by J. Haymore
"It can't last."
"You've made that abundantly clear."
"We have about a week," he says quietly. "Then two more weeks in Honolulu."
I slant him a glance. "How did you know I was staying in Honolulu for two weeks?"
He shrugs. "I think you mentioned it, didn't you? Maybe it was Kyle. The thing is, I was planning to stay awhile in Honolulu too."
A scoff bursts out of me. "And I'm supposed to feel…what? Honored that you're offering me two extra weeks of your perfection before you dump me?"
He shifts, and the next thing I know, he's over me, his face so close I can see the blue flecks in his narrowed eyes. My body demands I grab him and pull him down over me and kiss him until neither of us remembers where we are.
"You don't get it," he says in a harsh whisper. "I want to spend more than a week with you. I want to spend more than three weeks with you. But I told you, it can't happen. You need to know that. If I can only have you for three weeks…I can't resist. I can't stop it. I'll take what I can get. I want to give you pleasure, and I want to take pleasure from you. I want to learn everything about you. Taste every inch of you. Take you in every possible way. But at the end of that three weeks, I have to walk away, understand? I don't want to, but I'll have to. I'll have to."
Even though he said them twice, and with emphasis, the last three words hardly register. The rest of it, though. Learning me. Tasting me. Taking me in every possible way… Oh God. It's all I can do not to surge up into him. But some tiny grain of sanity remains, because I say, "And what about me?"
"You'll need to walk away too. But I can promise you one thing."
"What's that?"
"You won't regret our time together."
Silence. Then I breathe out, "Promise?"
"I promise."
Another silence, this one longer. Then, quietly, I say, "Ok—"
Before the word has left my mouth completely, he's kissing me. His lips are warm, and they taste like him, of heat and man and strength, and I wrap my arms around him and open to his erotic assault. His tongue sweeps inside my mouth as if he's sweeping away every memory of anyone else. His body sinks lower over mine, and little fires light my skin from the top to the bottom. He's solid over me, hard and strong. My hands roam over his front, over his shirt, exploring every dip and valley of his muscular torso. Then my fingers run over his arms, from his wrists up to his shoulder, feeling every solid muscle, his powerful triceps and thick biceps. There's nothing soft about him—he's all muscle and strength, hard lines and sharp angles.
His strength seems to seep into me with him so close. With a little moan, I arch up into him, my arms slipping around his lower back and tugging him closer.
His fingers dig into my hair, and his kiss deepens as more of his weight presses on me. He moves subtly against me, and I can feel his arousal against my thigh. My excitement ratchets upward, an almost unbearable pressure tightening my abdomen.
"Please," I whisper against his lips.
He draws back. "You're saying yes?"
"Yes," I gasp.
"Yes right now, or yes for the next three weeks?"
"Yes right now." He hesitates, hovering over me. I add, "And yes for the next three weeks."
His sigh of relief washes over my cheek. He presses his forehead to mine. "God. I want you so much."
I want him too. So much.
He kisses me again. We kiss for long minutes, exploring each other with hands and lips and tongues.
Finally he draws back. We're both breathing hard, and we lie there, trading breaths for a few seconds. Then, he murmurs, "Your watch is almost over."
"Already?"
His laugh is a puff of air against my cheek. "Yeah. Kyle will be out here in a few minutes to take your place."
Kyle. He told me he didn't trust Ethan and to stay away from him. He'd hate the agreement Ethan and I made tonight. He'll worry I'm going to get hurt. And right now, I don't want to deal with placating him.
"I don't want Kyle to know," I say. "Not yet, anyway."
"Okay," he responds easily. "I'd rather he didn't know either. He's not going to like it."
"What makes you say that?"
"Just a feeling." He shrugs, then adds, "I don't want anyone to know. It's between us. It's private. One thing you need to know about me, Tara—privacy is very, very important to me.
I was probably right, then, when I guessed that the reason he hasn't been photographed with a woman in eight years is because he's a private man.
