Full Circle (17 page)

“Really? Hmm.” She closed her eyes, drifting.
“Are you into BDSM at all?

“No, but I’ve been exposed to it.” His voice
sounded as lazy as hers. “So I know some of the terminology.”

“I see.” She was more relaxed than she’d been
in weeks and curled around him. “You’re so smart.” It was an odd
thing to say, but her brain was rapidly shutting down.

His steady, sleepy breathing was his only
response.

So this was what a little psychological fear
and resultant arousal could do for you. It knocked you flat on your
ass and sent you into the ozone on a ribbon of dreams.

She blinked at the stars one last time before
floating into slumber.

Chapter 9

Love is an ice cream sundae, with all the marvelous
coverings. Sex is the cherry on top.

-Jimmy Dean

Thursday morning, Karma awoke cocooned within the
cream-colored blankets in the giant circular bed in the master
suite.

At some point during the night—and she
couldn’t recall exactly when, she’d been so out of it—Mark had
carried her from the deck to the bedroom and tucked her in before
sliding in beside her and folding her into his arms.

She rolled to her back, enjoying the way her
whole body ached, but in such a good way. A way that said she’d
been well fucked. Not made love to, but fucked. By Mark. The master
of her body. The king of all things sexual.

And she would gladly let him rule her world
if this was how he made her feel.

Speaking of Mark, he wasn’t in bed. As usual,
he’d awakened before her and, instead of waking her up, let her
sleep. He must have known she needed the rest after last night.

God, last night. Butterflies swirled low in
her belly as she remembered the naughty things they’d done. Wow.
Just . . . wow.

She sat up, rubbed her eyes, then shimmied to
the edge of the bed and sank her feet into the thick carpet. She
could get used to luxury like this.

A zippy five-minute shower later, and she
made her way up to the deck, wearing another of the limitless
number of bikinis Mark had bought her under an oversized,
off-the-shoulder white T-shirt and khaki shorts.

The staff was back, and the aroma of
breakfast wafted from the galley. Mark sat at the table on deck,
just under the awning.

“Good morning.” He stood and greeted her with
a kiss that reached the tips of her toes and made her fingers burn.
From the gleam in his eyes, he was remembering last night, too.

Nice.

“Good morning.” Her feminine parts quivered
just from glancing toward the couch. Their clothes still lay where
they’d abandoned them.

There was something about having a powerful
orgasm that made remembering it and everything that had led up to
it almost as good as the real thing. Her insides melted. Heat
gushed through her lower abdomen. Her legs weakened. If he touched
her right now, he’d find her wet and ready, and she might even come
on the spot. In an instant, just from seeing him and returning to
the scene of the crime, she was ready to drag him back to their
room and demand a repeat performance.

Mark grinned and pulled her against him. He
was hard. “I can tell we’re thinking the same thing this morning.”
He spoke quietly, provocatively.

She took a deep breath and held onto his
biceps for support. “I think you’re right.”

The waiter—
waiter?
—silently appeared,
delivering two plates of crepes drizzled with mashed strawberries.
He set them on the table then quickly disappeared.

She arched her eyebrow knowingly. “What
happened to the boat bitches?”

“I explained to the captain that they were
making you uncomfortable and asked they not return.”

It was hard not to smile at that little
announcement. “Did you now?”

His palms slid down to her rump and gave her
a light pat. “I most certainly did. I couldn’t have them
distracting you when I want your mind completely on me and what I’m
capable of doing to you.” He glanced at the freshly made crepes.
“The question is, do I fuck you now, or do we eat first?”

Her knees nearly buckled at his possessive,
primal tone. “Maybe we should eat first. I think I’m going to need
my strength if the look in your eyes is any indication of what’s
coming.”

His eyes narrowed, and he drew closer, their
foreheads touching. “You are most definitely going to need your
strength. Apparently, your kidnapper feels he needs to punish you
some more for trying to escape.”

She pressed her lips together then grinned.
“I think your prisoner would like that. Very much.”

