Paul walked over more slowly this time, and when she was able to get back on the board again on her own, he strode out of the water, sat back on shore and watched her as she made the passes back and forth, actually managing to make one hesitant turn before landing in the water again.
She came up sputtering and when realized he had escaped to land, she beached the board and came to sit down beside him. “That was fun,” she admitted, her breathing slightly labored from the exertion.
He glanced at her arms and legs. They were sprinkled with water which glistened like jewels in the sun. But beneath the drops, her muscles trembled from the exertion. “Let’s take a break and have a bite to eat. You look beat.” He reached over to a mixed pile of clothes and towels, picked up one of the towels, and handed it to her.
“I am tired,” she admitted as she wiped the water from her body, rubbed it over her head briskly. When she removed the towel, her short-cropped hair stood up in all crazy spikes and he reached out, smoothed it down.
It was like wet silk beneath his fingers. He shifted his hand, encircled the back of her neck, lightly kneading the muscles there. She dropped her head down and murmured, “That feels good.”
It did feel good. Too good, he thought as heat raced through him and centered in his groin, prompting a response that would be all too obvious with his bathing suit, and all too embarrassing. Regretfully he removed his hand and stood. “I’m going to get us some eats,” he told her as he rose and walked to the back of the pickup.
Carmen watched him go and took a steadying breath that had little to do with her physical exertions and more to do with the simple touch of his hands. She undid the buckles on her vest, tossed it aside, and nearly groaned as she ran the towel across her breasts. Her nipples were erect, tight, a combination of the chill waters of the bay and the heat his touch had generated. Wanting to hide the evidence of her desire, she grabbed her T-shirt and slipped it on just as Paul returned, carrying a cooler and blanket that had been in the bed of the pickup along with the windsurfing gear.
He laid out the blanket in front of her, kneeled, and started removing items from the cooler. Sodas, salads, and sandwiches. A bowl of what looked like fruit salad. He handed her a plate and spooned out the salads -- macaroni and potato. He offered her the choice of either ham and cheese or tuna.
“Tuna,” she replied and he placed the wrapped sandwich on her plate. She settled back against the palm tree and waited for him to join her.
Paul filled up his plate and sat next to her, leaning his big body on the side of the palm’s thick trunk. His shoulder brushed hers and Carmen struggled to concentrate on her food and not the feel of his warm skin. Or in the muscles of his legs as he stretched them out. “This is tasty,” she told him, trying to get her mind on track.
“Thanks. It’s an old family recipe,” he replied and bit into his own tuna sandwich.
“My mom makes something similar, only I like the pimentos in this salad.” She took another bite of the sandwich and tried to discern what gave it the interesting little kick. “So what’s your Mom’s secret or can’t you tell?”
Paul laughed harshly, mumbling around a bite of his sandwich, “My mom wouldn’t even know how to open the can, much less make something this tasty.”
“But you said it was --”
“An old family recipe. I guess I should have said Betty’s old family recipe.”
Carmen eyed him and tried to figure him out for it was clear he was holding back. She wanted to get past that and learn more about him. “Who’s Betty?”
Paul looked over at her. “Our cook. She was with our family all my life. She passed away last year.” He glanced away then and she could see it had upset him.
“I’m sorry for your loss. You miss her?” she asked, wanting to understand him.
Paul gazed at the horizon and thought about her question. Betty had been in his life for as long as he remembered. She was the one who had been there whenever he was home from boarding school. The one who would fix him cookies and milk and listen to whatever he had to say about the day. When he had gone away to college, Betty had the chauffeur bring over care packages of her goodies. Miss her? he considered.
“Yes. I miss her,” he admitted and told Carmen about all that Betty had done for him. He realized as he finished telling his story that his missing her had nothing to do with his stomach and the treats Betty had made for him. She had been one of the few people in his life who had truly cared for him and taken the time to listen to a young lonely boy.
Carmen reached out as he finished and took hold of his hand. “She seems like she was a nice lady and that you loved her.”
He had loved her, not that he had realized that until now. Nor had he ever told Betty that, although in retrospect, Betty must have known from his hugs and the letters he had sent her from boarding school and college. “Yeah, I loved her,” he replied gruffly, his voice tight.
Carmen continued to hold his hand as they finished their meal in silence. When she was done, she yawned, covered her mouth, and apologized. “I’m sorry, but that surfing wiped me out.”
He brushed a finger across her cheek. “Me, too.”
“Liar. You look like you could surf forever and not be tired.”
He smiled and pulled his shoulders back. “So you noticed my stamina, huh?” he teased and was rewarded with the faint blush of color which stained her cheeks.
“Tell me, is it difficult to get around?”
Paul tried to figure her out, but couldn’t. “Give me a clue.”
Carmen ran a hand along his shoulder, flashing him a quick grin. “Well, what with shoulders this big and a head that large, it must be difficult to get around.”
He laughed as she intended, reached out and grabbed her around the waist until she was forced to grab his shoulders for support. “I was going to lend you some part of me to lean on so you could take a nap, but --”
“I apologize then. I’d like nothing more than a quick nap.”
