Hot Island Nights

by Sarah Mayberry

  His hand left her breast and smoothed down her ribs, then her belly. He stopped when he reached her mound, simply resting his palm over it for long torturous seconds. She felt the heat from his hand flow into her body and she lifted her hips in silent invitation. He smiled against her mouth and began to pleat the fabric of her dress between his fingers, slowly gathering it up. When he had the bulk of it bunched around her hips he broke their kiss and began to lick and suck his way down her body, laving her neck, suckling her breasts, pushing her skirt higher still and dipping his tongue into the tiny well of her belly button.

  She started to tremble with anticipation as his mouth moved lower and lower. If he was going where she thought he was going, this was yet another area where she was woefully inexperienced. She’d thought about it—a lot—wondered what the heat of a mouth might feel like against the delicate, sensitive skin between her legs. But she’d never been bold enough to ask Martin to go down on her, and he’d never offered.

  She gave a small gasp as Nathan’s tongue slipped under the elastic on the waistband of her panties. He looked up at her, a smile on his face. She knew he could feel her trembling. He knew exactly how excited she was.

  “You like this, Lizzy? If I’d known, I would have come visiting sooner.”

  “I don’t know,” she said before she could stop herself. “I’ve never done it before.”

  His hand tensed on her hip. “You’re kidding.”

  She stared at him, determined not to say another betraying word. He already had too much power over her, she wasn’t about to give him more.

  He laid his cheek flat on her belly and hugged her hips to him. “Poor Lizzy. We’ll have to make up for lost time, then.”

  He pressed a kiss to her mound through the silk of her underwear, then proceeded to torture her with his hands and fingers as he traced the edges of her panties, dropping kisses on her inner thighs, licking here, tasting there, but always avoiding the throbbing, hot place where she craved him the most.

  She clenched and unclenched her hands, fighting the urge to simply lift her hips and thrust herself into his face. He was determined to tease her, and she was determined to withstand his teasing. If it killed her.

  “How you doing up there?” he asked after a while, laughter in his voice.

  “Just fine. You bastard,” she panted.

  He laughed outright and hooked a finger into her waistband. She lifted her hips as he pulled her panties off, the muscles of her belly and thighs tensing as he pushed her legs wide and settled between them. Here again he took his sweet time, looking his fill in the light of the almost-full moon. She desperately wanted to cover herself with her hand but she knew that would only amuse him even more.

  “You’re so pretty, Lizzy. I bet you taste good, too,” he said.

  She held on to the blanket for grim life as he lowered his face toward her. She felt his breath against her skin, then she gave a low, deep moan as his tongue lapped against her sex for the first time.

  He laughed against her most tender flesh and licked her again.

  It was incredible. Indescribable. Hot and wet and soft and hard all at once. He settled in, sucking, teasing, using his hands, driving her crazy with each stroke of his tongue.

  She moaned and lifted her hips and drove her fingers into his hair and trembled with her approaching climax. Then he slid a finger inside her and she fell apart, pulsing and crying out and bucking her hips.

  It seemed to last forever, and when it was over, he pressed a kiss to her thigh and undid his jeans and slid inside her while she was still trembling with aftershocks. Incredibly, she felt the excitement begin to build again as he stroked into her, his big body tense above her. As if her pleasure had fed his, he came quickly, his fingers digging into her hips as he shuddered out his release.

  It was only after he’d withdrawn and she was lying boneless and spent on the blanket staring up at the stars that she thought about the fact that they were in his backyard, in the open, where anyone could see them if they cared to look over the fence or walk down the driveway.

  “Bloody Nora,” she said, flipping her skirt down and sitting up to look around in alarm.

  Nathan took one look at her face and started laughing again.

  “It’s not funny. Anyone could have seen us. My God. What if the neighbors have children? We could have scarred them for life!”

  “They’re weekenders, Lizzy. They won’t be down for another few weeks when school holidays start.”

  She shook her head at her own abandon. When she was with Nathan, every other consideration went out the window. It was more than a little scary.

