by Ann Omasta
"Yes, but it's really just a sham," I tell him desperately. "It was all for the show. I had never even seen Cam before the ceremony." The more I try to explain the situation, the worse it sounds, and I can see the distaste growing on Andrew's face.
"I should escort you back to your room," he decides abruptly.
"Okay," I agree sadly. I can feel my second chance with him slipping away, but I don't know what to do to rescue it.
All too soon, we arrive at my door and he bids me goodnight. It feels too final, like the end. I stand in my doorway and watch the only man who has ever made me feel so completely exquisite disappear down the long hallway.
Chapter 23
This is crazy, I decide as I watch 'the one who got away' getting away again. Knowing that I need to do something to rescue this situation, but unsure how to go about that, I follow him––at a safe distance, of course.
We walk for what seems like an eternity before he pulls out a key card and inserts it into a door lock. He turns his head slightly to the side as he enters, and I jump back into a doorway praying that he can't see me and that whoever is in this particular room does not decide to leave and find me lurking in their narrow entry. It would probably startle us both to high Heaven.
I hear Andrew's door close and decide it is safe to return to being visible in the hallway. Walking down to stand in front of his door, I contemplate my next move. I raise my hand a couple of times thinking that I'll knock, but end up lowering it because I have no idea what I can say to fix this dreadful situation.
Not knowing what else to do, I sullenly return to my own room. Walking out to my miniscule balcony, I lean out to see if I can see down to Andrew's room. Not being able to see very far, I consider standing on the tiny plastic footstool so that I can lean out farther. Deciding that would be a recipe for disaster––like falling overboard in the middle of the ocean––I opt not to risk leaning too far over the railing.
I like knowing that out of this enormous ship and the thousands of available cabins, Andrew is on the same level and side as I am. There is only an interminably long hallway and numerous tiny rooms separating us.
I wonder if he in his bed and what he wears to bed. Does he sleep naked? Did he immediately fall asleep when his head hit the pillow? I'm guessing that he isn't obsessing over every word of our interaction tonight, like I am. Is he concerned at all about the idea of not seeing me again, or has he already forgotten about it? I fear that he has already released me from his mind. I'm also fairly certain that I will never be able to let it go.
I lie down on my bed––fully clothed––but my mind is whirling with too much activity to allow even the possibility of sleep. Sitting bolt upright, a frightening thought overwhelms me. What if he is leaving when the ship docks tomorrow? I had heard on the evening announcements that we would be spending the day in port at an island. I'm not sure how the entertainment gigs work. Are the entertainers on board for the duration of the cruise or do they disembark and fly home from the tiny island airport, while the next entertainer flies in to catch the ship for the next segment?
My guess is that they don't want the same people doing shows for the duration of the cruise. They probably bring in fresh talent––meaning that Andrew could be leaving. I can't let him go without sharing my feelings with him. I refuse to spend the rest of my life regretting not taking what might be my last chance with him. I already know that no one else has ever made me feel the way he does. There is a good chance that no one ever will have the same affect on me. I will not let him slip out of my grip a second time without giving it my best shot.
Feeling determined, I march down the hallway towards his room. Once there, the insecurities set in. I raise my hand to knock and lower it several times. What if he sends me away? What if he laughs at me? Will he think this is a silly high school crush that I have completely blown out of proportion in my head? Is that what it is?
Deciding that I will never forgive myself if I don't try, I bang loudly on his door and yell out his name before I can talk myself out of it.
Evidently my urgency startles him because when he flings open the door, his hair is sleep mussed and he is standing before me stark naked.
I suck in what is likely half the air in the enclosed hallway as my wide eyes absorb him in all his naked glory. His body is beyond magnificent. My tongue flicks out of its own accord to wet my lips as my gaze lands on his manhood. Even in its flaccid state, it is a sight to behold. When it begins to grow in response to my open perusal and obvious fascination, I force myself to pry my eyes back up to his face.
