by Ava Branson
I was lost. “Micki, it couldn’t be more obvious how badly I want you, but it’s going to go like this, sweetheart. I don’t want to fuck this up. Your call, your pace.” I pressed my forehead to hers and squeezed my eyes shut. It took every ounce of discipline I had to pull away, but I had to. We were on a public beach on a small island where she lived and worked.
As painful as it was not to kiss her again and again, I released her and took a step back. Our hands found each other’s. This had to be right, damn it. It had to come from her, and it had to be in the right place at the right time.
“I’ll come.”
At first I didn’t think I heard her correctly. “You’ll what?”
She lifted her chin. “I said I’ll come, if the invitation is still open.”
I went still, afraid if I took a breath or spoke, she’d laugh and tell me she was joking. My heart couldn’t take that. “Okay,” I exhaled finally.
She tilted her head to one side and her hair slipped off her shoulder, leaving that silky expanse of skin bare. I drank in every inch, my blood heating as it coursed through my body.
“Okay, so the bad news is I have to leave tomorrow to get to St. Thomas and I’ll be there for two days. Possibly three, but I’m sure as hell going to try to keep it to two. I’ll let you know as soon as I can. You just need to tell me what you want to do and I’ll arrange a flight for you.”
She frowned, but with a bemused smile. “I think I can arrange a flight—”
I shook my head. “No, you don’t understand. I have a friend who has a plane—”
“That’s lovely, but I can—”
I pressed a finger to her lips. “But,” I murmured. “I can have my friend, Linc, get you whenever you want. It’s a perfectly beautiful plane, and he’ll take very good care of you and—unh unh uh.” I wagged my finger over her lips when she would’ve interrupted me. “You’re precious cargo. I insist.”
She gave me a wide-eyed look, then her lips moved under my finger. “I was just going to say, I have to work on my schedule first.”
I dropped my hand and straightened, in agony over the feel of her lush lips moving against my finger. “I know. Which means you’ve got to get going.” I turned, pulling her next to me to walk back the way we’d come.
“I do?” she asked.
“Yes. You have things to do, people to call, appointments to arrange, a cat sitter to get—”
“Wait,” she pulled to a stop. “How’d you know I have a cat?”
I shrugged. “I didn’t before this morning. You know that ornate mahogany desk taking over almost the entire corner of the workroom in your studio? The one with framed photos of a black and white cat? That’s not just any old cat, now, is it?”
She looked unconvinced and eyed me with skepticism. “There are two other desks back there. How’d you decide that one was mine?”
“Simple. It suited you.”
She opened her mouth, then scoffed. “Alright, Sherlock. What tipped you off?”
I chuckled deeply, enjoying her consternation. “It looked polished. Rich. Intricate. Something to be treasured for a lifetime.”
She shook her head but her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“And a little anally neat,” I added to tease. Something still bothered her in what I’d said, but I had no fucking idea what it was.
She looked up out of the corner of her eye. “Anally neat?”
“Oh, yeah,” I added with feeling. “A totally hot look, too. Anally neat is the new sexy.”
Laughing, she replied, “Good to know, good to know. And to think I spent thirty minutes picking out this dress tonight.” She lifted the long length of fabric for emphasis.
Restraint was overrated. I wrapped my arms around her. Hauling her against me, I lowered my head. “Nothing could possibly be sexier than this dress and the way you look in it. Except if you were out of it.” My mouth found hers and I let caution go to hell because the need for more had become unleashed. It was dark enough that we wouldn’t be arrested for public lewdness, thank God. The kiss turned into a dance of carnal lust, each of us tasting…taking. I hissed in a breath when her fingers dug into my shoulders, pulling and pushing at the same time.
“Devin, if you do that again, I don’t think I’ll be able to show my face in this town because I’m this close to taking your clothes off with my teeth.”
