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The second we step off the plane and board the catamaran sent to take us to our cottage on the lagoon, the air shifts. And it’s not just the weather, even though it’s a beautiful eighty-six degrees in Tahiti right now. The tension that seemed to emanate from Callisto over the past two days has been whisked away in the ocean breeze.
We dock at the end of a long wooden walkway that extends from the shore all the way out to the little water bungalow village. Each villa sits perched on stilts just a few feet above the clear, turquoise water of the lagoon. We make our way about halfway down the walkway to villa number four and find the concierge has already delivered our luggage.
As if teak wood furnishings, genuine Polynesian artwork, and thatched roofs weren’t enough to make us feel like we’ve escaped to some magical world, an entire section of the living room floor is made of glass. I swear I just watched a sea turtle swim by beneath my feet.
The whole thing is one big open room, with the exception of the bathroom. The walls and floors are a continuation of the polished teak wood, and all of the upholstery and bedding is stark white. A large deck wraps around the entire villa with glass doors leading into the living room. On one side of the deck there are two oversized chaise lounges that face the mountains and on the other side is an over-the-water hammock made for two.
Callisto is leaning against the kitchen counter, arms folded and feet crossed at the ankle, watching as I take it all in.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask as I make my way across the room.
Sometimes I’d give anything to get in his headspace. His facial expressions give nothing away, and he has mastered the monotone.
“How would you say I’m looking at you?”
He unfolds his arms and wraps them around my waist when I slide my hands over his shoulders, rising to my tiptoes to look him in the eye.
“Like you can’t decide what to do with me,” I answer with a grin.
His expression never changes as he slides his hands from my waist to my ass. “I know exactly what I want to do with you.”
His words ignite a burning tremble deep in my core. I close my eyes and bring my mouth to his as he slides me on top of the kitchen counter. I’m in paradise, surrounded by beauty, and this perfect man is sliding my panties down my legs. It doesn’t get much better than this.
Once we christened the kitchen counter of our bungalow, Callisto suggested we take the walk along the pier to the shore. The resort we’re staying at has a hotel, a few shops, and a couple of restaurants—all located right along the beach at the end of this walkway. We grab a bite to eat, and he doesn’t even complain when I have a drink while we wait at the bar for our table.
The food is spectacular, and the night view of the mountains just across the lagoon is breathtaking. There’s just enough breeze to make sitting outside comfortable.
After dinner, we go back to our bungalow then sit outside and watch the sun set.
“You’re doing it again,” I say when I catch him staring at me.
“And what is it, exactly?”
“The poker face thing. I never know what you’re thinking.”
His brow creases, and he cocks his head to one side. Then he stands up. “Stay here.” He walks back inside.
A few minutes later he comes out with a deck of cards in his hand. He sets them on the table nestled between the two chaise lounges and shoots me a cocky smirk.
“Go fish?”
He chuckles and opens the deck. “Don’t tell me you don’t know how to play poker?”
I pull my full bottom lip between my teeth and bat my eyelashes at him, and he laughs.
“Holy fuck. You don’t.”
I narrow my eyes and glare at him, “Well some of us have spent the past six years doing grown up things. Like going to med school,” I say, “Not little boy things like playing cards.”
His eyes widen. “Little boy?” His jaw twitches, and I can tell it’s taking all his energy not to prove me wrong right here. Right now.
I remain unmoved while he scoots closer to the edge of his cushion and rests his elbows on his knees. His gaze is dark and intense as he shuffles the cards without looking at them. He counts out two cards and places them on the table in front of me and then two more, placing them on the table in front of himself. His eyes never leave mine, and I’m getting the feeling he’s about to show me more than just how to play a card game.
I fan my cards and bring them up so that I can see them.
“You ready?” he asks as he does the same.
“No crying like a little girl when you lose.” I grin.
