Perception: A Bittersweet Romance Suspense Novel

by Kendra Leigh

  Has it ever blown my mind? Never.

  Until now.

  The way my body just reacted to Savannah was a complete first, and I thought I was done with firsts the second I reached my forties. It was as if my body underwent some kind of chemical reaction, like the combustion of fuels when they combine with oxygen. Explosive. All heat and light and sparks, and shit … I actually sound like I’m seventeen—Jesus, I feel seventeen. Is this what they mean when they talk about chemistry? I’ve heard people talk about chemistry between two people. If this is it, I think I get it.

  It’s not even as if it lasted that long. In fact, I’m thinking maybe I should feel embarrassed about how quick it was. So why does it feel like the best sex I ever had? It was the anticipation, the buildup; that’s what I’m telling myself. What else could it be? Her scent? The way her toned legs folded around me, hips and ass shifting, pulling me into her? The heat of her core surrounding my rock-solid hard-on—soft and tight and wet.

  My body still trembles as I lift my head from the pillow and look down the length of me. My thoughts have reignited whatever the hell is going on, and my cock gets a new lease of life, stiffening and standing to attention, like a soldier who stumbled on the frontline but refuses to be beaten—swollen with pride and cocky as fuck.

  “Jesus Christ!” The words hiss from my lips, and as I realize I’ve said them aloud, I turn to look at Savannah, the cause of it all. “What are you doing to me, woman?”

  For a second she looks as shell-shocked as I feel. Her hands are tangled in her hair, her chest rising and falling rapidly as it struggles to regain breath. A fine layer of sweat leaves a sheen on her glowing skin. She takes my breath away.

  “God, you’re beautiful.”

  She smiles shyly until her gaze wanders down my body to find the cause of my earlier bewilderment, and then it turns to something else entirely. Lust.

  “You foxy little minx.”

  She bites her lip in response, and it’s all I can do not to pounce again. But I can’t. I daren’t.

  Some would say I’m boasting again, but despite the big guy goading me into another round, and how damn difficult it is to resist this perfect creature by my side, I know that to give in so soon would be a mistake. She is so fucking tiny, and the big guy … well, he is big and bullish and raring to go. I want to take this slowly, gently, and I know just the way to do it.

  “I think we both need to calm down.” I jump to my feet and hold my hand out for her to take.

  Scrunching her nose in confusion, she accepts. “And how do you intend to calm us down, exactly?”

  “Cold water. Always the best remedy. Soothes the burn, reduces swelling.” I nod at my persistent erection. “Come on.”

  Without pause I pull her back into my arms, her legs closing around my back, and carry her out of the cabin, back down toward the lake.

  “Wait, where are we going? We can’t go outside, we’re naked?”

  “No one for miles,” I remind her, “Besides, clothes are heavy when wet, an unnecessary hindrance.”

  “Why do you keep talking about water? What exactly are we going to do?”

  “You said you can’t swim and everyone needs to know how to swim.” I stride on with purpose toward the end of the jetty as she begins to tense in my arms, her legs stiffening out behind me as if she’s trying to apply the brakes.

  “Please tell me you’re joking. No, listen, I really can’t do this.” She begins to squirm in protest.

  “There isn’t anything you can’t do, Sparrow.” I tap her gently on her behind in rebuke. “Quit wriggling.”

  “I can’t do this. I told you, I can’t swim.”

  “Then I’ll teach you.”

  “But … I’m afraid.”

  “Then I’ll teach you not to be.”

  “You can do that?”

  She stares at me, eyes narrowed doubtfully, like I’ve just suggested the impossible.

  “I can do anything, Sparrow. Just like you.”

  With fear in her eyes, she looks from me to the surface of the shimmering water and back again. “What if I go under?”

  “You will go under. It’s all part of letting go of the fear.”

  She pales some more and shakes her head. “But I did that already, just before. I didn’t like it.”

  “But I’m here now, and I’ve got you. I’ll not let you come to any harm. I promise.”