Hearing that she wanted me as badly as I wanted her was like a sucker punch to the gut. I had a tough time drawing in a breath and struggled with tempting her to do just that. The blood pounding in my ears drowned out the soft sounds of the water. With painful, excruciating control, I held back and did, what I thought was, the right thing. “C’mon, I’ll walk you back to your car.” Never had being a gentleman been so painful.
Ever.
There was a cold, cold shower in my future tonight.
When we got back to where the beach ended and the path began, she bent over to brush the sand from her feet and slip her sandals back on. The top of her dress gapped and—Christ help me—I got an eyeful of what I’d ached to touch and taste all night. Neither too small nor too big—and all natural. The soft, succulent curves of her breasts were almost my undoing. Christ, I earned a medal tonight. Restraint sucked. Patience sucked.
I was in hell and I had to get her back to her car before this night ended with us in my bed.
The ambient light from the resort highlighted and shadowed her face as we stood next to her car, those luscious rosy lips still plump from kissing, demanding tasting again. Afraid to do more, I pressed my forehead against hers, wrapping my arms around her, capturing her hands between us.
“You’d better go before I forget we’re standing in a very public parking lot.” Her fingers splayed against my chest, flexing gently. I prayed I’d feel them sooner rather than later without the cotton barrier of my shirt.
Footsteps crunched on gravel from somewhere behind me and she tensed.
“You should go,” I whispered, not wanting to let go but knowing it was the right thing to do. The smart thing to do. The fucking hardest thing to do.
She nodded, her eyes dark and round, looked up at me. “Still want to see my little renovated cottage? I have coffee, but not much else.”
Concentration on anything else but her nearness was difficult. “What time?”
“I usually go for an early morning run, sooo…eight thirty? I’ll text you my address—”
“Already know it,” I confessed, half sheepishly.
One perfectly shaped eyebrow shot up. “You already know it?” she repeated.
I gave her a have-you-forgotten look. “Google, remember? There’s a wealth of information out there, but it’s a little scary that people can find out so much. Now,” I held out my hand, “your keys?”
She dug in her purse and handed them to me. Clicking the lock, I opened the door for her, but not before sealing my mouth on hers for one last taste. She lifted her hand and pressed it against the center of my chest where my heart pounded against my ribs.
“Eight thirty,” I promised against her mouth.
Chapter Seven
Micki
Getting up for my run wasn’t difficult, considering I’d slept a grand total of four hours…and that was combined hours, not concurrent. A certain blue-eyed surfer-sailor-turned-marine-architect had permeated every part of my brain and body, and there was no corner I could retreat to that didn’t have his face, his body, or his mouth filling my thoughts. I ached with a need for more, and anticipation of spending time with him in the islands left me breathless and parts of me heated to painfully needy levels.
I wiped the steam from my bathroom mirror and peered through the streaks. I didn’t look different, but I sure as hell felt different. Like nothing was the same. My house was no longer just my house. It was where Devin would be at eight-thirty and then after he left, I’d remember nothing but his being here.
What had happened to the pragmatic queen of common sense?
She’s thr
own it all to hell and said yes to something…something…
Crazy. It was insane to think I could seal all the emotional baggage I’d carried all these years for him away and never give them a second thought.
But, God, I wanted this chance. Wanted to spend time with him. Make love in the sun. Feel the wind caress our bodies. Find out if we truly were destined to be soul mates, like we’d thought we were so long ago.
The faster the thoughts of him came, his mouth, his body against mine, the needier my flesh became. My breathing grew shallow and I burned for his touch between my legs. Closing my eyes, I pressed my hips against the cool marble vanity to try and douse the fire that was burning in me. The contrast between cool, polished stone and my slick, overheated flesh was erotic on a level I’d never experienced. I let loose a cry, my body shaking, craving him. Panting, I slipped my fingers between my legs, gliding easily against the silky, wet folds. A low moan rose from my chest and I gave over to the need for release. So incredibly turned on, it took only a few short strokes before my orgasm shook me, leaving my knees weak and my heart thudding.
