by Jo Leigh
She heard Alex behind her, and that was very good, because in a few seconds she wanted him naked and in the shower. With her, of course.
Briefly, she thought about the hammock idea, and decided they could do that after.
She stripped so quickly he hadn’t even reached the bathroom door yet. When he arrived, he looked pleased with her outfit.
It didn’t take him long to peel his trunks off, and gosh, he seemed very enthusiastic.
As she turned on the shower he moved right in behind her. His hands went to her waist, his thighs pressed against hers and without any warning at all, his cock, quite thick and very warm, slipped between the cheeks of her ass.
As the water got warmer, so did she. Alex rocked gently up and down, sliding against her right there, and she forgot how to breathe, it was so incredibly hot.
He held her steady, not letting her stand straight, not letting her move at all. It was his show all the way.
She couldn’t help but wonder what he planned to do from there. There were several different options, and she wasn’t capable of choosing. Every place their bodies connected was an erogenous zone, including the little space on the back of her hips where his thumbs rubbed in short strokes.
But it was what he was doing to her behind that had her losing her mind. It was a totally new feeling, one she’d never guessed could be so thrilling. Just rubbing. Nothing more. But oh, God, it made every nerve ending buzz.
He leaned over her, and she felt his weight on her back, his breath on her neck. “Is it hot yet?”
“Yeah, I am.”
He chuckled. “I was talking about the water.”
“Screw the water.”
“Oh, no, babe. I’m going to screw you.” He licked her neck, a long wet slide of tongue on flesh, only stopping when he reached her ear. He captured the lobe between his teeth and bit her. Her knees buckled. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she’d have fallen.
He leaned back, bringing her with him. “I think it’s your turn, don’t you?”
“What?” she asked, hardly recognizing her own voice.
“Yesterday, I washed you. How about you wash me?”
She nodded, felt his hands slip away. Stepping into the shower, she reached for the sponge. He joined her as she squeezed out a whole bunch of liquid soap. His hand ran up her back, making her shiver, and then it was gone. When she turned, he was standing directly beneath the showerhead. The water poured over his closed eyes, his lips, his chin. She followed the path to his chest, its sparse hair matted, down to the hollow of his stomach and over his rigid cock.
Moving in front of him, she raised the sponge to his broad chest, and taking her cue from him, remembering how it had felt, she painted circles of slick soap, following each turn with the palm of her hand.
He opened his eyes, and she stared into them as she continued to wash him, loving the feel of his muscles, of all the places he was firm and strong.
Her hands moved down, washing him carefully, not missing a thing. She noticed, by feel alone, that his respiration quickened, that despite his stony expression, his seeming implacability, he felt it all.
Lower still, she wondered when he’d break. When she brushed the back of her hand over the tip of his cock? When she grasped his length with the sponge and squeezed? Or when she cupped his balls with her palm and rolled them in her fingers?
That was it. That moment.
His hands grasped her upper arms tightly, and he lifted her up off her feet until her lips touched his. He devoured her mouth, thrusting with his tongue, in and out, mimicking what they were going to do, stealing her breath.
When her feet touched the shower floor again, he turned her around and pushed her against the back of the stall. He found her hands and brought them up above her head.
“Don’t move,” he said, his voice nearly a growl.
He kicked her feet apart, and then he gripped her waist once more. He pulled back, making her spine bow, her ass stick out.
Then he let go with his right hand, and she felt fingers enter her, pushing into a wet heat that had nothing to do with the shower.
“So hot,” he said, “so ready.”
She laid her cheek on the cool tile, her hands tightening into fists as she waited for the fingers to pull away. She didn’t have to wait long.
He entered her all at once, filling her completely. Her head flew back as she cried out with the brute force.
He had her by the waist again, holding her steady as he thrust, withdrew almost all the way, then thrust once more. But that wasn’t enough for him. He pulled her back as he pushed forward, his hips slapping her ass almost as hard as his hand had the night before.
