The Kiss on Castle Road (A Lavender Island Novel)

by Lauren Christopher

  “Elliott?”

  As if frozen, his hands suddenly dropped at his sides. He stared quietly at her body, her face, her breasts.

  “Elliott? What’s wrong?”

  “I feel like this is some kind of test.”

  “Test?” she asked. “For what?”

  He shrugged. “I’m used to learning, and being a quick study, and winning fellowships, and winning awards for my findings. But this . . . I’m not sure what to do here. I feel like if I don’t do well, I’m going to somehow fail.”

  He looked so sweet standing there, unsure, uncertain. She just wanted to throw her arms around him. “It’s not a test.”

  “I don’t want to mess this up. What do you like?”

  “I think you can figure out what I like.”

  “How will I know?”

  “I’ll make noises.”

  His eyebrow lifted. “I look forward to that. But I want to elicit them correctly. You were supposed to be teaching me, remember?”

  She let a smile escape. “That’s right—I was supposed to be helping you with the seduction part, wasn’t I?”

  “Yeah, way to drop the ball, Natalie.”

  She laughed. “I guess I could pick up from here. Where did we leave off?” She took a step toward him and the T-shirt stretched across his chest. He had no idea how good that thing looked on him, but it truly outlined the physique he rarely showed off.

  “Well, the Colonel coached me on dating. Doris taught me to dance. Nell instructed me on how to dress. So what do I need to know from you?” he murmured.

  She tugged at the T-shirt hem. “Looks like you’ve got everything down pat. What more do you want to know?”

  “I, uh . . .” He watched her fingertips move under the fabric. “I think you covered the erogenous zones. And, uh . . .” He cleared his throat as Natalie pushed the shirt upward. “I think I understood that. Or most of that. Some of that.”

  He reached over his head and yanked the shirt off for her. Natalie ran her hand across the taut chest and abs she’d seen only briefly before. “Elliott, I’m sure you’ve done this before. I think you know what’s next.”

  “Yeah, no, technically, I’m fine. I just don’t know what you, in particular, might—oh God.” He caught her head in his hands as she trailed a kiss down his torso. “Damn, Natalie, that’s good, but I—oh gah.” He stumbled back a little and cradled the back of her head against his abs, where she’d started to tempt with her tongue, working his waistband undone with her fingernails. He let out a hiss and then lifted her face in his hands. “Okay, here’s the deal—I know what I like. You’re not going to have any problems whatsoever making me a happy man tonight. As you can see, we’ve already started.” He indicated the tent in his pants. “But I want to know what you like. What do you want me to do? What do you want me to do to you?”

  Natalie couldn’t remember ever having a man ask her such a thing in her life. She studied his face to see if he was kidding. But she was met, simply, with a hunger in his eyes—and an absolute determination to please—that shot an ache of want right between her legs.

  “Well, first you can undress me,” she said.

  “My pleasure.” He reached for her shirt. “Do you like to be kissed while you’re being undressed? Or can I just stare?”

  Her breath caught at his husky delivery, then the hungry way his gaze made its way across every inch of her skin as her shirt was tossed to the floor.

  He didn’t need an answer for that one. He’d decided to stare. And then touch.

  A shiver went through her as his hands caressed her, undoing her bra, gazing at her with reverence as if he were memorizing every curve, his fingers tracing the planes of her body. She helped with her jeans and then stood before him in her lacy cheekies. She wished now she’d worn something a little sexier, but . . . On the other hand, Elliott didn’t seem to notice. She’d never been met with such a cherishing gaze. All those years in the past, when she’d run from men’s stares, she’d never known they could be like this. The element of tenderness stroked her like a fingertip. Her breath came shorter as he held her out slightly and turned her around.

  “God, you’re beautiful,” he said.