“Then let’s eat. We have four more hours
until we return to dock. And I intend to make you pay for trying to
run away from me.” He pressed a chaste yet steaming kiss on her
lips. “And pay . . .” Another kiss. “And pay some
more.”

If she could still walk by the time they
returned to the villa, it would be a miracle.

Chapter 10

People spend too much time finding other people to
blame, too much energy finding excuses for not being what they are
capable of being, and not enough energy putting themselves on the
line, growing out of the past, and getting on with their lives.

-J. Michael Straczynski

Mark peeked into the villa’s bedroom. Karma was
still sleeping. The sheer white curtains floated lazily around the
bed as the breeze blew in through the open doors.

She’d passed out an hour after returning from
their day cruise. It was almost time for dinner, and she had yet to
stir. Apparently, he’d worn her out this morning. And last
night.

Hell, he’d worn himself out and should be in
bed with her, catching a few Zs, as well. But he was too keyed up
to sleep.

He pulled the sheet of folded notepaper from
his wallet and read the remaining items he had yet to share with
her from the list he’d made Saturday night. They’d toyed with
exhibitionism on the yacht, but what really got his blood pumping
was when they’d played last night.

He gulped at the memory, almost unable to
think the words.
Yes. My ass. Fuck my ass.

She’d sounded so desperate, so shameless.
Eager to receive him in a way his gut told him she’d never
experienced. Had she simply been caught up in the moment and,
consequently, would have agreed to anything? Or had she merely been
playing her role? It was possible she had only been acting when
she’d made her demand. Then again, she could have been serious.
Karma never ceased to amaze him with her curiosity and openness.
Maybe she really did like the idea of anal sex.

The question was, would she like it his way?
Would she be open to all the ways of anal play that appealed to
him?

He folded the sheet of paper and tucked it
back inside his wallet before glancing toward the dresser. The
little blue Tiffany box was still hidden inside, and time was
running out. He still hadn’t proposed, despite several perfect
opportunities. He’d even taken the ring with him on the yacht,
planning to ask her to marry him then.

But he hadn’t. Like a fool, he’d let another
ideal moment pass.

Why was this so hard? He knew she was the
only woman he would ever love again. He knew he wanted children
with her. They’d already discussed that. They had also agreed less
than a week ago to move in together. He already had one foot and
half the other inside the door, and yet he couldn’t take that last
step. He couldn’t pop the question.

Bowing his head, he quietly left the room,
letting her sleep. Maybe tonight the right opportunity would
present itself. Maybe tonight he would be ready to propose.

* * *

Thursday night came and went, and the ring remained
out of sight. They spent Friday relaxing then spent the evening in
Gros Islet, a fishing village that transformed into a colorful
carnival every Friday night. Reggae music filled the streets, and
everyone danced. It was a grand celebration and a local tradition.
Afterward, he took her back to the villa and made love to her in
the hammock.

By Saturday night, their last full day in
Saint Lucia, Mark still hadn’t found the right time to pop the
question, even though he’d had numerous opportunities.

And now he was out of time. They were
returning to the States tomorrow.

Standing just inside the open sliding glass
door that led from the bedroom to the deck, with the breeze blowing
over his face, he crossed his arms and leaned against the frame. It
wasn’t like he didn’t want to marry Karma. He did. More than
anything, he wanted to put that ring on her finger and tell the
world they belonged to one another. So then, why couldn’t he make
it happen? Why had he let every perfect moment pass without
proposing?

For so long, he’d planned his life to the
millisecond. In fact, his best friend Rob had severely blasted him
last year for his habit to control every facet of his life, telling
Mark to let go and allow himself to live in the
moment . . . to free himself from his self-imposed
constraints. Mark had been trying to take Rob’s advice ever since,
and yet, he couldn’t get out of his own way long enough to simply
be. Just be. To exist and let the spontaneity Karma preached about
take over.

