West Wind (8 page)

"No. I love sailboats," he emphasized. "Can I
get you a drink?'

"Sure. I like sailboats, too. In fact, I
bought one today. I can't believe I just said that. I bought a
sailboat."

"Hey, that's great. Welcome to my world." He
handed her a bottle of water and touched her elbow. "Let's sit down
and you can tell me about it."

While he unlaced his boots and tossed them in
a corner, Sabrina sat obediently and twisted the bottle cap. The
water was cool and refreshing. Sitting a short distance from her,
he lifted her legs and tugged off her shoes. He swung her feet into
his lap, spinning her to face him. With a light touch, he massaged
the soles of her feet.

Breathing was difficult, and she shivered.
Uncertainty made her wary.

"So, who are you Sabrina, and what brought
you here?"

Emboldened, she teased him. "Here? You mean
to your lair?"

He grinned wolfishly. "I'll take very good
care of you," he promised.

"No," she protested, pulling her feet from
his lap. She sat straight and placed her bottle on the table. "I'm
not sure what's going on here, but, umm. Okay, well, I'm sure I
know what's going on. I, uh…" She looked around helplessly. The
Zephyrus was the last thing on her mind.

Jay watched her struggle with anxiety and
leaned back against the couch, one hand resting on his knee, the
other framing his head. The effect was one of submission, opening
his body and assuring her that she was in control.

It was a natural, inviting gesture and one
her body recognized instinctively, whether or not she understood.
She slid against him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Don't
make me talk anymore. Kiss me." She closed her eyes and waited.

Amused, Jay stroked her hair from her face
and lifted her chin. He brushed her lips with his, gently. She
grunted a protest and wiggled deeper into his arms. "Kiss me," she
demanded, her eyes still closed.

His mouth was hot as it melded with hers, and
oh, could he kiss. He pulled her against him, making her head swim
at the contact. She sucked tenderly on his bottom lip, teasing him
into aggression. He fisted his hands in her hair and pulled her
head to the side, baring her neck and shoulder. With a growl, he
plundered and Sabrina gasped at the bolt of desire she felt.

This animal need was new; never had she been
so reckless or daring. The heat of his gaze stripped her and now
she burned for his hands to do the same.

"Touch me," she whispered. "I want to feel
your skin next to mine."

"Sabrina," he gasped, "I don't think …"

"Good advice," she said, cutting off his
words with her wicked mouth. She traced her tongue across his lips.
"Let's not think about this."

She tugged at her shirt, pulling the buttons
loose. She tried to shrug out of it, but the cuffs caught at her
wrists, binding her. "Help me," she pleaded, rubbing her cheek
against his bearded one, her lace-covered breasts heaving against
him. She lifted her arms weakly, caught behind her back in her
shirtsleeves.

"Honey, we need to slow down," he said,
catching her wrists and unbuttoning one cuff, then the other. She
shrugged free, then slid her hands inside his T-shirt.

"I don't want to. If I do, I might change my
mind." She rose on her knees and pressed him into the back of the
couch, drugging him with one deep kiss after another. Helpless, Jay
cupped her breasts.

While Sabrina focused on tugging off his
T-shirt, Jay slipped his hands behind her and unsnapped her satin,
red and black bra. As the wisp of material fell away, he marveled
at the dark peaks of her breasts. Her skin was dusky and smelled
faintly of cinnamon and, he inhaled again, hay?

Unable to resist, he brushed his tongue
against her nipple. She reacted instantly, arching her back and
thrusting her breasts forward. Jay placed a hand over one swollen
nipple, rolling it gently between his fingers, while he tugged the
other between his lips. His free hand slid down her waist and
cupped her bottom. Sabrina straddled Jay, resting on her knees.
When she felt the pressure of his hand on the back of her thigh,
she lowered herself into his lap and rocked gently.

"Hold on," Jay cautioned. "Not here. You're
going too fast."

"I know," she murmured, "I'm burning up." She
nuzzled against his beard, rubbing it first with her cheek, then
her shoulder. Moaning softly, she captured his face turning his
mouth to hers. Between each intoxicating kiss, she gasped for
air.

