Honeymoon Hideaway

by Mia London

  Cat groaned. She had no other response. She wasn’t looking for a someone. She’d had a someone and he’d deceived her. There was no rush to fill the vacancy.

  There was no use arguing so she reached for the next gift. Cat felt like she was having an out-of-body experience, like she was just going through the motions of life. She vacillated between anger and sadness, between energized to move on and depressed about what could have been.

  She’d opened all her wonderful gifts—her friends were so thoughtful—when Cel patted the chocolate and lotions. “Do you want to check to make sure you have room in your suitcase for these?”

  “Good idea.”

  By the time Cat had stuffed the last few things in her luggage, down to the sunblock and lip balm, Cel walked in holding her new lingerie.

  “Don’t forget this.” She waved the garments in the air.

  Again, not much Cat’s cup of tea, unlike her BFF who had a passion for lacy and satin things. “No way, Cel. I’m not taking that with me.”

  “Aw, c’mon. It will make you feel sexy.”

  “That’s okay. Maybe some other time.” Cat’s stomach rumbled. She considered that a good sign. “How about I make dinner tonight?”

  “That works for me.”

  She was ever so thankful her friend dropped the subject.

  Over spaghetti and meatballs, Celeste asked, “How are you feeling? Any phone calls?”

  “I’m hanging in there. I don’t know about the calls. I left my phone in my purse the whole day.” She was doing all she could not to think about Jack or the wedding, but she didn’t know exactly how to move on from something like this. There should be a manual or something.

  “Are you still planning on going to Saint Lucia?”

  The thought had crossed her mind a few times to bag it, but it never stuck. “Yes.”

  “Good. Are you thinking about calling him?”

  “Hell no.” Okay, that wasn’t entirely true. She needed closure to heal, and she knew it…but would she actually get it from Jack, or would he feed her the same bullshit he’d dished out last time?

  “Good and good. Be strong. One day at a time.”

  The seven and a half hour flight to the island of Saint Lucia was grueling. Not because of the length, but because Cat had serious second thoughts.

  Who travels to some foreign place alone?

  People do it all the time.

  Sure, people who are more daring or brave.

  She battled with herself, rehashed conversations with, not just Jack, but every boy she’d ever dated. Maybe those times she’d thought her relationships had simply fizzled because of lack of chemistry it had really been lack of risk-taking. Weird Will might have had some weird fetishes, but how could she really judge without trying and experiencing firsthand?

  Never before had she felt so completely uncertain of herself. She was a paralegal with tons of confidence at her job. This? This was new territory.

  As they prepared to land, Cat wiped her clammy hands down the sides of her sundress. She could do this.

  She’d go straight to the hotel, have a bite, and collapse in bed. It was late, and she had zero plans the next day on purpose.

  The bellhop took her bags from the taxi’s trunk, and Cat paid the cab driver. She walked through the revolving door and took in her surroundings.

  The hotel was everything she’d dreamed of—open, breezy, well-appointed without being over the top. Low, deep sofas and chairs scattered on an oversized tile floor that stretched out to the pool area. Dim light filled the back gardens and outlined the vast infinity pool. In the dark of night, she couldn’t see the ocean, but the salty smell lingered.

  “Good evening. Welcome to the resort.” The front desk receptionist had smooth cocoa skin and wore a fuchsia skirt suit. She greeted Cat with a warm smile.

  “Hello. I’m Catherine Dalton. Checking in.”

  “Yes, Miss Dalton.” She clicked on her keyboard, verified Cat’s I.D., and handed her a key. “You are in suite five-forty. The resort is all-inclusive,” she slid a brochure over the counter, “so here are the services and amenities that are included in your package. If you would like to go to town, simply schedule with the valets ahead of time. Please enjoy your stay, and don’t hesitate to ask if there is anything you need.”

  Cat returned the smile, simply thankful to not get called Mrs. Sumners. She owed that to Celeste and the girls.

  The bellhop escorted her to her room, and after a brief introduction of where things were, she tipped him before he left.