  She’d never felt more so. She reached up and pulled the loose plaits out of her hair. She wanted Elliott to stare at her this way for the rest of her life—his eyes feasting over her legs, her bottom, her breasts, as he turned her. The adoration in his eyes was coming not just from the appreciation of body parts but every bit as much from how he felt about her as a whole. He truly cared about her. And it shone through.

  She reached toward him, but he caught her arms. “I’m not done,” he said. His voice was raspy. “So, erogenous zones. Let me see if I can remember.” He brought her wrist to his lips and watched her eyes as he kissed gently, then extended the trail of tender kisses up her arm. When he kissed the inside of her elbow, she let out a little gasp, and he brought his eyelashes up to her. “There’s the sound.”

  “Yes.” Her voice was breathless and embarrassing.

  “I get an A there, then. Let’s do the other side.”

  Another tender trail led up her right arm as her legs became unsteady.

  “You said the back of your neck?”

  Before she could answer, he turned her slowly, lifted her heavy hair off her neck, and began a trail of sinful kisses across the back of her neck, exactly where she’d shown him before, eliciting the same shivers he had on the rock above the city. This time, though, his other hand was exploring the edge of her cheekies, running a fingertip along the lace, over her hip, along her bottom.

  “I like these,” he murmured into her neck.

  His finger teased the opening where she was already wet, and another gasp escaped her throat.

  “Another sound.” He smiled against her skin.

  “You’re . . .” She inhaled some air. “You’re a very fast learner.”

  “One of my strengths,” he mumbled. He spent some time there, arousing a series of gasps from Natalie, then lifted his thumb to rub a circle at the small of her back. “Here?”

  “Sometimes,” she exhaled.

  He was on his knees next, dragging her panties down, helping her step out of them, but then he surprised her by running his finger down the backs of her thighs and calves. She was aching for him now, wanting him undressed, inside her, but he stopped at the backs of her knees. “Here?”

  “We can skip that, Elliott, let’s just—” She had a hard time catching her breath now, and she tried to turn to grab his hair, bring him in front of her, get his clothes off, get him to—

  But he grasped her hands to stop her from pulling him, and his tongue warmed the back of her leg in a long, deep suck that seemed to pull at every other sexual organ in her body. She let out a little moan.

  “Elliott, please, I—”

  “Bend over, Natalie.”

  “What?”

  “Here. Bend over the bed.” He motioned toward it.

  “Please, Elliott, just get undressed now. I really want to—” She reached for his waistband again, but he caught her hands.

  “Am I getting Ds here?”

  “No.”

  “What would you give me?” He smiled. He knew.

  “I’d give you an A, but—”

  “Then let me continue. We’ve got a long night ahead of us, and I’ve got a lot of learning to do about you. I think we’ve got a few important erogenous zones left for me to explore, don’t we? I think we’ve hit all the before-dinner ones; now let’s get to the naked ones.” His grin was wolfish. She felt a little light-headed.

  In minutes, he had her facedown on the bed, his hands and fingertips running across every square inch of her. He explored, then tasted, then studied, then trailed kisses across her skin, finally turning her to repeat the process in front. When he stalled at her
nipples, pulling them into his teeth, she cried out and begged him to enter her, reaching to guide him.

  “Elliott! Please.”

  “I’ll get there,” he said, pinning her hands back. “I’m learning here.”

  “I’ll give you an A-plus-plus if you’ll just enter me now.”

  He chuckled. “Aren’t you enjoying this?”

  “I’m enjoying it immmmm-ensely. I’m just . . . enjoying it too much. I need you. Inside me. Now.”

  “We’ll get there.” His fingertips came down along her pelvis to explore, and she bucked her hips up. “I want to ruin the curve.”

  She laughed. “Elliott!”

  He teased her for only a few moments more, stroking her, parting her, inserting a finger, then two, studying her face, smiling every time she moaned, then finally, gloriously, he reached for a condom from his nightstand, kissed her while he put it on, and then slowly, wonderfully, entered her.

  “Oh God, Elliott.”

