That One Summer: A Collection of Steamy Contemporary Romance

Chapter 7

By the time we getinto our transfer at Nassau airport for the trip back to Le Paradis, our group is quiet. Sally never took a swim and clambers right into the back row where she can be sticky and irritated by herself. Florian is busy on his phone with work and with little effort ignores the rest of us.

That leaves us the front row where Graeme and I sit wide, but our hands soon inch closer, until the moment when our pinkies connect and start stroking each other up and down in an imitation of what”s to come.

On arrival at Le Paradis, we pile out of the minivan into the air-conditioned lobby, where we pause for a second to regroup. We’re supposed to have dinner together later, but every tightly strung sex nerve in my body will make me refuse food until this one insatiable hunger is satisfied.

Florian hitches his sunglasses to his head and gives us a once over. ”Shall we ditch dinner tonight? I have some urgent emails to attend to.”

”I have a budding migraine,” I chirp, ”I”m not used to so much sun in one day.”

”Room service is fine by me,” Graeme adds his two cents. ”I need some time to look at those plans Malcolm has sent through from the office.”

The anticipation is too much. Sally just stares at us and for a split-second I see her summing up the situation. Old people.

”I”m going to do some swimsuit shopping and take a swim,” Sally says sweetly.

”Meet up for breakfast tomorrow then, Sal? Same time as this morning?” I almost heave, at being so close to having Graeme in room 69.

”Sure.”

”Perfect. Thanks for a great day, everyone.” Florian gives Graeme a last quizzical look and a smile ghosts his lips. ”See you tomorrow. Sleep tight.”

We split our different ways, Florian and Sally together in one direction, Graeme and I to our secluded wing. As soon as we enter the corridor, out of sight of any other guests, Graeme crowds me to the wall and claims my mouth in an all-consuming kiss. My fingers dig into his hair, and I cling to him, pressing my pelvis into his where I can feel him harden.

When he draws away for a breath, he whispers. ”Are you sure about this Miss Brooke? Once you”ve invited me into your room—”

”You”re going to have me in every way possible,” I interrupt him. ”And impossible.”

He merely chuckles at this and takes my hand in his. We walk the last stretch of the corridor in what feels like slow motion, my whole body in a tingle, my inner thighs sticky with want.

Graeme takes the room key, which I slipped with fake bravado into his shirt pocket earlier that morning and opens the door. I step in as he scans the corridor one last time to make sure no one sees us, and then he’s there. With me.

The door closes, and we drop our bags to the floor. His lips are on mine, his hands cradle my face, and he kisses me all the way as I walk backward to the bed. For a moment I lean against the bed”s corner post, and he pulls away. His hands idle down my neck to the silly bow of my dress, and he brushes my breasts with his knuckles. I moan, wanting him to hurry up, but he seems to delight in this slow teasing. His fingers toy with the front tie, and he undoes the knot, the few buttons, and then encourages the straps to slip down my shoulders.

He takes my hand and I step out of the puddle of fabric on the floor, in a bikini which begs to be ripped off.

”Miss Brooke,” he smirks, and with a gentle nudge encourage me to clamber on the bed and lean back on my elbows. ”Those bits of fabric are the ultimate cock tease.”

His strips off his clothes and I burn to touch him, everywhere, like I”d wanted the whole day. I shift deeper into the bed, and he leans over me, following suit, warm hands on my thighs, inching higher, to my hips and the perfect little bows made for situations just like these.

He twirls the strings around his fingers, takes hold of one on each side and tugs them loose. They come apart and the bit of pressure they applied to my hips dissipates. His hands are back on my thighs, and I close my eyes, my breathing strained as his fingers brush higher to my sex, where he traces the edges of the cheeky triangle on each side. Just a little push, just a little pull, and he”d have me bare.

My legs widen by own volition to welcome him in any way he wants. His hot breath soothes over my over-sensitive inner thigh as he leans in. His lips stroke over my hip bone and lower to my mound, where he gently nudges the last bit of barrier between us away with a slow lick of his tongue.

I want to come like that, so much, but more than anything I want to look into his eyes. I weave my fingers through his hair and instead of nudging him down, I encourage him up my stomach, to my breasts and my lips. He leaves a trail of kisses on his journey north and I arch into his sweet assault as he keeps himself perched on his arms, hovering over me.

When his lips finally reach mine, the kiss is all-consuming, tender yet demanding, and slow. We’re no longer having sex, we’re making love. His body grazes mine, the weight of his erection pressing against my sex as our kisses deepen and my legs widen and hook over his butt. He is slick and the pressure on my clit is intoxicating as he finds a rhythm that beats with our kisses.

I reach down and ease my hand between us to stroke him. He pauses and breathes into me, and we both open our eyes. We don”t need words. We just need this. I guide him into my body, his hardness filling me tight. The pleasure is too much, the pressure is too much, and after just three deep strokes I start coming.

And keep coming as he rides me harder and harder, driving to his own quick release as we gaze into each other”s eyes.

Graeme drops his forehead to mine, our breathing ragged, as he pulses inside me. For a moment we pause in this moment of intimacy, our bodies connected, warm and sweaty, mixed with sea salt and sweet coconut suntan lotion. It”s our honeymoon and pure bliss.

He stirs and teases his nose down my forehead, over the bridge, and alongside mine, then presses a pure, innocent kiss on my lips. ”This is what we had, Tess. This is what we”ve always had.”

And still have.I tighten my arms around him in a hug that never wants to let go. He chuckles as he rolls to his side and pulls me along, cradling me in his arms.

We”re quiet then, for a long moment just being with each other, Graeme”s fingers play with my hair, while I write love letters with my forefinger on his chest.

Here I am with my husband, reliving a perfect moment. How did I win this project? Graeme”s hand in the whole affair seems inevitable. I must know. For some reason, I want this project to be mine on merit. ”Did you plan this?”

”Plan what?”

”This project, getting me here, us...this.”

His hand stills in my hair. ”I was surprised to hear you were the interior designer on this project. It came as much of a surprise as it was for you to see me in the lobby last night.”

”Really?”

”I only heard you”ll be here once we landed in Nassau. I”ve been so busy with other projects that I”ve not been involved with this one until the site inspection. Florian has been rolling with it for weeks but briefed me on the flight from San Francisco. Anderson”s his client, so I don”t know whose call it was.”

I kiss his chest at these works, silently thanking the guardian angel who made this happen. For the first time in years hope bubbles in me, and the elusive freedom, which I”ve been searching for years, sink into my body and settles.

”It must be karma,” I whisper as his fingers take up their gentle ministrations again.

”Hmm, karma is good, but do you know the Kama Sutra, Miss Brooke?” he asks in a lazy voice.

”The Kama Sutra?” I frown. ”Yes...why?”

”Someone did mention I”ll be having her in every way possible...and every way impossible.”

I laugh and lift onto my elbow. ”There must be an app for it.”

He circles a stray curl around his finger and tucks it behind my ear. ”I rather love seeing you take site photos with a camera and not having your phone glued to your palm.”

The way he looks at me is so intense, but it”s without remorse or accusation, there”s only care and love in his eyes. Heat rises to my cheeks, already aglow with a post-coital blush. ”No phones then,” I whisper. ”I hoped we could revisit a few favorites before we work our way through the Kama Sutra?”

He rises with a naughty grin as he tugs at the remnants of my clingy bikini and tosses it up. It hooks over the chandelier and stays dangling. ”Clearly we have a to-do list to work through here.”