  Again, she looks back at the blackness of the water fearfully, as if she’s staring into Satan’s dark abyss.

  “It’s not as deep as it seems. I can stand easily.”

  “Says the bear himself,” she retorts with sarcasm, but it recedes quickly, her expression softening. “You won’t let me go?”

  Wondering how to break it to her gently, I smile and blink rapidly to mask my hesitation. “Not at first.” To quell the inevitable panic, I take the tip of her chin between finger and thumb and bring her focus to me. “Only when you’re ready—and you will be ready. Trust me. Please?”

  That’s when her expression changes, a look of realization dissolving the fear. “I do. I’m not sure why, but … I do trust you.”

  Determined to stay focused, I smile a huge smile on the inside. Then just to keep things light, I add, “And if by any chance you’re not ready and you need something to grab ahold of, then…” I shift her slightly, poking my unyielding hard-on into her butt cheek “… I’m your man.”

  Instantly, her eyes darken, her breath hitching, and I swear I swell another inch. “Jeez, you are a little eager sparrow, aren’t you?”

  “It certainly seems as if I am.”

  The way she responds surprises me, more self-assured and sassy than I’ve witnessed so far. It turns me on, and suddenly I need to check, just swiftly, how enthusiastic she is. Shifting her weight to one arm, I draw my fingertips gently over her bare bottom and beneath until they discover what they’re looking for. I softly skim her velveteen flesh and find her as damp as I hoped. The gasp of pleasure which bursts from her lips almost has me heading back to the cabin, but what we’re about to do is important. To both of us.

  “Swim first,” I mutter through my desire.

  She nods. “Soothe the burn.”

  “Yup. And you don’t need to worry about the swelling. That’s going nowhere.”

  Punching my shoulder playfully, she laughs.

  “You ready?”

  “Can I say no?”

  I shake my head.

  “Then, yes. I guess I’m ready. Yes.”

  “Take a few deep breaths and then hold it. Pinch your nose.”

  With some trepidation, she does as requested. And I jump.

  It’s only a second that she dips below the surface, but she gulps in air as if she’s been deprived for minutes. It’s the cold water and the fear that steal her breath.

  “You okay?”

  “Forgot to shut my eyes.”

  The sight of her coughing and rubbing at her eyes simply melts me. She’s so ridiculously adorable. Sexy and adorable. And sexy.

  While she’s distracted, I take the opportunity to appreciate her nakedness. The angles of her lithe little body are more defined in the water, tiny waist and perfect breasts buoyant on the surface, nipples pebbling in response to the cold. Her skin is almost alabaster against the black backdrop of the lake bed, making the bruise on her hip look magnified and darker, and for the first time I notice other bruises—old ones, faded and diminished—on her ribs, her legs, her arms. I want to ask her about them, but it’s not the time, and I don’t want to make her self-conscious.

  When she seems more comfortable, I begin to walk around a little, giving her a sense of how shallow the water is and how safe she is in my arms. Weightlessly, she clings to me, her feet hooking tighter behind my back as she scans the surface of the water, shivering a little.

  “What about the bait? Won’t it draw those big fish to us?”

  “What bait?” I ask, confused.

  “Something about peaches,
you said. I didn’t even know fish like peaches.”

  It’s just too much, and I can’t help but burst into laughter. “You. You’re the bait, baby. Peaches and cream. It’s how you smell.”

  A zillion emotions cross her expression, no doubt starting with annoyance about me calling her bait but ending in confusion. She angles her head to sniff her shoulder.

  “I smell like pond water.”

  “It’s a lake,” I chuckle again.

  “Same thing. Still dank and fetid and fishy.”

  Leaning toward her, I nibble her ear, and she shivers again. “Peaches and cream to me.”

  “You’re just weird.”

  “It has been said.” I relax my grip around her a little, creating a little distance. “You need to start moving or you’ll get too cold and stiffen. Release your legs. I’ve got you.” I shift my hands to her armpits to encourage her. Reluctantly her legs unfold, dangling limply beneath her. “Right. Start to tread water.” When she looks perplexed, I add, “Sort of push the water away with your feet, like you’re walking in thin air.”

