Chapter 51
By the time we get back to Dom’s house from Hazel’s party, I feel breathless, like a tiger about to pounce on its prey. Watching him treat Hazel like a little princess tonight was the sweetest thing I might have ever seen, and it’s made me absolutely ravenous for him.
“Show me the pool,” I demand. It’s a gorgeously warm night and I don’t want to be stuck inside. As my weeks here have gone on, I’m becoming more and more aware of how little time I have left before I’m back in the concrete jungle that is New York City. I want to spend every moment I can outside. And with Dom.
He looks bewildered. “The pool?”
“Please,” I demand, pulling him out the back door.
He hits a switch when we get outside — the collection of firepits throughout the garden erupt into balls of flame, one by one, until their shadows dance across each wall. The effect is stunning, tossing silhouettes of swaying palms against every vertical surface.
“I love this place so much.” I breathe out, briefly imagining us making love on the outdoor daybed sprawled across the deck, overlooking the ocean below. “I don’t know how Quinton isn’t here more often.”
He pulls me along the path toward the pool. I haven’t actually seen it yet. Too busy writing and admiring the view each time I’ve been here to find it among the collection of hedges and towering trees. But tonight I want to take another swim, like we did that first night I was here.
If we can control ourselves long enough to get that far.
As we skip along, I think back to that night we went skinny-dipping in the dark ocean together. My pulse picks up and travels down my body, resting firmly between my thighs. I squeeze Dom’s hand tighter, not letting him let me go.
The estate is enormous, so it takes us a few minutes of walking through huge red hibiscus blooms and little white plumeria trees, which litter the ground with cream-colored flowers the size of my palm. The air is thick with the scent of tropical blossoms — an intoxicating mix of delicate flower petals, still damp from the misty rain we got earlier today.
I stoop to grab the most perfect white plumeria blossom, each petal streaked down the center with canary yellow stripes, like someone took a paintbrush down each one. I inhale its sweet center, wondering how to get these to grow in my apartment back in New York so I never have to live without this scent. I’ve become addicted to them since first finding the flowers scattered everywhere across the island.
I reach down to pick up another from just off the path, inhaling the new one before stretching out to snatch just one more.
Dom is watching me when I rise, backlit by the enormous moon sitting heavy on the horizon.
I hold my collection up to his nose. “I can’t walk by these without taking at least a few from the ground. They’re too beautiful not to touch.”
He brushes my hair back from my face, shooting goosebumps down my arms, followed by a shiver down my spine. He presses his body to mine, and I can feel his cock growing harder by the second. I don’t know if we’re going to make it all the way to the pool before stripping each other naked.
“I feel the same way about you, you know,” he says gently.
I bite my lip, unable to stop myself from smiling, then run my hand along his shaft from the outside of his pants. Up and down, as slowly as I can.
“I can’t stand to think of you anywhere but here.” He squeezes my hips. “You belong here as much as those flowers do. They’d never blossom back in New York, but they thrive here.”
The air between us mingles with our breath as I study his lips, then raise my eyes up to his. I grin as he lets out a throaty laugh, kissing me just once. Then he takes one of the flowers from my palm and tucks it behind my ear, slipping a stray lock of hair behind it too.
“Just think about it,” he says.
“I’ll think about it,” I promise, feeling pulled in two very different directions, split straight down the middle. My job, my friends, and my family are all back in New York. But Dom is here. His heart is here. And the longer I stay, the more I know that leaving him here means leaving my heart behind too.
When he kisses me again it’s slower, his lips parting and lingering against mine, finding my tongue with his. Soft and supple, but firm enough to leave me wanting more when we finally break apart. I try leaning in again, but he holds my arms down firmly to my sides, stopping me from taking his lips, or his shaft.
“Not here,” he whispers. “Not yet.”
“Then we’d better pick up the pace.” I grin. “I’m not going to be able to wait another second.”
We continue rushing down the dimly lit path, but it takes every ounce of willpower left in me not to run ahead to wherever he’s taking me. Just to get there a little faster.
But I let him lead me. Surrendering to the night, and whatever else he has in store.