"This is so strange," she whispered, her
breath teasing against his ear, "but I need you." Her voice was
husky, strangled with tears. "Now!"

Pulling her to her feet, he led Sabrina into
the next room, to his unmade bed with its inviting, cool
sheets.

"First, let's take care of these," he said,
brushing his lips against her neck. Reaching for her waistband, he
tugged her against him and slid the zipper down its track. He
caressed her satiny hips, pushing her jeans to the floor.

Sabrina stepped out of them, wearing only her
panties and a pair of white crew socks. Undoubtedly, she was the
most exquisite woman Jay had ever seen, much less touched.

She stepped into his embrace and he
concentrated on kissing her, caressing her silky back. Sabrina
deftly unsnapped buttons and his jeans followed hers to the floor.
Her fingers slid beneath the band of his boxers. "These too," she
murmured against his chest.

Within moments, they were wrapped in each
other's arms and rolling on the bed. Sabrina felt charged,
electricity sparking from her fingers as she caressed his body. She
luxuriated in the taste of him as her silky, agile tongue danced
across his skin. She whispered in his ear, words outrageously
exciting and sensual.

The roughness of his worker's hands lightly
teased her nipples to aching hardness. Every inch of her skin
tingled as he stroked her belly, her thighs, the small of her back,
the inside of her elbows.

His skin next to hers seared, and she could
not touch him enough. The soft, dark hair on his chest tickled her
fingers marvelously, and she thrilled at the solid, flat planes of
his back. His lips touched a nipple, tenderly at first, then
insatiably. He suckled with a delicate strength that made her gasp
and bow her back.

With her legs wrapped around him, sliding and
shifting under him, she bucked restlessly and begged for release.
It was tearing her apart, this throbbing need that only he could
satisfy.

When he slid his fingers between her legs, he
found her swollen and damp. "Ahh, Sabrina," he groaned and kissed
her again.

He trembled, his eyes closed as if in prayer,
when Sabrina slipped her hand around him, holding and exploring him
with audacious curiosity. She could wait no longer. She fitted him
between her thighs.

Lowering his lips into to the fragrant hollow
of her neck, he drove into her with measured force. He grasped her
wrists and pulled them above her head. With her pinned and him
sliding in and out with a steady rhythm, he noticed that he hadn't
removed her panties. The friction of the lacy band drove him wild,
and his control slipped.

Sabrina wanted to claw at him, yank his hair,
and scream her need. With every thrust, she felt his wildness and
despaired that she would find release in time. Then, as he closed
his mouth on her breast, it happened. He buried himself inside her,
hard and hot, thick and smooth, and she spiraled over the edge. He
liberated her hands and held her close, urging her, and it was
stronger and sweeter than anything she experienced before.

As she fluttered downward, her body spent and
weak, he tensed. Then, with a rough cry of fulfillment, he
collapsed against her. She could feel him tremble as he rolled
over. She pillowed her head on his chest and closed her eyes.

* * *

It was dark and Sabrina was afraid to move.
She was curled against Jay, his arm possessively tossed over her
hips. His breathing was deep, his chest rising and falling in a
steady rhythm. She eased herself away, slowly sliding toward the
edge of the bed. When she made it, she stood in the moonlight and
watched him sleep.

As she shivered in the night air, doubt and
remorse clouded her thoughts and she began to panic. She could
blame it on alcohol, although she'd only had two beers at the most.
No, it wasn't alcohol. It was the sunset sail and his carefree,
lazy smile.

"Uh oh, Grandmother. Now I know what happened
to you," she whispered, her eyes tender as she watched him
sleep.

Sabrina gritted her teeth, and then searched
the shadowy floor for her scattered clothes. She tiptoed into the
living room where she hurriedly dressed, pulling her wrinkled shirt
from between the couch cushions. She laced her shoes and wiggled
into her coat. She knew her makeup and hair were a mess, but she
had to get out of here now, before he woke and she had to look into
his eyes.