But he's right. This is a tenuous, new thing between us, and it's personal. We're stuck with the other people on this boat, always in close proximity. There's no walking away if things get weird. I don't want to deal with their whispers, innuendo, or their judgments. It's hard to maintain privacy in this small a space, but not impossible.
Ethan draws farther back, watching me. I run my teeth over my bottom lip, thinking about asking him to join me in my bunk when his watch is over in two hours. But then he trails several little kisses over my cheekbone, and says, "I'll see you tomorrow."
I'm already warm and eager, so ready for him. My body's excitement at being so close to this man is a mystery to me. I've never felt anything like it.
"Okay." Can he read the disappointment in my tone?
Maybe, because he murmurs, "I'm going to dream about you tonight and think about you all day. I'm going to watch you and drink you in from a distance. It's going to kill me to keep my hands off you. But I will, because I want to enjoy every bit of you tomorrow."
I want to enjoy every bit of him too. I want to see him naked and explore every inch of him. I want to feel him over me again, his lips and hands on me. And I want to feel him inside me.
He turns to the side, bracing his body on one forearm. He cups my cheek with his free hand, then runs it down over my neck, then my collarbone, and over my breast. He pauses there, curving his palm around the bottom of it and running his thumb over my nipple. Even through the material of my T-shirt and bra, the sensation makes me groan.
"You like that, baby?" he murmurs, his lips nuzzling my earlobe.
"Yes," I whisper.
He plays with my nipple until I can't hold still anymore. Until the pleasure radiates out from my breast and clenches my core and heats my limbs. Until I'm panting and writhing. He touches me—just one breast—making me climb, higher and higher, until I'm trembling at the edge and on the verge of toppling over. I squirm against him, wanting—needing—to fall. Needing that release.
But even as I pant for more, his movements gentle. I open my eyes to see him gazing at me, his expression so intense, so hot I moan.
"God, you're responsive." His whisper is rough, and I press my body against him, rubbing against the hard line of his erection.
I've never been responsive before. Sex with Daniel always left me a little cold. My self-consciousness with him made it hard for me to get turned-on enough to enjoy it. I never came without help from my hand while I was with him.
With Ethan…he is the fuel that makes me combustible. Within a few feet of him, I'm already hot and ready. Open for him. Wanting him.
And just the sensation of him touching my breast almost made me come. God. I can't even begin to imagine how it'll feel to actually have sex with him.
"Kyle is going to be here any second. I need to take you to your cabin." He presses his body against mine briefly, then he pulls back, and this time his withdrawal is complete. I bite back a shudder at the sudden coldness of the air washing over me.
He stands and holds out his hand to help me up. I take it, and we stand there, hand in hand, our legs adjusting to the movement of the boat as we gaze at each other. The look he's giving me makes me shudder. Because there's a tenderness, a softness there I haven't seen in him, or anyone, before. And it makes me melt inside.
"Three weeks?"
"Three weeks," I agree, nodding solemnly. Three weeks. I can do this. I will do it.
He blows out a soft breath.
"Thank you. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more than three weeks with you." He leans down and kisses me; one tender, slow kiss on the lips.
I want to ask, Why me? but I don't. I just stare at him, and I know what he sees. He sees a girl who's gazing at him with stars in her eyes.
Justine
January 2, 2004
Ethan has come to the house to spend a few days with Daddy and me before the spring term starts. I wanted him to stay during all of winter break, of course, but Ethan is very attached to his mom—too attached, if you ask me. So he insisted on spending Christmas in the hovel Jean lives in. Seriously, Diary, it is a hovel. It's a studio apartment in the worst part of San Jose. When I came by to pick him up, so many questionable characters lurked around, I was positive I was going to be mugged any second.
And his mom…sigh. She's just so…drab. I wonder how she spawned the perfection that is Ethan. She's a sad shadow of a woman, and the only time she lights up is when she lays eyes on her son. Ethan treats her with an utter devotion and respect that I can't understand. How did she earn that kind of love from him? I don't know how she ever earned it—I mean, look at her house!
