Riding the Storm

by Joanne Rock

  He ground his teeth together, not wanting to touch her until he could again find some restraint.

  “It’s been too long for me,” he warned, his voice sounding nothing like his own.

  “Me, too.” She gave a quick nod. “Hurry.”

  He wanted to do so much more. To tease her higher, take her places that would make her see stars. But the need to be inside her roared through him with a primal imperative he couldn’t ignore.

  She started to slide her fingers into the waistband of her panties, attempting to wriggle them down. He saved her the effort, yanking them off her legs and taking the stockings with them. Pitching them sideways, he paused only long enough to make sure they didn’t land on a candle flame before sweeping off his boxers.

  “Condom,” she whispered with a raspy breath, reaching toward the table nearby. “I put them here.”

  “Smart thinking,” he grunted, grabbing a strand of foil packets from the bench seat. “We should be well stocked since I bought a box, too.”

  “Great minds think alike.” She ripped a square free and tore it open.

  He tossed the rest aside, grateful to be done with anything requiring fine motor skills. His concentration had narrowed to this woman. The sex he’d been dying for ever since he’d stumbled across her.

  With firm, steady fingers, she rolled the condom into place. Her thigh slid between his as she began to lift herself on top of him. But he didn’t have enough finesse for that right now.

  In an instant, he rolled her beneath him, covering her. Bee-stung from his kisses, her lips parted when he slipped his hand between her legs and cupped her sex.

  He caught her cry in a kiss, tasting her mouth while she spread her thighs wide for him. She melted over his hand like warm honey, an invitation he couldn’t deny a second longer.

  Hips rearing back, he positioned himself and plunged deep. Their shouts of satisfaction mingled, the sound filling the hot, steamy quarters below deck.

  Satiny arms wrapped around his neck while sleek, creamy legs twined around his waist, holding him fast. Josie’s breasts pressed to his chest, the full, soft weights shifting against him with each thrust of his hips. He was lost to the feel of her feminine muscles squeezing him in a slick, silken vise. Her hips arched forward to meet his each and every time, as if she needed this fulfillment just as much as he did. It seemed impossible, but he’d never felt a hunger like hers. She didn’t seek pleasure passively. She rode the storm with him rising atop each wave, seeking…

  He knew what. Just like they’d sparked off one another’s chemistry all day, Keith understood intuitively what she needed.

  Skimming a palm down her waist and over her belly, he trailed two fingers lower. Lower. When he reached the tight bundle of nerves between her legs, he circled the nub slowly. She tensed, motionless. Waiting.

  On instinct, he tugged on her lower lip with his teeth, a gentle nip. All the while, he kept up the pressure on her sex. A gasp caught in her throat as the tension in her body peaked before she spasmed helplessly against him. Wave after wave of orgasmic contractions rolled through her, her slick heat squeezing him tight until he found his own pleasure. His hips went rogue on him and all he could do was hold on to Josie’s shoulders while his release steamrolled through.

  In the quiet aftermath, he held her against him in the candlelight, watching the shadows flicker. She lay beside him, her breath in synch with his. Their mutual fulfillment was a deep joy that would have made him feel as if he was floating even if they hadn’t been on the water.

  As her breathing evened out into a steady rhythm, he reached to pull one of the blankets over her. Tucking the cotton up under her chin, he was rewarded by a fleeting smile that made the shallowest of dimples in her cheek.

  His chest pulled tight with a weird constriction from inside. An odd sense of tender protectiveness, maybe.

  Taking a deep breath, he ignored the feeling, knowing that sex—especially great sex—could knock you for a loop. He wasn’t in the market for a major relationship and neither was she.

  That left him with two more days to wring every last incredible moment out of his time with Josie before he returned her to dry land. And he didn’t intend to waste it by letting messy emotions get involved.

  6

  Scary good.

  That’s what Josie would have texted in answer to Marlena’s question about her time with Keith, in a message that had somehow made its way to her phone’s inbox even though there was no land in sight.

  Josie sat on the sailboat’s foredeck in the moonlight shortly past midnight, while Keith insisted on making them a late dinner in the tiny galley kitchen below. She’d been too doped up on endorphins to argue, her whole body a languid and well-pleasured testament to Keith Murphy’s talented hands. Hips. Mouth.

  Yes, sex had been scary good. She tucked the phone between two cushions on the built-in bench seat while she eyed the moon overhead and inhaled the scents of basil and garlic wafting on the breeze. Her stomach rumbled in anticipation of whatever he was cooking. She might have felt guilty about falling asleep on him so quickly after the first time they’d made love, but he’d woken her up in the most delicious way, his fingers sketching light circles all over her bare skin so that she was halfway to orgasm before she even opened her eyes.

  And while it was amazing and hot, and her body still soared on its own little happy cloud right now, the rational part of her sat on the Vesta and felt knocked off her moorings just a bit. She tugged a light fleece throw blanket over her shoulders even though she’d pulled on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt.

  “I hope you’re hungry.”

  She turned to see Keith carrying a shiny blue tray full of dishes and drinks. Hurrying to flip up a tabletop surface at the end of the bench seating, she made a place for him to set it.

