One Look At You (19 page)

“It’s still early. What do you want to do after dinner?”

“Rest.”

“Ah, youth is wasted on the young.”

“Oh, c’mon. That was a lot of walking. I loved it, but I really am kind of tired.”

“Maybe a quick swim will invigorate you.”

“Night swimming? I’ve never done that either.”

“Oh, Livie, you’re utterly refreshing.” He lightly brushes my cheek with his hand.

“Don’t you mean hopelessly inexperienced?”

“No, you’re like a breath of fresh air.” I look at him suspiciously, half expecting him to say ‘just kidding’, but he really seems to mean it.
Huh.
Who would have thought that anyone, least of all the suave Mr. Tony Avery, would think my lack of experience was a good thing?

The baked oysters are served in a bed of salt with lemon slices on the side. “How exactly do I eat these?” I question like a country bumpkin.

“Just hold the shell with your left hand and use your shellfish fork with the right one. He stares playfully at my face. “You know, oysters are a known aphrodisiac.”

I blush. “Trust you to know something like that,” I say with a smirk.

“Do you want me to prove it?”

“No. I’ll take your word for it.” I look around, wondering if anyone is listening in on our conversation. Nope. Everyone’s busy eating or talking. I reach for one oyster and pry it off the shell. I tentatively put it inside my mouth.

“Well?” Obviously, he’s waiting for me to say something.

“They’re kind of creamy and delicious,” I say with complete honesty.

“We’ll try them raw next time, with just a squeeze of fresh lemon.”
Next time?

“How about the bouillabaisse? Is that their specialty?”

“Without a doubt. They choose only the freshest fish and seafood, and that makes the difference.”

“You seem to know a lot about good food,” I say as I eye him with curiosity.

“Not a lot, but my mother is a whiz in the kitchen, so I have a bit of culinary know-how. What about you? Don’t you like to cook?”

“I do, but I’m not into complicated recipes. More of salads, pasta, or grilled fish and meat. Light and simple.”

“Someday, you’ll invite me for lunch or dinner and …”

“You’ll tear me apart with your food critique, won’t you?” I finish his sentence for him.

“As I was saying,” he looks at me witheringly… “You’ll do the appetizer and dessert while I do the entrée.” He stares at me, a deep frown on his face.

I look sheepishly at him. “Sorry. Force of habit,” I say without thinking.

“Why is that?”

“Why is what?” I’m buying time now.

“I think you know what I mean.”

I sigh loudly, reluctant to reply. “I really don’t know. We started off on the wrong foot and I guess my insecurities took over. That or I’m just being too hard on myself.”

He looks taken aback by my candid response, and says nothing for a few seconds. “Don’t be,” he says with a slight frown. “I admit that at work I’m very demanding, but we’re not at work now, are we?”
That’s the problem, isn’t it? I don’t know where I stand right now.

Of course, I say nothing. I’m grateful that I see our server approaching the table with our order. The server carefully sets the tureen in our midst. Tony thanks him and proceeds to ladle the broth and fish into our bowls. I’m mesmerized by his almost graceful, yet masculine movements, as he serves the dish. After handing me the bowl, he gives me a slice of French bread and says, “Spread the rouille on the bread and dunk it in the soup. Once it’s soggy, you can eat the bread and soup together, if you like.”

I follow his instructions and find that – surprise, surprise – he’s right. The soup, bread, and rouille are perfect together. The tilapia and scallops taste so good that I resolve to eat seafood more often. “This is so good,” I say between mouthfuls. “You’re a true foodie.”

“I prefer the term gourmet,” he says, tilting his head and moving his chin forward in jest.

“Cocky!” He throws his head back and roars in laughter, and I can’t help but join him.

I am not going to let any of this meal go to waste, so I help myself to another serving. I try to put some more bouillabaisse into his bowl, but he shakes his head. He looks at me so intensely with his gray eyes that I immediately feel self-conscious again.

“What?” I ask half-defiantly.

“I’m glad you have a healthy appetite. Please help yourself.”

“Don’t worry. I will. You were right about the freshness of the fish. I seriously could eat this every day.”

“More chardonnay?” He asks, ready to pour some into my wine glass.

