Where the Lotus Flowers Grow (14 page)

She rested her head against my chest. We lay together in silence for a few moments.

“I’m disappointed, Mary.”

“You don’t think it’s a good reason?”

“It’s a brilliant reason.”

“Then why?”

“I always thought if I were compared to a food, it would be something more masculine. A bouillon cube, perhaps.”

Mary

I’d used three buckets of hot water for my bath, lathering myself with sandalwood soap, a forgotten luxury purchased eons ago. But I needed luxury tonight. It smelled like him. I loved his scent, so I’d been very liberal.

Desperate to scour my mind of him, I’d touched myself to the point of perversion. But my dangerous thoughts refused to yield. The usual tactics provided no relief…only more remorse. Now, I sat by the fountain he’d fixed for me, surrounded by a million tiny lights under a heavy moon—a completely aroused, sandalwood-scented mess.

I hadn’t seen him for the past two days, but I felt his presence everywhere. I ignored the lecherous remarks of my former colleagues and Prabhat’s admonishing eyes. Tomorrow, I’d go to the train station and randomly pick a destination. I was leaning toward Hyderabad, a place with many call centers and opportunities. Distance and time healed all wounds, or so I kept telling myself.

Thoughts of Liam swirled around my head no matter how many times I tried to swat them away, squash them, or slam the door. How safe and secure I’d felt in his arms as we’d slept. I had awoken in the middle of the night. Staring down at his beautiful body, I debated between kissing him awake and pushing him away. In the end, I’d slipped from the bed quietly, stealing a few last glances like a thief in the night.

He’d made me laugh in a way I never thought I’d do again. He’d seduced me with his sensuous British accent and his muscular form. He’d mesmerized me with his intense eyes and deep dimples. But never…never did I think I would actually care for him. I had stopped really caring for people a long time ago. I’d already experienced the gut-wrenching pain of a full heart being emptied. I wouldn’t survive it again.

I stared at the blossom, sitting proudly in the middle of the fountain, hoping it could give me some much-needed guidance. It remained stoic and silent. The flower gave me a sense of balance, but even its beauty couldn’t control my chaotic thoughts.

“There you are,” Pooja said, taking the seat next to me.

“Here I am.”

“Are you packed?”

“Yes.”

Pooja handed me a parchment-wrapped parcel. “Prabhat gave me this. He said I was supposed to give it to you right before you left, but I’m very forgetful.”

She wasn’t as forgetful as she was curious. Before she could ask, I took the package from her. “It’s the cream I ordered.”

Her gaze turned suspicious since we didn’t buy creams fancy enough to mail-order. Before she could ask, I walked away. I went to the same alcove where Liam and I had danced to Dusty. Under the dim overhead light, I tore through the paper.

The jar of honey gleamed against the night. Beneath it was a note card, folded into a neat square, with a rendering of a hand-drawn lotus blossom. Squinting against the low light, I read his words.

Hello Lotus Girl, you don’t belong here, but I am too selfish not to be happy to have found you. Besides all the obvious things you did, there is something else you gave me that I cannot name, but I sense it all the same. Something I lost long ago without ever realizing it. So I thank you for that. I know you said we shouldn’t keep in touch, but I’ve listed my contact information in case you ever need anything. Although I doubt you will. There is a rare strength in you that I admire.

The honey is an extremely small gesture of my gratitude. How could you ever satisfy your hunger if you never give into your cravings? It’s beyond me, but as I said, I am a selfish man.

Humbly yours, Liam.

He admired me, the girl who buried herself in routine to keep all the cracks from fissuring. He credited me with restoring something in him?

I licked my lips and curled my fingers around the honey jar. But it wasn’t the honey I craved.

Liam

I sat in the chair, my feet on the window ledge, drowning my sorrows with King Fischer. I closed my eyes, drumming my fingers to La Traviata-Brindisi. Some days called for Nine Inch Nails, but today I wanted Pavarotti.

If I had turned it up another notch, I might have missed the knock.

She stood in my doorway, wearing a loose-fitting yellow shirt and long flowing skirt. Her hair hung in cascading waves, framing her face. She held a small satchel so tightly her knuckles strained. She scanned me from my unbuttoned shirt, down to my jeans, and ending at my bare feet.