His expression is bemused, and he makes no effort to cover himself. He is clearly completely comfortable in his own skin. He rests a raised arm on the wide open door and gives me a questioning look. He is obviously wanting to know what is so important that I summoned him unclothed from his slumber, but my mind can't seem to form a coherent thought.
"Oh, ummm," I finally say dumbly.
He doesn't budge nor help me out of the awkward silence that ensues as I search for my words. I consider fleeing, but my feet feel glued to the bright carpet. I sense that this is a monumental moment in my life that I will look back on as either my best choice or my worst. I make a snap decision, figuring that no matter what, I will not look back on this and wonder what could have been.
Jumping in with both feet, I say, "Can I come in?"
If he's surprised by my bold question, he doesn't let it show. He takes an interminable-feeling moment to look me up and down. I'm dying to know what he's thinking. Without verbally answering, he steps back to widen the door opening. I slide inside to join him, the man from my dreams, in his real-life room.
Chapter 24
The size of his room surprises me. It is larger and nicer than the one I have moved back into, but not as nice as the suite Cam and I had been intended to share. I would have thought that shipboard entertainers would have more modest 'crew-sized' accommodations––possibly even sharing a room with another worker. My eyes are immediately drawn to his King-sized bed, and I can't help wondering if he has already shared it with anyone during this trip.
Despite my brazenness in the hallway, Andrew does the gentlemanly thing and detours into his bathroom before emerging with a plush bath towel wrapped low around his hips. My wayward gaze travels down him, visualizing what I have just seen that is now hidden below the white towel.
He watches my eyes travel down his body, and I see his Adam's apple bob as he swallows. Even though I've given him a fairly open invitation and his body's reaction makes it obvious that he wants me––at least on a physical level––he keeps his distance from me.
When I sit down on his bed, I assume he will join me. Instead, he walks over to the open sliding glass door and steps out onto his balcony. I don't have to debate long before joining him out there. The cool breeze off the water feels fantastic because the air is still surprisingly humid and warm. We stand there for a moment side by side, looking out over the sea.
It strikes me that I should not be so certain about sleeping with this man that I barely know. Perhaps my fantasies about him have made me feel like I know him, even though I really don't. I'm fairly sure that the reality of a night in his bed will not be able to live up to the frequent imaginings that I have created in my head, but I steadfastly refuse to not find out. I don't want to look back on my life and wonder what might have been.
Choosing to see this through, I place my palm on his bare, sinewy back. Sliding my hand slowly down, I pull the towel that is covering him loose and toss it inside the room. "You won't be needing that." My voice sounds husky.
"What about your husband?" he spits out the last word.
"It's all fake," I promise him.
He turns to face me. "I can't make you any promises about the future," he warns me.
I am touched that even though I am basically throwing myself at him, he is holding back and trying to protect me. Most men would have thrown caution to the wind and attacked by now. I
slowly slide my sundress down my body and let it pool on the ground. "I'm not asking for any promises," I assure him as I enjoy the feeling of his half-lidded, appreciative gaze travelling down my barely-covered skin. His eyes linger on my bare breasts before travelling down to my skimpy, lace panties. He reaches out, rubbing the back of his finger lightly over one of my nipples. It instantly hardens, straining for more.
"You're sunburnt," his observation comes out almost like a question. I had nearly forgotten about my red skin.
Pain is the furthest thing from my mind in this man's presence. "It's okay," I reassure him, touched that even in our current state of undress, he is concerned about my wellbeing.
Evidently unable to restrain himself any longer, Andrew crushes his lips to mine. His kiss is so different than Cam's had been. Even though it is engulfing and probing, it is also mind melding and passionately intense. I get lost in the thrill of it.
We tightly clutch each other––our hands easing down each other's backs. As his tongue slides along mine, I allow my palms to smooth down over his naked butt. I give it a firm squeeze and pull him even closer to me.