“Just a little, please.” He fills the glass halfway and I motion for him to stop.

I take a small sip and then fork the last few scallops into my mouth. I close my eyes and sigh with appreciation.

“Are you ready for some dessert and coffee?”

“I am so stuffed.”

“They have a scrumptious green tea napoleon that’s covered with…”

“Stop. You had me at scrumptious.” A smile ruffles his mouth. He calls the server and places our order. Two cappuccinos and desserts are placed before us. I admire the froth design on the coffee and the artful plating of the napoleon.

The delicate layers of puff pastry have the slight spiciness of green tea, and the sweetness of raspberry. I’m literally beaming with delight while I slowly savor the dessert. The cappuccino is, of course, perfect with its thick velvety foam and the right amount of sweetness.
Oh God! I must have gained two pounds from this wonderful meal.

“We really need to go back outdoors and walk again,” I say peevishly.

“Your wish is my command. Let me get the check and we’ll be on our way.”

After he settles the bill, we stroll back to the house in companionable silence. He points out a few places of interest along the way, but we’re both mostly immersed in our individual thoughts. Neither of us feels the need to make small talk and we’re both fine with that.

As we approach the front of the house, we see the painting he ordered earlier, wrapped in a carton box. I kind of excitedly run to the parcel and ask, “Where are you going to hang the painting?”

“It’s not for this house. We’re taking it back to L.A.”

“Oh, that does make more sense. Are you having it stored until you get your own place?”

“Maybe,” he says with a slight tilt of his head. He lifts the box and brings it inside to lean against the living room wall.

“I still feel bloated from dinner.”

“We can just walk along the seashore, if you like.” His suggestion sounds appealing so I nod my head vigorously. His mouth curves into a smile. He takes my hand and we go out through the deck sliding door.

The sky is now a dark blue with streaks of orange and red. The sun is sinking, and we are slowly enveloped by the night. I gaze at the vast expanse of the ocean and horizon. The sheer beauty takes my breath away. I turn to look at him and see that he’s watching me with dark, hungry eyes. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispers.

I blush with secret pleasure and tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek.

We slowly walk again, arm in arm, closer to the shore this time. It feels like being in our own little paradise with the wind rustling and the sea waves rolling back and forth. Tony stops to sit down on the sand, and he stretches his arm up for me to join him. We quietly admire the lovely picture before us. He puts his arm around me for warmth and both my arms encircle his chest while I rest my head lightly on his shoulder. It’s one of those perfect romantic moments that come by so rarely. I bask in his attention, yet I have this mortal fear that a moment like this may never come again.

As I gaze at the silver stars, he props himself up on his elbow and watches me. I give him a quizzical look, and he says, “I’d rather be looking at you.”

This time, I lean over and gently touch his cheek. He catches my hand and plants a kiss on my palm. His fingers idly stroke my arm, causing goose bumps to rise. I shudder and he leans forward to claim my lips. The warm and sweet kiss takes my control away. I continue the kiss, my tongue licking the corner of his mouth teasingly, and the kiss turns urgent and exploratory. We’re locked in an embrace as he starts to move his tongue against mine in a rhythm that starts out slowly and builds in intensity. My mouth is burning as he devours me with fierceness.

His hands move from my back to my waist, and my own hands go up and down his muscled flesh. The touch of his hands is slow, deliberate and almost hypnotic. He traces a finger from my collar bone to my chest until he finds the buttons of my top.

“Here?” I ask, close to panic as I look around me anxiously.

“We’re all alone.”

I give him a small nod and his lips move over mine again as he unbuttons my top. A soft gasp escapes him as my black bra is revealed. His hands go to my back to unhook it. I shamelessly take off my top and bra, and sit in front of him, half naked, my breasts glistening in the moonlight. While his mouth closes over one nipple, his hand lazily makes circles with his palm on the other. An electric pulse arcs through my entire body.

