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Authors: Sommer Marsden

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BOOK: Lost in You
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‘Oh, sweetheart,’ he said in my ear. Shivers rushed down my neck as electricity seemed to skitter under my skin.

I usually hated that term of endearment. Just like I usually hated winks. But from him they were welcome, adored even. I arched my hips again, inviting him. His fingers traced the waistband of my jeans – the very jeans he bought me at the Rotunda – and the heat of them felt as if it seared my skin.

He slipped his hand into my jeans and my panties as the plane began to descend. The free-fall feeling coupled with the warmth of his fingers, and the barely-there touch he employed to stroke my clit before thrusting a finger into my wet depths, all banded together to have me panting. Frantic. Clutching at him as he slipped another finger into me. His fingers stroked the wet plumpness of my pussy. It only took a few strokes and a gentle, fleeting kiss. The way his fingers curled and his thumb nudged my clitoris and the sensation of the dropping plane pushed me over the edge quickly. The darkness behind the blindfold shut out everything but where he was touching me. How we were connected.

When I came, he covered my mouth with his and ate up my cries. My body was pleasantly wasted. Completely relaxed. The plane really started to drop and he kissed my temple before putting his arm back around me. ‘Here we go. Thank you for coming with me, Clover,’ he said.

Again I wished it could last. Because on top of handsome and funny and thoughtful he had to be so damn …
nice
to boot.

Chapter Eighteen

I let him lead me down the steps and to a car that was apparently waiting for us. I heard Debra call out her goodbyes and Dorian answered. I tossed a wave in her general direction.

When the car started to move, I gripped my thighs in my hands.

‘Are you OK?’

‘I am. It’s just … the plane, and now the car, and being blindfolded, gives me a bit of vertigo. I’m fine.’

‘If you can give me ten minutes I promise you’re done.’ His mouth pressed to my ear and his words sneaked in on a warm breath. ‘I just really, really want to surprise you, Clover. In fact, I wish I could take your breath away.’

Why be shy? I thought. ‘You already do that,’ I said. ‘Every time I see you, Dorian, you manage to take my breath away.’

Silence. I waited. Had I said the wrong thing? The blindfold made it impossible for me to gauge his reaction.

Then he kissed my hand and followed by kissing each knuckle one at a time. ‘I’m not sure if you can even comprehend what it means to me when you say that.’

I laughed. ‘I’m sure you take people’s breath away all the time.’ Shyness was overcoming me for some stupid reason.

‘You’d be surprised at how many people I apparently let down on a daily basis.’ He chuckled. ‘But I can live with that if I have the opposite effect on you.’

‘It can’t mean that much,’ I said.

He took my hand and squeezed it. ‘And that’s where you’re wrong.’

The car came to a stop and the driver’s deep baritone filled the car. ‘Do you need help, Mr Martin?’

‘No, thanks, Hank. I think I’ve got it from here. I’ll text when I need you to come back for us.’

‘Very good, sir.’

It made the hair on my neck stand up to hear people speak to him that way. It reminded me that he was a rich, important man. And he didn’t seem to think he was.

The car door thunked open. ‘Just one more minute, sweetheart and we’ll let you see.’ I could tell he was smiling. His hand stroked my lower back. That intimate gesture made my knees a little weak, if I let myself admit it.

He took my hand and guided me out. My feet hit gravel and wind tossed my hair back. I remembered the captain’s comment. ‘I thought low wind today,’ I said, but my voice was tossed away. Then it hit me. I could hear the ocean.

Dorian’s laughter made me smile. He whisked my mask off and bright sunlight assaulted my eyes. I blinked over and over again to try and adjust. Dorian reached into a picnic basket at his feet. ‘I thought you might need these.’

I took the sunglasses he offered and put them on. My mouth dropped open, my hair whipped violently.

‘It’s always windy at the beach,’ he said, his mouth against my neck as he nuzzled me. ‘I thought you might want the seafood boil you mentioned.’

‘Are we …’ I shook my head as I finally observed the fire roaring on the beach. The beach that was basically deserted. A table was set up but so was a blanket. Weighted down with large rocks like the ones from the fire pit. No pretensions, just utilitarian.

‘Nantucket,’ he said. ‘Overnight. But I promise –’ he held his hands up in the air, the picture of innocence ‘– I’ll have you back tomorrow morning. Won’t miss more than a day of work.’

