Touching Paradise

by Cleo Peitsche

  “The boat?” she asked, wincing at how stupid the question was.

  “Sure.”

  She started to shake her head, but Koenraad was already moving her hands to the steering wheel, which seemed quite small in relation to the boat. But then, her knowledge of boats had flatlined somewhere around old Popeye episodes. Koenraad stood behind her, his body wrapped around her yet barely touching. Too bad. She felt him, though, an invisible force like two magnets slowly pulling together. But then he leaned forward and pulled down a lever, and the boat moved faster. She fell back against his solid chest.

  “I think that’s enough driving for me,” she said, already sidling away. “See? Boring.”

  He allowed her to slip to the side, but she didn’t go far. Already she missed his smooth skin.

  It was hard to judge how fast they were going now that there wasn’t anything stationary nearby, but from the steady vibration of the engine, it felt fast.

  He pulled the seat down, then sat. The bench was wide enough for two, but she didn’t feel comfortable just plopping down there. She stayed where she was, trying not to look at the tantalizing bulge in his swimsuit, trying not to imagine what his muscular waist would feel like gripped between her inner thighs.

  About twenty minutes later, he slowed the yacht. They weren’t very far from what looked like a small island. Two other boats were docked at the tiny pier, and there were a few small, rather rundown buildings near the docks, too. Otherwise, the area looked deserted.

  “That’s where we’re going?”

  He nodded. He toggled levers, worked a joystick, and the boat rotated. Monroe stared at a scrawny mutt that was nosing through the rubble of what might have been a very small shack, perhaps a tollbooth, though whatever it had been guarding was long gone.

  Then she had the pleasure of watching Koenraad tie the boat up. His muscles rippled as he worked, and she stared openly, taking advantage of his distraction. There hadn’t been many times in her life when she’d wanted to fuck a guy she didn’t know. She wanted this man. He would be good in bed. She was sure of that… he was too perceptive not to be. But even if he just lay there like a lump, he’d still be more fun than Thomas.

  Koenraad came back aboard and lowered a walkway. “Ready?” he asked.

  For dry land? Absolutely. “Don’t you need keys or something?”

  “Everyone knows everyone else here, and people are nosy as hell,” he said with a laugh.

  She grabbed her bag, and as soon as she was on the dock, she yanked the yellow coverup over her head. Perfect. No more sucking in her stomach and trying to keep Koenraad from standing behind her.

  They walked along a short boardwalk, then into soft sand. The houses were connected by a packed sandy road. Koenraad led her past all of that, and through an arid area. A woman on a bike pedaled by, mumbling a greeting to them as she passed.

  “Everyone here is so friendly. Are people happy, or is it a government conspiracy to keep the tourists coming back?”

  Koenraad arched an eyebrow. “So you wanna come back?”

  She felt herself blushing. Thankfully, Koenraad asked another question. “Is it really so bad where you live?”

  “No. It’s… different. You’ve never been to New York?”

  “I have, years ago. I liked it, but I need access to the ocean.”

  Insects buzzed in the air, and unfamiliar black and orange birds swooped overhead. “This way,” Koenraad said. Their path had risen, though Monroe wouldn’t have considered it an actual hill, and now they were certainly going down, down, down.

  “Ready?” Koenraad asked. He grabbed her hand and steadied her as they approached a steep bit. The sand had turned to rock, and Monroe’s sandals were most definitely not up to the challenge.

  A moment later, her breath caught in her throat. There was a crystal-clear lake in front of them, the water still as glass. “What is this place?”

  Koenraad swept an arm in a wide semi-circle. “See how it’s round?”

  “Volcano?”

  “Meteor.”

  “Where does the water come from?”

  He smiled. “If you can hold your breath for thirty seconds, I’ll show you.”

  Her heart stopped, and her feet slowed. Koenraad turned to look at her.

  “Um… how deep is it?”

  A smile stretched across his handsome face. “Not nearly as deep as the ocean.”