He helped her sit up. “All right, I accept your apology. Let me clean off the blanket and you can stretch out.”
Carmen watched as he did as he promised, then rearranged the blanket closer to the palm tree. He held out his hand, helped her rise, then he sat and leaned back against the palm. She kneeled on the blanket, realized that she could rest her head on his thigh and stretch out in the shade of the tree.
Paul patted his thigh. “Come on. I won’t bite.”
She lay down on the blanket and pillowed her head on the hard muscles of his leg. Straight above, the leaves of the palm rustled with a light breeze. Before her, the aqua waters of the bay gently shifted against the shore. She smiled, looked up at Paul, who was intently gazing at her.
A flush came to her face, but she chose to ignore it, instead twined her fingers with his and smiled sleepily. She murmured a husky, “Good night,” before closing her eyes and giving in to her tiredness.
The weight of her hand was a comforting presence, surprising Paul. He glanced down at her as she napped. Her breasts rose up and down gently with each breath. Her impish face was relaxed in sleep, yet still bore traces of happiness. Her lips had a slight smile and he hoped that somehow he was responsible even in a small way for that smile. He had never felt that way before. Never had thought of himself in those terms, as someone who could not only bring happiness to someone else, but also derive such pleasure from that.
She brought him joy. She made him ache, and not just physically. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes against the sting of tears. What he was feeling was all so new and all so fragile. He was afraid it would all disappear before his eyes if he made one mistake.
The way it had with his parents.
His memory was dim about exactly what he had done. He had often wondered about it as he grew older. All that he knew was that one day he had been at home and the next he had been sent off to a boarding school. He had asked once, why he had been sent away, and the answer had been that this was th
e way it was. His father and mother had both been sent away in similar fashions, although neither had seen it as a punishment. His brother had regarded it as a blessing, hating to be alone in the house with the servants and Paul.
As a child and even as an adult, Paul could never accept that decision. Not when he saw other families where it was different. Where children lived at home and measured their happiness not by the size of their trust funds and bank accounts, but by the approval and love of their parents.
In his child’s mind, there could only be one reason for such rejection -- his mistakes. His inadequacies. As much as he had tried over the years to prove himself worthwhile and to overcome the overwhelming feeling of not being good enough, he had never gotten his parents to come around and make them the kind of family he wanted. Nor had he been able to convince himself that he was up to par. As for his brother, they shared a lukewarm relationship at best.
But now there was someone who believed in him, he thought, looking down at her. Someone who seemed to find him just right and he smiled, tightening his hold on her hand.
This time there was a chance for him. A chance for all that he had been missing and he intended not to screw it up.
#
Carmen stretched lazily, bumped her hand against his hard chest, and came instantly awake.
He was smiling at her indulgently and as she looked around, she realized the sun was beginning to set. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend to sleep the afternoon away.”
He skimmed a finger along her cheekbone. “You’ve been asleep for less than an hour. We had a very late lunch.”
“Mmm,” she replied as he moved his finger down and traced the outline of her lips. “I had a nice nap. You’re very comfortable.”
“If comfortable is all that I can get today, I’ll settle for it.”
Carmen smiled, reached for his hand, and held it against her lips. She pressed a kiss against his palm. “I’d tell you more, but I wouldn’t want you to get too cocky.”
Paul nearly groaned at the innuendo behind her words and tried to quell his growing arousal. From his vantage point, she lay there, all too tempting and all too obviously suffering from her own desire. Her nipples were erect beneath her T-shirt and at the base of her throat, the pulse point that he had watched while she slept was now faster. Even her breath belied her growing response. It was forcibly measured, clearly restrained only through her force of will.
Well, he intended to ease past that will and have her respond to him more openly and honestly.
“Have I told you,” he began, dropping his hand to the line of her collarbone. “That even if I close my eyes,” he continued and did so. “I know the feel of your skin.”
He brushed his hand along the line of her collarbone, the softness of her skin teasing his fingertips. The fragility of her body creating a need to protect as well.
He opened his eyes, bent down until he was almost covering her body with his, and buried his head against the side of her neck. “I know your scent.” Breathing deeply, he gently bit her neck, delighted in the moan torn from her throat and the trembling of her body beneath his hand.
Paul licked the skin at the pulse point in her neck, imagining the heat of it against his mouth. “I want to taste all of you. All of you, do you understand?” he said in husky tones and brought his hand to cup her breast and brush his thumb against the hardening crest.
Carmen was caught up in the magic of his words, of his hands on her body, but some small measure of reserve raised its head. They were out in the open, in plain view although in the entire time they had been there, not one other person had come by. It was starting to get dark, although dusk still made it relatively light out. “Paul, this is too --”
“Ssshh. Let’s go in the pickup,” he replied and slipped his hands under her body, carrying her easily.
At his pickup, she helped by opening his door, slipping into the roomy interior of the cab. He joined her a second later, sitting on the bench seat, and motioning for her to come closer.
