said when she leaned close to him again.

  “That’s not what I want tonight,” he said.

  “What do you want?”

  “I think you know.”

  Again he felt how close to each other they were. The press of her skin against his, bare thigh to bare thigh, on the sofa that held at least three other people, all minding their own business.

  She bit the side of her lips, gaze falling to the beer bottle clasped in her lap. “We were talking about choices.”

  “Were we?”

  “Yeah...”

  The mood was over. So Kingsley spoke with her of other things while attraction hummed just beneath his skin, a steady and thrumming heat that made him perpetually aware of just how close she was to him. The volume of the music rose until they were simply resting their mouths at each other’s ears, following the skein of thread in a conversation that was becoming less and less important.

  The smell of marijuana that had been subtle in the room before grew stronger. A quick glance to the left confirmed that the man at the far end of the couch had just lit up a blunt and was offering a hit to everyone nearby. Kingsley noticed the wrinkling of the feminine nose next to him.

  “You want to relocate?” He jerked his chin toward the sliding patio doors.

  She nodded, nose bumping into the sweat-damp line of his neck. He couldn’t stop the spike of want that lanced down his belly and directly into his lap. Kingsley took a quick swallow from his bottle and stood up. He put out a hand to help her off the couch, but she was already on her feet and heading past him toward the door.

  He watched her butt, a twitching temptation, for long moments with the taste of beer almost sour in his mouth and the lust rising, hot and steady, in his lap. After subtly adjusting himself, he followed after her through the crowd and slid open the patio doors to escape into the fresh air.

  It was cooler outside, but only because of the wind. It howled in the small backyard, where a hammock swayed from the weight of three bodies and the lights were just bright enough to illuminate the dozen or so people in various stages of relaxation, some floating lazily in the pool.

  The smell of marijuana still clung to Kingsley’s clothes, even outside. He slid the patio door closed behind him, following Doe Eyes toward a recently vacated lawn chair with a footstool beside it. She sat on the footstool, her legs stretched out in front of her.

  Kingsley hesitated. “You should take the chair,” he said.

  “No, thank you.” She slipped him an odd smile, then looked around the backyard at the scene that was as familiar to him as any boardroom at Diallo Corporation. The carpet of Astroturf laid down instead of grass that would drink up a whole house worth of water. A stone path leading to the small, round pool in the center of the backyard. Quiet conversation and intimate sounds drifted from the couples and small groups sharing the pool.

  At one time, Kingsley would have happily indulged himself in one of these scenes, but not now. Not with Doe Eyes here. He sank into the lawn chair and calmed his nerves with his second beer of the night.

  A sigh came from the beautiful woman near him, and she looked around again with envy in her face. “My mother would never expect me to do something like this.”

  “Do her expectations matter that much to you?” Kingsley asked.

  “I’d like to say no, but I feel like being truthful tonight.”

  “Truth is a good thing, even between strangers,” Kingsley said, intentionally poking at whatever secret it was that she held from him.

  She made a noncommittal noise, shrugged and lifted her beer to her lips. Also her second. Someone passing by stumbled into her. With a magician’s skill, she held her drink high and away from her body as she tumbled sideways and into Kingsley’s knees. He caught her in his arms, instantly aware of the warm sweetness of her, the salt smell in her hair and clothes from their evening in the sea, the scent of beer on her lips.

  “Oops! Sorry.” The man laughed out his apology as someone else helped him upright, then away from Kingsley and Doe Eyes.

  The feel of her against him was a delicious and sensuous weight he didn’t want to give up. He could happily hold on to her all night, but she shifted against him, and he helped her sit upright again on her footstool.

  “It’s a night for missteps,” she said.

  “Or to loosen the stiffness from your spine.” Another sip of beer, another glance across at her.

  She licked her lips and turned her bottle around and around between her hands. Kingsley could still feel her against his palms, could still smell the salt and sweat of her skin. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into his lap and taste her, but he didn’t reach out. He wanted her to make the first move.

  Her eyes, when she raised them to his, were full of conflict. And need. “It’s not okay
to follow every impulse you have, you know.”

  “True. But, conversely, not every impulse should be denied.”

  “How very self-serving of you,” she said.

  Kingsley smiled in the dark. He’d been called much worse. “And what would be self-serving for you?”

  “I’m already here, way past my bedtime. I’m drinking with strangers, and God knows what could happen to me out here.”

  “The only thing that will happen to you here is what you say you want.” He reiterated what he’d told her earlier, meaning every word. His desire for her was a firm and constant thing that ached to be satisfied, but it only demanded satisfaction if she did, too.

  When she didn’t respond, he put down his beer. “Listen, let me take you home and—”

  His words were cut off when she sank into his lap. Her thighs spread over his thighs, feet on the ground, her bottom a round weight in his hands that automatically reached down to cup and bring her close. Her soft arms slid around his neck.

  “This is my impulse,” she said and kissed him.

  Her mouth on his, body settling close, a blanket of heat and passionate goals. But maybe that was him. His intentions rising up to meet whatever it was that she wanted from him.

  The kiss was sweet. At least it started off that way. Her breath huffed against his cheek as she turned her head in that age-old choreography of intimacy, her palms sliding up to cup the back of his head. The rake of nails over his scalp, an unexpected sharpness, jerked his hips up, fired pleasure through him and made him abruptly want more. She laughed against his mouth. He licked her lips in answer, gripped her hips and pulled her against him again. Her laughter died as she slid deeper into his lap, the V of her sex flush against his. Her mouth was hot and soft, tongue sliding against his in a way that made him want to take her to bed. Right damn now. Kingsley groaned into her mouth.

  The sand caught in his clothes rubbed under his shorts and in the vulnerable places under his shirt, making her touch even more potent. He shivered under the smooth caress of her hands down his back, her nails sinking into his shoulders, the press of her bottom in his lap. From just this, kissing, she was going to make him explode.