  Wow! The suite was beautiful. A luxurious oversized bed with crisp white linens, a large pale blue and salmon Oriental rug over marble tile flooring, and soft linen drapes that flowed gently at an open sliding glass door leading to the balcony.

  “Jack, you have outdone yourself.” She appreciated the hotel, her room, but mostly she was glad to have landed and was only minutes from a comfy bed.

  If she didn’t cry herself to sleep, that would be a bonus.

  The next morning, sun spilled through the windows, touches of gilded gold on everything. Cat had tossed and turned before finally settling into a deep coma of sleep. She glanced at the time. Ten a.m.

  She must have needed—she did the math in her head—eleven hours of sleep.

  Geez!

  She reached for her phone and shot off a text to Celeste, who immediately replied.

  So glad you made it! Have fun. Drink drinks with umbrellas and fruit. Get a massage and facial. Create the next Cat Dalton work of art. Cel xx

  Cat chuckled out loud. It felt good to laugh, even if it was only briefly.

  She flung her suitcase on the king-sized bed and proceeded to unpack her clothes. Under her jeans she noticed the sexy pink lingerie—Cel must have snuck it in her bag. She lifted the bra, running her fingertips over the lace.

  Cat gasped. Beneath the lingerie was a box with the image of a pink vibrator. Holy cow!

  She opened the box and brought the item closer for inspection. Cat had a vibrator at home, somewhere. But it wasn’t nearly as big as this, and not so life-like. This was thick and had bumpy lines and ridges like a real man would have. Heat rose in her cheeks just holding the implement.

  Knowing Cel, it was probably already charged. Clearly she thought this would be encouraging—stretching my boundaries and all that.

  Cat stuck the box in the nightstand drawer—sex was the last thing on her mind—and finished unpacking.

  After putting her clothes away, she slipped on her bathing suit, cover-up and hat, grabbed the hotel brochure, and headed to the pool. She sat at a small table off to the side and ordered the largest egg breakfast they offered.

  She was famished, and it didn’t bother her in the least when the waiter’s eyes went big at her breakfast selection.

  Now to fill some of this time so I don’t spend it thinking about that asshole, she thought.

  She flipped open the brochure and read the highlights:

  Seven restaurants and shops, including a nightclub

  Full spa and salon with massage, facial, nails, hair, makeup

  Gym and sauna

  Daily snorkeling and paddle boarding

  Movie theater

  Live bands

  Two pools and a hot tub

  Concierge services

  Local area transportation

  Her itinerary included several spa services during the two-week respite. She should be doing backflips but instead she just felt sorta numb. Glancing around the resort at the happy couples, she decided screw it. This was her vacation.

  One day at a time.

  After breakfast, she lifted her mimosa and walked out to the beach. The soft, warm sand crunched under her feet and squished between her toes. Salty air filled her nostrils. The clear blue water stretched to the horizon, the waves creating a soothing lull. She found a lounge chair under a cabana and propped up her legs.

  Cat took several deeps breaths of fresh ocean air and decided she needed a p
lan. But that idea sailed out into the ocean as she closed her eyes “for just a minute” and woke up two hours later.

  She stretched, reaching her hands past the lounger, and laughed. She could not come all the way to this fabulous island and sleep the entire time. Oh, the ribbing she would get from Celeste would be never-ending.

  She hoisted herself off the lounger and went to the concierge desk to plan an agenda. Not every waking moment, but a little something each day. Something to look forward to.

  “I would also like to take a trip or two off the resort to do some sketching,” she told the young man dressed in black and white.

  “Yes, Miss. We can arrange for that. Any place in particular?”

  What did she want? “I don’t exactly know, but maybe some old buildings, churches, or bridges.” She shrugged her shoulder.

  The concierge glanced at the brochures beside the desk. “I will make a list of recommendations and leave it at the front desk for you to retrieve tonight. Then you can just select what you want and the driver will take you there.”

  What more could she ask for? “Thanks.”