And now it was their last night in Saint
Lucia. He’d wasted the entire trip worrying about his past misdeeds
and searching for the right moment instead of just getting right to
it, and now it was do or die time.

Deep down, he knew his reticence was about
more than just his control issues and the fact that he was still
dwelling on the shit he’d done in the months after Carol left him.
As much as he loved Karma, and as badly as he wanted them to be
together for the rest of their lives, every time he imagined
standing at the front of the aisle, waiting for her to turn the
corner in her white dress and stroll toward him, bouquet in hand,
her arm hooked around her father’s, Mark’s heart raced. Dread
gripped his chest and suffocated him, even if only on a microscopic
level.

Even now, just thinking about it, his breath
caught in his throat, and he had to pace away from the door back
into the room. Moving helped quell the panic. He stopped in front
of the dresser and took a shaky breath. They had already started
packing, but the small blue box still sat among his unpacked
clothes in the middle drawer.

It was now or never. If he didn’t ask her
tonight, the trip would end and he would miss his chance. And,
other than revealing his shameful past, hadn’t this vacation been
about setting the perfect stage for him to propose? Of all the
reasons he’d brought her here, proposing had been the most
important.

He opened the drawer, pushed aside his
boxers, and lifted the small box. He hadn’t seen the ring since his
secret day trip to Chicago last week to pick it up. Karma had
thought he’d gone out of town on business, and God love Lisa for
helping him keep his plans secret. She’d been extremely helpful in
pulling off this entire vacation.

Untying the bow, he sat on the side of the
bed as he pulled off the top then removed the case. Lifting the
lid, he took a deep breath. The solitary, round diamond set in
gleaming, filigreed platinum sparkled up at him. Perfect. The ring
was simple and elegant, just like Karma. A timeless classic.

He’d actually been on a business trip when he
saw the ring the first time. Work took him up to Chicago about once
a month, where several of Solar’s customers were based, and where
he hoped to land more. He had met his mom and dad for lunch on
Michigan Avenue, and on his way back to his car, he’d passed
Tiffany’s. On a whim, he’d gone inside.

Surrounded by white marble, velvet drapes,
and polished metal, he’d asked to see a selection of engagement
rings and settings. The salesperson had presented him with tray
after tray, and while many caught his eye, none announced
themselves as Karma’s until the salesperson pulled out the simple
solitaire as an afterthought. A shot in the dark, as it were.

As the woman placed the ring on the counter
in front of him, a beam of sunlight shone in the window, setting
the diamond alight, making the platinum practically glow.

“This one. Absolutely.” He’d picked up the
ring, admiring it more closely, abandoning all thought as to price.
This was his ring.

He’d taken the salesperson’s card, and, after
an elaborate ploy to determine Karma’s ring size, e-mailed the
specifics to the store. After that, it was a simple matter of
resizing, polishing, perfecting, and picking up the ring so he
could reach this moment.

He removed the ring from the slit in the
velvet lining and tucked it into his pocket, then made his way to
the lower level of the deck, where Karma lounged by the pool,
reading a book in the waning sunlight.

“Let’s go down to the beach,” he said,
reaching for her hand.

She glanced up as if she hadn’t heard him
join her. “Okay.” She set the book aside, smiled, and placed her
hand in his.

He helped her up, and together they took the
stone steps to the beach below.

Mark’s heart pounded and raced, but he forced
himself not to acknowledge the image of him standing at the front
of a church waiting for her to join him.

“Have you had a good time this week?” he said
as they walked barefoot in the sand.

The cool, lazy surf washed over their
feet.

“I don’t think ‘good time’ can even come
close to how much fun I’ve had this week. It’s been exciting and
invigorating.” Her gaze turned shyly to his. “And eye-opening in a
way that makes me look forward to what’s still to come.”

The wind blew back her hair, and her tanned
skin seemed to glow against the burnished sunlight.

“Me, too.”

They walked a little farther in silence
before Karma said, “So, is there anything else you need to tell me?
Anything else you want to get off your chest before we return to
the real world?”