Magnolia Bay Memories

by Babette de Jongh

  “I’m thinking the opposite.” He gave her one of the glasses. “I selfishly don’t want you to dull your senses.”

  She gulped her water while he sipped his. He seemed so confident, so relaxed.

  “I’m not on birth control,” she blurted out.

  “I’ve got that covered.” He left her standing at the counter and walked over to the piano, where he sat and played a melody that complemented the music coming through speakers that were set into the ceiling at the corners of the large room. “Just relax. Drink your water. We have plenty of time.”

  While he played, she wandered over to the couch, but she hesitated to sit for fear that the combination of sunscreen and sweat from walking the French Quarter in the hot sun would leave a mark on the velvet. “I don’t know what to do with myself,” she confessed.

  “What do you want to do?” he asked.

  “Lord, I don’t know.”

  “It’s almost 4:00. Why don’t you call Reva and see how the pickup went? Maybe talk to your kids. You can sit out on the balcony if you want. Watch the river go by.”

  “Okay, you’re right.” Knowing her kids were okay would help her feel more settled.

  Heather took her phone onto the balcony and sat in one of the chairs. With her feet up on the railing, she called Reva.

  “Hey, girl,” Reva answered. “How’s it going?”

  “You first,” Heather said. “How it’s going here sort of depends on how it’s going there.”

  “All is well. We’re on the way to my house. Your kids just collected their things, and they’re planning to swim while I cook dinner. I just got a report from Sean that Jasper and Georgia are zonked out in my living room after playing ball for an hour.”

  Heather felt her anxiety level drop a notch. “That sounds good.”

  “And not to hurt your feelings, but just so you know, all of your kids are in favor of spending the night at my house. Have you decided which way you’re gonna jump?”

  Heather took a deep breath and let it out. “I’m going to stay.” She felt a dropping sensation in her belly the moment she voiced her decision out loud. It felt like going down in an express elevator. “The phone isn’t on speaker, is it?”

  “Nope,” Reva confirmed. “You are free to speak freely.”

  “I’m going to spend the night. At Adrian’s loft. In his bed. With him. Probably.”

  “Probably?” Reva laughed. “Who are you trying to kid, me or yourself?”

  Heather fiddled with the woven vinyl straps of the metal chair. “Just me, I guess. You’d tell me if I was about to do something really stupid, wouldn’t you?”

  “Yes, I would.” Silence stretched out like taffy before Reva spoke again. “But I can’t make your decisions for you. Only you know how you feel.”

  “I feel like…” Heather gulped. “I feel like it’s time. And I feel like I can trust Adrian.”

  “Well, then…?”

  “Please don’t tell anyone. Not even Abby.”

  “I won’t even tell Georgia.”

  “Can I talk to the kids?” Stalling, she knew, but hearing their voices, knowing they truly did want to spend the night away from her, would help her put them out of her mind for the rest of the evening.

  “Sure. Here’s Caroline.”

  Heather talked to each of the kids and reassured herself that they were as excited about the night to come as she was nervous. Before Heather ended the call, Erin said the exact perfect thing: “Forget about us, Mom. Concentrate on having fun. That’s what we’re gonna do, and that’s what you should do too.”

  Heather sat for a few more minutes and watched the Mississippi River flow past. Something about the rushing water helped her let go of all the fear and anxiety she’d been holding on to. It felt right to reach out for a little happiness, a little normalcy.

  It was past time she stopped being a widow and started being a woman again. Heather knew that she could trust Adrian to take her gently over that threshold. He would treat her with kindness and sensitivity. She could trust him. But even more important, she realized that she could trust herself.

  “It’s time,” she said out loud. Then she left the river behind and went inside.

  Adrian wasn’t in the room. “Adrian?” she called.

  He came in from the master bedroom she’d seen a glimpse of through its open door when they were in the kitchen. His hair was wet, and all he wore was a cocky grin and a dark-blue towel wrapped around his hips. “Kids okay?”

