by Rissa Brahm
So in her little-girl logic, Preeya had become a humanitarian by proxy. She gave up her mom to children who needed her far more than she and Prana had.
But a week later, her father left Preeya, too. With Champa. And Prana went to SafeHaven.
Preeya scoffed through clenched teeth and slammed her fists on the plush white comforter. So instead of her father’s love, focus, attention—and maybe some much-needed therapy?—her doctor dad instead prescribed a healthy regimen of abandonment after abandonment.
And she couldn’t believe she’d never made the connection. Her day-and-night terrors of being alone of course stemmed from that life-altering day, and the solitary days to follow.
But that’s in the past, Pree.
Now, to be whole. On her own—whole.
She could do this.
*
She looked around the room, willing herself to stay calm. Alone and calm. Shake it off and find something to distract, something to do. Because fuck her father!
She began biting her nails, a nervous start to a panic episode. Relax.
Then Ben and his amber eyes flooded her mind. And soothed her.
Ben Trainer. A surprise. Not only wasn’t he a playboy or an adulterer, but he wasn’t the cocky, arrogant doctor playing world-savior she’d thought, either. He was sweet and real and somehow even empathetic to her life’s low. Without condescension.
And damn hotter every minute they’d been near each other, forget about the out-of-body sex from the night before. Which she couldn’t, even if she tried.
She closed her eyes to recall the ebb and flow of his movement over her. Then, with a pulsing in her core, she opened her eyes again. There, staring at her, was the grand Jacuzzi tub. In the loud silence of the empty room, it was practically calling her name.
Her clothes were bunched on the floor and her hair was down the next instant. She moved across the cool terra-cotta tile like an aimless cloud to the tub’s edge. Adjusting the water temperature, she found herself smiling without control. Ready to relax and pamper herself like a woman on her own in the movies—she’d soak and lather and just be.
CHAPTER 18
He couldn’t sleep. Preeya.
Every time he shut his eyes, her violet gaze stared back at him, through him. Something in his veins, like oozing liquid heat. Mercury. Lava. Bliss.
And the thought of her made him rock-hard, ravenous.
But not an ounce of guilt surfaced—dare he think it.
The windows were open. Warm sea air from hundreds of feet below his sister’s hilltop home drifted in, meeting his face, his mouth, his nose. He inhaled deep and long, then threw his head back onto the feather pillow. He was sweating, burning up. He kicked off the bedsheets. His bare chest filled with flash floods of Preeya, images of her writhing, her silken-smooth body rocking above him. He worked to fill his lungs with the Vallarta trade winds as his hand slid down his torso to his steel-hard cock. God, what she did to him. What Preeya Patel did to him.
*
Yes, this was something positive to do alone.
She’d found the perfect temperature—just short of scalding—and too tempted by the clear-liquid heaven, she got in while the tub filled. Her body melted into the water while the parts of her that remained uncovered became chilled in comparison. She huddled closer to the faucet, needing the hot water, letting it hit her knees then run down her legs while splashing her face, her shoulders, her breasts, her pebbled nipples.
She focused on the waterline rising—slow, gradual, and even—helping her breath follow suit. When the water level reached her hip bone, she let her legs fold open, her calves, knees, and thighs now satiated by the liquid warmth. Another round of goose pimples dominoed over her upper body, still prey to the cool air currents of the room. While she waited for the large tub to fill, she hugged herself and rubbed her pruning fingers up and down her arms. Up and up the hot, placid pool crept until finally it covered her navel. She exhaled as she slid her body down and laid her head back into the welcoming water, her hair and scalp getting a subtle and seeping massage.
Her entire body was now encapsulated by hot-fluid comfort but her breasts. She marveled at the contrasting stimuli igniting her senses—scalding heat and breezy cool, the sound of rushing water into the tub’s silent stillness, tensed muscles above the water line and loose below, lips dry and toes wet.
And letting it all cancel out, she found herself floating in absolute peace.
Her focus had never been so keen, so sharp. Sharp like her nipples, the only part of her that hovered above the waterline, tight with the remnant chill moving over her and seemingly more sensitive than usual. Maybe from the detailed attention they’d received the night before. Ben.