  She cast him a dubious look.

  “And there aren’t any penguins or seals or whatever attacked your tour boat.”

  “It was a shark.”

  He tugged her beach bag off her shoulder and carefully set it on a rock. “You are safe with me, Monroe.”

  “It’s not you I don’t trust.”

  He shook his head, his brows drawing together. “Then what?”

  “I…” How to explain a fear of water to a guy who’d grown up next to the ocean? “I’m not a strong swimmer.”

  He squinted up at the sun, and she held his sunglasses out to him. He shook his head.

  “What?” she asked, worried that she’d offended him. She shoved the glasses on top of her hair.

  “I wonder… do you trust your instincts to lead you to joy? Or is fear the sole instinct you obey?”

  She’d never thought of it like that. “Well, I’m here with you, trusting you not to murder me. Or throw me into… that.” She looked at the lake and repressed a shudder. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand. You’re probably not afraid of anything.”

  His gaze traveled slowly from her eyes to her lips, and her skin heated as if he’d physically touched her. “I’m very afraid that you’ll go home and kick yourself for not coming into the water with me. The tourism bureau would be furious.”

  He took her hands and led her forward a few steps, until the cold water had swallowed her ankles. The bottom was a little pebbly, but mostly smooth rock.

  “This water is supposed to have magical powers,” he said. “If you submerge in it, your next wish comes true. You up for it?”

  She nodded.

  “Your dress. You might want to take it off.”

  She laughed. “Anything to get a woman naked.” Wow, that was a little forward. She blushed. But he didn’t seem to have his mind in the gutter like she did. She stepped out of her dress and tossed it so that it landed near her beach bag.

  Koenraad walked her in deeper, to her chest. He was only mid-waist, though. “You’re really tall,” she said.

  “You’re really beautiful,” he said. “Stunning.”

  She inhaled sharply but managed not to spoil the moment by refusing his compliment. His thumbs massaged the backs of her hands and he pulled her in a bit more. When she hesitated, he responded by wrapping his arms around her. She began to breathe heavy and fast, and not only because of the water everywhere, but because she had never been held by a man she was this attracted to. His muscular arms cradled her, his chest a protective wall.

  “Monroe, please trust me. Can you do that? Monroe?” Those mysterious dark eyes probed hers.

  She squeezed her eyes closed and nodded, bracing herself. But she squeaked when he floated back, easily holding her, and all she could think about was what would happen if she slipped out of his grasp.

  “No,” she gasped. “I can’t.” She had to force the words from her constricted throat, and she hoped he realized she wasn’t playing, wasn’t being coy.

  “Ok, love. I got you.” He took her back to shore faster than she would have thought, and she opened her eyes the moment her toes touched the bottom. She scrambled up toward dry land, doubled over, choking back a sob of humiliation.

  Koenraad was behind her, pulling her arm, forcing her to turn and face him. He seemed conflicted, like he wanted to tell her something. Then he pulled the sunglasses off her head, folded them, and hurled them far out into the water.

  She felt her face draining of blood. “Why would you do that?”

  “I’m going to put on a blindfold, then I’m going
to get them.”

  She watched, stunned, as he pulled the lightweight towel out of her bag and tied it around his eyes.

  “Don’t.” She pulled uselessly at his arm. If he started drowning, there wasn’t anything she could do. A desperate glance around confirmed that they were truly alone.

  He dove into the water, his body a long, tanned arc that sliced cleanly into the glassy surface. Monroe covered her mouth with her hands. It was probably some lifeguarding trick. He’d surely be fine.

  But time passed, and he didn’t come back.

  She walked forward, straining to see farther into the lake, her hands pressed to her knees as she peered into the darkness. Trying to see him was pointless; there wasn’t anything she could do if he was in trouble.

  But even as she thought that, she knew that she would try her best.

  Without a watch, she had no idea what time it was, but she guessed a minute had passed.