Six years of Catholic school training was not
wasted on her and shame flushed her cheeks. She opened the door as
quietly as possible and let herself out into the night. It closed
with an audible click, but Jay was sound asleep. Sabrina raced down
the steps, cringing when her footsteps alerted a seal and it barked
hoarsely.

She sprinted to the middle of the dark street
and after looking both ways saw the illuminated hotel sign in the
distance. As she walked hurriedly towards the light, she opened her
purse and withdrew a brush. With wild, frantic yanks, she smoothed
her hair. She tucked her shirt into her jeans and buttoned her
jacket. She frantically searched her purse for the hotel key card,
then, with a sigh of relief, found it in her back pocket. The last
thing she wanted to do was ask the hotel clerk for another key;
especially at, what time was it? She pulled out her cell phone and
pushed a button. The screen lit up: 2:48 a.m.

With her head averted, she let herself into
the hotel lobby and walked towards the stairs to her second-floor
suite. The clerk looked up from his magazine briefly and then
ignored her.

In her room at last, Sabrina leaned against
the door and giggled. She stepped into the bathroom, the light and
fan driving away the quiet. She turned on the shower and began to
strip. She yelped softly when she saw the red marks on her breasts
and belly, and licked her swollen, aching lips.

"Mmmmm!" She wrapped her arms around her
shoulders and giggled again. Then, hefting her tender breasts in
each hand, she examined them for small hickeys. She raised an
eyebrow at her reflection. "You should see the other guy," she
quipped.

Soon, the steaming shower, fragrant soap and
soothing body lotion dispelled her aches, leaving her skin glowing
and soft. Later, lying naked in her bed, she ran her hands over her
belly and between her thighs. She squeezed her eyes and regretted
leaving him, yearning again for his touch, his kiss, his powerful
body against hers.

She slept fitfully, hugging her pillow.

* * *

In the morning, the town once again seemed
normal. Sabrina shook her head at the memory of her late-night race
through the streets. She realized that, although Jay lived
somewhere close, she lost all sense of bearing in the dark. He
could be anywhere of three directions. Not that she wanted to see
him again. Okay, she did. But she didn't think she could face
him.

He's probably glad he doesn't have to get
rid of me
, she thought.
I've got the morals of a cat in
heat
. A vision of Sister Carolyn, her seventh grade health
education teacher, floated before her. She cringed at the memory of
sex education and the Catholic stance on reproduction and birth
control. That's where she and the religion parted ways. In most
other areas, the doctrine had its hooks in her and kept her on the
"right path."

Even so, Sabrina had limited experience with
sex. She dated during high school, but never had a serious
relationship.

She'd only made love with two other men: one
she almost convinced herself to marry, despite Grandmother Rose's
advice, and the other a rebound from her broken engagement. She
dated Jeremy Rice for three years in college. He took it for
granted they would marry and she would work while he finished
medical school. Finding him in bed with another woman at a
fraternity party devastated her. Jeremy represented the one thing
she craved: a family. She refused his contrite telephone calls and
eventually they stopped. She sent him the engagement ring and
returned all of his presents. She didn't want any reminders.

Michael, her second lover, was a guitar
player in a Boston band. Her dorm roommate set up a blind date for
both of them. They recognized from the beginning they had little in
common, but the sex was healthy and helped assuage her wounded
pride. Michael didn't mind. When his band moved to California, they
kissed goodbye without regret.

Sabrina was up, showered and dressed by eight
o'clock, and scouting the streets of Warren for a breakfast diner.
She decided on the donut shop, eating three glazed donuts and
downing several cups of coffee.

She asked the waitress for a telephone
directory and idly stirred sugar into her coffee as she flipped
through the yellow pages.

"Excuse me," she called to the waitress. "Is
this close?" Sabrina pointed to the small ad for Warren Boatyard in
the phone book. Its services included boat restoration and boat
building, "no job too small."

The woman nodded. "Sure is. Right down the
road."

"Thanks. That's all I need."

Sabrina punched the number into her cell
phone. It rang several times and, just as she considered hanging up
and redialing, a deep voice boomed, "Boatyard. Brett here."

"Hello, I'm looking at your ad in the phone
book and it says you do boat restoration. That 'no job is too
small.'"