It was unbelievable, the power of his thrusts, the intensity of his every move. She braced her arms so she wouldn’t bang her head, so she wouldn’t slip, but he held her so firmly she couldn’t have fallen.
“So good,” he said, that low, low voice winding its sinuous way inside her. “So beautiful. God, you make me crazy.”
She opened her mouth, but all that came out were gasps as he continued to turn her into a quivering mass of need. He never let up, never varied his ruthless rhythm, not even when he took her right wrist in his hand and pulled her arm down.
Confused, she struggled for a moment, but then he brought her hand between her legs. He thrust into her, stopped, leaned over so his mouth was close to her ear. “Do it. Come for me.”
He let her go, and she obeyed, bringing her finger to her aroused clitoris. His hands were on her waist again, and she had to follow the back-and-forth, the pounding heat that thrilled her more than she could have ever imagined.
She rubbed with her fingers, but it didn’t take much. She felt it rising, squeezed him hard as her muscles tensed.
He moaned, and for the first time, he lost the pace. His movements became erratic, and his hands on her waist tightened.
She came so hard her ears rang and her vision blackened. She had to brace herself against the wall because a second later, he lifted her feet off the ground as he came, his howl echoing off the walls.
She hung there, trembling, spasms rolling through her whole body. And when she touched ground, he slumped over her back, panting against her neck.
“Holy shit,” she whispered.
He smiled against her skin. “Oh, yeah.”
16
MEG COULDN’T MOVE. NOT AN inch. She wasn’t just worn out from the most intense sexual experience of her life, she was spinning from the fact that the man who’d just turned her inside out was the same man who made her laugh, loved old jazz and remembered her charm bracelet.
So she just leaned against the shower stall, waiting to see if her heart would ever stop pounding, if this would all turn out to be an insanely wonderful dream.
His touch surprised her, but it was very gentle. Oddly, it was on her head. Ah. Shampoo. Oh, God, he was shampooing her hair.
Second favorite scene, right after the waterfall in Mohicans? When Robert Redford washed Meryl Streep’s hair in Out of Africa. Two in one day was way outside the box. This was the stuff of magic, of fairy tales. And yet Alex’s hands, firm and sudsy, massaged her tenderly. Right here, right now. Freeze frame, please. Whoever was in charge of moments, she wanted this one to last forever. Well, this one would have to include the last twenty minutes, too, right? Because she wouldn’t be this wasted if he hadn’t taken her to a place way past anything she’d ever imagined sex was.
She sighed, letting the shivers take her. Breathing in the scent of coconut. Knowing she was in deep, deep trouble.
ALEX GOT THEM BOTH rinsed, turned the water off and bundled Meg into a towel. His own legs weren’t as steady as they could be, but she was in worse shape. He helped her to the big bed where she crashed, flinging her arms above her head.
She opened one eye. “Thirsty.”
“Bloody Mary? Or soda?”
“Soda.”
He went to the minibar, which they hadn’t even looked in yet. It
was wonderfully stocked, with everything from chocolate bars to wine. But there was plenty of soda, and he picked out a diet for her, a full-octane for himself.
He popped her top, put it by her night table, then climbed over her limp, perfect body, and sighed as he fell back to join her.
“Alex?”
“Yeah?”
“Where did that come from?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Her hand flopped onto his stomach. “Wow.”
“Uh-huh.”
She turned her head. “That ever happen to you before?”
“Nope,” he said.
“Wow,” she repeated.
“It was you,” he said.
“I doubt it. From what I can remember, I just hung on for dear life,” she said.
He turned to face her. “No. I mean it was you.”
She blinked. Her lips parted. “Oh.”
He smiled as the truth of it came home. It was her. He’d never wanted to possess a woman more than he did Meg. Even now, when he was still trying to regulate his heart rate, he wanted her again.