She inhaled deeply, his name on her lips, his amber eyes in her thoughts, his body over hers in her waking dream. She sank lower, her legs in lotus position at the very bottom of the bath, the faucet’s stream hammering down on her sensitive juncture, igniting her, arousing her deepest desires—her mental image of Ben fanning the flame.
She’d never in her life been alone by choice, and also had never, by choice, indulged in pleasuring herself.
She swallowed back against the tingling energy sprinting up her body. Her hips and ass shifted to keep the hot stream of water directed, focused. And her mind focused. Focused on being in Ben’s powerful arms. She moaned, an involuntary sound that shot fire to her cheeks. But no one’s here, Preeya. Just you. She inhaled, pleasure not panic, then exhaled, pure relief and calm, and sparks of sensational dynamite.
Oh, God. The hot water’s steady, delicious pressure poured over her delicate bud, turning her innate sensory button to on—so on—and made her hips slowly rise and fall, as if she were meeting Ben’s body, pressing into his strength. His boundless manhood. And the waterfall kept sensitizing her wide-open flower which pulsed and clenched with each passing moment. Oh God, Ben.
The water level rose, now threating to swallow up her pebbled nipples, like impending kisses. Ben’s kisses. She blew out a stream of more contrasting cool air which hit the tips of her hardened nipples, and it was almost too much. If only the warm, wet, firm pressure of Ben’s tongue was there to give and take the painful ecstasy of it, just like he had the night before.
She lifted her head to look at her tensed stomach muscles and curled toes and her hips lifting higher and higher to reach her image of Ben. Then she arched her back, increasing the length of her body so the impending dam of energy that waited at the gate of her heaven had longer and farther to travel. An infinite and limitless flood of pleasure just waiting to rush over her. Faster and higher her hips lifted, meeting the solid stream of water from the faucet…
Until she met her peak. Ben. I’m coming, Ben. Oh God. I am. Coming.
CHAPTER 19
Self-induced orgasm aside, he hardly slept at all. He was too excited. When the sun rose, so did he, excited to be awake, and strangely not tired at all.
He laughed to himself.
After Jamie passed, he had to find ways to trick his brain just to get his two feet on the floor most mornings. Coffee, the paper, the news, a run—or a damn doughnut? While recouping at his sister’s after the funeral, not even a glorious Vallarta sunrise had enticed him. Because, Jesus, what could he tell his mind to look forward to if it wasn’t Jamie by his side, or in the kitchen making coffee, or in the shower, or in the car waiting for him? No, instead of his wife, his love, all he’d had was the emptiness, the shame, the logistical nightmare of his medical license surrounding him. That was what awaited him each and every day since Jamie left him.
It had been a few months of downward spiral when a colleague told him about Doctors Without Borders, and he jumped on it. He needed such an extreme to move him forward. To keep him going. With life. To see raw reality and struggle worse than his own, and to see a difference he could affect. It was the only thing that made his void manageable. Or the illusion of. But it didn’t fill it, not really. Not at all, in fact. It just kind
of hid it from view. From his view.
But none of that mattered today. The clock showed 5:00 a.m.; his feet were firmly planted on the floor and there were only three more hours until he got to see Preeya again. Three hours before he got to talk to her. Laugh with her. Swim in her near-violet eyes. Hear more about her past and present. And what she wanted for her future. What did she really want in future? In life? He craved more direct knowledge of her being. What drove her on? The intrigue was almost killing him.
Just three more hours.
*
“Yes, I had a good night, Geej,” she said, blushing from three thousand miles away. Glad her friend saw only vague vibes of happenings, for the most part. “I relaxed, took a bath, watched some TV, and fell asleep. Alone,” she added, a little pride leaking through, knowing Gigi understood what a triumph that was for her.
“Well, I will tell you what, my friend, you had me awake all night for somethin’. I couldn’t get this crazy swirling sunshine image out of my damn brain. All night long! Finally I had to wake Rod just to get the energy out of my system. He wasn’t complaining any, but I am exhausted this morning, that’s for sure.”