  He rolled close to her, nuzzling her neck.

  “Anyway, I’d be more worried about them hearing us than seeing us. You make a lot of noise, Lizzy.”

  She gasped and hit his shoulder, trying to push him away.

  “I do not!” she said, even though she was well aware she’d practically been howling at the moon not five minutes ago.

  He didn’t let her go. He kept pressing kisses against the soft skin beneath her ear, his tongue darting out occasionally to taste her.

  “I like it. I like it a lot,” he whispered against her skin.

  And that quickly it was back, the irresistible, undeniable heat. She turned her mouth toward him, kissing him hungrily. Giving herself up yet again to the moment and letting everything else—her future, her father, her curiosity about Nathan—fall by the wayside.

  NATE WOKE GASPING FOR air, his body drenched in sweat. The remnants of his dream still filled his head—the blood, Olivia pleading for him to help her, the dark pressing in on him, the sensation of being trapped. His heart was pounding against his breastbone and his thoughts kept slipping and sliding out of his control as his body tried to cope with an adrenaline-fueled flight-or-fight response that had nothing to do with the reality of the here and now.

  Elizabeth stirred beside him. He rolled away from her. The last thing he wanted was to have to deal with her questions right now. She murmured in her sleep, then quieted.

  He moved to the edge of the bed. At least he hadn’t woken screaming. He should be grateful for small mercies. He’d be wired all day with the aftereffects of the adrenaline overload, of course. Edgy and tense. And tonight the odds were good that when he slipped into sleep the memories would be waiting for him again. Fear was great like that—the way it fed on itself until fear of fear itself became the biggest bogeyman of all.

  He stood. He needed a shower.

  He was halfway to the door when his phone started ringing. He fumbled beside the bed, finding his cell in the pocket of yesterday’s jeans. Elizabeth’s eyes flickered open as he checked the caller ID.

  “Sam,” he said into the phone.

  Elizabeth tensed as she heard her father’s name.

  “Nate. I can’t talk long. We’re about to head out for off-coast drills. What’s up?”

  “I needed to talk to you,” Nate said.

  “Fire away.”

  Elizabeth sat up, pulling the sheet over her breasts. Her eyes were anxious as she watched him and Nate felt the enormous responsibility of what he was doing—brokering the first contact between father and long-lost child.

  “Mate, there’s someone here to see you. Her name is Elizabeth Mason—”

  He broke off as Elizabeth touched his arm.

  “My mother’s name was Eleanor Whittaker. He won’t recognize Mason.”

  “Her mother was Eleanor Whittaker,” Nate said into the phone.

  He paused, giving Sam the opportunity to jump in. He had no idea whether his friend even knew he had a child or if Elizabeth’s facts were straight or—

  “How did she find me?”

  Sam didn’t sound very surprised. Which probably meant he was well aware of Elizabeth’s existence.

  And yet he’d never contacted her. Nate frowned.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe you should ask her yourself. She’s here right now.”

  “No. Don
’t put her on.” Sam’s protest came so quickly it couldn’t be anything but a knee-jerk response.

  Aware of Elizabeth hanging on his every word, Nate stood and grabbed a towel off the end of the bed, wedging the phone between shoulder and ear while he wrapped the towel around his hips. He made brief eye contact with Elizabeth as he headed for the door.

  “Give me a minute,” he said, then he strode outside.

  He waited until he was in the far corner of the yard and out of earshot before speaking again.

  “What’s going on, Sam?”

  “Listen, I can’t do this right now. The race kicks off in a couple of weeks. I need to have my head in the game.” Sam sounded panicky.

  “She’s flown halfway around the world to find you.”

  “I didn’t ask her to come.”

  “Sam, she’s your daughter.”

  He’d known Sam for nearly ten years, ever since they’d crewed together on a mutual friend’s boat. They’d sailed together, gotten drunk together, and for the past four months they’d been living together. If anyone had asked, Nate would have said Sam was an honorable guy—completely obsessed with the sea, sure, but a decent guy. Nate couldn’t believe that the man he knew was prepared to simply blow his daughter off without even talking to her.