We both groan as his now straining, hot manhood presses into my bare tummy. He is hard and ready. Feeling the undeniable evidence that he wants me––physically, anyway––is intoxicating. Unable to resist the magnetic draw of him any longer, I lightly graze my fingertips around to his front––moving my lower half back slightly to allow easier access to him.
Wrapping my hand loosely around the base of his erection, I lightly stroke his length a couple of times––enjoying the feeling of his warm, velvety smooth skin. He tips his head back, exhaling deeply, obviously relishing my touch.
"I can't believe it's you touching me like this." He lowers his head to look me in the eye.
His words perfectly mirror my thoughts. "I can't believe it's you I'm touching like this," I say aloud, making him smile. "I've wanted you since we were teenagers," I admit, releasing my grip on him to wrap my arms around him.
His face registers utter surprise. "No." The word is part accusation, part question. At my nod, he leans down and kisses my cheek. "You were the dream, Ruthie. You still are." He kisses his way over to my ear and down my neck as he speaks. "You're gorgeous and sweet and smart and funny."
His words are perfect. I find them hard to believe because it's just too good to be true, but the temptation to let my mind accept them as fact is overpowering. I want to savor this feeling––like I am actually important to this man––even if it only lasts for tonight.
"I'll skip over your poor, red shoulders," he says kindly as he lowers himself and his skilled mouth finds my breast.
My hand digs into his hair, holding him to me as he suckles. My head tips back and my mouth opens of its own accord as his masterful lips and tongue pleasure me. When he kisses his way across to my other breast, he pauses midway to look up at me. I look down and our eyes lock for a moment. His dark hair is adorably mussed and the look he is giving me is one of utter adoration. His eyes are so strange, yet so familiar. I have visualized different sizzling scenarios of this moment in my head so many times that it almost feels like it has actually happened before. The realization that it is truly occurring––not just in my vivid imagination––is beyond thrilling. My knees almost crumple with the intensity of the feelings that flood my system. Having this man of my dreams worshiping my body in real life is almost too much to handle.
He continues his ministrations, and I suck in a deep breath as his lips travel downward. When he pops a smacking kiss on my belly button, I giggle and he grins up at me. All humor is quickly forgotten as his hands slide down my hips and inside my panties. He slips the scant garment down and I daintily step out of them.
Gently turning us so that my back is against the railing, he pauses for a moment looking at me––all of me. I enjoy his open and approving perusal before briefly wondering about the sturdiness of the safety rails. It would be just my luck to lean my weight against the barricade, trusting it fully, only to end up toppling overboard.
Just after deciding that it is worth the likely infinitesimal risk of falling and drowning for the opportunity to be with this man, all coherent thought leaves my brain as he kneels before me to pleasure my most intimate area with his talented mouth. I spread my feet apart and clutch the railing behind me with both hands as this real-life magician works his magic on me.
Allowing my head to fall back, I see the star-filled sky and hear the waves lapping against the slowly moving ship. I couldn't have dreamt up a more idyllic, romantic setting for my tryst with Andrew. Waves of intense pleasure swirl within me as all of my attention shifts to focus on my core.
Crying out in ecstatic release, I forget any worries I previously held about anyone else with a balcony hearing us. Lost in the moment, I can't muster any concern about modesty or shocking anyone else. All that matters is this man, his body, and the surreal feelings he is bringing out in me.
My body pulses to his rhythm, rocking me with the most intense orgasm of my entire life. I shudder as the pleasure rolls through me. When some semblance of rationality begins to return to me, I realize that Andrew is still on his knees, bowed before me. He is looking up into my eyes, watching my facial expressions morph as the thrill of his loving attention washes over me. The enamored look he is giving me is far superior to anything I could have imagined in my dreams of him.