Anyway…all of it makes me a little jealous. I won't tell the world this, Dear Diary, but I'll tell you. I've been with Ethan for over a year now, and over the past several months, the truth has become abundantly clear. Ethan is mine. If anyone—even his mom—tried to take him from me, I don't know what I'd do.
But that's the irritating part of my winter break, Diary, and thankfully it's over. Now comes the good part, and it's this: Daddy and Ethan love each other! No, really, they do. They hit it off immediately.
You see, Ethan is like a sponge at school, absorbing anything and everything he finds remotely interesting. Well, he finds Daddy extremely interesting. My father has had a hand in three startups since I was a little girl, and all three have been insanely successful. Hence, our money. Our six cars, our housekeeping and driving staff, my prep school education, my admission to Stanford (though I'm not going to lie and say it had nothing to do with my genius), my designer everything, our eleven-point-two-million-dollar house. My father is one of the wealthiest men in America, and I've always had the best of everything. I'm not ashamed to say it's because we're rich.
I love every bit of Daddy's success and am happy to reap the benefits. As the only child of a widower tech mogul, I'm very spoiled. I'm my father's brilliant and beautiful daughter, and I play the part well despite the little situations I've gotten myself into over the years.
I've got the man wrapped around my little finger, and in return, I adore him. I'd do anything for him.
And I adore Ethan too, obviously, which is why this turn of events excites me so much. On that first night, when the three of us sat at the end of the dining room table and Maria served us our filet mignon, they spoke passionately about my father's brand-new startup, Triton Technologies, a business that revolutionizes hard drive technology, among other things. Ethan was fascinated. He asked question after question—and they weren't stupid questions; they were intelligent and thought-provoking, and Daddy was impressed.
I'm glad for both of them. The business side of the tech business isn't my forte. I'm all about digging deep into the code—all the way to its core. I love to get to the nitty-gritty of algorithms and then manipulating them. You should see the secret project I'm working on now, Diary. Spyware that piggybacks onto virus-protection software. Beta testing is going well. Mostly, I just love the irony of it.
I watch Daddy and Ethan with stars in my eyes. I can't help but think of the possibilities the universe is offering us.
This will be a partnership made in heaven. A three-way partnership that will result in my ultimate, blissful happiness.
I have a plan, Dear Diary. And I can't wait to put it in motion.
Chapter Seven
The next morning, I sit up in bed, energetic and wide awake. An odd sensation of warmth swells in my chest.
It's happiness.
My beeping alarm clock informs me that it's already seven thirty. My watch starts at eight.
I take a quick shower, then, after throwing on pants and a T-shirt, head up to the galley, where Mick has already brewed a pot of coffee. I pour some, add cream and sugar, then wander out on deck, shrugging my PFD on over my shirt.
It's a beautiful morning. It's grown progressively warmer as we travel closer to Hawaii, and this morning is balmy with a brisk trade wind that has the Temptation clipping along at a good speed.
I find Mick in the captain's chair. "Good morning," I say. "How's everything?"
"Great." He glances up from the logbook and gives me a once-over. "You're looking cheery this morning."
I almost choke on the sip of coffee I'm taking. I can't remember anyone ever calling me cheery.
"Do I?" I ask. Ethan's mouth on mine… Ethan's hand on my breast, bringing me higher and higher… The heat of a blush prickles over my cheeks.
"Definitely. Did you get good news or something?"
Yes, I did. I got the news that Ethan Williams will be mine for the next three weeks.
The possessive thought makes my chest tighten. Ethan Williams is mine. I like the sound of that.
"Nope." Keeping my tone deliberately bland, I raise my coffee cup in salute. "It's just a beautiful morning, and we're going to be in Hawaii in a few days."
"Maybe a day or two longer than originally planned," Mick tells me. "We haven't been making good time."
He's right—light winds have definitely slowed our progress. "But it's already blowing this morning, so I bet we'll make up some time today."
