9. Renée
9
RENéE
A fter eating, I excused myself to go take a shower. C.T. offered to wash me, but I gently declined. I needed a few minutes alone to make sense of it all.
Once the bathroom door was closed and locked, I leaned against the cool wood and slid down to sit on the floor. I pulled my knees in tight to my chest and rested my head there.
That man on the deck had rocked my world and I didn’t know how to process it all.
Now, I’m not naive. I know that lovemaking—sex—can take many different forms and positions. It’s not like I didn’t know that tipping someone up over a deck railing was an option. I did. At least on an academic level. I didn’t, however, think it would ever happen to me.
Let alone that I would enjoy it so much.
And the orgasms.
Lord have mercy, the orgasms.
Everything on me below the waist was completely tingling and continued to throb a good forty-five minutes later.
The memory alone was enough to bring me to full arousal again.
But my nether regions needed a rest and probably iced. I lowered my hand and touched them under the bend of my legs. The lips were swollen, instead of neatly tucked like normal.
I sat on the cool tile floor for a few more minutes, then rose and stepped into the shower. As I ran the soapy rag over my breasts I marveled at the fact, he’d been especially attentive to them.
Most of the men in my past had mentioned that I’d look better with augmentation. With my money and resources, I could afford the best doctors and implants available.
The fact any man had commented on my body in such a negative manner made them quickly fall into the former-lover category. My breasts might be small, but they allowed me to fit well into most clothes without having to get major alterations. A few of my staff had that problem. My assistant, Natalia, especially.
But C.T. seemed to enjoy my breasts. He’d lavished all kinds of attention on them. As a result, I felt both beautiful and desirable. My generous A’s were happy. I glanced down as I rinsed off the soap and noticed some discoloration on my nipples.
Oh, my. I hadn’t realized he’d sucked them so hard they’d bruised slightly.
When I touched them, they were a bit tender.
I’d have to ask him kiss them to make them feel better.
I laughed at the wanton thought that made heat lick its way from my breasts to my core.
Who was this person I’d become since C.T. had shown up? I acted like I’d only discovered ice cream and wanted to try every flavor available.
I finished and dried off, then headed back to the bedroom. C.T. lay on the bed with an arm thrown over his face. A soft snore came from his mouth.
Poor guy had flown halfway around the world. He was probably exhausted. The length of the trip was one of the reasons why I had arrived at the island a few days before our rendezvous. I wanted to ensure I was well-rested and functioning to maximize the amount of time I had with him.
Unfortunately, he’d taken his half of the bed out of the middle. And he was a big guy. Not an ounce of fat on him anywhere, but seemed taller laying down and he was elegantly broad.
Not going to lie, his shoulders looked a lot wider taking up the bed than they had while he was thrusting over me.
Oh, and didn’t that just send my female parts to throbbing again.
Careful not to wake him, I crawled on the bed and spread out beside him. I turned to face him, and rested my head on my hand as I watched him sleep.
My motivation for using the app was sound, but as I sat there contemplating my temporary bed partner, I wondered at his.
Other than the obvious, that is.
I mean, most red-blooded males liked sex. To have it with someone on a tropical island who didn’t want to exchange numbers or expect anything beyond the weekend—that was the fantasy, right?
Maybe he’d never been to Bali and it seemed like a good idea for a free ticket.
I rejected that idea because if that was the case, he’d most likely want to do the tourist thing and so far, he hadn’t even seen much more than the beach and my body.
Embarrassment flared for no reason other than I wasn’t accustomed to having men see me naked. It still felt weird and forbidden.
At least with my upbringing.
I shunted those thoughts away as well.
No way I wanted the senior Palmers to intrude on a weekend that I’d bought and paid for. I owed them absolutely nothing at this point in my life.
The only thing they’d asked of me when I made my first million was to pay off their mortgage. Easy enough. I had the cash and if it meant I never had to speak to them again in this lifetime, it was more than a bargain.
I laid my head down, still watching C.T.
What was his story? Where did he come from? What was his life like?
I knew he probably either worked outside or enjoyed outdoor sports and hobbies. His tanned physique suggested as much. I knew he liked body ink.
The tattoos across his arms and shoulders were beautiful and intricate. Up on the right shoulder was one of a Doberman. The name Toby with a date was inked in a little ribbon under the dog’s face.
My heart caught at the meaning behind that.
This man had loved a dog once—so much so that when the dog had passed, he’d had Toby immortalized on his skin.
Now that was love. That was devotion.
My parents had never let me have a dog. Too dirty, they’d said. Full of diseases.
What a crock. I guess they would have never sprung for a veterinarian to prevent canine illnesses. Cheap or shortsighted, I wasn’t entirely sure.
I closed my eyes and thought about the ‘might have beens’ had my life been different. I drifted off secure in the knowledge that it had gone the way it was meant to.