Paradise Lust (4 page)

Now both of his hands were on her back, sliding underneath the wet tank top. She couldn’t believe this was happening. Who was this guy? Where was she? As if in answer, a bird cawed brashly, and she almost laughed into Danny’s mouth. What universe had she ended up in?
An amazing one
, she answered herself.

This was all so crazy—she didn’t know this man at all. Yet the kiss felt familiar, was in fact the first familiar thing she’d encountered since coming to Bali. Despite the fairytale setup, the surreal surroundings, the other-worldliness of life here, she was somehow connecting with Danny on a more substantial plane. In the realm of the “real world,” whatever that was. She grasped Danny’s shoulders tighter.

But at that same moment, she felt his hands retreat from under her shirt, and then—no, please don’t—move off her body, only to come back down, lightly, on her shoulders. He pulled his face away and looked at her, holding her, quite literally, at arms’ length.

“You’re freezing,” he said, looking concerned.

“I’m what?” It took Adele a moment to process the words. When she did, she noticed that, to her surprise, she was freezing. The hot raindrops had turned into cold, damp clothing pressed against clammy skin.

“Jesus, you’re shivering like crazy,” he said, and let his hands drop from her shoulders as he bent down to grab the towel. “You’ve got to take those clothes off.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “You can’t be serious,” she said. The magic of the kiss had vanished. She was freezing cold and it turned out he just wanted to get in her yoga shorts. Indignance seemed obligatory.

“I’m completely serious. Your lips are practically purple. Don’t worry, this isn’t some elaborate scheme,” he laughed too, and the playful glimmer in his eye made her soften again. “Even I can’t control the island weather, believe it or not.”

She only looked at him, eyebrows raised. She crossed her clammy arms across her rain-soaked chest.

“Seriously, come inside, take a hot shower, and I’ll get you something dry to wear for the walk back to your cabin.”

During her entire shower, she’d been half expecting Danny to bust into the bathroom and join her, and she’d been surprised—and, fine, maybe a little disappointed—when her shower had ended sans interruption. In fact, when she’d emerged, it seemed that her shower had been the furthest thing from his mind. He was hunched over a glowing laptop, completely absorbed in what looked like marketing analytics, oblivious to her presence until she lightly cleared her throat.

“Hey!” He spun around. “You’re done already? I’m sorry, I got wrapped up in something, hang on, I’ll go find you something to wear that’s not enormous.” He started for the bedroom door then turned back, gesturing vaguely toward the couch, visibly forcing himself to look at Adele’s eyes rather than her towel-clad body. “Make yourself at home, I’ll be out in a sec.”

So now she sat, listening to the roar of the waves underneath the still spattering raindrops, perched on his couch uncomfortably—was it possible to sit demurely in a towel and be comfortable? She was warm and dry, and felt grateful for how this strange yet familiar man had taken care of her. Other than that, she had no idea how she felt.

I just need to breathe. Find some calm in myself. My wise mind knows what I want
. She repeated the learnings and mantras of her practice, and reflected that tomorrow’s asana would be a good time to reflect. She would wake up ten minutes early to get in some extra meditation. She needed to calm the chaos in her brain.

Then the door opened.

When he opened the door from the bedroom to the living room, Danny didn’t know what he was expecting or hoping for. Well, he knew what he
wanted
, viscerally at least. But there was something dangerous about this woman. Not that he thought she had any bad intentions toward him—no, he didn’t pick up anything like that—but he had the feeling that she could really throw a wrench in the vision he had for his future.

Regardless of what he wanted, consciously or unconsciously, as soon as she came into view as the door swung open, he knew he was helpless. She sat on the couch, perched daintily on one side, one hand holding the towel close to her chest, the other resting carefully on her lap. She looked like a little girl waiting for her imaginary friend to join her for tea—it was adorable.

At the sound of the door opening, she snapped her face in his direction. He could have been imagining it, but he thought he saw a change sweep through her whole body as their eyes met: shoulders loosening, jaw unclenching, chest opening. Her eyes were soft as she looked toward him. Any little girl demureness was gone. He almost dropped the clothing he held in one hand (a favorite old t-shirt from a concert he’d gone to in college, a pair of shorts his little sister had left when she’d visited), and quickly tightened his grip.

