Bare In Bermuda (10 page)

Every sensation was magnified as his entire body engulfed hers. From the feel of his chest hair massaging her smooth skin, to the sound of his breath in her ear, down to his cock pressing against her quivering opening. When he entered her, it was the culmination of a series of manipulations and maneuvers designed to send her to paradise.

Fully seated inside her, he lowered his head and found her mouth. “Are you fine?” he whispered as he began to move.

With her hands against his shoulders, she nodded into his chest. She wasn't fine. Anticipation was driving her insane. She wanted to push him onto his back and just take him.

But a small voice inside her head told her to relax. There was no rush. To enjoy being made love to by a man who clearly considered it an art more than a means to an end. If she trusted him, he would make certain she was left satisfied.

Then he began to move harder and deeper, practically pulling out before plunging in again. With slow, smooth, and steadily increasing intensity, a bubble expanded inside her until it burst into an orgasm unlike any man had ever given her. Her cries of pleasure spurred him on, and his cock grew thicker, longer, as he came.

Henna had never experienced sex quite this good before.

When Eduardo stopped pulsating inside her, he held her eyes with his, and his lips came down on hers as he slowly slid from her. He rolled her to her side and spooned her from behind.

Silently, they watched the sunset as the lights of the harbor began to twinkle and glow. The day that had been a living hell had ended as close to perfection as Henna thought possible.

“Do you want me to leave or stay?” Eduardo whispered in her ear as he pulled the sheets over them.

She sighed as she pulled his arm around her. “Stay.”

Chapter Five

Henna turned her head slightly, tearing her gaze from the view of the bay out the window as Eduardo exited the bathroom with a towel around his waist and a second towel drying his damp hair.

Her head cocked a little to one side with a contemplative expression sculpting her features. Her green eyes were quite strikingly pale with tiny, jet-black flecks, and they drew him in whenever he met her stare. “Did you like doing that?”

“Showering? Yes. Especially after a flight and sex. What an odd thing to ask.”

“That wasn't what I meant,” she said. “Before. Was it okay?”

“Did I like making love to you?” he asked. “How can you doubt that I did?”

She simply shrugged while chewing at the already broken flesh of her lower lip in that peculiar way of hers. “I just wondered. That's all.”

He walked up to her, placed his hands on either side of her face, and tilted her head back so she had no choice but to look at him. “I haven't enjoyed anything so much as making love to you in two years. You are a sensual and responsive lover, and I am a lucky man to have been able to share such an experience with you.”

“Really?” She actually giggled which just sounded so foreign to her ears that she couldn't believe the sound had come from her. “Or are you just saying that?”

He looked her in the eyes. “What kind of men have you been with that you would ever doubt yourself so much?”

“Well...” She looked at him. Beautiful Eduardo with his aura of confidence, his complete comfort in his own skin and his absolute assurance that he was a man who knew what to do with his body. Something she envied. “None of them have ever been like you, that's for sure.”

No doubt about that. None of the men she'd been with in her thirty-six years had been like Eduardo. She didn't have to turn into a mix of porn star, slut, super woman, acrobat, and princess in order to please. There had been no giving up and letting it happen. To do that would have risked being labeled unimaginative or worse, simply bad in bed. Never had a man just made love to her.

He let go of her face and placed his hands on her shoulders. “Maybe I'm the one who should be asking about my performance.”

“I really enjoyed it,” she said honestly critiquing him. “You really are like no man I've ever been with before. Totally different and not in a bad way. Letting go like that...” She sighed a little. “It was nice to just,” she turned a bit more to look at him, “let it happen and not have to worry about myself.”

“I aim to please,” he said with a smile.

The need to explain her actions had been weighing on her mind since he'd slid off her after a shuddering orgasm and slipped into the bathroom. “I never just pick men up. That's not who I am. I just....” She shrugged. “I just wanted to be someone different for a moment.”

“Who are you?” He picked up his suitcase from next to the door and tossed it on the other side of the bed.

“Just Henna,” she said and studied him as he went about the routine chore of rifling through his luggage.