See something you like?

Me, too.

“May I come in, sir?” she whispered with a slow seductive grace.

I kicked the door open and waved her inside. “You may.”

I shut the door, latched it, and leaned against it. “You should not call me ‘sir.’ I am not your boss.”

“That’s right. You don’t like it, anyway.”

“I like it too much, but then you already know that, don’t you, love?”

“I suspected.” She turned toward me, biting her lower lip. “You look fit.”

“I’ve been eating like an ox the past two days. I’m surprised the kitchen hasn’t run out of food.”

“You have all your strength back.”

“Yes.” Although, staring at her, a different type of hunger made me weak once more.

She looked at my luggage, lying open on the bed. “You’re leaving.”

“In the morning.”

“I’m sure you’ll be happy to get home.”

“I’m finishing my work here first.”

This seemed to surprise her. “I thought you’d want to leave India after your horrible experience.”

“It wasn’t all horrible. In fact, some of it was exceptionally good.”

She walked over to window, looking out at the stars.
God, Mary, I don’t have the strength for this.
I’d been battling a civil war. My brain insisted she’d made a choice, and I needed to stay away. All the while, my dick was still debating the topic.

She turned, her damp hair swinging. “Is this opera?”

“Verdi.”

“It’s lovely.”

You’re lovely.

The sensuality of the music surrounded us. “It is.”

Her breasts heaved with each of my steps. I hoped to God this last dance between us would end in a merciful crescendo. She reached into her satchel and brought out the jar of honey. I paused, the gap between us feeling as large as an ocean.

“I wanted to thank you for this and your letter.”

“You weren’t supposed to get it until I left.” I wanted to smash the jar. Had she really just come to thank me?
Keep killing me, Mary.
“It wasn’t meant to solicit an invitation.”

“Then you don’t want me here.” The jar shook in her hand.

I stilled it, drawing closer. I bent until my mouth hovered over her ear. “I didn’t say that.”

“Did you try it yourself?”

“I was only able to procure one jar. From my understanding, it’s the only jar within a hundred miles.”

“How many kilometers is that?”

“About a hundred and sixty, give or take.”

“Wow.”

“I have to admit, your description aroused my…curiosity.”

“You’re lucky then.”

“How so?”

She tilted her head back, her lips parted. “I am willing to share.”

She held out the jar to me.

“You first, love.”

This was slow-poured hot seduction. The sound of the metal as it scraped free of the glass catch. The way she swiped her finger around the inside rim and brought it to her lips. Her mouth curved around her finger and she sucked, closing her eyes in bliss.

I loved that look, but I wanted to be responsible for it. I wanted to make it happen again and again.

She held up the jar. “You try.”

I mimicked her movements, but instead of my own lips, I placed my finger against hers, gliding the honey across them. She opened her mouth, ready to lick what I’d given her. I clasped her chin. Her breaths quickened.

“You think that belongs to you? You’re wrong. That’s mine. All mine.” I crushed our mouths together greedily. The rough, needy kiss was a few shades past passionate. She moaned. The honey was delicious and pure, but it was nothing compared to how she tasted. That fucking moan would get me every time.

I took the jar and slammed it on the table. “I’m going to eat the rest of that off your body, but right now, I just want to taste you.” I walked us to the back wall, my mouth never leaving hers. Her fingers tugged my hair. I pulled off my shirt fast and carelessly. Then I lifted hers over her head. She wore a plain white bra, no lace, no fringe…just beautiful breasts. My fingers trailed down her waist. My erection, swollen and painful, begged for release.

Then panic set in. Did I have a rubber? Fuck, how could I not?

“Liam…” she murmured.

“I’m having a little crisis.” Little? No…this qualified as a huge crisis. “I don’t have protection for us.” I buried my head against her shoulder. “Fuck.”

“I do.”

I backed away from her. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not. They’re in my satchel. An American brand.”

Sweet relief spread through me. I took her face in my hands and sought out her mouth. “Smart, beautiful girl.”

“Shall I fetch one?”

“Not yet.”

“No?” She chewed her bottom lip as if worried.