I sighed. ‘Gram …’ But then I took a deep breath. Gram had Brani and Gram was the one who’d told me to come. She’d told me not to leave this as a question mark. So I would be a good girl and listen. I would be a
brave
girl. ‘Wow,’ was all I said.

He looked like he would pop, he was smiling so widely.

‘You’re very pleased with yourself, aren’t you?’ I said, giggling.

He took my hand and grabbed the picnic basket. ‘I am. I am very pleased with myself.’ A quick flicker of insecurity. Seeing it startled me. ‘Unless you don’t like it.’

I stopped short, forcing Dorian to do the same. ‘Are you crazy? You’re truly wondering if I like it?’

On his face was a look I hadn’t seen before. It was more than insecurity, it was sadness. How disapproving had this dead father of his been in life? Enough to scar such a good-hearted person so much that he didn’t truly recognise excitement when he saw it? It’s easy to forget that rich people have feelings. Having money doesn’t erase human nature. I felt guilty for assuming everything was perfect for Dorian.

‘A little.’

I stood on tiptoe and hugged him. Really hugged him. We’d kissed and we’d fucked and we’d been intimate in a myriad ways, but I had yet to simply hug him. So I did. I hugged him hard and long and felt him stiffen at first and then relax into it. Wrapping his arms around me and squeezing me to him.

‘I like this hugging thing,’ he said, his voice a little gruff.

I felt his heartbeat against my chest. My hair covered my face and I was grateful because in that moment I felt overcome. Tears stung my eyes and I swallowed hard to keep from crying. ‘Me, too.’

I did. I loved it. How long had it been since I’d really hugged someone other than Gram and Brani? Not just a polite hug. A hug that comforted me and drew me in. I wanted to kiss Dorian. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to have him in me and I wanted him to bring me back to the heights of pleasure. But I also wanted this hug to last for ever. I had no interest in it ending.

He cupped the back of my head and held me to him, then dropped gentle kisses along my brow and cheek. ‘Are you hungry?’

‘I’m starving!’

‘Are you happy?’

I tilted my head back and took his face in my hands. His handsome, kind face. I kissed him. ‘I am happy. Very happy. You’ve given me something … amazing.’

He kissed my nose and put his arm around me. ‘You’ve given me something amazing too, Clover.’ We walked down to the beach.

‘What’s that?’

‘Your time. Your trust.’

I didn’t know what to say. So I said nothing.

We kicked off our shoes at the top of the wooden steps that led to the beach. Weathered to nearly grey, they felt rough – and very real – under my feet. I’d had more than a moment when I felt as if I was dreaming and wondered if I was – if I’d wake up in my bed, slightly sweaty, very aroused, stricken that it had all been a night-time figment of my imagination.

I pinched myself as I followed him down to the raging fire. He laughed, the sunlight accenting the small lines at the corner of his eyes. Lines that only served to make him more handsome, more approachable.

‘Is it real?’ Dorian asked. He swung my hand like a child.

‘Is what real?’ He knew. I felt silly, but realised that was OK. It really wasn’t tragic as I’d like to think it was. I trusted him to see me. All of me. The silly parts and the strong ones.

‘You know.’ He squeezed my hand and then very lightly ran a finger along my palm. ‘This. This thing here. Is it real? You’re not dreaming, are you?’

Cool, silken sand assaulted my feet, slipped between my toes, made me moan. It felt indescribably good. ‘I’m not dreaming.’ I watched the water, grey and aqua and white where the foam churned. It rushed towards us only to hit its mark and scurry off again. An indefinable, curious creature made of water and salt.

‘Good,’ he said, stopping there in a white nothingness. Just sand in every direction. The people attending our fire and our boil acted as if we weren’t there. Dorian wrapped an arm around my waist and pulled me close. He took my other hand and held it as if we were about to dance. But we didn’t dance. He simply looked at me, as if looking into me, and said, ‘Because if you’re not dreaming, then I’m not dreaming. Which means I actually got you to come here with me. To Nantucket. You and I having your kind of dinner and then spending the night. However
you
want to spend the night.’

I knew how I wanted to but wasn’t sure I could articulate it. Often, when it came to him, I was reduced to pleas and single-word requests. I was speechless when he touched me.

He kissed me once, very gently, and then led me towards the fire. ‘Let’s eat. We can watch the ocean. The sunset isn’t for hours but it’s all pretty anyway.’

* * *

Lobster. Is there anything quite like it? No, I answered my own question, and bit into a rich chunk of perfectly cooked lobster. The women who had set this up for him deserved raises. They deserved bonuses. Possibly my first-born child.