  “I don’t need the distraction right now, Nate. This is a big one. We’ve got a real chance of winning this year, which means we’ll contest the Transpac and maybe even the Fastnet.”

  “Jesus, Sam, can you hear yourself? You’re talking about a bunch of races and I’m telling you your daughter is here, wanting to meet you for the first time in her freaking life.”

  There was a short silence on the other end of the phone. Then Sam swore.

  “All right. Put her on. I’ll talk to her.”

  “Bloody generous of you.”

  “Give me a break, will you? You caught me on the hop.”

  “Right.”

  Nate stared at the open door to the studio. He was of two minds about handing the phone over. He’d seen the hope in Elizabeth’s eyes when she heard who was calling. There was no way she wasn’t going to be disappointed by her father’s lackluster response. Hell, Nate was disappointed, and he had no vested interest in their relationship whatsoever. Sam had always been a difficult bugger, a loner with precious few social skills. But Elizabeth was his daughter.

  Nate shrugged impatiently. None of this was any of his business—there was no reason whatsoever for him to feel protective and indignant on Elizabeth’s behalf. Just because he’d slept with her a few times didn’t make her his responsibility. He could barely get through the night without waking in a sweat and shaking like a baby. He had enough on his own plate without taking on someone else’s problems.

  He lifted the phone to his ear again.

  “Give me a second. I’ll go find her.”

  “How come she’s hanging around at your place at eight in the morning, anyway?” Sam asked suspiciously.

  Nate didn’t bother answering. A man who could barely muster the interest to talk to his own daughter had no right to ask those kinds of questions.

  Elizabeth was pulling on her clothes when he entered. He offered her the phone.

  “He wants to talk to you,” he said.

  She hesitated a moment, her gaze searching his face. Then she took a deep breath, squared her shoulders and reached for the phone. “Elizabeth speaking.”

  Good manners dictated that Nate make himself scarce, but he wanted to make sure Sam was behaving himself first. He watched her face carefully as she listened to Sam on the other end of the phone.

  “Nathan told me you were crewing for the big race. I’m more than happy to fly up to Sydney—”

  She frowned as Sam said something on the other end to cut her off. Nate could guess what it was. Elizabeth lifted a hand and rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “I see.”

  There was a world of disappointment in those two words. Nate watched the expectation and anticipation slowly drain out of her. They hadn’t spoken about it—he deliberately hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t offered—but he knew she’d had high hopes of her long-lost father. What person wouldn’t? She’d probably imagined getting to know him, perhaps finding out they had things in common, slowly forging a bond….

  “Of course. I understand,” she said.

  Nate headed for the door. He didn’t want to play witness to her disappointment. He didn’t want to feel for her. He didn’t want to feel anything—had spent the past few months working damned hard, in fact, to achieve a state of numb indifference.

  He went into the house and made coffee, telling himself all the while that Elizabeth was an adult. She could look after herself.

  He was dressed and pouring milk into his coffee when the bead curtain on the rear door rattled. He turned to find Elizabeth standing there. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail low on the back of her head and her face looked very pale.

  “Thanks for that. I appreciate it.” She handed over his phone.

  “You want some coffee?” he asked. Because no way was he asking if she was okay, or what Sam had said. He wasn’t getting involved. He refused to.

  “No. I’m fine. I might head back to the hotel, actually. Thanks for dinner and…everything.”

  She turned toward the door.

  “You know your way back okay?” he asked, even though he knew she did, since she’d found him yesterday.

  “Yes, thank you.”

  She offered him a small, polite smile before exiting. Nate listened to the beads rattle against one another. Then he took his coffee to the kitchen table and sat.

  She was upset. God only knew what Sam had said to her. Some bullshit about how important the race was, or some other piss-poor justification for his lack of interest.