  “Is that a boogie board?” She fingered the rope on one end of the oddly shaped tray.

  Her hand bumped his as she helped him lower it, awareness still a tangible thing between them.

  “If you knew my brother, you wouldn’t be surprised that he stocks sports equipment over basic serving utensils.” Keith turned the board a few degrees to ensure the place settings lined up with the seats on the deck. “He quit acquiring culinary skills after he learned how to toast a Pop-Tart.”

  “Unlike you, apparently.” Her mouth watering, she reached for a napkin and laid it over her lap so she’d be ready to dig in at a moment’s notice. “This smells amazing.”

  “Polenta pasticciata—polenta with tomato sauce and cheese.” He poured water from a pitcher for both of them and tossed a lime slice in each glass. “Dig in.”

  Only too happy to oblige, she lifted a bite to her lips. Tasted.

  “Oh, wow. It’s delicious.” The flavors steamed fragrantly on her tongue. “I’m going to warn you that cooking is the way to my heart, so tread carefully if you don’t want me looking you up every time I’m hungry for polenta.”

  “Come over anytime.” He lifted his fork toward her in mock salute. “I’ll whip some up.”

  “You think I’m kidding,” she managed to say between bites, enjoying the way the night wrapped around them, shielding them from the rest of the world. “But I fell in love with the way my third-grade boyfriend’s mom made her peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches, and do you know I still crave those things? The secret is homemade bread. I’m pretty sure the peanut butter was homemade, too. She was a goddess.”

  Mrs. Hacking was also the kind of mom who hung her children’s artwork on the walls in the most warm-hearted interior decorating Josie had seen to date, a direct contrast to her own mom, who admitted to having her in order to get the in-laws off her back about having a kid.

  Josie forked up another bite, only too glad to bury that memory with Keith’s cooking.

  “So you were dating by third grade?” Keith asked as he helped himself to the polenta.

  “Maybe I started too early, and that’s what made me gun-shy for the last couple of years.”
Recalling the way her mom used to deck her out in designer fashions at an early age, Josie shivered at the memory of being paraded around like a sideshow at her parents’ parties. She pulled the blanket closer as a sea breeze stirred.

  “Or maybe you’ve never found anyone whose cooking can compete with the third-grade mom.”

  “You cook and psychoanalyze?” Slipping another bite of polenta into her mouth, she closed her eyes at the warm comfort of delicious food. “One might cancel out the other, now that I think about it.”

  “I’m much better at the former. An armchair pretender at the latter. You want to psychoanalyze me over polenta? Give it a shot. It’s fun dinner conversation.”

  “Okay.” Straightening in her seat, she assumed her best German accent. “Can you tell me anyfink about your dreams, Herr Murphy?” In a whisper, she added, “I love games with accents. It’s like decorating for your voice.”

  “Actually, I’d been dreaming about numbers and balance sheets until I met a really hot brunette. I think I’m going to dream about silver sequins tonight instead.”

  She straightened imaginary eyeglasses. “You have verk on the brain. Very common. I prescribe vast amounts of copulation and polenta.”

  Keith nearly lost his mouthful of water when she said “copulation,” but he swallowed without choking, and laughed between coughs.

  “I never got into the sexy doctor fantasy before,” he confided when he’d recovered. “But I think you just introduced a whole new genre to my list of mental favorites.”

  “Glad to know I could pay you back for the food somehow.” She speared a forkful of fontina cheese and sighed happily. “Who knew I could relax like this?”

  “Cheers to that.” He took another long drink of water. “I really like my job, so I guess I haven’t missed downtime, but I’ve had a damn good time today.”

  Peering across the table at the broad wedge of his shoulders in his white T-shirt, she was amazed to think she’d known him only for a day. A long, eventful day, for sure. But still…she’d never gotten close to someone so fast.

  “I really like my job, too.” She steered the conversation back toward work, figuring that was safer than exploring how happy she felt. Tonight she just wanted to enjoy the rare sense of well-being coursing through her, so she concentrated on her meal, hoping she could satisfy at least one hunger while she got to know him better. “I think a lot of people don’t get that, even people who are in a position to pick and choose what they’d like to do. Which is scary when you think about it—how many people are out there doing jobs they don’t enjoy.”

  Keith shrugged, shoving aside his empty plate and then moving to the other side of the table to sit next to her. The action was quick and easy. The gesture touched her, especially when he slid his arm around her shoulders. It all felt way too comfortable for how briefly they’d known each other. But he followed her example and took up the work thread, perhaps as eager as her to keep their conversation on more neutral terrain.

  “People get trapped because they own a house and can’t move when their company closes down. Or they have kids in school and don’t want to leave a good district to follow a dream career.” He poured more water into their glasses—clear plastic tumblers, which seemed a wise choice on board a watercraft. “Then again, maybe some folks just don’t know themselves well enough to be able to figure out what sort of work they’d enjoy.”

  “I always knew I wanted to do something with art.” Nearby, a fish jumped, a phantom splash in the water. It made her realize how long it had been since she’d heard any noise besides the gentle lapping of the waves.

  “Like painting?”

