by M. Leighton
“Do you treat all your…women this way?” I sip my orange juice as I consider him. He looks like Adonis bathed in tropical sunlight, more magnificent than any of the views I’ve seen.
“You’re not one of my ‘women’,” he says lightly, tilting his head to the side as he considers me right back. “And I don’t want you thinking you are.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
“I want to show you everything. I want to buy you everything. I want you to have the kind of pleasures that someone like you deserves.”
“I appreciate that, Reese, but I don’t deserve any of this.”
He shrugs. “I think you do. I want you to have the best of everything.”
“But I don’t need it. I’m not that kind of a girl.”
“But you could be.”
“No, I’ll never be like that. This is who I am, Reese. Simple. Plain. Average.”
“There’s nothing simple or plain or average about you. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”
It’s my turn to shrug. “Because it’s just the way it is.”
“Well then maybe I can change all that,” he says, leaning over to peck my cheek before he rises to his feet and reaches for my hand. “Come on. We’ve got lots to see today.”
I assume that Sven cleans up our mess after we leave to head back down to sea level. Once there, Reese takes me back to the shore where a smaller boat is waiting.
We speed across a short stretch of ocean to a place Reese tells me is Hiva Oa. We tie the boat at a small dock there and he takes me to see the resting place of Gauguin, as well as a local museum dedicated to his art. We walk hand in hand along the street, talking like we’ve known each other all these years rather than like we’ve been separated all this time. It’s bittersweet because I know it will end at some point and we’ll soon be strangers again.
After an afternoon snack that was stashed in the cool storage of the boat, we head back out to sea to make another fairly short trip to Fatu Hiva, where we enter through what’s called the Bay of Virgins.
Reese guides the boat in between huge rock formations that rise up out of the water on three sides. The sun is shining brightly on the peaks and dappling the water with rays of gold. Reese stops the boat and drops anchor about twenty yards from where the rocks converge and there’s nothing around us but steep cliffs and a trickling waterfall.
“Care for an afternoon swim?” he asks, kicking off his shoes.
He doesn’t have to ask twice. It’s hot here and the water looks cool and refreshing. Reese strips down to his shorts and dives in, surfacing just in time to watch me dive in beside him. Together we swim to the apex of the rock formation. It’s there, without a single word said, that Reese pulls me into his arms, stares deeply into my eyes and makes love to me in the warm French Polynesian waters.
It’s like that at every group of islands we visit. He takes me to a handful of amazing locations, buys me beautiful things and makes love to me somewhere unusual, like he’s marking the spot. Whether that’s what he intends, it’s certainly what’s happening in my mind. And in my heart. I’ll never think of this half of the world the same way again, without an ache that will likely never go away.
At some ports, our stay is longer. Reese always has some stunning accommodations lined up. In Bora Bora, we stayed in a little cottage that overlooked the sea. We slept in a bed surrounded by netting and made love all night long while the flicker of the fire just outside the open doors bathed our skin in a warm, orange glow.
In Tahiti, we stayed in a bure, a private bungalow that sits at the end of a pier, perched high over the water. Our breakfast was delivered by a man in a canoe. We ate bagels and cream cheese and licked fresh coconut juice from each other until well into the afternoon.
Despite our earlier conversation, Reese still insists on showering me with everything from expensive clothes to sparkling jewelry to thousand-dollar-an-ounce perfume. I want for nothing, but all I really want is Reese.
After Tahiti, we got back on the yacht for a longer trek to Fiji. This morning Reese told me we would be in port later tonight and that he wanted to take me to the show upstairs for a change. It’s the last one for a few days since everyone will be on shore enjoying the island. This marks the last stop before the return journey home.
I’ve been excited all day. For some reason, it feels like a date. Even though we’ve spent every waking minute together for weeks, he’s kept me hidden away from everyone else on board and this feels like some kind of statement. I just don’t know what it says.