Still reeling from the intensity of my body's reaction to this man, I don't object when he sweeps me into his arms and carries me inside his cabin. I trail kisses along his ear and down his neck while he's walking with me as if I am as light as a feather. After he gently places me sideways across the bed, I scoot back and watch him. I'm immensely touched when he takes the time to grab a pillow from the near the headboard to place under my head.
The pillow makes me comfortable and puts me at the proper angle to ogle him while he makes preparations for our lovemaking. He truly is a magnificent male specimen. Every inch of him is lean and rippling with muscle definition. I'm relieved to see that he has his wits about him enough to think about protection because I am practically incoherent with need.
I don't bother to attempt to hide my fascination with his body as he rips open the foil packet and sheaths himself. His manhood is fully erect, ready to become one with me. I lick my lips in anticipation as his gaze travels down and back up me. I am bare before him––fully exposed and slick with need.
His eyes lock with mine and I can feel my breath coming in quick pants as the anticipation of this moment builds beyond what I would have thought possible. "You're sure?" he asks one last time.
Thrilled by his concern, but unable to speak, I nod my head in answer. That is evidently all the confirmation that he needs because he lithely joins me on the bed, his warm body hovering over me. My legs are spread wide and I can feel his smooth skin at my opening. I raise my hips needing more, but he holds back, the strain evident on his face. I look up at him, ready to plead for mercy––aching with the need to have him inside me.
"I can't believe it's you," he tells me before kissing me on the lips.
"I can't believe it's you," I mirror his words against his mouth.
He groans, sliding his tongue and penis into me at the same time. I am engulfed by the most intensely pleasurable, mind-numbing sensations imaginable as I wrap my limbs tightly around him, not wanting to ever let go. I can't get close enough to him, and the more I pull him to me, the more of himself he gives. I gaze down the length of him. His strong back muscles undulate as he slides in and out of me. We move in unison, clutching each other's sweat-slicked skin as if our lives depend on our primal mating.
He pumps deep into me, burying himself to the hilt––hard and fast. I meet him with each stroke, straining for even more of him. Finally, unable to stand the pressure any more, I moan incoherently in sweet release, pulsating around him. He follows my lead, letting go––his hot breath bursts out near my ear as he groans with pleasure.
&
nbsp; Staying inside me, he relaxes down on my body. The warm, solid weight of him is exquisite. I could stay like this forever.
I think that he might have fallen asleep, but he surprises me by mumbling near my ear, "Did I hurt you?"
"Hurt me?" I ask him, surprised. "No, that was on the opposite end of the spectrum from pain."
I feel his cheeks move into a smile against me as he gently places his lips on my shoulder. "I meant your sunburn. I didn't intend to get so carried away like that," he reveals.
"What sunburn?" I ask him, only half-teasing. My charred shoulders and thighs had been the last thing on my mind during our sexy tangle. Now that he's mentioned it and reminded me, though, my skin is starting to feel rather hot.
He gets up, and I instantly miss the feel of him on and in me. Making quick work of the condom disposal, he heads into the bathroom. Wondering if I should cover myself, but not having the energy to get up, I stay sprawled across his bed. Insecurities begin to slowly creep their way into my mind as I wonder if he is expecting me to leave. I would much rather spend the night in his bed and in his arms.
When he returns, he has a jar of coconut oil in his hands. "This stuff is supposed to be soothing for burned skin," he informs me.
I'm touched by the thoughtful gesture. Being familiar with the many highly-touted wonders of coconut oil from my visit to Hawaii, I nod at him. "It's also supposedly a wonderful moisturizer and lubricant," At the last word, I give him my best naughty grin and waggle my eyebrows at him.
"Mmmm," he smiles back at me before rejoining me in the bed. "We better test this out for ourselves to see if it's as great as they say."
Chapter 25
We spend the entire night giving each other coconut oil massages; sliding our limbs over each other's skin in the oversized bed; and tasting, touching, and memorizing every inch of each other's body. It is by far the most glorious, inhibition-free night of my entire life, and one that I am certain I will never, EVER forget.