He grins at me. "Maybe we will. And the forecast is showing the winds picking up even more, so that'll be good."
I agree that that would be a good thing, then tell him I'm going to head up to the bow. I maneuver around the captain's chair and walk along the deck carefully, checking each step and gripping the lifeline tightly in one hand. After Kyle's accident, I've been careful. I've worn my PFD, held on to the lifelines, clipped in to the harness whenever possible, just like Ethan made me promise to do.
I sit at the very front of the boat and lean against the forestay, watching the twin prows slice into the water and sipping my coffee. The breeze whips my hair around my face, making me wish I'd tied it back, but it is a truly glorious morning. The sun seems brighter and feels warmer on my skin. The ocean seems bluer, and it sparkles under the sun.
I stay at the bow until someone behind me says, "Hey there."
It's Ethan. My mouth stretches into a big smile as he approaches, hot as ever, his smile reflecting my own, and warmth washes through my chest all over again.
"Hey there yourself."
He sits beside me, close, but we don't touch. "How are you this morning?"
"Good," I murmur, staring down at my cup as sudden shyness overcomes me. These bouts of self-consciousness come on at the strangest times. I really wish I could control them.
He stiffens, an ever so slight tightening of his muscles.
"Second thoughts?"
I look up, blinking in surprise. "No."
The tension drains out of him as quickly as it came. "Good."
"Why? Were you having second thoughts?"
"Hell, no," he says quietly. "I missed you last night. I couldn't wait to see you again."
A laugh bursts out of me, and the shyness is all but gone. Ethan has a way of making me come out of myself more than I can with anyone else except Kyle and Aunt Jo. "Your cabin is about twenty feet from mine. You could have come visit."
"I recall saying something last night about anticipation," he murmurs. He glances back as if to make sure no one is watching us, then leans toward me to brush his lips over my hair.
"But there's something I didn't tell you," I answer in a playful tone.
"What's that?"
"I'm impatient. It's one of my big flaws. I have a hard time waiting for what I want."
He pulls back from me, his eyes twinkling. "I
like this side of you, Tara. Who would have thought you were such a playful little sex kitten."
I do an honest-to-goodness spit take. Fortunately, most of it goes into the ocean. "Oh God! I'm not a sex kitten!"
He laughs and reaches up to swipe a drop of coffee from my chin. "You don't know how sexy you are, baby."
I've never thought of myself as sexy before. But with Ethan—yes, I can feel it. I feel like he has unlocked a hidden box of sensuality within me, and now, every time he's near, he coaxes a little more of it free.
I want to lean against him, close my eyes, and breathe him in. Arousal shimmers between us in a warm glow, and we're not even touching. I don't feel like a kitten right now, I feel like a lioness, ready to pounce on my prey and devour him. I shiver.
"Are you cold?" he asks.
I rake my teeth over my bottom lip as I look up at him. "No," I say huskily. "I'm warm. Almost…hot."
His palm presses my cheek until we're face-to-face, our noses a hairsbreadth apart. "And you say you're not a sex kitten," he murmurs. "Do you even know how you've got me tied up in knots right now?"
"Tell me," I whisper.
"I can't think of anything but being with you. I can't wait to see you naked. Can't wait to feel your bare body underneath me. Can't wait"—he closes his eyes—"to be inside you." He says the last in a low voice so laden with sensual promise that it sends shivers radiating out from my core.
God, I want him so bad. Right now. But it's not going to happen, because just then my spine prickles, and I look over my shoulder.
Mick sits in the captain's chair, staring at us. When he sees that I've caught him he doesn't avert his eyes. There's an expression of avid concentration on his face, like he's watching an intense action movie during the climactic moment.
I turn away, disconcerted. Ethan has already picked up on my tension, and he glances back too, his hand slipping from my cheek.
"I don't like him," he murmurs, leaning toward me. "Stay away from him, Tara."
"Why do you say that?" That little paranoid part of me I've been pushing away—that part that's been telling me the silicone on the deck was poured there on purpose—comes flaring to life.