The setting couldn’t have been more perfect. Everything he could have dreamed up to impress her, to take her breath away. But it wasn’t the island. The magic here was what was happening between them.
He’d expected…fun. A break. Someone he could talk to. He’d expected to get lucky. To forget about the rest of the world and just relax.
He hadn’t expected Meg.
Whatever had happened in that shower, it wasn’t just sex. Okay, yeah, it was the most unbelievably fantastic sex he’d ever experienced in his life, but it wasn’t because he’d suddenly become Mr. Studmuffin. He rarely kidded himself about his prowess. He was fine in the sack, and he’d had no complaints. When he was younger, his stamina had been pretty damn astonishing. Then he’d learned, from some pretty terrific women, that a woman needs a lot more than stamina.
He’d always tried to give his best, but until today, he hadn’t gotten it. Sex, when it was right, was completely, utterly, only about her.
Why didn’t he know this? No one had told him. He’d never read about it. This was completely new information. Vital information.
The only problem with this startling discovery was its limited use.
Three more days, and once again they’d be thousands of miles apart.
The only possible solution was to fix that. Maybe they couldn’t be in the same state, but there were planes. Lots of planes. Lots of places they could meet. It wouldn’t be easy, but hell, they could do it. Once a quarter. That was doable. It would do them both a world of good. He’d just have to convince her of the brilliance of his plan.
“Alex?”
“Yes?” he said.
“We didn’t use a condom.”
“Oh, shit.”
“Which is semi-okay, ’cause I’m on the pill,” she said.
“Well, you don’t have to worry about any of the other stuff on my end,” he said.
“Me, either. Phew. And Alex? Why is the phone blinking red?”
He lifted up on his elbows and looked at the telephone. It was connected only to the hotel. “Maybe it’s about the Jet Ski thing?”
“Suppose I should find out?” she murmured.
“The phone’s all the way over there,” he said.
“I know,” she said. “But I have to sit up if I want to drink the soda. If I’m sitting up already, it shouldn’t be that hard to walk over to the phone.”
“That’s ambitious.”
“I’m one tough broad.”
“I’ll say.”
He turned just enough so that he could see her as she struggled up. As she tipped the soda back. As she tucked the towel around herself and walked to the phone and pressed 0.
“Hi, this is Meg Becker from the bungalow.”
She picked up the phone and brought it back to the bed. She smiled at Alex, then turned quickly. “Yes? Oh, okay. No, I know the number, thank you. Um, is the nearest phone in the hotel?”
Alex sat up. In the space of those few words, Meg had changed. Her expression had gone from relaxed bliss to tight concern. Her shoulders hunched, and when she turned back to look at him, there was a sadness that had no business being there.
“Thank you,” she said again, then she hung up the phone.
“What’s happened?” he asked.
“I have to go to the hotel,” she said.
“Meg, what is it?”
“Pippin’s dying.”
“Pippin?”
She nodded. “He’s a horse. A really wonderful horse. He’s old, and he’s stopped eating.”
“A horse?”
“I know it’s hard to understand. You’d think it wouldn’t matter, but if you knew this horse…I was there when he was born, you know. I was a kid, and my dad took me along with him to the Kellers’. It was late, like two in the morning, but he got me out of bed so I could help. I didn’t do much except get in the way, but it was the first time I’d seen a horse foal.”
“So he’s a friend.”
She sniffed, and her eyes glistened. “The woman who owns him has a daughter with rheumatoid arthritis. She has trouble with her hands, with her knees. But she rides him every day. He’s kept her going since she was old enough to walk. All these years he’s taken care of her with such patience and grace. I have to call, Alex. I have to make sure she’s all right.”
Meg stood to head for the dresser.
“Wait. I have a phone.” He got up and went to his suitcase. The cell phone was in a side pocket.
“You cheated,” she said.
“It was only in case of emergency, and I think this qualifies.”