“My body’s been waiting to meet yours for a while now. I think they deserve a proper introduction.”

I unclasped her bra. As I pulled it away from her, I had to steady my breaths. I kissed her nipples. Then I sucked and flicked and nipped them. Her fingers twisted through my hair. I was glad I’d left it long.

“You’re teasing me now,” she said, each word coming out harsher than the last.

“We’re just getting started. Take off the rest of your clothes.”

She hooked her thumbs into the waist of her skirt and lowered it until it puddled around her feet. The knickers were next. There she was…my beautiful lotus blossom, completely unfurled for me.

Her beauty was both obvious and subtle. The shape of her collarbone. The feel of her hips as my hands clasped her. The softness of her wet hair brushing against my skin.

Give me fifty lashes with that hair, Mary.

I traveled a slow path south, tasting and touching her along the way. Her knees shook as I finally had my first taste of honey. Holding onto her waist, I took her to the edge of the precipice, but pulled back just as her moans heightened with intensity.

She hooked a leg over my shoulder. Encouraged, I fucked her with my tongue. Her hands fisted my hair. Verdi didn’t hold a candle to the aria Mary sang to me.

I stood and kissed her, tenderly this time, exploring her mouth with desperation, cupping the back of her head. She nipped my lip with her teeth, releasing the savage inside me once more.

“Naughty girl.”

I twisted her hair around my hand. She gasped as I pulled her hair back, my body pressed against hers. Her hands tugged at the button on my jeans. Her fingers inched around my belt. I moved her trembling hand toward the clasp. She undid it quickly. My belt fell with a thud, followed by my jeans.

I pushed myself off her before I forgot all about the condom. I was too wound up to fish through her bag, so I shook it until the gold foil packets fell out. She leaned against the wall, her arms covering her breasts.

“Don’t cover yourself, love. I want to see all of you.” My steady voice was at odds with my shaky fingers. Her hands dropped to her side.

I pulled down my boxer briefs. My dick sprang, painfully erect and screaming at me for making it wait so long.

She looked so fucking beautiful, wanton and lusty. Part of me wanted to paint her this way, but the thought was laughable. I could barely hold it together. All the blood had rushed straight to my sheathed and fully erect groin.

I pressed her against the wall. She threw her hands over my shoulders. I picked her up. Her legs wrapped around my hips. I should have been more gentle, but my need overtook me. I plunged inside of her.

She let out a startled gasp. I pulled back, a feat of heroic proportions considering how fucking wet and tight she was. “You okay, lover?” She nodded, tightening her legs, pulling me deeper inside her. That non-verbal message spoke volumes. I pressed my palm against the wall, leveraging myself. I growled with my first thrust. Her nails raked my back.

Was I really about to fuck her against a wall?
Take her to the fucking bed, man. Do it properly.
It was better to see her face that way. I’d been imaging that expression of pleasure since I’d first laid eyes on her. I turned us around, carrying her. I was so busy kissing her I almost missed the bed. We landed with a bounce. She titled her head back, her ecstatic groan encouraging my advance.

I inched her up the bed. Her shoulder hit the open suitcase. We both pushed it with aggravated annoyance until it crashed to the floor. I paused inside of her, wanting to make it last longer than I was capable. I traced her lips with my tongue. She opened her mouth and sucked my finger. I plunged again, my hand resting on her neck. She panted louder, crying in rhythm to my thrusts.

I fucking knew you’d like it rough, Mary. I knew it.

Fuck, I enjoyed it, too. More than I ever thought possible.

I nudged her face so she met my eyes. The rich cinnamon color was both calming and mesmerizing. I had to see her face in climax. I focused on her mouth as my thrusts deepened.

She closed her eyes, her body shaking. As desperately as I wanted to prolong this, I lost control, too. I pulled her leg over my hip, buried my face in the crook of her neck, and fucked her to crescendo. She shuddered all around me. We laid there, a mess of ragged breaths and tangled limbs and pounding hearts.

We held onto each other. Maybe to make it last longer. Maybe because neither of us wanted to let go.

“I’ll be right back,” I whispered as I broke our connection.

When I came out of the bathroom, she was sitting on the edge of the bed, getting dressed.