  “Yes. Kids are fine. Everything is fine.” Not nearly as fine as he was, though. Holy moly. “They are officially spending the night at Reva’s.”

  “And does that mean you’re…?”

  “I’m officially spending the night here.” Again, her stomach took the express elevator down. “With you. In your bed.”

  His cocky grin transformed into one of pure delight. “Well, let’s get busy.”

  ***

  Adrian led Heather to the guest bathroom, the first stop in his planned seduction. He had filled the bathtub with steaming-hot water, then scattered the petals from the rose he’d given her on the surface. He wished he’d had a bunch of candles to really set the mood, but he’d only been able to scare up the one candle he kept in the kitchen cupboard in case of power outages. The flicker of its flame reflected in the mirror, lighting the dim room with a soft orange glow.

  He had set out fresh towels and a newly unwrapped bar of fancy-smelling soap that one of his sisters had given him for Christmas last year. He hadn’t opened it until now because it smelled too girly.

  “Oh,” Heather said when she walked into the room. He knew she hadn’t expected him to leap on her the second she said she’d stay, but apparently, she hadn’t expected to be wooed, either. He decided that he liked surprising her.

  He backed her up to the sink, then slowly started unbuttoning her blouse. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. A fast pulse thrummed visibly under the pale, delicate skin of her neck. He undressed her slowly, taking his time. She tried to help once, lifting her arms to unhook her bra, but he stilled her hands with his. “Let me.”

  He took charge, hoping to help her win the obvious struggle of turning off her overactive brain so she could concentrate on her body instead. He assisted her into the bath, then knelt beside the tub to scoop handfuls of warm water over her breasts and back.

  Sitting cross-legged, she dropped her chin to her chest with a sigh of release.

  With tender attention, he slid the soap over her wet skin, dipping his hand below the water’s surface to follow the curve of her spine, the flare of her hips. He set the soap aside, then massaged her shoulders until her tense muscles relaxed. “Lean back.”

  Uncrossing her legs, she stretched out in the tub until her head rested against the porcelain rim and her feet bobbed up, exposing her brightly painted toenails. “Ahhh. This is so nice.” She closed her eyes. “I feel so pampered. Thank you.”

  “You are very welcome,” he murmured. Though as he caressed her luscious breasts and watched her nipples contract in response, he knew the gratitude went both ways. “Thank you for letting me pamper you.”

  He slipped a hand below the waterline, over her ribs and stomach, then even lower. When he slid a finger into the slippery folds between her legs, she sucked in a breath, tensing for a second before she sighed and relaxed, submitting to his touch.

  As he moved his hands over her body, he watched her face, aware of the need to go slowly, to be sensitive to her shifting emotions. The lift of her brows, the flutter of her lashes, the softening of her lips were all clues to her boundaries and also to the spaces where he would be welcomed to explore her body. He was willing to back off at any time, should she change her mind.

  So as he touched her body, he watched her face, attuned to the subtle expressions that told him when to press forwa
rd and when to retreat or redirect her attention to another aspect of the experience. When she tensed, he backed off and softened his touch. When she lifted her hips, he responded by pushing his palm more firmly against her and slipping in not just one finger but two.

  When she clutched the sides of the tub and her breath came fast and shallow, he leaned over the bathtub and kissed her. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and swallowed her whimpers as he applied more pressure and mimicked with his hand the things he planned to do with her later, with his body.

  When she squirmed against him, he stilled his fingers inside her and fondled her breasts, allowing her to rest a moment and catch her breath.

  Then she reached up and captured his face between her palms. He kissed her again, this time swallowing her cries as he brought her to orgasm. She wrapped her arms around his neck, and he held her with one hand supporting her back, the other hand still holding her below the water, where he could feel her orgasm release its hold on her body by slow degrees. When her hands dropped to the sides of the bathtub, he stood and readjusted the towel around his waist. “Feel free to soak as long as you like.” He had eased her past the first wall of resistance; a few minutes to acclimate might be welcome. “Come find me in the bedroom when you’re ready.”

