Love After All (13 page)

“Why?” she asked.

“Why not?”

“Well, for obvious reasons, one being that I'll be leaving in a few days, so if this is about getting me into bed you're taking a long time to get to the point.”

Jackson nearly choked on his water. “You don't pull any punches, do you?”

“No, I live life for the moment, no time for anything else.”

“And what moment is this?” he asked.

“What else do you want to know about me?”

“What you look like waking up in the morning after making love all night,” he boldly said, interested in her reaction.

She smiled slyly. “Is that right?” He nodded, focusing his eyes on hers. “I guess there's only one way to find out,” she leaned across the table and kissed his lips gently. “Your place or mine?”

Samantha sighed gently as she waited for his reply. The answer to a question that they both knew was in the offing since she'd kissed him on the plane. Everything they did, every word they said and every breath they took was leading to this one moment in time. She knew it and he knew it. His eyes, exotic and hypnotically beautiful, seemed to pierce right through her. But she met his stare brazenly and boldly without wavering.

A slow easy smile pulled at the corner of his lips, then crept wide in pleasure. Meeting on a four-hour flight, strangers, both—it was the perfect fantasy come true. He looked at her as if she were the only person on earth, then answered, “Neither.”

T
he compromise was simple. They got a room at the inn.

Bungalow number twelve.

While Jackson made arrangements at the front desk, Samantha walked around behind to the back of the restaurant and stood looking out at the blue water and brightening day. The troubling cares of her world began to melt away as she watched the distant waves gently lap the shore. This wasn't what she'd intended, but it was what she wanted.

“I thought you'd changed your mind and left me,” Jackson said as he approached, walking up behind her. He rested his hands on the railing and looked out.

Samantha turned, “Never. I just wanted to see the view once more.” She stood by his side, then reached down and intertwined their pinkies. A few minutes passed as they just stood looking out.

“We don't have to do this,” Jackson said, still looking out at the ocean.

“Ready?” she asked, turning to him and slipping her hand in his. He took her in his arms and kissed her. Soft and sweet, his mouth opened to hers and she diligently responded. When the kiss ended they smiled, feeling the warmth of their yearning surround them.

“This way,” he said. They walked back toward the front of the building, entered the inn and climbed the stairs to the second level. Jackson opened the door to the last room on the left and Samantha peeked inside. The room instantly took her breath away. Small but nicely designed, it was quaint and just as she expected.

Her eyes bounded in every direction, seeing the sweetest explosion of poppies, primroses and hydrangeas greeting them. Red, purple, blue and orange, the frills and twills of paisley and lace oozed from every crevice.

There was a large picture window and a sitting area in front with a view of the ocean that was spectacular. The bed, she presumed king-size, was canopy style, with sheer panels draped down, covering three sides and took up most of the floor space. Obviously the quiet, secluded inn's guests spent most of their time occupied inside.

Elaborately designed, the room was decorated in an eclectic Mediterranean style reminiscent of Casablanca. It was a desert oasis, a Moroccan boudoir and a Mount Olympus retreat all rolled into one.

“Feeling exotic?” she asked jokingly.

Jackson took her hand. “Second thoughts?” he asked, mistaking her pause at the doorway for hesitation.

“Not at all…you?” she retorted looking up into his heavenly eyes.

He shook his head. “Not a chance.”

A knowing smile on both of their faces turned quickly to mild but deliberate laughter. The would-be awkward moment dissipated before it even appeared. This was going to happen. In a few minutes they were going to be naked and wrapped in each other's arms. And the image warmed her.

Suddenly the semantics of the moment occurred to her. She preferred to be on top. Would he? She liked undressing herself, needed a private moment in the bathroom before, and preferred to have the lights off and curtains drawn. Would he? Condoms, she didn't have any, did he?

“Do you have ah, um…”

“Yes, several.”

An anticipatory smile crossed her full lips. This was going to happen and she intended to enjoy every succulent moment of it and him. She walked in. He followed.

But before she could take three steps into the room, the door closed; he grabbed her hand and drew her back. She slammed into solidness, nearly taking her breath away. He instantly wrapped his arm around her waist and drew her closer to his hard body. Just inches away, he paused, searching her face for any sign of uncertainty. Instead, she smiled and that was all he needed to see.