  She pulled him tighter to her with each thrust, let the wonderful emotion overwhelm her of being one with this man—one motion, one body, one mind, one spirit, one feeling, in this one exact moment—and thought how she’d like to meld with him forever. She’d never felt so connected, wanting to envelop him in her, wanting to be enveloped by him, and she pulled him tighter and tighter as they both rode high. Finally, ready for release, she dragged his hand between them, showing him where to stroke—she was definitely one of those clit-orgasm girls, although most men didn’t take the time to learn that. But Elliott was eager to learn, eager to please, and followed her lead with mastery. It took him two seconds to bring her to orgasm, which she released with a cry and tears in her eyes. Moments later, he followed, shuddering against her until he buried his head against her shoulder.

  Together, they caught their breath, Elliott breathing into her neck. Then she stroked his hair. She felt nothing but tenderness for this man.

  “Elliott?”

  “Yes?” he mumbled.

  “You did it.”

  He lifted himself up and stared at her curiously. “What?”

  “You aced the test,” she whispered.

  He chuckled and pushed her hair back from her face, then leaned in and gave her the most tender kiss of her life.

  CHAPTER 25

  In the morning, Natalie blinked open her eyes and tried to figure out where she was. As consciousness rolled in—ceiling fan, white curtains, papers all over the floor—her mind finally landed on the events of the day before. Elliott, snorkeling, making dinner, calling Paige, Elliott undressing her, his smile, and . . . wow, that lovemaking. They’d finally finished making dinner sometime around nine, ate slowly, then headed for the living room for round two. And then the patio, under the stars, for round three. She let her memory slip to his kisses, his care, his touch, his humor and slowly began rolling over as she forced her eyes open. Her hand landed on his empty space and she bolted upright.

  She listened for sounds in the front room. Had he left for work? On a Saturday? She looked around the room and let herself sigh over her favorite part of the evening: his very last kiss as they drifted off to sleep together, his arm protectively around her body, his fingers stroking her loose hair until she fell asleep.

  Natalie wasn’t normally the type of girl to touch during sleep. She normally kicked guys out of her bed so she could sleep peacefully, or she left at three in the morning to get to her own spacious, wonderfully empty bed. “Sleeping over” was not her norm. And cuddling all night was not even in her lexicon.

  But last night with Elliott . . . that had simply felt right. Maybe because they already knew each other and were already close. She already trusted him, enjoyed his presence, enjoyed his company. They’d slept next to each other—on outdoor chaise lounges or on separate couches—as friends enough times that sleeping in the same bed with him last night didn’t feel stifling at all. It almost felt like wanting to join him at the tide pools—comforted by his hand helping her up, warmed by their legs touching, secure and safe, and always entertained in his company.

  She lifted herself out of bed and peeked out the bedroom door, clutching her dress in front of her. Where had he gone? She couldn’t hear a thing out there. She snatched the sheets off the bed and pulled them around her.

  “He was supposed to be here,” a voice said in the front room.

  A man’s voice? But not Elliott’s.

  She crept back to the door with her sheet in tow and opened it a crack.

  “You need to leave them alone, Nell. It doesn’t matter if Natalie was here.”

  Natalie gripped the sheet tighter. It was Jim. She whirled back to scan the floor for her clothes.

  “I can’t leave it alone,” Nell’s voice said. “I’m flying Vanessa in tonight to meet him. Where is he?”

  “Maybe he forgot about going out for breakfast today.”

  Natalie heard pots and pans being loaded into the sink. She wanted her bra but didn’t want to leave her eavesdropping space. She stretched her leg across the floor and wriggled her toe to reach for the bra strap.

  “Anyway, he’s a big boy,” Jim said. “I think we need to let him live his own life.”

  “I just don’t want him to get hurt.”

  “I know, but, Nell, seriously. He’s a grown-ass man. He knows what he wants. You need to stop with this.”

  “But does he really know what he wants?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it sex? Because I’m sure Natalie can provide that, but I want him to have something more.”