  Then two. She screamed out his name.

  Then three. And there was no sign of him.

  She sank onto her hands and knees and fought the nausea that threatened to overwhelm her. And then he was there, the sunglasses in his hand. He came out of the water, not even breathing heavily, and walked right up to her. He was still blindfolded. She gaped at him. Dripping water streamed off his body, reflecting the sun.

  “How…” she gasped.

  “Don’t ask how.” He pulled her up and handed her the glasses. “Sorry it took me so long. Guess I have a better arm than I realized. I should have been a baseball player.” His weak smile didn’t fool her, though; he hadn’t miscalculated.

  “It felt like you were gone forever,” she said as he turned, giving her access to the blindfold’s tightly knotted fabric. She worked the snarl out, her mind reeling.

  “Four and a half minutes. I can hold my breath much longer.”

  “But—”

  He turned and took the damp cloth away from her. “Please, trust me.” He stared into her eyes as if trying to reach a decision. “I trust you,” he said, the words sounding like they meant so much more. But that didn’t make sense. He was the big, strong one. He didn’t need her trust.

  She needed a few minutes to sit, to think things over. She felt like she was losing her mind. Koenraad… there was something different about him. It played just at the limits of her comfort level.

  She suddenly remembered the shark warriors. Her heartbeat skittered to a stop, then raced, the sound deafening in her ears.

  “Monroe?”

  All that mattered was the answer to his question, and to her surprise, she did have an answer for him. “Yes,” she said slowly.

  “You trust me?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I do. And… I’m kinda freaked out, too, to be honest, but my instincts are telling me yes.” Her instincts and her curiosity were waging out-and-out war with her fears of the water, of the unknown, but he obviously knew that.

  He was the unknown. He wasn’t…

  Shark warrior. The words hung on the tip of her tongue. Was she going insane? Funny, but this certainly felt real.

  “I’m glad you changed your mind,” he said.

  Change your mind, transform your life.

  She took a deep breath and licked her lips. “Hurry, before I wimp out,” she said, offering her hand to him.

  Chapter 8

  He knew he shouldn’t have done what he did. When he’d first thrown the sunglasses into the lake, he’d intended to dive in, get them, and alleviate her worry about his capability in the water. But then he decided it’d be better if he didn’t come right back up.

  Apparently he’d timed it just right. A bit longer and she would have been making the sign of the cross and backing away. Any less time and she wouldn’t have appreciated how much control he had.

  Still, it was a stupid thing to do. But he needed this woman to know that he could, and would, protect her. The urge had come out of nowhere, earlier, on the boat, and he was still in its grip. It simply made no sense, but he wasn’t one to reject it for that reason.

  He wasn’t the type to mate, to settle down. He’d never had trouble seducing the women he wanted, and he was always careful to choose his partners wisely, preferring either shifters who understood how things worked, or women who were averse to long relationships. Vacationers did the job nicely. They weren’t looking for anything but a good time, and he was certainly able to provide that.

  Monroe was holding her hand out, waiting for him to take it. Poor thing was overwhelmed but so very brave. She clung to him as he led her to the water. This time, instead of immediately wrapping her in an embrace, he let her set the pace. She chose to face him, and soon her curvy body was pressed up against his. He looked down at his charge. She was shivering, taking in shallow breaths.

  “You should learn to trust yourself, too,” he said. “I wish you were here longer. I mean in the Caribbean.” Teaching her to trust the water would bring him so much pleasure.

  And there were other things that they could explore, as well. Things to bring another kind of joy and trust.

  He forced the titillating thoughts out of his mind. He needed to be perfectly attuned to her every thought. He could feel her tension in the way the water moved. Such little things were like a flashing road map to her state of mind. If she panicked again, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to convince her to give it another shot. For starters, the rest of his tricks were more likely to send her screaming away than to entice her back into his arms.