Sucking in ragged breaths, I sagged against the vanity before opening my eyes and focusing on the new reflection in the mirror. What I saw now was a woman with high color in her cheeks and eyes almost jet black with desire. A woman lost in passion.
“Oh, careful, Micki. Be very, very careful,” I whispered to the vaguely familiar image.
A short while later, showered and dressed, I was putting the last touches on my makeup when the doorbell rang. Glancing at the small antique clock on my vanity it confirmed what I’d thought. He was early.
Jamming the mascara wand back in its tube, I took one last look in the mirror before sprinting to the door.
“Good morning.” His eyes swept my entire length, ending with a big, wide, appreciative look. “You’re absolutely beautiful.”
I dipped in a playful curtsey. “Why, thank you, kind sir.” There was nothing playful about the way my heart battered about in my chest seeing the glint in his eyes and the memory of his kisses when my eyes found his mouth.
The wind gusted and pushed against the door. Letting it swing open, I gestured him in. “Welcome to my renovation station.” He walked into the small entry and smiled, producing an enormous bouquet of mixed flowers from behind him.
“These aren’t nearly as beautiful as you, but the florist named Bud said this was something he thought you’d like. But, boy howdy, he was a grumpy old cuss.” He shrugged, with an innocent look. “I guess he didn’t plan on opening his shop so early, but hopefully the tip I gave him made his day a little brighter. And who the hell names their shop Bud’s Buds anyway?”
“Obviously, Bud did, but—wait. You bribed the man to open up early?”
“I wouldn’t call it a bribe exactly. I merely assured him this was very important and I certainly recognized the inconvenience it caused him and that his time was obviously valuable.” He lifted his hands, palms up, in an I have no idea look. “Ultimately, he seemed pleased with the sale.” He looked pointedly at the flowers in my hand. “I hope you like them.”
If he’d handed me a fistful of poison ivy, I’d have loved nothing better. I looked down at the massive riot of lilies, roses, sunflowers, peonies, and some other flowers I couldn’t identify. It was exactly the kind of arrangement I would’ve chosen for myself. Wild, rustic, and unstructured. “These are gorgeous, Devin.” I looked up, feeling the crush of first love all over again.
He looked relieved. “I’m glad, but I have to confess. I, uh…I deferred to Mr. Bud on the choice. I’m not a formal roses kind of guy, but he assured me he’d done flowers for you before and he remembered you liked things colorful and more natural looking.”
I was flabbergasted. “He remembered that? Gosh, he hasn’t done any flowers for me in a—” Since the last time I dated. “A long time,” I finished. Sensing his eyes on me, I looked up to find an odd expression on his face. Just as quickly as it had come, it vanished.
“So,” he dropped his hands on his hips and surveyed my living room. “So, this is the money pit?”
I stuck my nose deep in the flowers and inhaled. “Mm, so, so nice. Let me get these in water.” I’d taken one step and remembered why he was here. I turned, with a sweeping gesture. “Oh, and this is the house that’s the reason I’m not able to charter one of your yachts,” I teased. I looked around the perimeter with a smile. “This is what two years’ labor of love looks like. Not to mention bucketsful of money. Late nights. Pure sweat equity and a couple of moments of near mental breakdown.” I grinned like a monkey with a fresh banana. “Care for the nickel tour?”
“I was hoping you’d offer.”
“I’ll show you some shots of the before a little later. There hasn’t been a corner that I haven’t touched in some way or fashion. But I like this room; this wasn’t a tough room. But please stop and adore the medallion on the ceiling. Give that sucker all the reverence you can because I spent three weeks working on that alone. It had cracked and broken, but I loved it so much, I damn near put myself in physical therapy from working above my head like that. So much of it had to be repaired, but I couldn’t be more pleased with the result.”
He looked up and admired the intricate plaster design. “You’re a determined, DIYer, that’s for sure. That’s some pretty painstaking—not to mention, backbreaking—kind of work. It’s beautiful and the detail is amazing.” He looked over with admiration plain on his face. “Damn nice job, Micki.”
