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She massaged her temples and jerked around as a warm hand touched her shoulder. She would have knocked him off her perch if he hadn't been prepared for her startled reaction to his climbing ability. He had one hand braced on the branch she had descended.
Lauren had a momentary impression of wide shoulders and penetrating gray eyes studying her tear-streaked face, then she was brought into his arms, his hands pressed against her bare back, his arms gathering her close and holding her surrounded by the shelter of ches
t and knees.
It wasn't an embrace that said, "I'm the big, strong man holding the feeble female". It was a gentle, firm hold that offered her comfort, offered himself up as the tree she could lean upon for a moment or forever, however long it took.
She stiffened at the absurd thought and he brought her closer, like she was a child curled in a fetal position. His careful, tender hands stroked her back, her hair, as he muttered soothingly to her. Lauren's head fell forward, her forehead coming into contact with his chest. He put his head over hers, accepting her.
This wasn't Jonathan. This was a total stranger, someone she didn't know, couldn't possibly trust. . .
Lauren's arms shot out and she grabbed his lean, muscular bare back in both hands, dug in her fingers and held.
Josh was very conscious of her bare body pressed against his, the gentle pressure of her breasts, the nipples sliding against his chest as she hitched with those careful, silent sobs, but he wasn't a total cad.
Well, not completely.
He tipped up her chin with one finger and settled his lips over hers. Warmth, wet and friction.
She stopped in mid-sob, made a surprised noise, did that quick little panic jerk, then literally melted into it, her arms sliding down to his waist, her body settling against his, her side pressed against his tightening groin.
He couldn't say what made him do it. He didn't know her, she was upset, she should react by screaming and tossing him out of the tree. Marcus said he was losing his ability to live in civilized society, that he was just starting to react in whatever manner his animal instincts dictated.
Maybe he was right. Something about her said the kiss would be welcome, that it was essential he communicate how much he wanted her, right from the beginning. If they were on the level ground, he might have displayed it in an altogether more reverent fashion. A gentle kiss laid on the knuckles of her bare toes. He would brush his hair against her calf, an intentional caress as he raised his head for a brief look into her blue eyes, showing her his desire to please, and protect, and cherish.
It was a strange thought, the type of thought he had never had before, but one that felt right as he thought of her again, sitting proudly in the tree gazing down at him, like a tribal goddess. His hands slid up to smooth shoulders and into her hair. He discovered spun silk, delicate ears, and a neck so fragile he could snap it with one hand. Good God, he wanted her, here and now, forever, and he didn't even know her name.
Lauren's first thought was that he was the best kisser, gay or straight; she'd ever had the pleasure to experience. Her second thought was a revelation that uncoiled in her stomach and sent tendrils out to tug at her vitals. Just as homosexuals often knew another homosexual just from picking up vibes, so a Dominant could pick up the scent of a submissive. She felt it in Josh, but there was an oddness to it, almost as if it had been brought into consciousness and then buried again. He had powerful hands, but they were hesitant. Not hesitant as in awkward, but as if he paused at the door, waiting for the invitation because he couldn't enter without it. That was normal for a sub, but there was a wounded quality to it.
Normally, that would send Lauren in full retreat. D/s, consensual as it was, involved a far more deeply emotional level of sexual interplay than most people engaged in, even those who had been partners for many years. Getting into it with someone excessively damaged could be dangerous.
Sweet baby, what happened to you, she wondered.
"Is this a private party, or can anyone join?"
Lauren jerked back, and Josh kept her from overbalancing with a sure grip on her shoulders. "Marcus,"
he explained to her.
Lauren looked down at the man standing negligently at the base of the trunk, his face reflecting amusement. Her jaw dropped.
Her high school art teacher had told her class that Michelangelo's David was considered one of the most perfect depictions of the male form. Her high school art teacher had never seen Marcus.
Marcus was six foot even, his body layered in smooth muscle as if it had in fact been sculpted by an artist's fine touch. He displayed himself well in the same outfit as Josh, just a pair of jeans. She assumed they had both spent a sweaty day working on one of the houses. His dark hair was fine and flowing as her own, falling carelessly over a high forehead and to his shoulders. His sensual lips, curved in that mysterious smile, made her imagine all the places they might have been, and his green eyes were full of secret thoughts.
He was more than riveting, he was familiar. She was in the middle of the Caribbean for the first time in her life. No one should look familiar.
"Could you use a hand? In the getting down department, that is?"
"Yeah. Can you see if Lisette has some rope in her workroom?"
"White knight, here to serve. Be right back. "
Josh nodded and looked down into Lauren's face. "Think you can climb down a rope if I get you started?"
Lauren was trying to keep up with all the shifts and nodded dumbly to this latest suggestion. Josh touched her chin with a light fingertip, a trace of a shy smile flirting about his lips. "Er. . . he's the one that wouldn't get anything out of looking at your body. "
Lauren swallowed. "Lisette also told me. . . you weren't house-trained. "