  He swam them toward the middle of the lake, keeping his movements as steady and imperceptible as possible. Monroe had her eyes squeezed tightly closed, her dark lashes like ink on her sculpted cheekbones.

  “Open your eyes.”

  He had to smile as she raised her eyebrows first. He felt the muscle tremors. She wanted to do it, but she was afraid.

  “Look at me,” he said.

  With a halting little sigh, she managed that, anchoring her gaze as if doing so would keep her afloat. She took in sharp little breaths, but she was much calmer than before, and eventually she managed a tight smile.

  “I’m such a dork,” she said.

  “Thank you for being a dork.”

  Her smile almost turned genuine. “You were right, again,” she said. “I would have kicked myself later.”

  “That’s twice in one day.”

  “Don’t let it go to your head.”

  “Never.” He turned her in his arms, moving slowly so she wouldn’t freak out, then he stretched back in the water. To his surprise, she was rather relaxed, and she floated easily.

  “You’re doing very well,” he said.

  She was quiet, and he could feel her body adjusting. This was what he’d been after. Water was transformative for him, literally, but he knew it held incredible power over non-shifters as well.

  “I think I’m ok,” she said.

  “You want to try turning over?”

  “Not really.” But she did it anyway, her movements measured. Her smooth calves and thighs brushed up against his legs, and her chest pressed into his. “I’m really ok. Having you here, I’m relaxed. You’re magic or something.”

  He nodded, then caught her face in his hands. She stiffened a little, and her pulse rate shot high. She smelled delicious, of fertile female, and fear, and sexual excitement. The combination made his cock swell, the shaft pushing away the elastic waistband of his swimsuit.

  She deserved this kiss.

  Who was he kidding? He wanted it every bit as much as she did.

  Her beautiful eyes fluttered closed as he tasted her lips, salty from the ocean. His ocean. A little moan escaped her throat, and he pressed his tongue between her slightly parted lips.

  She was pushing herself against him, her hands sliding up his arms, one hand tentatively touching his hip, the other flat on his chest, right over his scar. Her leg brushed over his erection, then pressed down on him.

  What had started as a small, feminine moan was building in intensity.
It made his cock throb. All of his senses were stretched to their limits, trying to breathe her in, taste her, smell her, feel her. He interrupted the kiss to pull back and study his catch. Her lips were slightly swollen and trembled almost imperceptibly. She was gorgeous. So alive. So real, not pretending to be anything other than what she was.

  “I want…” she said, her voice so faint that a human wouldn’t have caught the words.

  “What do you want?”

  Her eyes opened. “To hold my breath for thirty seconds.”

  For a moment, he thought she was suggesting underwater frolicking, but then he remembered that he’d offered to take her underwater. “Sure. Do it here, then I’ll take you down.”

  She turned in his arms and pushed away. Knowing that she was comfortable in the water was rewarding, but he did regret no longer having her captured and close to him.

  Even without touching her, he could feel the slight vibrations of her muscles as she held in the air. She was a little too tense.

  “That’s thirty,” she said, laughing. She was sculling the water now, no longer afraid in the least. “So what are you going to show me?”

  “Where the water comes in,” he said. If only he had an oxygen tank to lend her. Then he could show her the tunnels. And he ached to do so, to share them with someone. It really was a shame she was leaving him so soon.

  Who was he kidding? Shifters almost never revealed themselves to humans, and for good reason. Even if she were staying for a longer vacation, it wouldn’t have been enough time. That sort of connection and trust took years to build.

  “Sure you’re ready?” he asked.

  She nodded. “I really feel fine,” she said. “But promise you won’t swim off and leave me.”

  “Never. Over this way.”

  They swam together. The maddeningly slow pace didn’t bother him because he wanted this moment to last forever… Monroe next to him, his world full of the smell and taste of her. Her long hair streamed out on the water behind her, and he wanted to wrap the length of it around his fist until she was caught. Then he would kiss her, pull more of those sexy moans from her delicate throat.