As Beautiful as the Bay

by Serenity Woods

  Sam had an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. What she’d said was bad enough, but he knew she wasn’t telling him the whole story. “So what happened?”

  “Well, the other problem was...” She cleared her throat. “In the bedroom.”

  Sam frowned. “Are you sure you want to tell me?”

  “I don’t have to. But I want to. I need to talk to someone about it. You promise not to laugh?”

  “Why? Is it funny?”

  “Not in the least. Not to me, anyway. But I don’t have anything to judge it against. You’re a guy, though, and guys tend to know about this kind of thing. I wish I had a brother to talk to about it, but then again I don’t think I could.”

  “Can you talk to Mac?”

  “Not about this.”

  “But you feel you can talk to me?”

  “Yes. I don’t know why.”

  “Okay. Fire away.” He had no idea what she was going to say, but he was pleased that she felt she could discuss it with him.

  “All right; here goes. Well, Jack was into... um... kinky stuff.”

  Sam didn’t say anything. He was glad of the dark, so she couldn’t see the look on his face.

  “Did you hear me?” she asked.

  “Yes,” he said. He’d gone completely cold. He wanted to demand: what kind of kinky stuff? But he couldn’t seem to find the words.

  She shifted on the sofa. “I’d only had a couple of other partners, so I wasn’t very experienced. And I suppose when I started going out with him, it was... exciting. Different. I thought of myself as sexually liberated and adventurous, and I wanted to see what it was all about. It’s difficult to explain what he was like, how charming he was. I’m embarrassed to admit it, but it was as if he cast some kind of spell on me. I was completely caught up in him. And so, for a while, I went along with it.”

  Sam finally found his tongue. “What kind of kinky stuff?”

  “Well, you know.”

  “No, Ginger. There are many kinds of kink. Role play, dressing up, fetishes. Multiple partners?”

  “God, no. But... he liked to... um... dominate me.”

  He finally understood. The guy enjoyed being in control, and it made sense that his desires extended to the bedroom. “He was into BDSM?”

  “Well, sort of. I mean, he didn’t go to clubs, or have a playroom or anything like that, and it wasn’t as if he asked me to be his submissive in so many words. But he did like using... you know, equipment. Right from the beginning he liked to hold me down. He enjoyed tying me up, but with proper cuffs, not silk scarves. Leather and metal. And some other... stuff. I’m too embarrassed to describe it. Jeez, I’m glad it’s dark. I don’t even know if he thought there was anything strange about the way he was. And maybe there wasn’t—I’m not experienced enough to know.”

  Holy shit, she was fucking apologizing for him. Unexpected anger flared inside Sam, but he clenched his teeth, refusing to let it out.

  Ginger continued, oblivious to his feelings. “He didn’t force me, I wouldn’t have stood for that, but he was persuasive. He promised it was all about pleasure, and he was right, sort of, but it became so... cold. It’s hard to describe. I don’t know what went wrong. It was as if, near the end, there wasn’t any emotion involved. It was all physical, almost like he was carrying out experiments. He wanted to control my pleasure and... arousal. He liked testing the boundaries between pleasure and pain, drawing it out, and denying... um... you know... orgasm.” Her voice trailed off. “Jesus, Sam, come on say something. I’d rather you laugh than stay quiet.”

  “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “Have I said too much? Have I shocked you?”

  “Only because I didn’t think you’d stand for being dominated.”

  “I didn’t like it,” she admitted quietly. “As time went by, I grew more and more uneasy. I didn’t like being told what to do, and I resented his jealousy. And, in the bedroom, I felt... I don’t know... Dirty. And not in a good way. I didn’t want to feel like that. I like sex. And I don’t mind experimenting, you know, trying... stuff. I thought I was liberated and open-minded. And I’m not stupid, I know it’s more physical for men. But it should be natural and fun, full of heat and sizzle and passion, but in the context of love, or at least affection, not cold and clinical...”

  Her voice wavered and she covered her mouth with her hand.