“Do you want a drink? Dinner? I'm starving.” He pulled out a clean white dress shirt, underwear, socks, and a black suit.

“Yes,” she said wondering if he could read minds. She got up from the bed and went to her suitcase. She knelt down, pulled out a dress, underwear, and shoes, and placed them carefully on the ground as she pulled out her toiletries. Unused sample and travel sizes of her most essential creams, lotions and cleansers all packed in a regulation sized plastic bag. Precisely enough to see her through weeks in Bermuda before she could restock at duty free shopping on her way home.

She pulled out her emergency dress for the wedding then hung it in the closet. “I am going to be very angry if I don't get my carry-on back. I need the dress inside. You just had me all flustered. Handsome stranger buying me drinks and telling me that destiny had brought us together. See what you do to me?” She looks up at him and smiled. “You make me lose my luggage.”

“What are you going to do if the airline doesn't get your bag to you?” Eduardo asked buttoning the cuffs of his shirt.

“I'm not sure,” she said. “How much were you planning on paying me for a week of the pleasure of my company?” She inspected the black wrap dress that worked for just about any occasion. It always packed up well and the creases shook out with ease.

“How about I just promise you a day of abusing my credit cards no matter what happens with your bag?”

Henna looked up. Handsome Eduardo in his Italian wool crepe suit and white dress shirt. “Really? You'll take me shopping? Now that we've established that I don't require compensation for sex, you'd still take me shopping?”

“Yes,” he said. “But, I will neither hold your pocket book nor pay for anything I hate no matter how much you pout or promise me sexual favors. Agreed?”

“You seriously will take me shopping? And not just for underwear?”

“Why not?” he asked. “I don't wish to be indelicate, but I'm assuming you've been involved with men before.”

“I've been around the block a time or two.”

“Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't spending obscene amounts of your lover's money part of the relationship? At least that's what my wife always lead me to believe. She was always very clear about the fact I earned it and she spent it. That was the dynamic.”

“No,” she said. “But from this point forward, I think it kind of needs to be.” She looked up at him. “Just so we're clear, you really do know I'm not a hooker right? I'm perfectly happy to go and spend your money, but not if you think it's some sort of payment for services rendered.”

“I know you're not a hooker,” he confirmed.

“Good.” From her bag, she took a pair of silver sandals and a pair of black pumps with glossy red soles. “You are quite tall aren't you?” Her eyes ranged up and down Eduardo's partially clothed body. “I think I'll wear the heels.”

“You like your control, don't you?” he asked. “You don't manage well when the world spins out of your control, do you?”

“No, I do not,” she said. “A little planning and common sense go a long way.”

“You can't plan for everything,” he said, pulling on his trousers then sitting on the bed.

“Sure I can.” A tick of irritation fluttered through her as she realized she only had day lipstick and none for evening. What she had would have to do, and she could only learn from her misstep. “I didn't anticipate my day going to hell, but I was ready just in case. I don't like being unprepared and getting caught out.”

“Life isn't always predictable.” He slid one foot then the other into black socks.

“It can be.” She rose from the floor with her stack of clothing and bag of toiletries. “I like predictability.”

Eduardo went to the mirror. He ran his fingers through his hair, and voila, he looked fabulous. Nature was a cruel mistress. “Not if you want to live it. What about spontaneity or adventure? You can't have either of those things if everything must be planned.”

“Spontaneity is overrated,” she said.

“So is predictability,” he countered. “You were spontaneous when you approached me.”

“Nope,” she said. “I planned on having a wild adventure with a stranger.”

“You're impossible,” he laughed. “Go shower. I'll make dinner reservations.”

When Henna showered, Eduardo faced a dilemma. Having a quick rummage through her luggage wasn't the most chivalrous or gentlemanly thing to do, but he had learned caution the hard way. In her wallet, he located her passport, driver’s license, and a few business cards. According to all of her identification, Henna Meredith Hirsch, M.D. worked as a gynecologist specializing in fertility and lived in San Francisco. Not a hooker.