He cups both breasts close together and hurriedly moves his warm, wet tongue back and forth, from one nipple to the other. My body writhes with pleasure. I want to cry out and be taken right here. He seems to know what thoughts are going through my head. At one point, he stops and says, “Not yet.” My whole body is a mass of sensation and my hands can no longer be still. I pull his shirt upwards and put my hands underneath. I impatiently tear his shirt wide open until he’s bare-chested like myself. This time, I shower his body with kisses. When I bend to suck at his nipple, he groans audibly and then puts my right hand on his bulge.

His hardness sends me over the edge. I unzip his pants and put my hand inside. My whole body tingles with the knowledge that I have this effect on him. I trail kisses from his chest all the way to his waist, while I pump him with my hand. I want to smell and taste every part of him so I go down, my mouth greedily surrounding him. I steal a glance at him and I see his eyes are closed. His entire face is contorted in pleasure. His left hand is lightly resting on my head, silently urging me to continue. Amidst the tide and wind, only his soft moans can be heard as my hands and lips instinctively move in a steady rhythm for his gratification.

He lifts me with both arms until we face each other. He bends to tug at my ear lobe with his lips and then softly says, “Your turn.” He spreads his shirt and my top on the sand and makes me lie down. I still feel the abrasiveness of the sand on my back, but I’m beyond caring. My body is awash in sensation as he licks circles around my taut nipples. His lips tenderly touch every square inch of my chest and he makes his way to my shorts.

My shorts are now unbuttoned and he pulls them down, and I hastily get out of them. I am completely naked. The breeze and his hot touch combine to make me shiver. His mouth goes straight to my inner thighs, nibbling and kissing alternately. Then it happens. I feel the pressure of his mouth exactly where I’ve been wanting it all this time. Heat ripples under my skin. My hands go to his head as I press him to my sex. His fingers play with me, sliding in and out. As he sucks and licks faster and faster, I feel the now familiar build-up. “Tony,” I let him know what I want.

He moves upward, kissing me deeply on the mouth. His breath is hot and I taste my own wetness. After taking a condom from his pocket, he hurriedly takes off his underwear and pants. I watch him put the condom on and then I wantonly spread my legs before him. He enters me with such force that I groan loudly. We kiss long, drugging kisses. His hand cups my breasts as I run my hands down the length of his back. He increases the force of his thrusts and I plead with him, “Harder.” I am so drunk with desire that all my inhibitions have disappeared.

He looks at me with glazed eyes and our tongues duel in intense ardor. While he pounds away, I wrap my legs around him. This seems to turn him on even more since he reaches under my waist and grabs my ass with both hands, pulling me in towards him. I moan, so close to coming. The more I moan, the harder he plunges. Just like that, I feel a tremor inside my thighs. I scream as I soar higher. He shudders and shakes, and puts his mouth on mine, as if he wants some final connection as we both explode in exquisite harmony.

I nuzzle my face into his neck as we walk back to the house. I feel warm and content in his arms. As I glance up, I see his eyes alight with humor as if he’s enjoying a private joke. “What?” I ask with great curiosity.

“I was just thinking what the headlines would have said – ‘Business Executive Caught in Public Tryst with Young Woman!’”

“Not funny,” I half scold him.

“I don’t know what came over me. You bring out the primitive in me,” he says with amusement.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Not if we’re not caught.” His laughter ripples through the air. I wonder what he thinks of me now – so willing and eager. I redden as I remember what I said and did. I shake my head to chase away my thoughts.

He takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. “I think for the rest of our stay here, we should keep it conventional,” he says while pointing to the king-sized bed. My pulse leaps once again. What has this man turned me into?
I have to get it together
.

He casually takes off his clothing, his eyes boring into mine. When he’s down to his underwear, my throat moves convulsively, mesmerized by the beauty of his entire body. He comes nearer to me and takes my hand. “Do you want to feel what you do to me?”

“Again?” I whisper, as if in a drunken stupor.

He nods and makes me grip his rigid member. I am lost again, no longer capable of rational thought. All through the night, we wallow in pleasure, starved for each other’s touch, unable to sate our flaming desires.

“You’ve been very quiet,” he says, his eyes hooded and speculative.

“I’m sorry. I kinda feel drained.”

“Drained?”

I give him a crooked, apologetic smile. “As in, too tired to talk.”

“Good,” he says simply, his left hand absently stroking mine.