  She stepped onto the elevator, barely aware of the man who followed. She thought of the concierge’s suggestion of a list and wondered what to choose first. Maybe there would be an old courthouse or a church at Anse La Raye she could draw.

  “Must be a really good thought.”

  His voice pulled her out of her daydream and she observed the man beside her in dress slacks and a knit collared shirt with an emblem over the chest. His smile seemed genuine, and she realized she must have been smiling too.

  “I guess it was.”

  “That’s how vacations are supposed to be, right?” His blue eyes shone and he gripped the handle of his suitcase, then wheeled it off the elevator. “Have a good stay,” he said before the doors closed.

  That was nice, she thought. Nice-looking guy too.

  Cat startled as the elevator descended and quickly pushed the number five. She’d been so distracted that she’d forgotten to press the button when she’d first gotten on.

  Having a plan would allow her some control over this strange situation. Maybe she’d actually enjoy herself for two weeks. Indulge in some R&R, try out some new things, go exploring. As long as she didn’t think about Jack specifically, she knew she’d be alright.

  Cat decided starting a vacation with a massage was the right way to go. She lucked out when she called the spa Tuesday morning and they had an opening.

  The previous night, she’d picked up the concierge’s recommendations of places to visit and then updated her two-week agenda. She looked forward to something for once that didn’t revolve around the wedding. She’d caught a glimpse of the vibe Celeste had packed for her and chuckled. Some things might stay off the agenda.

  After a late breakfast, she entered the hotel’s posh spa five minutes early. Soft, instrumental music played in the background and the scent of vanilla filled the air. “Hello. I have an appointment at eleven for a massage.”

  “Excellent. You would be Miss Dalton?”

  “That’s correct.”

  “Can I get you a glass of fruit-infused cold water before I take you back to Sebastian?”

  What? Her back straightened. A male masseur? The idea hadn’t even occurred to Cat. Of course, it was possible, and not that it really mattered, but… Well, she couldn’t say why she was apprehensive.

  “Is everything alright, Miss Dalton?”

  Calm down, Cat. You have nothing to worry about. Just because she’d never had a male massage therapist before didn’t mean there was anything to be wary of. Jack might have been the last man to touch her, but Cat couldn’t expect for that to last forever. Eventually there would be men…

  “Everything is great. And yes, I’d love some water.” She chased away the apprehension and forced a casual smile.

  She followed the receptionist back to a cozy, softly lit room. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be right back with your water.”

  True to her word, the receptionist returned shortly with a glass of ice water. “Sebastian will be with you in a few moments. Enjoy.” The young woman pivoted on her heel and left, closing the door behind her.

  Cat sank into the upholstered bench and sipped her water. A male. Cat’d never had a massage given by a man before. Only ever a woman. She shook her head. She was overreacting. Not to mention, if he was gay, he’d have no interest in her.

  The door opened quietly, pulling her from her thoughts. A tall, dark-haired, brown-eyed man walked into the massage room and smiled at her. His white, short-sleeve uniform shirt pulled snuggly over his shoulders and chest muscles. His waist was trim and his skin bronzed.

  My! He was a fine specimen of a man.

  “Miss Dalton, I’m Sebastian. I’ll perform your massage today.” He had an exotic Latin American accent. He leaned forward, offering his hand.

  She hesitantly reached for it, allowing his large warm hand to engulf hers. “Hello.”

  His brow furrowed softly. “I apologize for being late. My previous appointment was delayed. If you could remove your clothes and jewelry, and lie face-up on the massage table, I’ll return in a few moments, and we’ll get started.”

  She swallowed hard. He certainly didn’t act gay. “Sure,” she choked out.

  Sebastian left the room. Her heart beat faster. She could do this. Not all men were untrustworthy slime balls.

  Cat stripped, hiding her underthings beneath her cotton tee and shorts. She gulped some cool water and climbed onto the table, under the covers. The table seemed wider than a traditional massage table. Not that that would matter for a tall man like Sebastian.