Then his fingers touched something unfamiliar. From the depth of her suitcase, he pulled out the oddest vibrator he'd ever seen in his life. There was the expected veined silicone penis, but attached to it was something that looked suspiciously like a rabbit. He shrugged then tossed it back into the bag where he'd found it.

Something itched at the back of his brain for a moment, then he connected all of the bits of information Henna had shared with what he'd discovered in his rummage through her belongings. He knew who she was and why she was in Bermuda. They had traveled to paradise for the same purpose. To attend a spontaneous wedding.

He chuckled out loud, the forgotten sound startling him. “Henna, you make me laugh. Fate is a funny thing.”

The wallet was returned as if it had never been moved. A brief telephone conversation secured a reservation for two under his name. Something else he hadn't done for a long time. Doing things for two could possibly become a habit he'd enjoy falling into again.

Chapter Six

Henna felt physically and mentally alive when they stepped from her room into the long corridor filled with anonymous doors. No one knew who she was, so she could be anyone. Who she wanted to be at that moment was the person she became when alone with Eduardo. She was herself but somehow enhanced. She'd gone from monochromatic to brilliant color. Showing up with a date for her sister's wedding might raise an eyebrow or two, but it was an idea she toyed with as they walked to the elevator, his hand was on the small of her back.

She liked him. She genuinely liked him, and not just what he could do to her body. Alone in the elevator, he took her in his arms and kissed her. With his hand on her jaw, his lips pressed against hers. The scent of him filled her nostrils as she inhaled deeply.

They came to a stop far too soon for the kiss to end. The doors opened onto the lobby, and Eduardo took her hand. How long had it been since she'd felt special? It was beyond hard to say. It was impossible to pinpoint the last time she'd been with a man who made her precious.

At the restaurant on the terrace, they were seated at a table that overlooked the moonlit bay. The Bermudian breeze whispered around them and a piano player seasoned the air with music. Somehow, without an ounce of effort on her part, she'd stumbled upon just the sort of perfect night she'd tried to create a hundred times.

“What will you have?” Eduardo asked like a waiter. He placed his closed menu on the table then flagged a waitress.

“I think the Wellington,” she hummed as she mulled over the selections. “But then again maybe the lobster ravioli.” When the waitress arrived, Henna asked four questions without coming to a decision. The sound of her own voice in her ears was both foreign and slightly annoying. Did she always sound so fussy? Possibly. Simon was constantly telling her to stop being a pain in the ass in restaurants. Was that what he meant?

“Ladies...” He raised a hand silencing both women. “Bring both with the seared tuna and the steak Diane rare.” He dismissed the waitress like someone used to telling others what to do. The waitress disappeared then he reached across the table and took one of her hands. “We can share.”

Under normal circumstances she would have let him know she was capable of ordering her own dinner, but normal had flown out the window somewhere back in San Francisco. It bewildered her that she actually liked the way he had taken over. She felt special and not a little womanly.

“So you really like being in charge,” she said. “That's who you are.”

Eduardo shrugged a little. “I'm Latin. We invented macho. What can I say?”

“I'm not used to having men order for me.” She wasn't angry. She was confused. Men of her generation didn't order for women in restaurants. They had been trained differently by a legion of mothers who had indulged them senselessly while telling them they were perfect just the way they were and fathers who had taught them no woman would ever truly appreciate a gentleman, so don't bother.

“I think you're used to men not doing a lot of things for you,” he quipped with a grin.

“Funny,” she said. “I mean ordering for me.”

“Are you complaining?”

Her eyes drifted from his face to the boats cruising around the bay. “People don't respect women who can't manage on their own. It's hard to explain.”

“You don't have to sacrifice being a woman to have my respect,” he said. “I am a man and I like being a man. It's not that I don't think you can speak for yourself in a restaurant. I just prefer tradition.”

“My mother is very traditional,” she said. “So is my father.” Her father ordered for her mother in restaurants. In her youth, she knew better about everything. Her mother's seeming complacency and her father's apparent dominance annoyed her. Like her mother refusing to buy green clothing because her father didn't like her in green. Or her mother leaving out empty flower vases instead of just telling her father to bring home a bouquet. Those sort of subtle hints drove the young Henna bananas.