Adele bit her lip, and said, “Come here.” He hesitated, began to gesture dumbly with the wad of clothes in his hand. “I want you to come.”

She removed the hand at her chest and the towel fell down to her waist, then apart, tumbling onto the floor. He took her in for a moment, the perfect sloping curves of her small, perfect breasts, the tanned crests and valleys of her stomach, the smooth thighs leading to the dark mystery between her legs. And then, after barely a second, he saw her body tighten and the little girl come back, a vulnerability and fear creeping back in place of the powerful, sexy woman that was there a moment before.

Perhaps it was his protective instinct, perhaps just the gorgeousness of her naked body in the moonlight, perhaps it was
her
—whatever it was, he was walking toward her. Then he was kneeling on the couch, facing her, gently pushing her back against the armrest, lying her down, lying down on top of her, running his hands down her sides, then back up. He framed her face with his hands and looked at her for a moment, but she had none of it. She lifted her neck up to reach his lips with hers, running her fingers through his hair and pulling him down.

Adele didn’t know how she’d gotten here. The fact of her current situation—naked, kissing a man she’d barely met, listening to the sound of spattering tropical rain against the waves of the Indian Ocean—was so fantastical she didn’t believe it was real. It was liberating. In this unreal world, she could do anything. She could be the girl who sleeps with the gorgeous, charming surfer, without overthinking it. But here she was, thinking again. To quiet her mind, she squeezed her eyes shut tighter and pulled him closer, both with her hand and with her leg, which had now wrapped around his body and was pulling his hips down against hers.

It worked. All coherent thoughts melted as she felt him press between her legs, rock hard. She surged up against him, and the sensation of his linen shorts against her skin reminded her that she was naked. Feeling a blush of self-consciousness, she pulled her face away and looked up at him.

“I’m naked,” she said, dumbly.

He laughed, looking away for a moment. He turned back, brushed away a strand of wet hair that had matted itself to her forehead, and replied, “Prove it.”

In spite of her self-consciousness, she laughed in response. It was funny! She cupped both of her breasts, as if as evidence, and looked up at him wryly. “Proved,” she said.

They both erupted into laughter, that strange comfortableness making it feel like they were two old friends.

As their laughter quieted, she said, “You’re not naked.”

He locked eyes with her again. A wide grin became a sweet, almost serious smile as he lifted himself off of her. He tucked his thumbs under the waistband of his shorts and pulled them off. “Prove it,” he said, the sly grin reappearing.

Laughing, moved by an impulse of lust, yes, but also something else—cuteness? Damn this guy was just so adorable—Adele reached up to pull him back down.

All playfulness disappeared when she felt his body meet hers. There was now nothing between her and that hard swell she’d felt behind his shorts, and now she could feel him pulsing between her thighs. She wrapped both legs around him this time, and moved her lips away from his, kissing his cheek, the line of his jawbone, his neck. His hand navigated its way over the hollow of her hipbone and up her side, caressing her breast, giving her shoulder a deep squeeze, tiptoeing across her collarbone, massaging her neck, cupping her head. The other hand played gently with her nipple.

And then it was his turn to stop. Both hands pressed flat down onto the couch as he pushed himself off of her. “This is—Adele,” he began.

“Good job, you got my name,” she responded, her voice full of humor, though she was panicking inside. Was he about to end this? She needed him, couldn’t leave without having him.

“No,” he said, laughing, shaking his head, “Of course I know your name is Adele. What I’m trying to say, is that this is, maybe, I don’t know. Maybe this is too much too soon? I barely know you.”

“You live in Bali on a resort where they hold yoga trainings full of attractive young women like three times a year,” Adele retorted, trying to keep her voice playful. “I doubt knowing somebody well is a pre-requisite to anything.”

Danny blushed and looked away, then looked back at her. She was shaking inside as she waited for his response. From the way his face flushed she knew her allegation had some truth. She must be just another stupid girl to him—not that it mattered, this was a one-night stand, right? But it did matter, for some reason. His eyes became softer, more solemn.

“No,” he said. “You’re right. But everyone else felt like…like feathers floating in the wind. You don’t. You feel…
real
. I don’t know if I have a better explanation than that. I don’t know.”

