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Chapter Four
Rhenn
We finish the rest of the tour rather quickly after that. I could tell by the look in her eyes that she didn’t know how to take my comment. Yes, the room was beautiful, but it doesn’t hold a candle to the elegant beauty that she possesses. Just looking at her makes me ache in places I have no business aching – and no, I’m not talking about the throb in my pants, though that has been prominent since the moment I laid eyes on her.
Marissa is stunning, and not in the fake, collagen-filled way I’m used to. She’s all sunlight and roses, while I’m more accustomed to leather and red lipstick. She couldn’t be any more different from the women I’m usually attracted to, but for some reason, I feel myself drawn to her like the tide to the shore.
Which is exactly why I need to keep my distance.
The last time I felt this kinda pull (the kind that doesn’t involve just my dick), I found myself in a serious relationship. It also went down faster than a barfly in a bathroom stall right before last call.
When we finally step outside, I can’t help but feel thankful for the fresh air. No, it’s wasn’t the soot-filled, smoke-lingering scents of the house that I couldn’t wait to get away from, but from her. Marissa. I could smell her everywhere we went. The cleanliness of her shampoo. The sweetness of her body lotion. It all fucked with my mind, making me want to explore every square inch of her body.
With my tongue.
Adjusting my pants as subtly as possible, I follow as she heads toward the tree line. I do everything I can to focus on our surroundings, yet my eyes still return to the gentle sway of her hips and the delicate roundness of her ass. It’s an ass that would fit perfectly in my palms – an ass that is made to be squeezed right as I drive myself deep inside her.
I groan. I can’t help it, nor can I stop the sound from falling from my lips. Marissa turns to face me. “Are you okay?” she asks, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth.
Fuck.
“Yeah,” I reply, giving no further explanation as I watch in complete fascination as she holds that plump lip between her teeth. She probably doesn’t even know she’s doing it. It’s not one of those fuck-me-now ploys that so many women do. She’s not doing it to catch my attention. She’s doing it because that’s what she does when she’s worried or nervous. She’s what every other woman in America tries to be, even though she does it so naturally, without even realizing it.
I’m so screwed.
Marissa begins to walk again, heading toward the clearing in the trees. She glances off to her right, and even though I caught sight of the small building out back, it’s the first time I really see it. It’s a cute little house, probably only one bedroom. It’s small and quaint, and exactly how I’d picture her place to be. Mary Ann mentioned Marissa lives on-site, but I didn’t really think too much about it.
Until now.
“That’s my place,” she says without stopping. She obviously saw me looking and isn’t offering me any further explanation.
“It’s nice,” I reply honestly, noticing the single rocking chair on the tiny porch. I can picture her sitting out there in the evening, watching as the sun dips behind the trees and the birds start to sing. She’d probably have a book in one hand and a hot cocoa in the other, and that’s another reason why I should be running in the other direction.
The temperature drops several degrees as we follow the path, stepping into the wooded area and in the shade. I have to take large steps to keep pace. For such a short thing, she’s got quite a long stride. Instantly, I think about her stamina. I bet she’s a wildcat in bed.
Not that I’ll ever find out.
I can hear the ocean before I see it. As soon as I reach the clearing, my feet hit sand and I stop in my tracks. The Atlantic Ocean spreads out as far as the eye can see. Even though I grew up on the Bay, it never ceases to amaze me at the tranquility and beauty of the ocean. It’s the main reason I purchased my boat as soon as I could afford it. The sea calls to me, like the waves call to a surfer. It’s in my blood, deep in my bones. It’s part of my survival.
Stepping up to the shore, I let the waves crash over my boots, not caring in the least bit about them getting wet. I have more pairs. I can already picture my Catalina anchored out about a hundred yards from the shore. There’s a small dock along the beach that I’ll be able to use to get back and forth, and the prospect of catching some sun on the deck has my blood pumping.
“How often do you sail?” Marissa asks, pulling my attention from the water before me.
“As often as possible, though that’s not nearly as often as I’d like.”
“Mom said you’re bringing your boat since no one has vacancies,” she says, stepping up beside me, her shoes and socks tossed up on the beach and her bare feet gingerly stepping into the cool surf.
“It’s a two thousand fifteen, thirty-eight foot Catalina sailboat that was built for speed. I purchased it for a steal during an ugly divorce, and there’s nothing better than stretching her legs on a Sunday afternoon in the open sea,” I tell her, gazing out at the water.
“Sounds nice. I’ve only been on a small sailboat once, but I got seasick.”
“I’ll take you,” I tell her before I can stop the words from flying from my trap.
She glances over at me with a look. “Did you not catch the part where I got seasick?”
“Ehh, you’ll be fine on Runaround Sue. She’s big enough that you won’t even feel the motion of the ocean.” Total lie, and by the look she’s giving me, she doesn’t buy it for a second. But something deep inside me pulls hard, and the need to have her on my boat is overwhelming.
“Runaround Sue?” she asks, a smile playing on her lips as she looks out at the ocean. “There’s a story there.”