Okay, so on a subconscious level, Gigi knew…but Preeya wasn’t going to dignify her best friend’s digging with any confirmation of her bathtub activity. She’d finally enjoyed herself—alone—and didn’t want to dilute its magic by speaking of it. Even to Gigi. But she would give her a tidbit of something to get her friend sated. “Well, I am going to a secret hidden beach today with Ben. The doctor.”
“The doctor? What doctor?”
“From the other night. From Boise.”
“Boise…wait, wrong-name guy?”
“Yeah, that one.”
“So…you’re going desperate on me now?”
“No, Gigi. Turns out that I’m the ass. He’s a widower. I was the first woman he’d been with since, you know, his wife died.”
“That’s a pretty heavy lie if it is one.” Gigi sighed, a huff of cynicism. “Seriously, Pree, that would be one sick fucker if it isn’t true.”
“It’s true, Geej. His sister had me over for dinner last night. It’s all legit. He lost his wife over a year ago.”
“Dinner at the sister’s? Okay.” Gigi paused to process. “How old is this guy, Preeya?”
“Early thirties. Look, his wife died of cancer and, well, he’s just a guy…a sweet, super-intelligent, and, God, so tall and…so sexy. But at the same time, an old soul, you know?” She paused and pictured him. “Not my type, really…but not like Evan not my type, more like…out-of-my-league not my type.”
Too-good-for-me not my type.
She worked to catch a fuller breath. Ben’s lack of fear, his ability to adapt, move, risk, change, keep calm in the face of chaos—life-or-death chaos—it all hit her in the face and forced another hunt for air. “He’s actually a bit OCD, ultra cautious and serious, though he’s showing signs of loosening up.” Preeya snorted and her pulse began to race at the running thought of him: Ben casually waiting for her at the airport exit, sitting across from her at dinner, opening up in the kitchen, saying good-bye outside. But then the sunscreen. She laughed out.
Gigi ignored the outburst. Talk about serious. “A doctor, Pree. You hate doctors.”
Preeya cleared her throat rather than get defensive. Then consciously quiet, “He’s different, Geej.”
Then Gigi cleared her throat. No words followed.
“Yes, I can be wrong. Not all doctors suck…I guess I need to start being more specific. I hate greedy, superficial plastic surgeons who abandon their kids—that’s my revised criteria. Anyway, he’s an MD and a humanitarian. He travels the damn globe helping the devastated third-world, Geej…”
“Ahh, your adventurous-man check box can be, well, checked.”
Preeya sighed. “I like ’im, Geej.”
“Sounds too good to be—”
“I know, I know. Hell, I’m not marrying the guy, but God, he’s really…real. And sweet. And the sex was, well, unbelievable is an understatement. We clicked, we fit, and that’s what screwed with me most when I thought he’d just used me, that I had been so wrong about how in-sync we were. Because, God, it was like we’d been together before.” Or forever. “Geej, I can sense your eyes rolling. Maybe I don’t have your ‘magical intuition,’ but I think going with this is good. It feels right. So stop being so skeptical. I’m trusting my gut, and it does. It feels right.”
“Can’t help it. I love you. I’m protective.”
“Look, I missed the wedding, I’m here alone, so what have I got to lose? Shit, Geej, this is just a new path to explore, like you said when I left Evan: ‘Explore new paths!’” Gigi had hated Evan because she’d thought Preeya had totally settled. When Preeya rejected the ring, Gigi threw her a surprise party.
“Right, yes. I did say that. But a widower is some heavy shit. What’s his name? I’ve gotta try to tune in to this one.”
That was who Gigi had tuned into last night…Ben, Preeya’s masturbation muse. “Ben, his name is Ben Trainer, but Geej, really. I’m good. Don’t waste your energy. I’m just having a good time. An innocent time. He’s leaving in two days; I’m leaving in two days. It’s all fine.”
“Fine, Pree. If you say so. You just be careful. Seriously. You are ultra-sensitive and have your own special brand of daddy and mommy issues.”
God, how did I ever become best friends with such a psychoanalytical freak? Who always happens to be right!