  As she follows my instruction, I begin to move my hands down to her forearms and then to her hands. She almost pedals her feet frantically at first until she gets into the rhythm, and I see her confidence begin to grow.

  “Now use one arm to push downwards in a circular motion. I’ll hold on to the other. I’ll show you. We’ll do it together.” She grasps the idea, so I release her other hand. “Now both arms.”

  After a while, she’s getting the hang of it, but I can see her tiring, so I take hold of her again, pulling her to me to catch her breath.

  “Okay, I’m going to balance you on my arms now so you can get comfortable with a swimming position.”

  Over the next few minutes, I show her how to move her arms and legs, first one then the other, until her general swimming motion is good. Gently I begin to reduce my support. Taking away one arm entirely, until all that’s left holding her is the width of my outstretched hand.

  “You’re ready,” I say gingerly.

  It takes a few seconds for her to respond, but eventually she nods, and I hear the nerves in the breath that she inhales. “I’m ready.”

  Very carefully, I remove my hand. She dips a little from the waist down, so I tap her gently once, twice until she’s able to maintain the position on her own.

  She’s swimming.

  “See, Sparrow. There isn’t anything you can’t do.”

  Pure joy mingles with utter shock as she realizes I’m no longer holding her up. A few more strokes and she’s suddenly aware of the gap widening between us, and I see her concentration falter.

  “Wait! How do I turn around? Bear, come get me!”

  Everything I taught her goes out the window as she forgets to breathe, her arms thrashing about wildly, now totally out of synch with her legs.

  Remaining where I am, I speak to her calmly. “Tread water, Sparrow, just like I taught you. Use your arms to change direction. Breathe.”

  It takes a few seconds for her to find her rhythm, spluttering protests through mouthfuls of water. She’s breathless, but she’s managing to stay afloat nicely.

  “Breathe,” I repeat, my gaze bringing her focus back to mine. I’m about to tell her to swim to me but I haven’t the heart, and besides, I’m suddenly desperate to hold her again. Closing the space, I pull her to me, wrapping her around me again, her beautiful face in the palms of my hands.

  She clings to me willingly, and I know she craves the physical connection between us as much as I do. My body reacts to her intrinsically, heart banging, blood pumping, and despite the chill of the water, I’m hard as iron again. Her body begins to tremble—the temperature of the water or the rising need in her, or maybe both, I’m not sure, but I have to get her out of the lake.

  Neither of us speaks as I carry her back to the cabin and straight to the bathroom, where I turn on the shower and step inside. The space isn’t huge, so I lower her to her feet and turn her back to me. Steam fills the room, the scent of honey and coconut permeating the air as I tenderly shampoo her golden locks before rinsing. Taking a handful of body wash, I carefully work it into a lather, my hands gliding gently over the skin of her arms and back then gradually down, carefully skimming over the crest of her buttocks to the backs of her legs and her feet.

  While on my knees, I slowly turn her, my position allowing me my first real glimpse of her. My eyes feast on the space between her legs, glistening from the shimmer of the water, and I’m longing to taste her. Reluctantly, I drag my gaze away, up over perfect breasts to her chest and face. She’s flushed, her usual icy blue eyes as dark as I’ve seen them, chest heaving to accommodate the pounding of her heart. Beautiful.

  Slowly, I run my soapy hands up the length of her legs, hips, and waist until I reach the dip between her breasts. I circle them before inching in bit by bit, the tips of my fingers finally reaching the hard protruding nipples. Her breathing falters.

  Unable to hold off any longer, I close my fingers behind the crease of her knee and hook it over my shoulder. I take a second to absorb her expression—eyelids flickering closed, head tilting back, rosebud lips parting—before my tongue finally connects with that decadent pearl of silken heat.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Savannah

  THERE’S A WONDERFUL BUT UNUSUAL feeling of contentedness flowing through my blood. Like the gentle trickle of silken water as it lazily dribbles downstream, sunlight and flowers and tranquility. My body seems to glow with it, like it’s smiling from the inside. Sometimes when I wake in the morning, I’m convinced it must all be a dream, but then I see this man, his adorable smile, and I know that if it is, I never want to wake up.