She joined him, took the phone and kissed him. It was nothing like the kisses in the shower. That he could give her this little thing, this cell phone, made him unreasonably happy.
She went back to the bed and sat cross-legged, sweetly vulnerable in her white towel. He heard the beep of the phone waking up as he pulled some boxers out of his drawer. Once he had those on, he sat next to her.
“Missy? It’s Doc.”
Her voice was different. It was deeper, more compassionate. No wonder they wanted to keep her all to themselves.
“Missy, honey, wait. Take a breath, okay? Just breathe for a minute. Now, sweetie, I can’t come back today. I wish I could be there with you, but you’re going to get through this, okay? Missy?”
He lay down as silently as he could, not wanting to interfere. A nap would have been nice, but not while she was in the middle of all of this.
So he just looked at her. The shape of her nose entranced him. The urge to touch it was strong.
“Honey, Dr. Scott is a wonderful man, and he’s going to make sure Pippin doesn’t suffer at all, okay? But Missy, the real job, the important job, is yours. Not mine or Dr. Scott’s. Honey, you need to go be with Pippin. You need to touch him, and pet him, and tell him what a wonderful friend he’s been. How much he’s meant to you. And you need to let him know that it’s okay to go now. He’s worked hard for many years, and now he needs to rest, but he won’t rest until he knows you’re going to be okay without him.”
Meg lowered her head as she listened, and Alex could feel how this conversation was hurting her. But her voice didn’t reveal it at all. Her feeling for this girl ran deep, and Alex couldn’t help but regret his cavalier attitude toward the people on the mountain.
It still wasn’t healthy to give so much. He wondered if she was even capable of giving one iota less.
“I know, Missy. I remember. Pippin’s the best friend ever. Now you go on, and be with him. He needs you. You make sure he knows you’re going to be fine, okay? Because you are. You’re so strong, Missy. You can do this.”
Alex got up, went back to his suitcase and pulled one of his cards out of the same pocket where he kept the phone. He slipped it onto the bed in front of Meg.
She looked up at him, eyes red with tears, questioning. But when she glanced at
the card again, she nodded.
He went back to his place and Meg said goodbye to Missy, after giving her the cell phone number and telling her she could call anytime.
When she hung up, Meg immediately phoned out again, to Dr. Scott, who was already on his way to the Kellers’. The conversation was brief, and once it was over, she closed the phone and lay down, curling into Alex’s side.
He put his arm around her and held her for a long time. If she cried, it was very quiet—only a sniffle once or twice. But she held on to him as if he brought her comfort.
He tried to remember the last time he’d done that for anyone. Not Ellen. She’d never needed him. Never turned to him for anything, let alone comfort.
Brushing his hand over Meg’s arm, Alex closed his eyes and thought about a lot of things. Mostly about choices. So many behind him, all of them leading to this moment. With this woman who cared so much about the people in her life that she wept for the passing of a horse.
MEG SCRUNCHED UP closer to Alex and put her hand on his chest. Right above his heart. She breathed through her mouth as quietly as she could, focusing on finding his heartbeat. There it was. Steady, strong. Like Alex himself.
She hated disappointing him. And he would be when he found her back on her mountain, same hours, same demands. All that talk about making a change. How? Who was she going to stop seeing? Alfred, with his five dogs, all of them old and hanging on out of sheer determination? Janice and Bob and their menagerie, most of them with allergies, most of them so skittish she couldn’t get a single one into the office? The Johnsons’ alpacas? The grade school?
She felt terrible that Missy and Pippin had to go through this alone. Before Meg left, she’d known that Pippin was going downhill. Why hadn’t she made time to talk to Missy, to prepare her for this? It had been her own selfishness, nothing else. She’d spent the time buying expensive tiny dresses and getting her Brazilian wax.
“Alex?”
“Yeah, honey?”
Honey. Oh, God. That shouldn’t have felt this good.
“Meg?”
“I just wanted to say thank-you,” she whispered.
