Chapter Three #3
I tried to formulate cohesive thoughts underneath his ministrations, but his passion was so thorough that none came to me, and I let go of control, surrendering to my desire for him.
His mouth inched down my neck. He stopped for a second, finding my eyes. My chest was heaving, and my half-lidded eyes opened because he had stopped.
‘Abbey.’ He whispered my name like a fucking benediction. ‘Is this okay?’
‘Is it okay?’ I was confused. I was almost certain my hands were gripping his T-shirt, holding onto him with enough force to ensure he couldn’t remove his body from mine if he tried. But then my head caught up. The times had changed. I had to consent in more than one way. ‘Yes,’ I replied.
‘I have been thinking about kissing you again all afternoon.’
He rubbed his thumb against my lip, and I took it between my teeth and let my tongue roll over it, earning a low sound from him that might have been a growl.
This time it was me who launched my lips at him.
He took his time now, exploring my mouth, his hands running down my side.
He grabbed the back of my hip and pulled me into him, letting me feel him hard against me.
Good God. He walked me backwards again, further into his suite.
I opened my eyes as his kisses moved down my neck and saw a long lounge room that had enormous sliding doors leading to a private pool.
The actual bedroom part was familiar, set up very similarly to my room next door, the same white, light-diffusing curtains fluttering.
But here there was an unimpeded view of the point of the island. It was breathtaking.
I pulled at Nick’s T-shirt, got it off and then ran my hands confidently down his chest, as though touching random men was something I did often. He made short work of the ties at the top of my dress, and it fell into a pool of mixed colours at my feet.
His lips moved down to my collarbone and I moaned his name when his tongue touched the hollow of my throat.
His hands were expertly undoing the butterfly clasp on my bikini top, my brain registering that this was clearly not his first rodeo with the tricky clasp.
The minute it was off, his hands were all over me, feeling the swell of my breasts and licking, sucking and pinching at my nipples.
‘Abbey.’
He was so intense and just so fucking hot.
I reached for his stomach and then lower, feeling his erection through his shorts.
He felt so hard. Jesus, I wanted him so badly; I started pushing impatiently at his shorts.
He pressed me back and my knees bent when I hit the edge of the bed.
I lay back on it. He shook his head and gave me a quick smile, but that was quickly replaced with a dark, worshipful look at my body.
He slid down my bikini bottoms, lifting my knees.
He kneeled and rained kisses along my legs until his tongue found a molten, soft core.
I was so wet … it had been almost twenty years since I was this turned on.
He used his mouth and fingers, expertly moving until I screamed his name and lifted myself further into his mouth as I came.
He reached over to the bedside and grabbed a condom out of the drawer.
He rolled it down his length and entered me, filling me, before my breathing had regulated.
I kissed him again, tasting myself on his mouth.
Whispering his name, holding his hips, surrendering to him with an abandon I barely recognised.
His lips were everywhere, his hands all over me, the sensations completely overwhelming and delicious.
His teeth grazed my earlobe, and he said my name –‘beautiful Abbey’ – as if he was praying to some divine goddess.
He felt so good inside me, I didn’t want it to ever end.
Our two bodies made perfect sense together.
I felt him tense and his breathing change, his fingers digging into my hip as he surged within me.
Gradually he caught his breath, with his nose in my hair, bracing his weight so he did not squish me.
He pressed a kiss into my neck before finally withdrawing.
His eyes met mine, and he gave me an awed, assessing stare, as if he was trying to figure out exactly what was happening between us.
I held his gaze, offering a small smile, feeling slightly self-conscious for the first time with him.
Nick smiled, and a breath came through his nose. He kissed me again with those short kisses I could not get enough of and then added one to my forehead, which lingered, before he got up.
He busied himself cleaning up and there was a knock on the door, a familiar voice calling out room service.
I was naked, still on the bed, unable to move.
My thighs were still quivering from the intensity of the second orgasm I’d just had.
Nick shut the bedroom door to give me some privacy while he opened the room’s door to Oliver.
Jesus. It’s been a while, Abs. I stretched like a satisfied cat, a huge grin on my face, my hand shooting up to cover the squeal of joy that wanted to erupt.
Holiday sex was amazing. Then I bounced up and pulled on my dress, not bothering with my bikini.