  “No. I stink at painting.” She thought about how easy it would be to tip her head against his shoulder, to curl into the arm slung around her. “Yet I have definite opinions about what I like and what looks good next to a painting. The art of a house or the art of a room, I guess. But even before I got bitten by the interior design bug, I was working in fashion, creating wearable art.”

  “Fashion design?” The muscles in his shoulders tensed alongside hers. “As in European runway shows and four-thousand-dollar jackets?”

  “Exactly. It’s a whole different world.” She still missed the all-night brainstorming on themes for collections, working side-by-side with brilliant fashion minds in an atmosphere of kinetic creative energy. “But if I’d made it in haute couture, I would have brought the same mantra to clothes that I’m now bringing to rooms—you don’t have to spend boatloads of cash to surround yourself with beautiful things.”

  “Very egalitarian of you.” He twined a lock of her hair around his finger and then spun it out again, watching it coil on her shoulder.

  The action—so simple and yet sweetly intimate at the same time—gave her a warm, tingling feeling inside that had nothing to do with sexual chemistry. It was a warning sign, perhaps, that talking about work wasn’t going to distract her from how very much she liked Keith Murphy.

  “Thank you.” Leaning forward, she started to stack the plates. “And I call cleanup duty, since you did the cooking.”

  If he was surprised by her abrupt need to hop to her feet and bustle around the makeshift table, he did a good job of concealing it. Maybe he was committed to keeping this trip free of complications, too.

  “Deal.” He picked up the tray when she had things stacked in the center. “I’ll just carry this down for you. Then I’ve got a few text messages to send while we have sketchy connectivity. I can’t make calls, but the texts are going through.”

  “We must be close enough to shore,” she mused. “Hard to believe when it’s so quiet out here.”

  But it was a good reminder that, no matter how isolated they felt, they weren’t far from civilization. She might as well enjoy every moment of her time out here with Keith, because once they returned to the real world, he would take Green Principles global, while she remained in Boston to continue building her business.

  With any luck, the tabloids would never learn that Josie had resurrected her inner party girl for this one, reckless outing.

  R U sure U want to sell Vesta?

  Keith typed out the message while seated on deck under the stars as Josie cleaned up in the galley. He hit Send, knowing his brother Jack had discovered his ex-girlfriend on the catamaran by now. Keith had sent him a warning that she was onboard to travel north to Bar Harbor, since the corporate boat was headed there anyhow. But, typical Jack, he’d ignored those texts and been completely surprised to find Alicia there.

  Jack was still on the catamaran and hadn’t sent Keith any rants about deceiving him into spending time with Alicia. A good sign, right?

  His phone buzzed with a new message.

  Wait on it. U can dock wherever.

  Jack was having second thoughts about selling the boat that had been sentimental for him and Alicia. So much for the Charleston trip. Now Keith needed to decide whether to be honest with Josie and call it quits early on the minivacation. Or keep the news to himself and see what happened in the next two days.

  Trying to set up a situation where he could walk the line without feeling like a heel with her, Keith clicked out a reply.

  Front coming through. Will sail ahead for kicks & dock where it catches me.

  That gave him an excuse to stay on the water longer. He sensed that, despite Josie’s initial resistance to the trip, she was enjoying herself. And, damn it, she needed the vacation time as much as he did.

  His phone vibrated again and he looked at Jack’s final message.

  Fine. But U still sail like crap.

  Chuckling, Keith shut off the device without replying. No words were necessary, since they’d already had this debate at Ryan’s engagement party. Obviously the former navy boy would never have handed over his precious sailboat if he didn’t trust Keith in the first place. But every damn one of his brothers liked to talk smack. Even their honorary brother, Axel, a Finnish hockey player, who’d lived with the Murphys during his last year
of high school. Six months out of Helsinki and he’d been as mouthy as the rest of them.

  “You look rather amused.” Josie’s voice startled him as she emerged from the companionway close to where he sat on the rear deck.

  The all-around light illuminated her delicate features, revealing a hint of shadows under her eyes. He looped his arms around her neck, thinking he could carry her straight to his bed and tuck her in beside him. Maybe the gentle rocking of the boat would help lull him to sleep before he did something really selfish, like undress her again.

  “My siblings are an endless source of entertainment.” Rising, he met her before she reached the seats. “Thanks for putting away dinner. You must be exhausted. A good host would let you go to sleep now.”

  “An observant host would have noticed I never do anything by half measures once I commit myself.” She lifted herself onto her toes to kiss him, her body skimming against his from hip to shoulder as she moved.

  Thoughts of sleep vanished.

  “That begs the question,” he murmured, his hands roaming her back possessively, “what exactly are you committed to right now?”

  She lifted a questioning eyebrow, an expression he was beginning to realize came right before one of her low-key zingers.

  “Don’t you remember? We’re on a strict regimen of polenta and copulation to help us relax.”

  “Believe me. I didn’t forget.” He’d nearly choked on his tongue the first time she’d said it. “But I know this has been a long day and you didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “So we’ll sleep in tomorrow.” She tugged him toward the companionway and peered up at him with mischievous dark eyes.

  “I guess I underestimated your level of dedication to, uh, relaxing.”