Chapter 9
THEY DIDN’T LEAVE THE room for another hour, finding other, more interesting things to do. But when both their stomachs protested, they dressed and ventured out for food. They chose Mexican, laughing and talking over tacos and carnitas, chips and margaritas. They lingered and laughed over fried ice cream and held hands.
Hours later, they strode lazily down the beach, much as they had the previous night, but they were both quieter this time. A silent intimacy that said more than words. Her body still hummed in places, and when she shivered at the thought, Deacon put his arm around her.
The moon was full and bright. A row of tiki torches burned to their left, marking a private party. From the sound of it, the gathering was a wedding reception and had been going for some time.
“Have you ever crashed a wedding?” Deacon asked.
“No!” She reared back. “Have you?”
“No.” He tugged her back close to his side. “But I’ve always wanted to. Just kind of a bucket list thing.”
“You shock me, Dr. Montgomery.”
“Do I?” He pulled her around in front of him, slipping one arm around her back. “We could just use their music.”
“And dance?” she asked, laying one hand on his shoulder. “Brave man.”
“Mmm.” He took her other hand, curled his fingers around hers, and held it against his chest.
Their bare feet shuffled in the sand in a slow, circling dance to the tune of an eighties rock ballad. She moved in closer, nestling her head on his chest, amazed at how natural it felt to be held by him. Neither spoke, maybe because nothing needed to be said. Or maybe because neither of them knew what to say. But it was perfect.
The song ended, and they might have stayed that way for another, might have stayed there in each other’s arms without any music at all, but the opening blast of the Macarena had them moving on with a laugh.
When they got far enough away that the crash of waves overtook the music, they found a place and sat in the sand.
Deacon wrapped his arms around her from behind, and she covered them with her own. Letting her head drop back against his chest, she gazed up at the star-filled sky, listening to the gentle surf rolling in and out.
“Did you know I always thought when people talked about the man on the moon, they were talking about a tiny person they could see. I can’t tell you how many hours I spent looking for him.”
Deacon laughed, and she elbowed him. “Well, it would have helped if someone had said it was just the face.”
“I guess it would have.” He brushed a kiss across her temple, then rested his cheek against hers.
They sat that way for several moments, the sounds of the edge of the world cocooning them and the heat from Deacon’s body surrounding hers. If she let herself, she might sink into thoughts that it would soon end. The fact that it felt more real than anything she’d ever felt before was both confusing and sad.
“You want to hear something else funny?” she asked before she got too bogged down in feelings. “I used to cry in my crib every night because I was scared it would rain on me.”
“You remember being in your crib?”
“I do, but I wasn’t a baby.” She laughed. “Being the youngest, I stayed in the crib longer than most. I was nearly three before they got me to sleep in a bed.”
“And you remember being three?”
“A few things.”
“That’s impressive.”
“Mmm. I have good long-term memory. Not so good with the short-term. What’s your earliest memory?”
He thought for a minute.
“It doesn’t have to be your earliest,” she said when he didn’t answer. “Anything.”
Another moment passed before he finally spoke. “I was with my grandfather when he died.”
“Deacon.” She tried to turn to face him, but he held her. “I’m sorry,” she said looking back over her shoulder as much as she could.
“It’s okay. I don’t even know what made me think of that.”
“How old were you?”
“Five. We were fishing on the edge of a pond, and he just…fell over. He dropped his pole, and I remember it sliding slowly down the bank. It’s weird, but I wasn’t terrified, you know? Maybe I was too young to really understand or right on the edge of understanding.”
“I’m sorry,” she said again softly.
“No. I’m sorry,” he said with a dry laugh. “That was too much.”
“No,” she said, turning to face him. She straddled his thighs, her knees in the cool sand, her hands on his smooth cheeks. “It wasn’t too much.”
* * *
DEACON STARED INTO CLARE’S dark eyes shining bright in the moonlight. “God, I could eat you alive.” He traced a finger up her exposed thigh. The feel of her firm, satin skin nearly undid him. It reminded him of how Clare felt beneath him and over him. It made his hands itch to caress her entire body, explore every curve, and rediscover every touch. And he would. For two more days and two more nights, and then…
And then would come later.
They barely made it to the room before he had to have her again. He closed the door behind them then caught her from behind. He couldn’t help himself. She drew in a quick gasp when he slid his hands lower, smoothing his palms over the waterfall of cloth covering her thighs. When he brought his palms back up to her waist in a torturous glide, she leaned back, moaning.
“I love this dress.”
She tipped her head back on his shoulder. “I’m glad.”
“I need to get you out of it.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, and her lips curved up in a teasing smile. “I’m glad.”
He’d wanted to get her out of the dress hours ago, since he’d watched her put it back on. He breathed slowly, deliberately. She was so perfect, so soft, so small compared to him, and yet she fit against him perfectly.
“I love your skin,” he said, drawing the dress off her shoulders and down her arms. His lips followed the flesh he’d bared. “It’s like silk.” He scraped his teeth along the column of her throat while his hands drew the dress to her waist. “Delicious silk.”