I’m still in my robe, putting on my makeup when I hear a knock at the door. I go to answer it, expecting to see Reese, but instead I find Karesh.
He does that tiny bow of his head that he always does before he smiles. “Ms. Moore.”
As always, I give him the same small bow and smile. “Mr. Karesh.” His grin always deepens. I have no idea what his last name is. Or if Karesh is his last name. Either way, it’s become a bit of a game between us over these weeks.
He hands me a plain white box with a big, gold ribbon wrapped around it and tied in a perfect bow. “A gift from Mr. Spencer. He asks that you wear it tonight. He’ll be waiting for you at the bow of the ship, on deck. Seven sharp.”
With that, he nods again and then turns to walk away. I lean out into the hall and call after him, “Thank you.”
I see his head tip back a bit and hear a faint, “My pleasure.” That makes me smile. He might, just might, be warming up a little.
I shut the door and scurry to the bed to open the box. Inside it, beneath a mountain of soft, white tissue paper, is a dress. A beautiful dress. One of a zillion nice things he’s bought me.
The color reminds me of an emerald—that rich, deep green. The material feels like velvet and it’s heavy as I hook my fingers under the straps and pull it out of the box.
The dress falls in a smooth drape all the way to the floor. The waistline is subtle as it runs into the puckers that will gather from beneath my breasts to join at the jeweled medallion in the center. The plunging neckline is asymmetrical and the left strap is much wider than the right, giving the appearance that there is only one. I turn it around and find that the asymmetry is carried to the back. The line falls drastically from ribs-high on the left side to where it rejoins the green velvet at my right hip, leaving the majority of my back exposed.
It’s stunning. It’s daring. It’s elegant. And Reese bought it for me to wear. Tonight.
The tag is still in place, although the actual cost has been torn away. There is simply the name of a boutique, written in fancy script, as well as another name, one I assume belongs to the dress.
I drape it across the bed and take the matching shoes from the bottom of the box. They are open-toed heels covered in jewels that match the centerpiece of the dress. I’m not accustomed to extravagant gifts like this. The best I can hope for is that I will take Reese’s breath away when he sees me in it.
When I’m dressed and surveying myself in the mirror, I wonder what Reese will see. Will he see simply the wide sage eyes rimmed with dark lashes and ringed in smoky shadow? Will he see the sun-kissed cheeks and ruby-red lips? Or will he see the sparkle in my eye that says I never stopped loving him? That I’m already deeper in love with him than I ever was as a girl?
I can admit my situation to myself much more easily than what I would’ve imagined. I think the moment I agreed to give Reese a chance, I knew what would happen. In a way, I had to be okay with it before I ever took the first step. I knew then just like I know now that Reese nearly destroyed me once, and that he might do so again, but I’m helpless to stop it. I’ll love him until there’s nothing left. And then long after. It’s inevitable. He’s inevitable.
I turn away from my reflection and walk toward the door. There’s no place to go but forward. I learned a long time ago that I can never go back.
The wind is calm up on deck. The air is dry and warm, and it’s quiet but for the lively conversat
ion drifting through the windows from the dining room. My heels make a soft clack on the deck boards as I head around toward the bow. When I take the final three steps that put me up on the platform, I see Reese leaning against the railing. The sea breeze is ruffling his dark hair and the orange blaze of the setting sun is illuminating half his handsome face, giving his eyes that pale, fathomless sparkle of these tropical waters.
Although he was already motionless, he seems to stop when he sees me, stop breathing even. Much like I have. His eyes roam me from the curls piled intricately atop my head to the red-painted toes peeking out from my dazzling shoes. It gives me time to adjust to seeing him in his finery. He looks more dashing than James Bond in his black suit and crisp white shirt, holding a glass in one hand and a box in the other.
“You take my breath away,” he rumbles when I stop a few inches from him.
My smile feels like it might outshine the sun when I admit, “I was hoping I would, but I forgot all about it when I saw you standing here.”