  She pulled up the sheet, letting the soft cotton envelope her, brushing lightly against her bare form.

  A soft knock at the door announced his return. Cat’s eyes were squeezed shut; she forced her face to relax.

  “Comfortable?” She heard him adjust the music, then the lamp to darken the room, before he gathered his lotion.

  “Yes.”

  “Any areas that feel particularly tight, Miss Dalton?”

  She opened her eyes to see him looking down at her. Oh, she’d better not regret this.

  “Cat, please. No. I just need to relax,” her tone sounded curt. Shoot! Why had she said that? Keep it together, she scolded herself.

  “I can see that. Well, take a few deep breaths for me. I will start with your head and work my way to your toes. Then you will turn over and I’ll repeat the same process on the backside. If anything feels tight, and needs more work, please let me know. Also, if something is uncomfortable, let me know so I can stop. All right?”

  Sebastian may look straight off the Man of the Year calendar, but he was professional and attentive, and Cat appreciated that.

  “Yes. Thank you.”

  She closed her eyes again when Sebastian’s fingers smoothed her hair off her face in light, feathery strokes. He applied an oil to his fingers and started massaging her face and neck, going into her hairline.

  Quietly, he said, “I can see you have a lot on your mind. Try and calm your thoughts. Be here in the moment. Find peace.”

  He’d hit the nail on the head. She had a lot on her mind—cheating fiancés that lied through their teeth, and now, literally putting herself in another man’s hands.

  She forced a deeper breath. She could do this. She needed a massage. Sebastian was a professional. She wanted to kick her vacation off with a bang. And she deserved it, dammit!

  His hands moved over her neck and shoulders, making a few passes between her breasts. She was sure it wasn’t intended to be a sexual thing, but it certainly felt sensual. His hands were warm and the pace of his movements helped her nerves and muscles start to calm.

  Finishing her arms, he moved the blanket aside to pull her right leg out. Applying more oil, he worked his strong hands up and down. His thumbs pressed firmly into her quads and a tiny moan passed her lips.

  Heat rose in her cheeks. She’
d never moaned with a female masseuse.

  Cat tensed slightly when his hands worked their way upward, very close to her sex. She swallowed. His fingers never touched her there, instead they merely grazed passed to work her right hip and a bit of her stomach. Dang! Her muscles were tight. After several minutes, he covered the right leg and repeated the procedure on her left leg.

  She noticed the blanket wasn’t really tucked in anywhere. In fact, moisture had begun to gather at the apex of her thighs, and whenever the blanket shifted, air sent a coolness over her vulva.

  Her heartbeat increased slightly, but a hypnotic state also settled in. She felt so incredibly relaxed that she didn’t bother opening her eyes or care if any private parts were exposed. Sebastian had magic fingers. Her earlier nervousness was for no good reason.

  He re-covered her leg and whispered, “Please turn over, Cat.”

  He held the blanket to conceal her breasts. She rotated and placed her face in the padded face rest. She inhaled and a sweet scent of vanilla filled her senses. Sebastian lowered the sheet to her waist, maybe past her waist. She couldn’t be sure, but some of her derriere might be exposed. Her muscles tensed.

  He whispered close to her ear, “Relax. Relaxation is good for your blood pressure, your memory, so many things.”

  Right. She tried to calm down and focus on not letting her anxiety ruin her wonderful massage.

  His oiled hands began long strokes up and down her back. He kneaded and worked out knots along the way. She breathed deeply. Oh yeah.

  The sensual feeling flowing through her, coupled with the deep relaxation, brought Cat to a place she had rarely been. Simply euphoric. Sebastian massaged her arms, leaving them limp and pliable. He covered her torso and moved to her left leg next, this time exposing half her ass. However, when his hands began to stroke her leg, hip, and butt cheek in deep, satisfying, rhythmic glides, she didn’t have the energy to give it much thought.

  An achiness built as Sebastian’s motions continued. He moved to the right leg. Again her right ass cheek was bared to him, to the room, to his marvelous hands.