Carmen straddled his legs and leaned back against the dashboard. “Is this what you had in mind?” she teased, reached out, and slipped her hands under the hem of his shirt, inched them up until she could caress the hard muscles of his chest.
He groaned and encircled her waist with his hands. “I was being selfish,” he said as he raised his hands, tracing the lines of her body until he just cupped her breasts. “I was only thinking about what I wanted to do to you.”
Her insides were warming, growing liquid. Her breasts were already full and tight, but some part of her was hesitant, unsure if this was where she wanted to go with him. “Paul?”
“Mmm,” he replied, shifted his thumbs up, and brushed them across her nipples.
Carmen sucked in a quick breath. “God that feels good, Paul.” She reached up, covered his hands with hers, and stilled their motion.
“Carmen, please,” he pleaded, bent his head, and kissed his way across the line of her jaw. “I need to taste you. I’ve dreamed of this,” he said.
His words undid what little of her resolve remained. She eased off her T-shirt and cradled his head, brushing kisses along his brow as he bent his head even more, took one nipple into his mouth. The fabric of her suit did nothing to keep the wet and heat of his mouth away. The sweet tug of his mouth, strong and certain, jumbled her senses.
Paul reached up, slipped down the straps of her bathing suit to bare the swell of her breasts. Then slowly, reverently, he eased down the top. Her breasts were full, with large, caramel-colored nipples that were tight and begging for his mouth again.
He took one nipple into his mouth, teased the other nipple with his hand and her body grew lax against him, fluid. “You are so sweet,” he stopped to murmur, ran his thumb and forefinger around the nipple wet with the moistness from his mouth.
Carmen knew her body wasn’t her own anymore. All she wanted was his touch. His mouth on her and the weight of his body against hers. The heat of it blazing against the warmth of her own. She slipped off his lap and lay down on the bench of the pickup.
Paul started to follow her, but stopped short and cursed.
Carmen sat up slightly. It had grown dark and she struggled to see what was going on. All she could see was Paul bent over, fighting with something down on the floor of the pickup. “What’s wrong?”
“I’m stuck,” he said in frustration. “I forgot to take off the runaway strap on the board and it’s in the door, I think.” He sat up again, seemingly giving up on freeing himself, and moved over on the bench.
Carmen sat up as well, reached for him and encountered something long and hard and … thin, encased in fabric. “Is that --”
“The stick shift,” he groaned. “Lord, darlin’. I’m sorry. This is not the way it should be between us.”
She let go of the stick shift, pulled up her suit, and moved next to him. She cupped his cheek and stroked a finger against his lips. “Maybe some other time, Paul. When you’re not trapped in the door and I can really find your --”
“Enough, please. This wasn’t right and I’m sorry. You deserve better than this.”
Carmen sensed his anger and frustration and wanted to help ease his misery. “I deserve you. When it’s time, really time for something this special, it’ll happen and it’ll be right.”
Paul buried his head against her breasts where she cradled him to her tightly and reassured him with her touch. “How can you be so sure of things?”
“I’m not,” she admitted. “But I learned the hard way that you need to think positively. That you need to have faith.”
“Tell me,” he said, settling her against his side in the dark. He wished he could see her face, but there was little moon and the inside of the cab was nearly pitch black.
“Tell you what?” she asked, the confusion clear in her voice.
“Tell me what forced you to think that. What gave you the faith and strength to go on,” he urged.
Carmen tried to see
him, but couldn’t. The darkness clothed in her in anonymity and made it possible to tell him a little about the things that had shaped her, given her that philosophy in life. She told him about her early life in Cuba, how hard it had been. About their boat trip to the United States and her fears that they would never make it and be forced to go back. “I prayed and prayed and told myself it would be all right. I was little, but I knew if my faith was strong enough, it would come true.”
“And it did,” he finished for her.
“Yes, it did. From that day on, I’ve lived that way,” she said confidently.
Paul wished he could have such certainty in his life. Such unshakable assurance that if one believed enough it would happen. He had wanted to have faith his whole life that his parents could love him like other parents did. He had wanted to have faith that his brother could be like other brothers. A friend. A combatant even, but still there for him. None of that had ever happened and he had lost his faith and erected defenses against the hurt of the failed relationships in his life. Against building new relationships, certain they were doomed to fail as well.
Until Carmen had come into his life. Somehow she had found a crack in his armor and given him a reason to try and believe. A risk, he knew and a knot of fear clenched his middle, made him hold her tighter.
Carmen returned his embrace, sensing the cold that had settled into him. She warmed him with her body, wanting to find a way to warm his soul and give him that spark which would allow him to think it was possible. She knew it might take time, but it would happen. So she held him and let him draw from her what he needed until he finally mumbled a husky, “It’s time to go.”
She released him then physically, but a small part of her still held him to her and believed.
Chapter 6
Carmen picked at the food on her plate and dug trails through the mix of black beans and rice with her fork.
“If mom saw you doing that, she’d tell you to stop playing with your food.” Connie ate her own rice and beans with gusto. She took one last piece of the Cuban steak and chewed it thoroughly before addressing Carmen again. “Something bothering you today?”
Faith in You Page 4