‘Good?’

‘Whatever lies beyond good,’ I said, eating the last bit and licking my fingers to get all the sweet juices mingled with equally sweet butter. ‘That’s what this was.’

He looked pleased. ‘Marta and Daphne do know their way around some seafood. Marta makes crab cakes we call crack cakes, they’re so addictive. And Daphne, well, Clover, you’re going to have her mocha pudding. You’ll understand soon enough.’

I flopped back on the blanket and covered my stomach. ‘I’m stuffed.
No mas!
I surrender.’

I’d had my choice of fancy table set-up, complete with drapes and silverware and a candle in the centre, or the blanket. I’d gone for the blanket. I’d always dreamed of being here one day as a visitor. And here I was. I wanted to sit in the sand and watch the water, not play grown-up at a fancy table.

Dorian sprawled out next to me and patted his own stomach. ‘I’d try to seduce you but it might kill me. I’m too full of food.’

That struck me as hilarious and I started to giggle. ‘I’d try to let you but I might explode.’

‘That’s OK.’ He weaved his fingers through mine and simply held my hand. We looked up at the blue of the sky. The brilliant blue. A blue impossible to find in the city. ‘We can just lie here like kids. Look, there’s a turtle.’

He pointed to a cloud way out on the horizon. And damn if I didn’t see it. His turtle. ‘Only it’s wearing a top hat,’ I said.

He tilted his head to one side and then chuckled. ‘I’ll be damned. It is.’

‘And over here we have a … what is that? An eagle?’ I pointed.

He rolled to his side for a better look, his strong arm dropping across my middle. He made sure to put the weight on my hipbones, not my food-stuffed belly, which made me laugh. ‘An eagle … maybe. Possibly a hawk?’ I looked into his dark-green eyes and that falling sensation overtook me again. Every time I let myself look at him I was filled with electric jolts and out-of-control sensations.

Dorian Martin did strange things to me. All of me.

He traced a circle on a patch of exposed belly. It tickled. It felt wonderful. It was torture and bliss all in a single touch. My pussy went wet. I felt my body grow ready. All of me wanted him and I was helpless to do anything but deal with it. It was one thing to change your words or monitor your thoughts, but quite impossible to change involuntary reactions.

‘I’m glad you came,’ he said, abandoning our game. ‘I could tell part of you didn’t want to. And I wonder why. Am I just not your kind of guy?’

‘You’re everyone’s kind of guy,’ I said and snorted. And then: ‘And that’s probably the problem.’

I hadn’t meant to say it but there it was. Like a big grimy frisbee falling in the middle of our fairy-tale picnic blanket.

‘You think … what?’ He propped himself up on one elbow. ‘That I’m jet-setting all over with a whole string of women?’

I shrugged. Thinking of Debra’s slip from the plane. Thinking of Natalie the heiress. The kind of woman I’d never be. ‘Maybe. I mean, I have seen you in the paper … with a lot of women.’

He rolled his eyes but, seeing I was serious, his mouth closed in a straight line. ‘I want to be here with you,’ he said. ‘There’s business –’ he sighed ‘– promises I’ve made my family. Appearances that have to be kept up. I’m still trying to please a dead man.’ He frowned slightly and I liked the way it softened his face. Made him look more vulnerable.

‘I think I try to please him more now than I did when he was alive,’ he went on. His fingers resumed stroking my skin. ‘Anyway, there’re things I’m supposed to do and things I want to do.’ He glanced up at me, those eyes of his penetrating and a little unnerving. ‘And then there are instances that transcend all of that.’ Dorian leaned over and planted a single kiss on the bare skin of my midriff.

I thought I’d die.

‘And what are those instances?’

‘Actually,’ he said, grinning. ‘It’s just
instance
.’

‘And that is?’ My stomach was a knot of nervous energy and I found myself holding my breath. I wanted to laugh at how silly I was being. How girlish and wistful.

But he said it: ‘You. You are that instance, Clover.’

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing. I slipped my fingers into his soft, dark hair. Stroked his scalp. He groaned and lust leaped through me. I played my fingers through his hair and watched the sky and he held me. Marta and Daphne had hit the road. We had pudding on the table. Wine and champagne and nibbles. We had everything we needed for this magical Nantucket moment. And yet I wanted none of it. I just wanted to stay this way, spread out in the sun, touching him. Him touching me. We didn’t even need to talk. And that was what scared me. Silence meant I was comfortable with him. Truly.

BOOK: Lost in You
13.48Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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