15.
Becca
Did I really just call him Rob? It was bad enough that I had fallen asleep on him like that, but then to wake up and call him by the name of my ex-boyfriend—oh God!
Was it really my fault though? I couldn’t help that I’d been dreaming of my ex. It wasn’t like it was a good dream, not that it was a particularly bad one either. Just a dream with Rob in it, the details of which had floated away the moment my eyes had opened, only his name left upon my lips.
I had to give to Rich. As soon as he had heard my slip, I could see the curiosity spark in his eyes. And just as quickly, he had clamped down on it. He knew better than to ask. Well, even if he had, I probably wouldn’t have explained anyways. Why bother? It wasn’t like Rob was any longer important to my life, even if I technically I was still riding the wave he’d created that had upended everything. No, now he was just a memory.
As Pace pulls into the cove, sadness sweeps over me, though not because of Rob. I just don’t want this day to end. It’s been one of the more memorable days of my life, and easily the happiest day I’ve had since everything fell apart. Amazing what a little bit of nature could do for one’s spirit.
The three of us hike silently back the resort, Rich and I so tired that we can barely lift our feet out of the sand. When we get back to the path leading up to the dining area, Pace shakes our hands and excuses himself. Dusk has long since fallen, night close on its heels.
The two of us head up to the dining garden where preparations for dinner have just gotten underway. Just as we pass through the lattice archway into the garden, Rich turns to me.
“Well…” he drawls. “I guess—“
“Dinner?” I ask, cutting him off, surprising myself even as I say it.
“I…” Rich begins. It’s obvious my suggestion has caught him off guard. “Sure,” he corrects himself. I can’t be entirely sure because of the darkness, but he seems to be blushing.
“Perfect,” I say, holding out an elbow for him. He takes it and, laughing, we continue on into the garden. Surprisingly, though we’re quite early, we’re not the first ones here, several couples already seated at tables and sipping drinks. I lead Rich over to our table. Our table. Since when had it become ‘our table’?
No sooner are we seated than a waiter, the same waiter who served us the night before appears with a bottle of wine and two glasses. Uncorking the wine, he fills each glass.
“A good day?” he asks.
“The best,” Rich says, raising his glass towards me in toast.
“Glad to hear it,” the waiter says. “Pace knows all the best spots around here. Anyways, if you guys need anything else, just let me know.”
As the waiter ambles over to the next table where two sisters have just settled in, I look at Rich questioningly.
“So when I said friend, I meant waiter,” he says with a shrug and a smirk.
“Well, either way, I can’t say I’m disappointed.” Laughing, I clink my glass to his.
Dinner is just as delicious as the night before, probably because it’s basically the same meal—roasted pig with a variety of side dishes and fresh fruit as dessert. Even though we’ve had quite the active morning and afternoon, neither Rich nor I eat nearly as much as yesterday. What doesn’t diminish is our consumption of alcohol. By the time our dinner plates are cleared away, a circle of men in traditional Hawaiian garb beating on drums up on stage, we’re both a little tipsy. Or a lot tipsy. Hard to tell when you were as exhausted as we were.
As soon as one bottle of wine disappears, another takes its place. I can’t seem to suck it down fast enough. When a third bottle appears on the table, I notice the waiter, the same waiter who set Rich up with Pace, give my companion a wink. Catching my eye, the waiter grins, knowing he’s been caught. With how good I’m feeling, I can only grin back.
When the drummers finish their performance, a band replaces them onstage. As they strike up a light jazz number, I close my eyes and let the gentle strains of the saxophone dance through my head. It’s exactly like a breeze blowing through a mountain meadow, every note rustling the long stalks of my thoughts. When I open my eyes several seconds later, Rich is standing over me, his hand extended. I take it without a second thought. Pulling me to my feet, he leads me to the dance floor in the middle of the garden. He yanks me to him, his arms wrapping around my waist. I’m much more lightheaded now that I’m standing. My head resting on his shoulder, we begin to sway, so tired still that we’re not even lifting our feet from the ground as we rotate in place.