“Where have you been all my life?” he muttered.

His mouth, hot and wanting, immediately clamped onto hers, demanding and promising an afternoon of pure heavenly delight. His one hand held her slim waist tight against his body as the other grasped her at the nape of her neck. He combed his fingers through her hair, then held her in place, escalating the passion of the embrace and stilling her to his mouth.

Samantha, reeling in the power of his kiss, held her arms to her sides and allowed him to master the moment. He did with an intoxicating fierceness that made her want him even more. Then slowly she maneuvered to wrap her arms around his neck. Holding him felt so right. Kissing him felt divine, even better than she remembered.

Wanting the kiss to last a lifetime, she tilted her head to savor as much of him as possible. Deepening, the kiss continued, consuming both of them, leading to breathless anticipation.

When their lips finally parted, they were both dazed and nearly panting. Looking into each other's eyes, they smiled with giddy desire seconds before their lips met again. Feverishly and hungrily eating and savoring the taste of each other's mouths, they succumbed to the ignited passion. Her heart pounded in a rhythmic beat she hadn't heard in a long time. She was alive again and it felt so good.

Her body tingled, her thoughts muddled, her senses were on fire and her heart pounded like a drum. She was lost, blinded by her desire and overcome by the longing they shared as her passion intensified and she felt a swell of hunger poised, ready to explode.

Then their lips parted.

They held on to each other, rendered breathless by the consuming passion. “I love kissing you,” Jackson said.

“Yeah, me, too,” she replied, winded.

He leaned in to continue.

“Wait,” she said, pulling back a little to catch her breath. “I need to go—” She didn't finish as she started looking around the room for what might be the bathroom door. She saw a partially open door and what appeared to be a cast-iron lion-claw tub. She pointed and backed away as his hand still rested on her waist. He finally released her. “I'll be right back,” she promised.

Jackson nodded, then shook his head in amazement as she retreated. As the bathroom door closed behind her, he turned and walked over to the large picture window. His composure was waning fast. The effect she had on him was unbelievable. Known for his discipline and restraint, he teetered on the edge of losing all control. He couldn't think. She'd clouded his mind and all he could think about was being with her—like a teenager out on a first date. His palms were moist and his heart raced nonstop.

He stood at the picture window. In the stillness, he focused on the thin, sheer curtain surrounding the window, then looked beyond to the view in the distance. Mountainous terrain on one side sloped down, meeting the ocean on the other, diametrically opposite but yet the same. Not unlike Samantha and himself. He turned to the bathroom door. Hearing the water running, he turned back to the view.

As the morning receded and the sun anchored directly above, the meaning of their time together became clear. The last few hours with Samantha had completely staggered him. She brought an unexpected zeal into his life, a joy he'd forgotten, something he hadn't experienced in years. Her sense of freedom and spontaneity drew him in.

He laughed and talked and joked and just enjoyed being with her. She had an energy that intensified his pleasure, taking him to a new place, and he wanted more. He was happy, and gorged himself on her limitless spirit. Realizing that just a onetime fantasy wouldn't be enough, he decided that he needed to extend their stay.

This was so unlike him. He was always so focused and deliberate. And when it came to women and making love, he was extremely discerning. But here he was, nonetheless, about to make love to a woman he'd met on a plane just a few hours earlier. The suddenness and reality of his actions excited him even more. If it were anyone else but Samantha, he would have politely excused himself and then just walked out the door. But it was Samantha and there was no way he was going to budge from this spot.

He turned again, looking back at the closed door across the room. Anticipation stirred his body to react and his imagination to soar. He sighed heavily, shaking his head, then walked over and picked up the signature champagne bottle that he'd had delivered to the room and examined the label: Louis Roederer 1999 Cristal Brut.

Approving, he unfurled the foil and removed the wire, then gently popped the cork. He poured the luxurious pale golden libation into glasses and turned on the radio beside the bed. Soft music instantly flowed through the room. He pulled three condoms he'd purchased downstairs from his pocket and tossed them on the side table.