  It isn’t just the sex either—although, my God, the sex is so much more than I have ever fantasized about. I’m no expert, but I know he must be. He knows my body and what it wants more than I do. He’s shown me highs I never knew existed, done things to my body that have had me barely clinging on to my sanity. I feel connected to him in a way I didn’t know you could be to another human being. It frightens me. Christ, it terrifies me. If I allow my mind to wander any further than just living in the moment, I can feel my blood turning to ice, so I quickly run back to the here and now and this perfect paradise that is Bear.

  It’s been six days since I first stared into his brown eyes, although it feels like a lifetime. I’ve spent the last three of them almost continually attached to him in some way or another. In bed. In the lake. On the deck. In the forest, the tub, you name it. We’ve walked and talked and swam and laughed. If I never saw another person again, I wouldn’t miss humanity. Given the chance, I would stay in this place for ever.

  This is the furthest we’ve been apart in those three days. Me up here on the porch sketching and writing, him down there tinkering with that old bike again. It’s only a few feet but it feels like an ocean. It’s silly but I sort of want to unbutton his skin and climb inside his body, button it up again, become a part of him. Just so that I can experience this pleasure for always.

  My pencil adds the final detail to the drawing in my lap. I’ve never sketched a portrait before; I don’t draw people, period—usually just animals or fictional creatures—but I think I’ve captured him perfectly. If there’s one thing I never want to forget about Bear, it’s his smile and the way his upturned lips work in unison with the crinkling of his eyes. Every detail of his face feels like it’s burned into my memory, but I know how memories can fade.

  When I look up from the paper, that same smile is beaming at me.

  “What are you grinning at?” I ask.

  He strides toward me, wiping his hands on an oily rag before leaning both arms on the railing ledge. “Show me what you’re drawing and I’ll tell you.”

  “I don’t show anyone my drawings.”

  He looks affronted, but his smile doesn’t wane. “So now I’m anyone?”

  “Well, technically, you’re no one, as I don’t even know your real name.�
��

  “Stop being cheeky and show me. I want to see.”

  Discreetly, I pull out the page below his portrait, a picture I drew a couple of days ago—frogs and butterflies, among other creatures, nestled in the midst of the view of the lake and reeds I see before me. I flip it over and hold it aloft.

  As if it was even possible, his grin stretches even wider across his face, his hand reaching out for it. “That’s amazing, I love it!”

  “Uh, fingers.” I yank it back out of harm’s reach, and he shifts, walking to the steps up on to the porch toward me.

  “What else do you draw?”

  “Just more of the same, really. Animals, insects. Creatures that only exist in my mind. I draw them to go with the stories I write. Just children’s stuff. Silly really.”

  “That’s not silly. It’s amazing. Have you ever published anything?”

  “God, no. It’s just a hobby.”

  “Show me some.”

  “Uh, uh.” I slam the folder shut. “Your turn.”

  “What?”

  “Your grin?”

  “Oh. Well…” I can see him trying to contain his excitement “…I think she’s ready.”

  “She?”

  He hooks a thumb in the general direction of the bike.

  “You fixed it?”

  “I think so. I’m about to turn her over.”

  “Well go ahead. What are you waiting for?”

  The bike starts first time, and he’s in his element, the joy in his laughter barely audible over the roar of the engine but his body language exudes his happiness. He sits astride the vast machine, his hands fisted, strong and capable around the handle bars, engine revving between solid thighs. If a vision ever turned me on before, it would never hold a candle to this. My body thrums in time with the machine in his charge, his hands controlling the acceleration just as they control my building desire. Even at a distance he has the power to overwhelm me.

  As if he’s noticed his effect on me, he kills the engine, dismounts, and pulls me into his arms, his mouth claiming mine. “I want to ride her,” he growls, “but I want you to ride me first.”