  Sam wanted to get on a plane, fly to London, and smash the guy’s head in with a cricket bat. He’d never been so angry. He didn’t care what any man did in the privacy of his own home, but the thought of this guy subjecting the beautiful, feisty, but gentle Ginger to sexual acts that made her uncomfortable was enough to make his usually dormant anger erupt.

  But he pushed it away—there were more important things at the moment, because she was crying openly now. “Aw, sweetheart. Come here.” He lifted his arm, relieved when she moved under it. He lifted her onto his lap, put his arms around her, and tucked the duvet around them. She drew up her legs and snuggled against him.

  “I just hate being weak,” she whispered.

  “You’re not weak, Ginger, you’re incredibly strong. You stood up to that bastard. That’s what’s important. He’s gone, now. You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

  Chapter Ten

  They sat in silence until Ginger’s tears began to subside. Sam’s arms were tight around her, and his body warmed her through the robe. She leaned her cheek on his firm shoulder, and just enjoyed being close to him. When she felt his lips touch her hair, she smiled in the darkness.

  It hadn’t been easy to confess to him, but she’d needed to talk to someone about what had happened. Sam’s reaction had been strong enough to convince her she was right. During her terrible argument with Jack, when she’d told him she felt uneasy about what they did in the bedroom, he’d told her she was a prude, and had made her feel as if she were the one at fault, and that she was the only woman ever to have a problem with him. It had been impossible to shake that feeling, but for the first time she felt on the road to recovery.

  “Did you love him?” Sam asked, stroking her back.

  “No. Well, maybe I thought I did for a while, but I think it was just lust and heat and passion.”

  “Nothing wrong with any of those,” he pointed out.

  “No. But when you mistake them for love, you’re in trouble. I don’t think I’ve ever been in love.” She looked away, out of the window, into the dark night. “My father left when I was three. I guess my parents must have been in love in the beginning, but I can’t remember it. I’ve seen it in books and movies, but I sometimes wonder whether it’s real. Whether it exists without jealousy and control. I can’t imagine what it’s like. To trust someone implicitly, to know they always have your back. To feel at ease with them. To be... content.”

  “I’d imagine it feels something like this,” he said, and kissed her hair.

  She gave a wry smile. “Are you saying you love me?”

  “Would it make a difference?”

  “Sam! I can never tell when you’re joking.”

  “I never joke where love is concerned.”

  “Aw,” she scoffed. “Come on. You’re teasing me now.”

  “Maybe. Look, all I meant is that maybe you need to be friends with a man before you have a relationship. Then you’ll be more able to trust him.”

  “I suppose. I feel... wary. I don’t want to go down that road again. I do want passion, but I don’t want control and obsession. I’d be happy with good, old-fashioned love. Maybe I’m more wholesome than I thought.”

  That made him laugh. “That’s not a word I’d associate with you.”

  “Ouch. That’s what I get for opening my heart to you?”

  “Aw. Come on, Ginger, you’re made for loving. You’re gorgeous and hot as. You make a man’s head turn to lovemaking whenever you’re around. And just because you’re not into extreme kink doesn’t mean you’re not sexy or great in bed.”

  You make
a man’s head turn to lovemaking. What a lovely, old-fashioned way to put it. It was the absolute best thing he could have said. She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him, but she was too shy.

  “I’m not sure I should have told you everything,” she admitted. “But it’s all tied up with what happened this afternoon. Thinking of the past, it makes me feel uncomfortable and ashamed. I don’t like the person I was back then, and I’m disappointed that I brought her with me. I thought I’d put it all behind me, but I guess it never really goes, does it?”

  “It fades,” he said. “What you need is to replace those memories with new ones.”

  “You’re saying I need to have sex with you.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying.”

  They both laughed.

  She nudged him. “You love to tease me.”

  “Who’s teasing? You know I like you. I’ve asked you out every week since you came here.”