Seeing them lying there made everything real. He was about to make love to a woman he had met less than ten hours ago. Given his usual near-prudent personality, this was totally out of character, but there was something about being with Samantha that made it feel right.

Although solicited and propositioned on a regular basis, he never took advantage of the many offers. Power and position came with responsibility and he took that responsibility very seriously. He usually got to know a woman before being with her physically. But the suddenness of the moment and the excitement of the fantasy that drew them together was overwhelming. He turned back to the window.

Samantha had secrets, and he had learned just recently how dangerous secrets could be. His grandfather and father had secrets, his mother had had secrets and now Samantha Lee was his secret.

 

Samantha leaned back against the closed door. She inhaled deeply and released a slow, deliberate breath as she put her head back, closed her eyes and smiled, her thoughts spinning in wild disarray. The energy and excitement of the moment had thrilled her. Everything was happening so fast, too fast. She had no idea what she was doing, but she liked it. A few seconds later, she opened her eyes and looked around.

Scattered vases of fresh flowers, baskets of large fernlike palms and golden accents against deep purple and pink paisley walls surrounded her. The hodgepodge of jumbled tackiness worked in the small space. The exotic motif of the bedroom had continued into the bathroom. Rich in deep purples, gold, orange and magenta, it was a beautifully designed oasis. She walked over to the sink and turned on the faucets, letting water run into the shell-shaped sink. She watched as the clear liquid circled and poured down into the drain. Then she looked up at her reflection in the mirror. Her dark eyes shone clear and vibrant.

She needed to gather herself. Granted, she was no virgin, but this was a long time coming. It felt good to be wanted and desired, even if it was just for one moment and only a fantasy.

She intended to fulfill every desire as her imagination began to sift through the possibilities. He was built for loving. Every inch of his hard body was a delight. She shuddered as a flash of heat burned through her. Then she turned, hearing the sound of a cork popping in the next room.

She dropped a thick white hand towel into the sink and let the cool water soak the fibers. She squeezed the towel dry and dotted the cooled moistness on her neck. A few deep breaths and she was calm.

She removed her jacket and looked at herself in the waist-high mirror. She turned sideways seeing the trimmed silhouette of her profile. She wasn't particularly tall but she was nicely endowed with measurements any woman would be proud of. She reached up and fluffed the loose curls around her face, letting them tumble neatly onto her shoulders.

Fairly certain that she was at least presentable, she grabbed her purse from the countertop and pulled her lipstick out, then decided against freshening it, knowing that it would just be smudged anyway. Then, as she watched the coral tint retract into the tube, a shiver of doubt twisted through her. She was about to make love to a complete stranger for no other reason than the fact that she was attracted to him and that opportunity had presented itself.

A fantasy, they'd called it. This was as they'd agreed, a fantasy, and fantasies can't be censored. She smiled as the liberating moment seemed to quash her doubts and renew her excitement.

The man waiting for her on the other side of the door was a dream—no, a fantasy. He was handsome, hot and sexy and the thought of making love with him made her body burn.

She took one last glance at herself in the mirror, smiled and nodded. “Let the fantasy begin.”

She opened the door and looked around. Jackson was standing at the window with his back to her. He seemed to be so intently looking outside that he didn't realize she'd returned. She stood a moment and watched him. His shoulders were broad and strong and the soft sway of his knit shirt was tucked neatly into his slacks. He looked every bit the fantasy.

“Hey, are you ready for me?” Samantha asked seductively as she waited in the doorway.

Jackson turned and smiled, seeing her standing there. She was too beautiful for words. Still wearing the sundress, she had removed the jacket, exposing the sweet cinnamon of her shoulders and deep, hallow plunge of her cleavage. “Definitely,” he finally replied through the sudden dryness in his mouth. “Since the moment I saw you.”

“Is that right?” she said, interested. He nodded as he watched her walk slowly toward the bed, then stop at the swayed curve of the bedpost. “So you knew this was going to happen—
we
were going to happen.”

“Let's just say I was highly optimistic.”

“That confident, huh?” she asked.

“No, just hopeful,” he said almost shyly as he picked up the two glasses of champagne.