“Hey, I sensed that shit!” Gigi shot.
“What?”
“Something…not nice…about me.”
“Did you hear me think that you’re always right, which is the only thing I hate about you?” Preeya threw back in mock exasperation.
“Well, that’s true.” Gigi sighed hard into the phone. “Listen, just don’t get all defensive and closed up, Pree. I watch out for you ’cause no one else does.”
“Hey, I’m working on opening up and, you know, conquering my demons. Just last night I…I handled myself—all alone—so there!”
“What do you mean handled?”
“Clitoris-ly handled.”
“I knew it! The sexual energy was too crazy-high and un-muddied!”
“Un-muddied—not a word, Geej.”
“Whatever! You got yourself off! Good for you, Pree! So proud…welcome to womanhood!”
“You’re welcoming me to womanhood, Geej? You still sleep on a futon with that teddy bear, the one with the striped sleeping cap.”
“Hey, don’t rag on Sleepyhead. He still has my mom’s scent, and the futon mattress is good for my back. Anyway, bitch, I’m just excited for you, rockin’ the finger!”
“The bath faucet, actually.”
“Oooh, nice…so spa-like.” Gigi inhaled as if picturing herself in the same glorious state, then sighed herself back into seriousness. “Preeya, I just want you to be happy. And to stay happy. As long as you’re taking this doctor guy at face value, go and have an awesome day. And maybe just, you know, sleep tonight. Give me a break from all the sexual energy in the ethers, would ya?” She laughed, but Preeya knew she was dead serious.
“I can’t promise anything about tonight, Geej, but I will have an awesome day.” Of that she was certain. In-her-gut certain.
CHAPTER 20
The marina parking lot was nearly empty, it being low season, and not too many tourists headed out this early in the day anyway. Ben opened the car door for Preeya, helped her out, and then handed her a package wrapped in purple tissue paper. “This is for you.”
Nose scrunched, she squared her stance and shook her head as she opened it. “You really shouldn’t have gotten me anything.”
“It’s a Thai sarong. From the Bangkok airport. I had a layover there.” Then he willed himself to shut the hell up.
“It’s gorgeous. Thank you. But”—she laughed out loud—“you hadn’t met me yet…when you bought it? And it’s so perfect…” She fingered the thin fabric, her face a
ll lit up.
He nodded and gave her a tight-lipped grin. “Honestly, I had brought it back for Beth, but when I gave it to her last night she insisted I give it to you instead. ‘To go with your eyes’ were her exact words. So I guess it’s a gift from Beth, really.”
The tilt of her head made him melt.
“That’s really sweet of her. And of her uncle.” She winked as she flicked off her sandals, holding his forearm for balance. “I love it so much, I’m puttin’ it on right now.” A smile of sweetness laced with spice took over her face.
Which made him slow blink in disbelief at how unbelievably stunning she was, and then that she was going to strip down. There. In the public parking lot. He flung his gaze down her body, then back to her eyes.
“Don’t worry, Ben. I have my suit on under this.”
“Right, of course.” But the small groups of carwash guys scanning the parking lot for business all had ample time to watch her slide, wriggle, and bend out of her clothes and down to her swim suit. And the sensations that the mere thought of her undressing brought out in him—every amazing square millimeter of her body that he’d devoured a day and a half ago—he realized that he should have given her the sarong in the car. So she could have changed in the car.
Really, Ben?
He swallowed and shook his head to stop his gawking and thinking and overheating, and then stood in front of her to block her from view while blowing out a long, calming breath.
“Hey, hold this for me, would ya?” She handed him her purse, freeing up her hands to unbutton then shimmy out of her jeans shorts, revealing—oh God—her black-and-silver bikini bottoms. He sighed and rolled his eyes. She then wrapped the sarong tight around her curvy hips and voluptuous behind. Yeah, he needed to bite down on something, and not picture biting down on her.
Because she was just too much for him. An overload for the senses. The other night’s torrent, then last night’s sweet surreality—her with him and his family—and hell, every minute of his own torturous questioning and fantasizing and analyzing up to now.