  Chapter 12

  Heather would’ve enjoyed soaking a little longer in the warm, rose-scented water, but that, of course, became impossible the moment Adrian said, “Come find me in the bedroom.”

  She hurried to finish, though she took the time to wash her hair and then do a little innocent sleuthing in the sink cabinet, where she found a tube of toothpaste. No brush, but she used a wet washcloth to clean her teeth.

  Wrapping a towel around herself, she walked through the loft to the master bedroom, with her heart practically vibrating as far up as her throat and as far down as…

  “Don’t overthink it,” she whispered to herself. “Just enjoy.”

  And oh, as Heather reached the open door of the master bedroom, the sight she saw could have graced the cover of a romance novel. Well, maybe not because he wasn’t stretched out with his arms behind his head and a towel draped strategically across his lap.

  He was, in fact, making the bed, smoothing out the sheets and turning back the dark-gray matelassé coverlet. He straightened, saw her, and readjusted the towel he had tucked around his waist. “Hey.”

  In the dim natural light that came through a long, narrow window near the ceiling, Adrian’s every muscle seemed to be highlighted in gold against the shadowed dips and curves and hollows. She tucked in the edge of her towel too, a small gesture of self-protection. She felt safe with Adrian, but it had been a long time since even Dale had seen her naked, and he had always seen her through the eyes of love. “Hey.”

  Adrian folded the sheet and coverlet back again, then sat on the edge of the bed and patted the mattress beside him. “Come here.”

  She hesitated, not because she didn’t want to sit next to Adrian but because she straight up couldn’t get her feet to move. Then the logjam of self-consciousness that held her captive broke apart, and she walked across the carpeted floor and sat beside him.

  Feeling awkward, she reached for Adrian’s hand. They sat there for a minute, just holding hands, getting used to each other again after less than ten minutes apart. She listened to his easy breathing, felt the comforting strength of his hand holding hers, absorbed the warmth of his hard, muscular thigh against her leg. “Do you think we need to talk first?” she asked.

  He huffed out a laugh and squeezed her hand. “Not too much, I hope.” She looked up at him, reconnecting a little more firmly with that glance. “But yes,” he said. His deep voice sounded as soft as a caress. “If you think we need to talk, we need to talk. Tell you what… Close your eyes.”

  He let go of her hand, and with her eyes closed, she could hear him moving: standing, then slipping under the covers and readjusting the pillows. “Okay,” he said. “Now, I’ll close mine so you can lose the towel and get under the sheets with me. I promise I won’t peek.”

  She turned to look. He was reclining against the headboard with a pillow behind him, his hands stacked on top of the sheet and coverlet folded down over his washboard abs. True to his word, his eyes were closed.

  “What should I do with the towel?”

  “I tossed mine on top of the sheets I just changed,” he said without opening his eyes.

  In the corner of the room closest to the door, she saw the neatly rolled-up sheets he had just exchanged for fresh ones. She took a second to appreciate the courteous sensitivity Adrian displayed in changing the bed linens for her.

  “You haven’t gotten lost, have you?” Adrian quipped, still without opening his eyes. Did she detect a tiny note of worry in his voice?

  Yes, she did.

  His smooth self-confidence might not be as impermeable as he let on. “Should I whistle a tune,” he asked, “to help you find your way?”

  “No. Sorry. Just…” She sighed and tossed her towel on top of his. “Woolgathering.”

  She slid in beside him, propped a pillow against the smooth wood of the headboard behind her, and adjusted the sheets so they covered her breasts. “You can open your eyes now.”

  He gave her a tender look and reached for her hand. “Hey, again.”

  “Hey, again.” She let out a huff of embarrassed laughter. “Am I being a real pain?”