Like he doesn’t want to break me, Reese straightens and dips his head to brush his lips across mine. Even the light contact incites a zing of excitement, just like it always does. Reese—his presence, his attention, his touch—brings every molecule of my being into pinpoint focus on him. It’s like the rest of the world doesn’t exist. And I don’t want it to.
Reese reaches behind me to set his glass on a small, linen-draped table that I only just now noticed before he straightens and opens the box he’s holding.
“For you. Nothing half as beautiful as you are, but I wanted you to have it anyway.”
In the long, rectangular box lays a wide bracelet encrusted with the same jewels as my dress and shoes, although I suspect these might be real. Rubies, sapphires, emeralds and a few diamonds chase each other in row after row of glittering gemstones.
Reese takes it out of the box and winds it around my wrist, securing it before he brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my knuckles. “Thank you for coming with me this summer. I didn’t realize how much I needed you until you came back into my life.”
My heart is slamming against my ribs like head-bangers in a mosh pit. “Thank you for bringing me. I…I…”
Reese’s lips curve into that sexy, lopsided smile that I love. “No need to thank me. I assure you, you are one hundred percent my pleasure.”
Heat flares between us in an instant. It’s hard for me to keep my hands off him as he leads me to the table and pulls out my chair for me. I think he’s feeling the same way if the ravenous look in his eyes is any indication, but he wants this night for some reason. For me? For us? I don’t know, but I’ll go along with anything he wants to do. Anything, anytime anywhere.
Sven is our waiter again. He brings us course after course of the most delicious food I’ve ever tasted. Reese and I enjoy every bite of it, sometimes feeding each other, sometimes laughing about him using his fingers rather than his fork, sometimes just enjoying the amazing view and the even more amazing company. The whole scene is like something from a movie or a fairy tale. I squash down the niggling nugget of dread that has yet to vacate the very pit of my stomach, the one that is braced for the disaster that should come when any situation is this perfect.
After dinner, Reese and I have another glass of wine before he takes me to the showroom and leads me to a small table for two set near the stage. Together we enjoy the entertainment, including two increasingly risqué dances by Amber, followed by a beautiful piano being rolled out onto the stage.
I’m curious as to who plays when I see none other than Brian take a seat behind it. He plays several songs like a classically-trained pianist and it seems everyone appreciates it.
When it’s over, the lights come back on and everyone gets up to leave. Reese doesn’t move to get up, so I keep my seat until he’s ready. He sits in the chair to my left, just watching me, for at least five minutes after the room has completely emptied out. Finally, when the lights dim again, leaving only enough illumination for us to see the piano clearly, Reese stands, offering me his hand. I slide my fingers into his and let him guide me to the three steps that lead onto the stage.
Reese walks to the piano, stops and turns toward me, circling his hands around my waist to lift me onto it. He angles me toward the front as he takes a seat on the bench.
Gracefully, he runs his fingers over the keys, every bit as expertly as Brian had.
“You play?” I ask in surprise.
“I play,” he replies with a smile.
After a few bars, the notes begin to take on those of a song I recognize—Fever. The sensual tune seeps into the air like a drug and, immediately, I’m under the influence. I feel it in a physical way, like a touch, a touch that sizzles along the surface of my skin. Suddenly, the heat of the light is hotter, the black lacquer of the piano cooler. My skin is ultra-sensitive, and every cell of my being is waiting for Reese to reach for me. My body strains toward him, eager for that moment.
But then he starts to sing.
I’ve heard the song performed by a man before, but never has it sounded this good, never has it felt this good. His deep voice is like smooth, rich chocolate. Deliciously mesmerizing. Decadently tantalizing.
I watch Reese as he plays. And he watches me.
During the second verse, he stops playing, instead using his hands to grasp my hips and drag me closer to him. He takes off my shoes and sets them aside before gently resting my bare feet on the keys, all the while singing in his low voice. He never takes his eyes off mine as he runs his palms up my calves. When he gets to my knees, he presses against the insides of them, urging me to spread my legs. So I do, anticipation humming through my veins.
