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I take a step toward her and she takes a step back, tsking under her breath.
“I thought we were going to stop,” she says, brow raised.
“Yeah? Then what are you doing?”
She smiles cheekily. “Drying off. My suit is wet…”
In an instant, I’m on her, kissing the rebellious streak right out of her. We collide on my boat, laughing and teasing and kissing until her lips are swollen and red. I lay her down on the deck and it’s not soft, but she doesn’t complain. I don’t think she can form a thought now that my fingers are inside her bikini bottoms.
I prop myself up beside her, taking her in as I tease and play with her.
Her back arches off the deck and her eyes pinch closed, but I don’t pick up my rhythm. It’s payback for what she just did to me. Slow circles over her most sensitive skin. She begs me to continue, taking her bottom lip in her mouth when I refuse to bend down to kiss her. She rocks her hips up to meet my fingers and I finally give in to the urge to sink into her slowly. My middle finger fills her up and she uses it to get herself off.
I don’t think I blink, don’t think I breathe for that distended moment in time. Her cries fill the air, over the sound of the waves lapping against the boat and the seagulls calling overhead.
My name whispers past her lips and then my willpower gives out. I tug down my trunks and pry her legs apart, dragging my length up and down her wetness before I plunge inside of her to the hilt. Deep, then somehow deeper still. Her hands come up to cradle my face and I look down to see her staring up at me, eyes so crystal green they match the water surrounding us.
We don’t say a word as I rock into her, don’t dare break the spell surrounding us.
I don’t have a condom handy and it’s impossible to stave off. I thrust harder, hissing with the need to come, especially as she does, tightening around me, shaking with pleasure. I hold perfectly still for a moment, trying to overcome the will to empty myself inside of her just like this, consequences be damned. Then she realizes my dilemma and pushes me off her, coming up onto her knees so she can take me in her hand and then her mouth, finishing me off so quickly it’s not even satisfying so much as guttural. Needy. Angry. More. More, I think, wanting her again. Now, I think as I stare down at her, cupping her cheek, proclaiming my love for her in my head and wondering if I really mean it or if it’s just this moment. The sea and sky and her…a combination I could spend my whole life trying to recreate, knowing I’d never succeed.
The weekend is over in the blink of an eye. Saturday evening spills into Sunday morning and then the afternoon sun dips toward the horizon, beckoning me back to the city, back to the grind I usually love but don’t want to even think about right now.
I’d play hooky if there weren’t people depending on me. I think of everything waiting for me back in my office, and then I look at Maren as she walks me out to my car.
“Are you sure you didn’t forget anything? Toothbrush? Hairbrush? Toilet brush?”
I laugh and tug her toward me so she tips off balance. I catch her and walk with her in front of me so that our feet have to match or we’ll trip each other up.
“This weekend was really fun.”
“Yeah, it was great. I learned so much about sailing,” she teases.
“Same time next week?” I ask, bending down to kiss her neck.
“Nicholas,” she warns, her voice taking on a serious edge. “C’mon.”
“What?”
“Don’t do that.”
“Kiss you?”
“No.” She steps out of my arms. “Don’t ruin the moment with promises like that.”
I frown, completely caught off guard. “What are you talking about?”
She shakes her head and looks down to the ground. “Never mind. You’re leaving. I don’t want to get into it.”
“Right.” I move around her and pop my trunk so I can toss my bag into it before slamming it shut. “I gotta go. Traffic’s going to be killer.”
She crosses her arms over her chest and tips back on her heels.
“Drive safe.”
“Yup,” I say, opening my door with an angry tug.
She’s already on her way back toward the house when I think to ask for a kiss or a hug goodbye. It’s obvious she doesn’t want one, so I slide into the front seat, start my engine, and pull away.
I’m not even halfway down Bellevue Avenue when I regret leaving. Half of me wants to flip on my blinker and pull a U-turn, but the other half knows I have to get back to the city even if I don’t want to. I spend the entire hellish drive picking apart our words, wondering what she could have possibly meant. I regret not staying and forcing her to talk, or at least ensuring that she was still happy with everything we did over the weekend.