I used Nick’s ensuite and then slipped into the lounge area, which was massive, spacious, utter perfection.
Oliver looked up, noticing me, and the flitter of a smile crossed his face. ‘Ms Parker,’ he said quietly in greeting as Nick signed for the bill.
‘It’s just Abbey, Oliver. Jesus, please tell me you haven’t signed me up for activities tomorrow.’ I grinned at him.
‘No,’ he said, quietly amused, giving a snort of laughter. ‘I hope you enjoyed the island, though.’
‘I did,’ I said. Nick looked up at this and smiled at me, and I almost tripped over. Something in my stomach did an impressive flip.
‘Good evening then,’ Oliver said. He smiled outright as he left the room.
‘Drink?’ Nick said.
‘I’m parched.’
He poured me a huge glass of red wine, handed it to me and then, taking my hand, led me to the pool.
Pulling at the ties of my dress, I watched his breath catch when he realised I was naked underneath.
He climbed in first, sitting down on a step.
As I walked in, he pulled me onto his lap, wrapping his arm around my waist.
My body, full of surprises this evening, startled me again when I relaxed back into Nick and for a few moments we sat, simply watching the ocean and the stars.
He kissed my back, sweeping aside my hair to give him better access to my neck. ‘You are very unexpected, Abigail Parker.’
I shot him a grin over my shoulder, and he kissed my lips.
‘How was your holiday today?’ he asked.
‘Significantly improved. I think I’m getting better at it,’ I said confidently, before adding, ‘I have … never had a holiday romance before.’
‘Holiday romances are good. They have end dates, rules everyone is aware of. No heartbreak. Just fond memories.’
I thought it was interesting that he was setting boundaries with this statement.
I mean, I knew one night in paradise did not mean happily ever after and I don’t think I believed in love over forty, anyway.
Plus there was the glaring issue that we lived on the other side of the world from one another.
‘Did you get this suite on Groupon, like I got mine?’ I asked, turning back to him.
He paused, bemused. ‘Umm. No.’
‘It’s very nice.’
He nodded and then returned to kissing my neck, pressing his lips into my jaw and occasionally letting his tongue sweep across my skin.
I let out an involuntary sigh, which made him smile.
His hand rose from my waist, between my breasts, and he touched the necklace around my throat. ‘This is beautiful. It looks art deco.’
‘It’s my grandmother’s. Her name is Iris Cavendish, she’s a character. She’s ninety-four and has had seven husbands!’
‘Wait, people get married more than once?’ he said with pretend astonishment.
‘Husband number seven, Giovanni, passed away several years ago. Her first husband, Ray, bought this for her in London after the war. Also, after my grandfather, Harry, husband number two and Ray’s best mate’ – I paused for effect – ‘she never changed her name again.’
‘My goodness, she must be some kind of woman.’
‘Mm-hm. She has spent years telling my sister and me that all Cavendish women are spectacular mates and lovers. But I am almost divorced, and Kate is single, so I’m not sure.
Love over forty seems unattainable to me, though Gran had three husbands after she turned forty and she married Giovanni when she was eighty-three. ’
‘Wow, that is fantastic. Is she done? Or is husband number eight still to come?’
‘Well, I’m not certain because there is this old guy, Lionel, at her nursing home. Lionel has a pink rose delivered to her each pension day.’
‘Bloody hell. Those are some decent moves, Lionel.’ He gave me one of his rare laughs. ‘Okay, Abigail Parker, tell me three more things about yourself that you haven’t already.’
‘Three? Well, I told you I have a little girl. Her name is Ella. Nick, she’s amazing, she just doesn’t see it yet.
She has decided this year that she wants to be a surgeon and work in an ER.
’ I paused, considering the next one. ‘Umm, oh, I know, I’ve worked for the same guy for twenty years.
He retired before I went away and now I’m a little bit panicked by the future.
’ I considered the last one. ‘Christmas is my favourite time of the year. Ella and I line up a classic film each day we can. We play carols in the car for the entire month. If I could put up a Christmas tree and start playing carols in November, I would.’
‘Urgh, Jesus, a whole month of Christmas carols?’ He shook his head, laughing at me, and I got the impression it sounded like his worst nightmare.