My breath is coming in shallow pants as Reese raises my dress with his forearms, stroking his fingers up my thighs. With excruciating slowness, he drags my panties off, brushing them across his mouth before he sets them aside.
When my lower body is bared to him, Reese stands. As he draws closer to me, the words of the song trail off until there’s nothing but silence and the sound of his breath colliding with mine.
When our lips meet, it turns into a slow tango of our tongues that turns my toes into ten tiny flames and my belly into a melting pot of the most all-consuming desire I’ve ever known.
Everything happens in slow motion, as though the song still plays in the background. Reese leans away and stares into my eyes for what seems an eternity before he runs his fingers down my throat and over my chest, pressing gently until I’m lying flat on my back on top of the piano.
I feel every warm breath he exhales as he drags his mouth up the inside of my thigh, using his hands to open my legs wider and wider until I feel the cool air hit the moisture there. With the barest shake of his head, Reese nuzzles me with his lips. The scruff of his stubble scrapes me just barely, robbing me of air and causing my muscles to contract in readiness.
But Reese is only ready to play, not to ease the perpetual ache that resides within me, an ache that burns solely for him. With one fingertip, Reese teases my folds, running it up and down, side to side, all the while swirling his tongue over me with the lightest of touches.
He plays until I feel near screaming, until my level of frustration is near unbearable. But then, as if sensing my threshold, Reese’s touch becomes more insistent, firmer. He licks with purpose. He probes with intent. It’s when he sucks my clit into his mouth and drives his fingers deep inside me that I feel the implosion in my core.
Penetrating me with his fingers, Reese flicks his tongue over me until I feel the gush of heat and wetness pour through me. Then he’s cupping my ass. He’s holding me to his mouth. He’s moving his lips over me like a man starved of this needful nourishment. And when the tide that washes through me settles into a slow lapping, Reese buries his tongue inside me and licks me until there’s nothing left.
When he releases me and reaches for my hands to pull me into a sitting position, he slowly sweeps his tongue through the inside of my mouth.
> “You taste like every dream I’ve had since I was nineteen years old,” he says huskily. “I’ve looked for this all over the world and I couldn’t find it anywhere but here.”
Reese licks at my mouth and bites at my lips as he unzips his pants. When he pulls me into his arms, my legs wrap automatically around his waist. I can feel his erection touching my butt as he moves to sit on the piano bench.
“I want to watch your face as you come in the sunshine,” he whispers, teasing me with the head of his shaft. Already, I feel my passion for him returning, I feel the trickle of liquid as my body prepares for what’s to come. “I want to wet my cock in you by the moonlight.” With every word that comes out of his mouth, my body reacts, clutching desperately at him. “And I want to make love to you at a piano,” he says, raising me up to impale me on his long, broad length.
We both grunt at the same time and then Reese pauses, buried to the balls inside me, and we savor the exquisite fullness of the moment, the feeling of him stretching my body to its maximum.
“There will never be anything but this, but us. You’re mine, Kennedy Moore. All. Mine.”
Like the flip of a switch, Reese becomes urgent, feral. He slams me down on him over and over, pulling my hair, biting my neck. He growls in my ear, telling me again and again that I’m all his, no one else’s.
My orgasm has come and gone again, but Reese is still frantic when he stands. With me still wrapped around him, he leans me into the piano, pounding into me as hard as he can.
“Look at me,” he finally says, his voice a hoarse croak.
I do as he asks, watching that angrily possessive light flicker in his eyes. He groans one word as he comes inside me, mutters it over and over again as he pumps hot liquid into me. “Mine.”
When we’ve both regained our breath, Reese sets me on my feet in front of him and helps me into my panties, straightening my dress before he stands to sweep me into his arms. He gives me the gentlest kiss before carrying me back to my room. That night, he makes love to me time and time again, like he’s trying to memorize me and the way my body feels under his. It’s the most perfect night of my life.