The first number finished, the band launches into a jauntier tune the likes of which perk us right up. Soon I’m twirling quickly as Rich guides me around the grass dance floor. He’s quite the good dancer and it’s not long before I’m out of breath from laughing as he leads me from one end of the floor to the other, spinning me and pulling me close before pushing me away to spin me again.
The band plays for a good, long while, the only breaks Rich and I taking for more wine back at our table where a fourth bottle has appeared. I have no idea what time it is when the band finally plays its last number. All I know is that it’s late, most of the other vacationers long ago having disappeared.
Thanking us, the players begin to pack their instruments. Taking my hand, Rich pulls me from the dance floor. Together, we stumble across the garden and onto the path leading to our villas.
Though the party is over, the resort is far from asleep. As we walk down the pathway, we pass numerous couples clutching one another in the dark. Apparently, we’re not the only ones the waiters got drunk tonight.
We reach Rich’s villa (he had told me over dinner that his room was next to mine), walking right past it to the walkway leading to mine. I turn to face him, my hand still in his. The moon is high overhead. Somewhere not too far away a man and a woman are giggling.
He’s giving me that look again, the same look he’d given me on the beach just before kissing me. But there’s a certain wariness in it now. I can tell he wants to kiss me but is afraid.
Well, I’m not. Standing here with him, bathed in this creamy moonlight, no sound save the crash of waves on the beach and the couple giggling not too far way, I’ve just realized that he is the only person I’ve been thinking of all evening. In fact, the only person I’ve been thinking of all day. Not once, aside from my strange dream of Rob, have my thoughts strayed from this beautiful, kind, gentle man who I felt so utterly comfortable around.
I want him.
The thought strikes me out of nowhere and yet isn’t surprising. My desire feels nothing but natural. I glance down at his lips and then back up into his eyes. Kiss me. Don’t wait; kiss me!
But he doesn’t. Instead, he stares longingly at me for a moment longer before, with a sigh, turning to go.
I’m not going to be stopped so easily. Lurching forward, I grab his arm and turn him back to me. In an instant, I have my mouth pressed to his. His eyes open wide with surprise. I kiss him deeper, groaning as my tongue slips into his mouth. I reach up, my fingers entwining in the hair at the nape of his neck. He’s rigid, his hands down by his sides. This only lasts a second. Closing his strong arms around me, he begins to kiss me back.
Without releasing my hold on him, I work backwards down the walkway to my villa. A part of me can’t believe this is happening even as it is. Reaching the door, I turn with my lips still locked to his, pull my keycard out of the pocket of my cover-up and slip it into the door. Twisting the handle, I push it open.
“Wait!” he gasps, stopping me as I move to pull him into my room. He’s holding my face in his hands, his eyes probing deep into mine. “Are you sure?”
Rather than answer, I yank him back to me, kissing him even more forcefully as I lead us into the room. The moon is casting so much light upon the earth that I don’t even have to turn on the lights as we stumble into the bedroom. At the foot of the bed, we kick off our sandals and together tumble down onto the cool sheets. Again he tries to stop me. I won’t let him. Some dam inside of me has broken open. Desire is rushing out and there’s no way to hold back its flow.
I pull off Rich’s shirt and as he pulls off my cover-up. Reaching behind me, I untie the knot of my bikini top. He groans as he runs his hands up my body. Despite the strength in him, his touch is soft, sensual.
Our bodies are intertwined, the sheets twisted beneath us. So long since I’ve been with someone, so long since I’ve felt a man’s touch, and yet so good to be in his arms. Somewhere in the back of my mind, a voice is whispering: this is exactly what you’re supposed to be avoiding. I ignore it. This wasn’t the time for that. Right now, there was only this moment, this moment, this man and my desire.
As our bodies begin to move against one another, our moans mingling in the moonlight, Rich breaks away from our kiss once more, my face held gently in his hands.
“Are you sure?” he asks again, his voice aching with longing.
“I’m sure, Rich,” I say, pulling him back down to me. “I want you…”
…more than anything I’ve ever wanted.