She let her wry smile fade, and looked back up at him. “No,” she said softly. “I think I know what you mean.” They looked at each other for a moment, and she could see the question in his eyes. “It’s okay.”

With that, she reached up and pulled him down to her, and this time there was no hesitation from either of them. His hips pressed down against hers, his hands moved up her waist and onto her breasts, while she ran one hand through his salt-textured hair, and moved the other down his back to the perfect curve of his ass. She let out a small sigh of pleasure as he pushed himself against her.              

She tugged lightly on his earlobe, then moved her mouth from his lips to his ear, licking the ridges and hollows as he moaned in pleasure.

“Real doesn’t have to mean scary,” she whispered.

He kissed her passionately in response, and his hand moved between her legs. She knew that he’d understood what her words meant, even if she hadn’t fully. She moved her hand down to meet his, and interlaced her fingers with his, moving with his hand. In a moment, she was helping him guide himself inside her.

In unison, they both sighed as he entered her. He was big, big enough that she wasn’t going for any sort of dramatic effect when she said, “Go slow.”

He looked at her, serious, “You okay?”

“Stop it,” she laughed. “No more serious,” and used her legs to bring him deeper inside her. They both moaned, and their lips found each other again. She thrust her tongue deep inside his mouth as he pressed himself fully inside of her. Their moans were muffled against one another’s mouths, their hips working against each other with more and more speed.

“My God,” the word erupted from his mouth as he pulled away for a moment, then pressed his lips against hers again.

She could feel the warmth of orgasm spreading from her lower abdomen, clouding her thoughts. She pressed her hips up higher, harder, needing more. The only word in her mind was
more
,
more, more
. She almost pulled her face away in order to say the word, but before she could she felt it, radiating from deep inside her, the throbbing, pulsing glow of her climax. She pulled her mouth away from his and buried her face in his neck.

“My God,” she echoed his words.

“Oh,” was all he said in response.

Her legs tightened around the backs of his thighs as his arms clutched her shoulders, and, pressing together in one hard, final, thrust, they both came. The sweeping wave of orgasm pulsed through her, sending warmth all the way through her toes.

After the vibrations had moved through their bodies, they stayed locked in their tight, tangled embrace, panting. Finally, after five minutes or maybe more, she loosened her grip, and so did he, and they fell against each other, lazy and lax on the couch.

They only breathed. The rain still fell outside, though more slowly. The waves rolled in, more quickly. Their breath rose and fell, quickly at first and then slowly. Finally, Danny lifted himself up and looked down at Adele.

“Well,” he said, the corners of his mouth creeping up into a smile.

“Well,” she said.

And just like that, all of the racing thoughts that she’d been working to keep at bay all day came rushing into her head. What was she doing? Both here with this guy, and—while we’re at it—in life in general? What the hell was she doing having impulse sex with some surfer bro when she was on a yoga retreat trying to figure out her life direction, trying to get some clarity on what she would do with her life now that everything she’d planned on had crumbled around her? Had she just ruined her entire experience by introducing sex into it? How could she figure out how to put back together her professional life when her mind was clouded with…with him?

“Hey,” she said, and gently pressed his chest away from her. He sat up, letting her escape from under him. She grabbed the towel and pressed it again to her chest, suddenly self-conscious in her nakedness. “Hey, I’m—I’m sorry. I’m sorry but I should go, I’ve gotta be up super early for asana.” She looked at him apologetically.

“No, no, totally,” he said. She couldn’t read his face because he immediately stood up and walked toward the clothing he’d dropped on the floor. She had to stifle a groan of misery at the perfection of his ass as he walked away. “Here, wear these home. I hung your wet clothes up to dry and I can give them to you, you know, whenever.”

He handed the small pile of clothing to her, and though she didn’t look up, she could tell he was trying to read her face, seeking her eyes.

“Great, thank you,” she said, and scrambled into the clothes. She somehow felt even more exposed than she had been a moment ago, despite the fact that she’d been naked then.

“Thank you,” she said again, now fully dressed, letting her eyes meet his for a moment. His face was puzzled, curious, the kindness and openness still there. “This was a good shelter from the rain,” was what came out of her mouth.

“Anytime,” he said.

And then she grabbed her yoga mat, pulled open the big sliding double doors, and strode across the porch and onto the grass. The rain had stopped.