  “Yeah... true. But I kind of thought you were kidding.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you were hardly romantic about it,” she said wryly.

  He shrugged. “I’m a Kiwi bloke. We don’t do romantic.”

  “Well, maybe you should. It’s difficult to tell the difference, otherwise. I thought you were just being... you.”

  He ran a finger down her nose and brushed it across her lips. “If I tell you you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, will that do?”

  She frowned suspiciously, although her heart banged on her ribs. “Now I know you’re teasing me.”

  “I’m not. You’re gorgeous. I’ve had the hots for you since the first time I saw you at Mac and Fred’s wedding. I want you, and I’m determined to get you into my bed, even if I have to ask you out every week for the rest of my life.”

  His words were so unexpected that they sucked all the air from her lungs. He wasn’t laughing, and she had no doubt he meant every word he said. Why was she so surprised? He had made it clear he liked her. But he was so laid back; he joked all the time, and although he’d asked her out often, he hadn’t exactly pursued her, not the way Jack had done.

  Jack was sexy in an in-your-face kind of way; he always wore a suit, he styled his hair, he wore designer aftershave, and he used his contacts and his money to establish his place in society. He’d dazzled her as surely as if he’d reflected the sun off a mirror into her eyes.

  Sam was... not like that. His charm, such as it was, was boyish and unthreatening. He relied on his sense of humor to win people over, men and women alike, and he was very self-deprecating, tending to undersell himself rather than talk himself up, as Jack had done. She wasn’t sure if he ever brushed his hair, let alone styled it. She doubted it had ever been near a pot of gel. He didn’t appear to use aftershave; he always smelled of baking—muffins or bread. If he had money, he certainly didn’t flaunt it. He didn’t dazzle her.

  But he did make her glow. There was just something about him, in the way he looked at her, that suggested he was thinking about her with no clothes on. Despite that, initially she hadn’t even been sure he was her type. He wasn’t sexy, as such. Or maybe he was. But not in a tux-and-bow-tie kind of way. He was one-hundred-percent natural. If Jack was a meal at a restaurant followed by an evening at the theater, Sam was a day at the beach, giving you sunburned cheeks and sand between your toes.

  Until that moment, she’d liked his sense of humor, thought he was good looking in a boy-next-door kind of way, and had wondered occasionally what he might be like in bed, the kind of way you wondered what the guy in the year above you at school might have been like if you kissed him.

  But his words, I’m determined to get you into my bed, started a fire at the base of her spine that fizzed and sparked its way right to the roots of her hair.

  “Jesus,” she said, pushing herself up.

  “You sound surprised.”

  “You’ve shocked me.”

  He laughed. “Why?”

  “I don’t know. I suppose I thought you weren’t serious.” She gave in to the gentle pressure of his arm and let him cuddle her again.

  “Well, I am.” He rubbed her back. “But I know you’ve had a tough time. I’m happy to wait for you. I want you to know, though, that I’m not like him. I feel no need to control anyone or anything. It’s one thing I enjoyed while I was on the cruise ships—the freedom of it all. If anything, I tend to annoy women because I’m too laid back. Mind you, I’m not saying I expect you to do all the work.” He kissed the top of her head.

  “I’m glad to hear it.” Her cheek rested on his chest, and she could hear his comforting, regular heartbeat. Here, in the dark, with the rain outside, snuggled under the duvet, it felt as if they were the only two people in the whole world.

  Even though he’d asked her out every week, she’d refused him, so she hadn’t expected him to stay single, but since she’d arrived at Blue Penguin Bay she hadn’t heard of his name in connection with anyone else.

  “Have you ever been in love?” she asked.

  “No.”

  “Never?”

  She felt rather than heard his sigh. “There was a girl. Alyssa, I was very fond of. We worked the same ships for three years. We were very... relaxed.”

  “It was an open relationship?”

  “I don’t know what you’d call it.”

  “Did you see other people?”

  “We had our own cabins, our own friends. We hooked up when we felt like it, but there was no pressure for anything more from either of us.”