  Natalie’s toe finally caught her bra and she dragged it toward her. Underwear next.

  “Look, I don’t know. And it’s none of our business. And neither are these dishes. Put those down. All I know is that Elliott has been happier in the last few weeks than I’ve seen him since I’ve known him. And I don’t know how you can be missing that fact.”

  Natalie had to crawl away for a second to snatch up her underwear, which were slightly under the bed. She scrambled back to the crack in the door and tried to catch up.

  “. . . tomorrow, and Becky just says that Natalie has always been a screwup, and always irresponsible. I don’t want him to get stuck taking care of her. He gravitates toward wounded birds. I want him with a woman who’s strong and can stand on her own. And who will stick around. Becky said Natalie can’t commit to anything, which is the worst kind of person Elliott could meet right now.”

  A tiny slice went through Natalie at that, and she dropped her forehead against the doorjamb.

  “First of all, you’re giving Becky too much credit in this scenario—she has an agenda, you know—and I think you’re selling Natalie way short.”

  “She’s only twenty-seven.”

  “He’s only twenty-eight!”

  “She has no job. Well, except this temporary job babysitting. And what if she leaves him? When people are afraid to commit to anything, that’s what they do, you know. He’ll get hurt. He lost our grandfather, and you and I are leaving. He doesn’t need someone else to leave him right now.”

  A silence fell while Natalie’s head spun. She wanted to leap out to interrupt this exchange—at least defend herself. But—on the other hand—honestly, the things Nell was saying were true. Natalie had been a runner all her life, especially from relationships. She was a bit of a wounded bird for Elliott, based on the way he looked at her so sadly whenever she brought up the reason for her mancation. And she might hurt him if she started something and left. He did say he was the type to get attached. And she couldn’t commit in any long-term way—especially on an island. Even if she stayed just for a short time, what if she did what Paige mentioned and started finding faults with Elliott just so she might break up with him and flee? She stared at the clothes hanging from her fingertips.

  “Look, I don’t want him hurt either,” Jim finally said softly. �
��Natalie did say she was leaving next week.” She could hear the light notes of disappointment in his voice.

  “Then encourage him to take this date with Vanessa instead,” Nell said. “Vanessa wants a real relationship. She wants a future. And Elliott deserves that.”

  Another silence followed, where Natalie could hear everyone giving up on her. She let her bra fall to her side.

  “We should leave,” Nell said softly. “He forgot. Maybe they went out to breakfast already.”

  After hearing the back door open and close, Natalie sat in silence for a long while. She stared out Elliott’s bedroom window at the blue sky and watched a family of seagulls fly by.

  She loved Elliott. She was suddenly sure of that. But she loved him so much she didn’t want to hurt him. Nell was right—he was in a fragile state with so many losses in his life. And how could Natalie—in good conscience—pull him into a relationship now, knowing she never let them last? Commitment-phobes didn’t change their stripes overnight.

  One of her flip-flops caught her eye, and she crawled toward it, lifting it off a stack of Elliott’s papers and journals. The journal on top was an open suede-bound book, with lined paper inside and what must be Elliott’s handwriting. Somehow words leaped off the page at her:

  April 16, 7 p.m.: Direct observation: three sea lion pups found alive, washed ashore in Diver’s Nook . . .

  That was the day they’d met. Natalie tried to look away, but something made her read a little farther down:

  April 16, 7 p.m.: Direct observation: met the woman I want to marry. Probably Nell’s worst nightmare.

  Each scan across the line made Natalie’s breath come more and more ragged. Marry? The word seemed to grow darker and darker until it looked as if it were written in thick iron letters, ready to lock her up, ready to make her hyperventilate.

  Did Elliott think that after their first encounter? How long had he had marriage on his mind? When they spoke at the Castle, he’d said he didn’t know if he wanted a long-term relationship—had he been saying that just to appease her? Had he said it just to trick her?