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“Good morning! When did you have time to start sweating?” I rub my body against the soft blanket, indulging leisurely, enjoying the warmth and the wonderful scent of the pillow this God had placed his head on.
“It’s part of my routine,” Michael replies, as if trying to explain himself to me.
“Next time,” I add, “I’d like to join you, I like a good workout,” I declare.
Michael furrows his left brow and smiles.
“I don’t want you to strain yourself, I brought you here with me so you’d take a break from it all,” he says, flashing another smile at me.
“Okay,” I reply, lifting my hands over my head, “I give up.”
“So quick?” Michael teases me, and I feel a wave of heat ripple through my groin. What is he doing to me? How can I contain myself? I’m completely mesmerized!
“Besides,” he adds, “I have quite a lot of experience when it comes to working out, you know. So, I can tell who works out and who doesn’t.” Then he places his delicate hand under the linen dress I had slept in, and straight on top of my belly. “It’s crazy! You’re so smooth! Wow! What a beautiful belly. Not even the slightest sign that someone once grew in there.”
“That’s exactly why I’ve made sure to work out at least three times a week,” I giggle shyly. “I wanted to get my figure back as soon as possible so I can look I the mirror and see myself, rather than traces of what I used to be. Taking care of yourself, in and out, is a daily task.”
“Oh,” he nods, “I see!” He snickers and continues. “So that’s why you look like this, now I get it.”
“What? I don’t understand, why are you laughing again?” It puzzles me, what could I have said now? Ugh, why does he keep correcting me? I ponder.
“Is that what you sound like when you try to impress someone?” Michael asks half-jokingly. “Sweetie, you’re beautiful just as you are. You don’t need anyone’s approval, or any of that other nonsense. Perhaps it makes you feel better, but a couple of pounds here or there won’t make a change. Your proportions are perfect, both your body and your face. I mean, to me, you’re perfect.”
I laugh embarrassedly, and politely thank him. The only thing I want right now is for him to penetrate my body and utterly shatter it.
“Come on, sleepy head, get up!” He draws the blanket away and reaches his hand out to help me out. But then, in an instant, he pulls me in a different direction, as he falls back and lies on his back on the left side of the bed. I uncontrollably pounce him, my dress rising, my hair completely disheveled, frantically losing control, kissing him with burning passion.
“What are you doing?” he asks. “Please, stop.” He grabs me, resisting me.
“Sorry,” I immediately recoil. “I really am sorry,” I mumble, sheepishly. “I must have misunderstood.”
“Misunderstood?” Michal frowns. “Please, let me decide when we’ll move forward, okay? I feel this isn’t the right time. You’re upset, you’re confused, I wouldn’t want to find my name crossed out on your blacklist.”
Good God! How could anyone cross anything out about him? He’s simply perfect! I wonder. Is that what he concluded from my flirting? I must be really rusty.
“I really do apologize, Michael.”
“Tell me,” he’s angry and dead serious this time, “how can you say that and really want us to be together? Look at you! You’re neck deep in your self-pity, so far in that you can’t see anything around you. Let me tell you again, as clear as I can, and I hope that this time you’ll understand, Sam. When I saw you sitting there, by that table, hiding behind that giant lemonade of yours, I saw the ideal woman. Then, when you saw that kid, rushed to help him and spoke to him with such kindness, you really moved me.”
“Really?” I stare at him, stunned.
“That fact that you’re not in showbiz, makes me want you even more. But, as far as I am concerned, we’re on a journey right now to get to know each other. I honestly don’t think that you’re ready to take the next step, it wouldn’t be right. Let’s take it easy. When I feel that we’re at a right and pure place for both of us, I promise I won’t stop you or hold back,” he raises his hands dramatically, and makes it quite clear that I’m totally unaware of what would happen once we made love. He places his hand on my buttocks and caresses it with admiration.
“It’s smooth, too!” he declares happily.
“You’re right. I’m so sorry, Michael, and I’m glad you’re not mad at me.” I hug him, breathe in the back of his neck, and take in his smoldering masculinity.
“Come! Let’s have some breakfast, spend some time in the pool, and then dock and go to the beach.”
I nod and quickly get ready for breakfast.
After a couple of hours under the bright sun in his luxurious swimming pool, he smiles happily.
“It’s time to go to the beach.”
We disembark together, hand in hand. I carry a straw bag with the towels, swimsuits and beach cloths, and Michael walks ahead of me, leading us to ‘Palm Beach’.
“Come on!” He grabs my hand and drags me to the beach chairs.