  He pulled the morning paper toward himself and flicked to the cartoon page. He read all his favorites, then folded the page in half to tackle the crossword puzzle.

  And through it all, he couldn’t get Elizabeth out of his mind.

  She deserved better. She’d come here looking for her father, for Pete’s sake.

  Before he could think twice, Nate pushed away from the kitchen table. There was no sign of her in the street. He lengthened his stride as he reached the track to the beach. He spotted her straightaway once he hit the sand, a lone figure trudging toward town with her sandals in her hand.

  “Elizabeth,” he called.

  She paused and looked over her shoulder. He slowed to an easy lope as he crossed the final distance between them.

  “You got plans for the day?” he asked when he reached her side.

  She frowned as though she didn’t understand what he was asking. “Plans?”

  “Are you doing anything?”

  “Oh.” She blinked. “I was thinking of finding an Internet café so I could check my e-mail. But other than that…”

  She shrugged. He hated the closed-down look behind her eyes. Bloody Sam. When Nate saw him next he was going to kick his ass.

  “There’s a good northeasterly coming through. Great day to take the cat out, if you’re game.”

  “You have a cat?”

  “A catamaran, the Rubber Ducky. A Hobie 16. You ever sailed before, Lizzy?”

  “No.”

  He slung his arm around her shoulders. “Another first, then. What do you say?”

  She looked confused for a moment, then she made an embarrassed sound and tried to wriggle out from under his arm.

  “Trust you to bring that up. I knew I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “Your secrets are safe with me, Lizzy. I promise.”

  She stopped struggling. He tugged on her ponytail.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun.”

  “There’s that word again,” she said, her face downturned as she stared at something on the ground.

  He tugged on her hair again. “Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it. Are you in or what, Lizzy?”

  She thought about it for a mome
nt. Then she lifted her face and met his eyes.

  “Yes, I’m in.”

  “DUCK!” NATE YELLED.

  Elizabeth clapped a hand onto the ridiculous floppy sun hat he’d insisted she wear and flattened herself against the trampoline as the boom swung over her head. Her safety vest shifted awkwardly, pressing underneath her armpits. She tugged it down again when she heard the hiss of ropes sliding through pulleys as Nate worked to tie the boom in its new position.

  “You can come up now, Lizzy.”

  She knew without looking that he was laughing at her. He’d been laughing at her all morning. As a sailor, she apparently made a fantastic clown. The stupid hat and cumbersome life vest and pale pink zinc cream he’d spread over her nose didn’t help much in that area, she suspected.

  She couldn’t help smiling in response, however. It was hard not to when they were racing across the water, Nate’s elegant catamaran skating across the surface of the waves, its twin hulls slapping salt spray into the air. The deep aquamarine of the ocean beneath them, the almost-painful cornflower-blue of the sky overhead, the warmth of the sun, Nate’s laughter—it was exhilarating, there was no other word for it.

  The perfect antidote to the phone call from her father.

  Instead of sitting upright again, Elizabeth rolled onto her side and edged toward the front of the boat. The black trampoline fabric was hot beneath her legs as she lay full length and peered over the front beam, staring down at the sea as it whipped past.

  To say that her father had been unenthusiastic about her appearance in his life was putting it mildly. He’d actually sounded put out when he spoke to her, as though he’d been burdened with an unwanted responsibility at the worst possible time. She was an inconvenience, apparently. Not that he’d said as much. But she could read between the lines. She’d offered to fly to Sydney to meet him, but he’d claimed he was too busy drilling before the big race. She’d agreed to wait until he could fly back to Melbourne after the race finished, but she was in two minds now about whether she would wait for him or not.

  He’d known about her. All along, he’d known he had a daughter, and yet he’d never tried to contact her. It was a body blow, there was no denying it. She’d fooled herself that she’d come without expectations, because the reality was that she’d hoped that there’d been some reason for his absence in her life. Some proof that her grandfather’s judgment that her father was “not someone they wanted involved in her life” was wrong. But apparently her father wasn’t even vaguely curious about his child born on the other side of the world.