  Ginger toyed with the collar of his robe. She couldn’t imagine having a relationship like that, being with a man who didn’t demand to know where you were twenty-four hours a day. Part of her liked the idea of the freedom, while the rest of her felt confused at the notion. Had the two of them slept with other people? Despite her hating the way Jack had been so jealous, Ginger didn’t know if she would be able to deal with that.

  “What happened when you left?” she asked.

  “I told her I needed to go home to look after my father and the family business.”

  “Did you ask her to go with you?”

  “She wasn’t interested,” he said.

  That wasn’t really an answer. He was being evasive, for some reason. “Do you miss her?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Have you kept in touch?”

  “We’re friends on Facebook.” Again, a non-answer.

  “Do you talk on the phone?” she asked.

  “Not since you arrived.”

  She thought she could hear a smile in his voice. “I can’t imagine having a relationship like that. Without strings, or jealousy. Without control.”

  “Want to try?”

  She smiled. “You’re not going to give up, are you?”

  “Nope.” His hand was resting on her arm, his thumb brushing her skin beneath the short pajama sleeve.

  “I’m not sure I know how to have a normal relationship,” she admitted somewhat wistfully.

  “It’s easy. If there’s a problem, we talk about it. And if we trust each other, there’s no need for jealousy or control.”

  Ginger wasn’t sure it was that simple, but she liked that he thought it was. “You’re serious about this?”

  “Look at my face.”

  “I can’t see your face. I can’t see anything.”

  “Then let me show you.”

  He slid a hand against her face to cup her cheek. Ginger stilled at the touch of his warm skin, and closed her eyes as he brushed across her lips with his thumb. His other arm tightened around her as he shifted a little. And then she felt the touch of his lips against hers.

  She couldn’t help a little intake of breath, because the sensation of kissing him was almost like getting a shock of static. He slid his hand into her hair, and held her there while he placed kisses across her lips, on her nose and cheeks, and around to her ear.

  “Relax,” he murmured, and kissed back to her mouth. This time, he touched
his tongue to her lips. She opened them, and murmured as he slid his tongue against hers.

  Mmm, it was heavenly, in the dark and under the warm duvet, in the tight circle of his arms, being kissed. Every move he made was slow, as if he was worried about frightening her away. Ginger melted a little inside at his soft, gentle touch. She’d explained to him why she felt ashamed that she’d been so arrogant, and he hadn’t laughed at her or mocked her. He’d listened, and he’d comforted her.

  I’m determined to get you into my bed, he’d said. He wanted her, and not in a possessive, jealous way that made her uncomfortable. He made her feel... loved. A strange word, considering their relationship hadn’t even gotten off the ground yet.

  It was a nice word, though.

  Chapter Eleven

  Holding Ginger tightly, Sam turned on the sofa to stretch his legs out along it, and leaned back, drawing her with him. The room was cool, but beneath the duvet she felt warm and soft in his arms, although he could still feel tension in her body.

  “Relax,” he said again, stroking her back. “We’re just making out, okay?”

  “What are we, fourteen?”

  “Pretend we are. Nothing wrong with a bit of fooling around.”

  “I haven’t fooled around for years,” she whispered.

  He brushed his thumb along her cheek, his heart going out to her. “Are you trying to make me cry?”

  She laughed and tipped her head to rest her cheek in his palm. “I was beginning to think that kind of carefree sex was something that only happens in youth.”

  “Youth? You’re only... what? Twenty-seven?”

  “Twenty-six.”

  “Jeez, you’re hardly drawing your pension.”

  “I know.” She rested a finger under his chin and drew it down over his ribs, where the robe had parted to reveal his chest. “But when you’re young, it’s all about getting it done as fast as you can. It’s like there’s no time or inclination to be kinky. I wondered if it was something that comes with age, when people get bored with sex.”

  “I could do it in missionary every day for the next fifty years and I’d never get bored,” he reassured her.