The moon that had shone on the beach illuminated the room like a spotlight. Deacon turned her to face him. Then with an arm around her lower back, he jerked her up and against him. He couldn’t go slow. Not this time. His mouth crashed against hers, hot, lusty, and possessive. He nipped at her lips. His tongue slid over hers, tasting coffee, wine, and chocolate. The catch of her breath at his touch only added to the need and the urgency.
With his mouth on hers, he spun her toward the bed. Pressed her back until she was laid out before him, her dark hair fanned out against the white.
In a frenzy, they rid themselves of clothes and barely managed a condom before she slid her hand between them. She wrapped him in a tight fist, bringing a moan from deep in his throat. He’d wanted fast, but he didn’t want it to be over before it began.
He took her hand, brought it up and over her head, then the other and held them there while he had his own fun. Gently, he ran a hand over her damp flesh, shoulder to thigh. He licked at her salty skin, nipped at the delicate column of her throat. He drew out the pleasure for both of them until he could wait no more.
Then with his gaze locked on hers, he pushed inside slowly, so slowly, clenching his jaw at the pleasure. His heart beat like a wild drum. Clare took him, inch by inch, and his breath left him again.
He needed to get closer, and closer still. His world narrowed to the reality of being connected to Clare and the two of them moving together. She drew her legs up and around his hips, pulling him even closer and deeper.
He watched her face and the rise and fall of her chest. The heat built, and he watched her pleasure peak. Deacon didn’t think he’d ever seen anything as beautiful as Clare’s face when she came. Shock, quick and rippling, followed by surrender.
He buried his face in her hair, felt her tremble under him. And unable to hear anything over the blood pounding in his ears, he followed.
After, he lay still, absorbing the shocks and mini quakes of his body. When he was finally able to lift his head, he gazed down into Clare’s flushed face. Her eyes were closed, and he swept his thumb gently over her cheek. With their bodies pressed skin to skin, still joined, he brushed his lips over her shoulder.
He started to move his weight, but she held on, stroking her hand lightly down his back until he let his head fall to her neck. As he lay there against her soft body, inhaling her scent, his racing heart did an odd little bounce.
He gave them both another minute then rolled to his side, taking her with him. He wondered if he should go or offer to go, but not with Clare’s warm body nestled against his, her breasts soft against his side. Did she feel the same? “I don’t want to leave this room. Is that okay?”
She reached up and touched his cheek. “Yes. Very okay.”
His heart swelled at that simple, sweet touch.
He traced the delicate lines of her face just visible in the moonlight sliding in between the open curtains. “What do you want to do tomorrow?”
“Mmm.” She sighed and snuggled deeper into the shelter of his arms, her naked body pressed into his side. “I don’t know.”
He felt her soft breath on his shoulder and chest. “I have some ideas.”
“Oh, really?”
“Yes.” He kissed her throat then angled over her and kept going until she was under him. “I’m going to start like this, kissing every inch of you.”
“Mmm. I like that. Then what?”
“Then I’m going to open those shades…”
She groaned at that, and he laughed, as she’d already told him she wasn’t an early-morning kind of person.
“Then I’ll open the doors and make love to you with the sun streaming over your skin and the sound of the waves crashing. We’ll hit the breakfast buffet at eight.”
“Eight!”
He smiled against her lips. “Okay. Nine, but not a minute later. I have plans.”
“More plans? Like what? Does it involve piña coladas and you in my bed?”
“It could. But I also thought we could go parasailing.”
“Mmm.”
“What?” He slid his fingers through the hair on either side of her face. “Scared of heights?”
“Not exactly. It’s just the whole water-versus-ground thing. I mean, I figure if I fell off a building or something, I’d just splat on the sidewalk. The end. But over water… I don’t know. I could break a lot of things and then linger there in pain, unable to swim until I drowned.”
“That’s incredibly morbid.”
“I know.”
“Okay, we’ll revisit that. I also thought we could get some bikes I see sitting around everywhere, ride around, see what we see.”
“We could.”
“What?” He laughed softly at the pout on her beautiful lips. “You don’t like that idea, either?”
“I do. I’m just… I’m not that great on a bike.” She threw her arm over her eyes, and he laughed again, lying beside her. “It’s humiliating. My brother tortured me my entire life.”
He gently pulled her arm down so he could see her eyes. “Maybe we could see about training wheels.”
“You’re not even trying not to laugh,” she said, giving him a narrow-eyed stare.
“I am. Trying, that is. So you’re not big on sports?”
“I like sports okay. I played softball when I was a kid. I was pretty good, too.”
“What position?”
“Right field. I didn’t see much action, but my brother said that’s where they put the better players, so…” She shrugged, so adorably oblivious to what her right-field position implied. No way was he going to tell her.
“Anyway, it’s not like I can’t ride. I can ride. I just fall over a lot.”
“Is that all? Well, why didn’t you say so? That just means I’ll have to pick you up.” He nibbled on a spot just under her ear. “Dust off this beautiful bottom. Maybe kiss a boo-boo or two.”
She rolled on top of him, holding his arms above his head. “You’re laughing at me again.”
“No. I’m just smiling. You make me smile. I like it.”
“Oh. Well, then I’m glad. I like you, too.” She kissed him, just a simple press of her lips to his, and he felt that tightness in his chest again.