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But he doesn’t stop at the bedroom. Instead, he continues climbing to the first floor, and we emerge into the viewing room.
“Oh, wow.” My jaw drops at the sight of the Pacific spread out before us. The light above us sweeps across the black blanket of the ocean, warning unwary sailors of the rocks below us. A thousand stars glitter in the night sky, while the moon, almost full, hangs there like a silver bauble.
Marc sits at the right-hand end of the sofa and, still holding my hand, pulls me down beside him. I curl up next to him, and he puts his arm around me, sliding down a little so his head rests on the back of the sofa, stretching out his legs. I can cope with this. He’s warm and he smells nice, and it’s good to be touching him at last.
We sip our whiskies and look out at the stars. “Have you ever been sailing?” he asks me. I shake my head. “Me neither,” he replies. “Just never got into it. It must be amazing, being out on the ocean at night.”
“Until there’s a storm and you’re trying to stay upright in six-foot waves.”
He chuckles. “Yeah.” He turns and kisses my forehead, then returns to sipping his whisky. “Tell me more about your visit to the monastery. Did it give you an interest in Buddhism?”
Surprised, I talk for a while about the services I attended, and the monks I spoke to who told me a little about their beliefs and philosophy. “I found it really interesting,” I conclude. “I’m not about to take it up, but I did like some of the core philosophies. What about you, are you religious?”
He shakes his head. “When I was younger, Mom sometimes took Izzy and me to church at Easter and Christmas. I was fifteen when Dad died, and that changed everything for her. She spent a lot of her time cursing God for taking Dad away from her. Since then, I haven’t set foot in a church.”
“Do you have faith?”
He has a mouthful of whisky as he considers my question, then looks across at me. “I could start believing if I thought heaven might contain angels like you.”
“I’m no angel,” I whisper.
“The best girls aren’t.” He smiles.
My heart bangs against my ribs. His gaze drops to my mouth, but he makes no move to kiss me. I keep waiting for him to start his seduction, but for some reason he’s holding back.
Then he lifts his gaze back to mine, and suddenly I understand. He is seducing me. He’s been doing it all day. Talking to me, trying to relax me, encouraging me out of my shell, getting me to tell him about myself. And now he’s waiting for me to give him a sign I’m ready. He’s such a sweetheart. He’s determined not to push me. He’s leaving it up to me.
I finish off my whisky and put the glass on the floor. The firewater has spread through me, filing off the edges, and for the first time I feel excited rather than nervous. I’m going to do this. It’s an amazing opportunity, and I’m not going to pass up the chance now I’m here.
Marc does the same, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before placing his glass on the floor. He leans back, and I turn a little to face him. I lift a hand and cup his cheek, brushing my thumb against his five-o’clock shadow, enjoying the scrape of his bristles. Then I slide my fingers into his hair to pull his head down and bring his mouth to mine.
Chapter Twelve
Poppy
Our lips touch, and we both exhale with relief and satisfaction, our breaths mingling. His lips are warm and firm, and he places soft kisses across mine, showing me he’s going to take his time. I can’t stop a little shiver running through me, and I feel his lips curve up, but he doesn’t stop.
He kisses me for a long time, breaking contact with my mouth at one point to kiss my cheeks, my eyebrows, my nose, and finally back to my lips. By this time, I’m in a dream, hazy with longing. He kisses me, and then, for the first time, I feel the touch of his tongue on my bottom lip.
I hesitate, not wanting to spoil the magic with a disgusting, sloppy kiss, but I don’t want to disappoint him, so I part my lips to allow him access. But he doesn’t force his tongue into my mouth like all the other men have before. He continues to press his lips to mine, following each time with a small brush of the tip of his tongue. He kisses across my bottom lip, then back across my top lip, as if he’s exploring every fraction of an inch, and now I’m tingling all over, and more than ready to join in.
