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“We do better living our own lives.” She swirled the straw through her drink. “After the incident, I buried myself in art. I think she struggled with how to help me. Natalie likes to be the one in control, the one who finds the solution and makes it happen. And she couldn’t do that for me.”
He nodded. Her description fit the tough-as-nails woman who served a room full of sailors and soldiers night after night, always determined to call the shots.
“We did a girls’ weekend in San Francisco last year. And we talked about getting together for the holidays. But Natalie couldn’t get away from work.”
“Maybe next year?” he asked, removing the second Post-it and placing it beneath the first.
“Maybe. Right now we keep in touch over text and email. And she’s my go-to person to contact in case of an emergency. But I’m not sure we’re ready for another trip together. She has her ideas about how to move on with life, and I have mine.” She took a long drink from her daiquiri. “Why the sudden interest in my sister? Is that one of your wildest fantasies? Two sisters?”
“No.” His grip tightened on the pen. The thought of Lucia and…oh, hell no. He stifled a chuckle and ripped off the third Post-it.
“That’s a long list for one night,” she said.
He looked up from the fourth note. “What time is your flight?”
“Three in the afternoon.”
“We have this afternoon, tonight, and the morning. You’re mine until you set foot on that plane. Agreed?”
“Yes.” She bit down on the straw.
He scribbled as fast as he could. Notes four, five, and six joined the train of yellow sticky notes.
“But I might not survive tonight,” she added.
He laughed as he put the finishing touches on the last item on his list. After making sure the pieces of paper were attached, he offered her the long line of fantasies.
“I’m going for a swim,” he said, pulling off his shirt. “Take your time reading through the Post-its. We’ll start with your favorite.”
She nodded, her eyes roaming over his chest. He tossed his shirt onto the chair.
“And Lucia,” he said.
“Yes,” she murmured, her gaze glued to the place where his board shorts met bare skin.
“Be honest.”
He turned and headed for the water. Most days he’d rather take a dip in the ocean than a Vegas wave pool. The Pacific was bigger and better. But here, she would be waiting for him when he got out.
He waded out to the deep end and dove under, swimming fast and furious. He focused on the strokes, trying not to think about the fact that right now having her nearly trumped everything else.
Lucia looked down at the Post-its and burst into laughter. Stick figures stared up at her from the yellow paper trail. He’d illustrated every one of his fantasies.
Still giggling, she studied number one. The female stick figure—as least she assumed that was long hair sticking out from her circular head—was on her back, and the male figure had his
cock nestled between her breasts.
In the second one, the stick drawing with long hair knelt on all fours with the male behind her.
Stick figures do doggie style.
And he’d printed the words “with you” in block letters next to the drawing. She glanced down the Post-it trail and realized he’d repeated those words beside each stick figure couple, confirming that every fantasy on his list revolved around her.
She lowered the graphic Post-it trail to the chair then drained the rest of her drink. She’d written out her fantasies picturing a blank face, running through wicked daydreams one after the other. The idea of people nearby had excited her. The thought of a man bound to her bed, all hers for one bliss-filled night—she’d wanted that.
And he’d granted her every wish last night. Her fantasies now had a face and a voice. But when he’d offered his list, she hadn’t expected humor running hand in hand with her deepest desire: a man who was in this for her.
If she was reading his stick figures correctly, he wished to take her in every possible position. Missionary, doggie style, tied up, hands loose to explore, licking her, thrusting into her mouth, and sixty-nine. Plus, he’d granted her the right to choose her favorite.