I tried to subdue the rush of pleasure I found in his praise. “Thanks for noticing. I won’t lie. I was damn glad when that was over. After that, I decided to give my body a break so I spent next week or so on the ground, working these baseboards.” I indicated the rest of the living room. “It gave my poor back and neck a break. And…” I looked around the room, remembering my hard work, “all the floors in the house are new. At some point, previous owners plastered linoleum over the original hardwoods in the house and, oh my God, what a hellish job that was.” With a shake of my head, I let loose a sigh. “Worst part about it was the floors weren’t salvageable so all new went in throughout. Took a big hit to the budget on that one.”
Right then, a soft meow came from the opposite wall of the living room. There, floor to ceiling bookcases stood that I’d carefully staged with a mixture of books and small art objects I’d collected or created over the years. A window seat anchored the middle with a large flat-pane window that looked out toward my neighbor’s house and their carefully manicured yard. Cosmo, my faithful feline housemate, stretched from his nap with a giant yawn.
“Ah, yes,” he chuckled. “And that would be…?”
“Yes, yes. That would be Cosmo, who is—as you saw—immortalized on my desk.”
“And your pet sitter said yes?” he asked eagerly.
“I’m sure she will and, no, I haven’t contacted her yet because I have to work on my schedule first and there hasn’t been a whole lot of time since I left you last night.”
“I’ve already messaged Linc so he’s on standby. All he needs is the day.
A shockwave of excitement raced up my spine knowing this was really happening. That he was that eager to get me there made my heart skip a beat. “I’m planning on attacking my schedule first thing when I get in the studio this morning. But in the meantime, c’mon and I’ll put these flowers in water and show you the rest of the place. And oh,” I pointed to one of my favorite features in the living room. “Those arched glass doors to the top half of the built-ins are new. I had those made and couldn’t have been happier with the look. I didn’t do anything more to the fireplace but paint the brick, but I like the way it turned out. Pretty much the same thing here in the dining room,” I pointed out as we walked through it to get to the kitchen.
“It’s really nice, Micki. I’m impressed with the work you’ve done. It’s elegant in a quiet, non-ostentatious way, but comfortable at the same time. It’s got a nice, homey feel.”
&nbs
p; “Thanks.” His praise pleased me more than I expected. “Now, here,” we walked into the kitchen. “This was the really money pit. Everything was gutted here. Down to the studs, including a full house re-pipe that I didn’t see coming. That was a pricey little find, let me tell you.”
The kitchen was my favorite room in the house. It made me smile. The white cabinets and beautifully veined marble were classic and timeless. Clean and inviting. “This kitchen was really small, but I was able to open it up to what used to be the utility room and that gave me enough room to add this banquette. I pushed the utility room into the garage, which isn’t as convenient, but I use the kitchen every day and the washer and dryer once a week, so it works out. I honestly never use the dining room unless I’m entertaining and most times, it’s just my casual friends so we’re in the kitchen the whole time anyway.”
He was nodding his head as he slowly turned and took in the whole room. I watched as his eyes settled over every detail, and I decided that, in a way, marine architecture wasn’t far from house architecture. “I can appreciate the use of space here. You’ve maximized everything about this room to its most efficient and streamlined use.” He turned with a look of frank approval and respect. “Did you design this whole place yourself?”
“Yep.” I nodded, looking around the room with pride. “I sure did.” Me, and a large bottle of Tylenol. And the odd glass of wine.
“Hey, if the photography thing doesn’t work out, I could probably hook you up with some folks that refurbish yachts. It would be financially worth your time and, based on what I’ve seen here with working with challenging specs, you’ve got an eye for it.”
I surveyed his expression for signs of polite empty platitudes. Either he was really good at bullshitting or he was being genuine.
“Pffttt,” I sputtered. “I just get lucky now and then.” Walking to the pantry, I grabbed a vase and filled it with water, fluffing out the flowers into a massive spray. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, though. I appreciate your thinking I could do a good job.”