  “Absolutely.” His lips quirked up at the corners; his gaze was soft and sexy. “And you’re totally worth it. Come here.” He slid an arm behind her and gathered her into his arms, fitting her body snugly against his. “Now.” He kissed the top of her head. “How’s this?”

  “Better.” With her head on his shoulder and her body curved around his, she felt more at ease. They seemed to fit perfectly together. “Thank you for indulging me.”

  “Oh, darlin’.” He drew the word out in the Southern way, then chuckled, a dark, slightly sinister sound. “I haven’t even started indulging you.” He caressed her shoulder and upper arm with his fingertips. “But we have all the time in the world.” He rolled her toward him until she was halfway on top of him.

  Then he kissed her, a long and lingering exploration that derailed her churning thoughts. He tunneled his fingers through her damp hair and held her still while he kissed her eyelids, then the corners of her mouth, then her jaw, and then the side of her neck just below her ear. It tickled, so she brought up her shoulder and tilted her head, a silent plea for him to stop.

  He made a low growling sound and rolled them again until she was lying prone, trapped beneath him. “Ticklish much?” He took her hands in his, and a second later, he held her with both wrists manacled in his right hand while he straddled her, his knees on either side of her hips. He made the low, slightly sinister chuckle she’d heard before. “I wonder what I should do with this new information?”

  “Nothing,” she said in a warning tone. “You’d better not tickle me; not if you want to get out of here alive.”

  “Oh, yeah?” The bedding between them had slipped—or maybe Adrian had managed the magic trick of making the sheets and bedspread disappear. Her breasts and belly were exposed to him, and his gorgeous masculine form—even the part that was clearly very glad to see her—was bared for her to see…but not to touch.

  “What ya gonna do about it if I want to do this?” Still holding her wrists in one hand, he bent to kiss that ticklish spot again, this time giving it a light nibble or two that did entirely different things to her nerve endings. He kissed—and bit, ever so gently—a path down her neck and then lingered on her collarbones. “What ya gonna do if I want to…”

  He released her wrists and trailed his fingers down her belly. He knelt between her legs and sucked her nipples, first one, then the other, until she arched toward his mouth, begging for more even while she craved his attention a bit farther down.

&nbs
p; His mouth followed his fingers, and then she felt the pressure of both his hands holding her hips and lifting them higher, baring her even further for him to explore.

  She squirmed at first, but he held her firm until she subsided with a sigh of submission and then another of delight. All she could do was let her hands fall to her sides, let her trembling thighs fall open against the cool sheets, and let him have his way.

  ***

  Adrian took his time learning the tastes and textures of Heather’s body, from the soft skin of her inner thighs to the sweeping curve of her hips to the long arch of her neck. He took his time learning her signals, from the soft sigh when she relaxed into his hands to the shuddering indrawn breath when he touched her in just the right way to the quiet moans when he brought her closer to the edge.

  He used every trick in his arsenal to bring Heather from thinking to feeling, from sighing to whimpering, from “yes, yes,” to “oh, yes.”

  But he denied her the ultimate release of a full-on, crying-out, shuddering orgasm. Every time he felt her getting close, he gentled his touch, toning down her blazing response for a slower but ultimately hotter burn.

  He wanted to prolong the experience for each of them, to be mindful…

  But her gorgeous body spoke to his through its erotic movements and the scent of her arousal, and all his careful mindfulness dissolved. His determination to curate her experience had no more strength than a sandcastle scattered in the waves of an incoming tide. He’d been intent on crafting an amazing sexual experience for her, but instead, pleasing her had given him the most incredible sexual experience he’d ever had.

  And he hadn’t even been inside her yet.

  At the thought of his body inside hers, the ability to hold off on his own pleasure began to shred like a paper kite in the wind. This time, when he used his mouth and his hands to bring her to the edge of orgasm, he didn’t try to tamp down the fire. This time, he let her quiet moans intensify. And when “yes” turned to “don’t stop,” he obliged.