Barefoot in the Sun (Barefoot Bay)

chapter Twenty-five



Oliver kissed Zoe right across the marble floor, tugging up her T-shirt with one hand as he opened the door to the offices with the other; the hallway was even darker than the waiting room.

“I can enter the sanctuary?” she asked. “I don’t have an appointment.”

Laughing, he eased her into the wall and pushed his whole body against hers. “This is an emergency. The doctor will definitely see you now.”

She smiled into his kiss, flattening her hands on his chest and bunching his shirt, pulling it from his trousers. “I’d like to see him, too.” She attacked his mouth with hers, like she was as starving for a taste as he was. “Every inch.”

He led her down the hall and into his office, locking the door behind him with a crisp and meaningful click even though he was certain everyone was gone by now.

She glanced around with a questioning look. “Couch? Wall? Desk? Or from that pretty chandelier?”

“Yes.”

Laughing, they came together, kissing while she unbuttoned his shirt and pushed back the sleeves and he made his way under her top to caress every bit of skin beneath. Planting his lips under her jaw, he sucked the salty sheen, then licked his way back to her mouth.

“You gotta pick your poison, doc,” she whispered. “Fall to the floor?”

“Not for what I have in mind.” He walked her across the office, knowing that what was on the other side would surprise her. “My favorite patients get special treatment.”

He opened a door to the tiny studio apartment he’d had finished when he’d first moved to Naples. It was dimly lit by shuttered windows that let the last whispers of dusk reveal a king-sized bed.

“Well, well, well.” Zoe checked it out as he ushered her straight to the bed. “Doc’s got a secret crib.”

“When I first moved here I lived in this room.”

She sighed. “Lonely.”

It was. And Zoe had no idea how many nights her memory had kept him company. “Convenient.”

“It is now,” she agreed. They stood together for a moment, suspended before the big fall, heat coiling between them.

“Here’s my problem, doc,” she whispered. “I can’t say three little words.”

“That’s a symptom, not the real problem.”

She closed her eyes in acknowledgment. “No wonder you’re in such demand. You’re so good at diagnosing.”

“Damn right. We know the problem,” he said. “Now we have to figure out…” He lowered his head and placed his lips on hers with an air-soft kiss, flicking his tongue over her lip. “Why.”

He added enough pressure to force her mouth open, then he slipped his tongue inside and curled it around hers. “So we need a very careful…” He eased her onto the bed. “Examination.”

As he stood over her, he rolled up his sleeves, like there was work to be done. Pulling him closer, she finished the last of his shirt buttons and slammed her hands onto his chest with an appreciative moan.

“When did this problem start?” He lifted her tank top, dragging it over her breasts and sliding it over her head.

“A long time ago.”

He reached around, unsnapped her bra, and slipped her out of it. “Be specific.”

“A very long time ago.”

Laughing, he took a few seconds to enjoy the sight of her breasts, pink and round and tipped by perfect nipples, before dipping his head to suckle her sweet, salty skin.

“Have you ever told anyone you loved them?” he asked.

“I tried. I wanted to.” She gripped his head and lifted it to look at him. “I almost did. …”

“But you couldn’t.”

She shook her head. “I don’t know why.”

Without answering, he kissed his way over her belly to her skirt, tonguing her belly button while he unsnapped, unzipped, and undressed her.

Once she was gloriously naked, he straddled her, his shirt hanging open and his pants tented with an erection. She reached for his belt buckle, but he seized her wrists and gripped her, shaking his head.

“I’m still asking questions. Do you think these words you can’t say?”

She nodded slowly.

“Do you whisper them to yourself?”

Biting her lip, she nodded again.

“When?”

She looked down at his trousers again, which made him harder. “When…I…when…you…”

“When you’re with Wild Bill the vibrator?”

Fighting a smile, she looked up at him. “Yeah.”

“So you can say you love me when I’m not there, but now you can’t?”

“Pretty screwed up, isn’t it?”

He grazed one pointed nipple, earning a shudder in response. “I can fix this.”

“Of course you can,” she said with a laugh, but quieted when he placed another hot kiss on her stomach and worked his way down, kissing her hipbones and stroking her skin with his tongue, suckling her enough to pull a groan of need from her chest.

He lifted his head and gave her a sly smile. “Part of the problem is down here.”

“What seems to be the problem?”

“It’s hot. And wet.”

“And right now, it aches like hell.”

“Definitely something I can fix.” With one slow stroke of his tongue over her swollen flesh, her legs instinctively widened. He licked again and again, lost in the sweet and unexpected flavors of Zoe, feeling her body vibrate under his hand and mouth, on the very edge of an orgasm that damn near dragged him to one himself.

Seconds before she lost it, he kissed his way back up her body, lingering over every precious inch.

“Now let me work on this…” He returned to her breasts and placed his mouth right over her heart. “Up here.”

He turned his head and pressed his ear to her chest. “This heart sounds perfect to me now.”

“Beating fast enough,” she agreed.

“Then our problem must be…” He crawled up her body and put his hands on her face again, tapping her temples with his index fingers. “Right here.”

Which was what they both knew anyway.

Closing her eyes, she pumped her hips once. “Can’t you just fix me with…” Another pump. “That.”

Not good enough. He wanted to hear the words, wanted to watch her mouth as she admitted what he had long ago realized. “Just say the words to me, Zoe. Say the words you think in your head and whisper when you’re alone. Tell me.”

“Oliver, why do three overused words matter so much to you?”

Didn’t she get it? “The words don’t matter, Zoe. I don’t want this to be…meaningless.” That’s what mattered to him. “For so long I’ve gone through the motions and felt nothing but a natural release. But with you, Zoe, I feel…everything. I want you to feel it, too.”

“I do.”

“Then…” He lifted both brows.

“I…love…” The word choked her. “I…love…” She shook her head, her eyes full of pain. “Oh, God, Oliver. I don’t know what love is. I’ve never seen it, I’ve never known it, I’ve never lived it. How do I know for sure if what I feel for you is lust or love? How do I know?”

“You? The girl who gets in a basket, turns a knob, and trusts it to fly? You know it will work, like you know you love me. You’ve always loved me.” He cupped her face, holding her still. “Zoe, you love like you breathe. You don’t need to have seen it or lived it before. You love without trying.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I know you. And because, Zoe, I love you.” He gave her a teasing smile before coming in for another kiss. “See how easy?”





It wasn’t easy. It was hard. Everything was hard. Oliver’s arms. His kiss. And, oh God…that was hard.

He intensified the kiss but somehow kept it so tender that it almost hurt for the sweetness. Easing himself over her, he held her close and let that kiss go on and on until the room spun a little and each breath became an effort. Until blood started to thrum fiery through every vein, and every carefully placed brick in the wall around her heart just tumbled and crashed and turned to dust.

“How does that feel?” he asked, whispering the words into her ear, flicking his tongue over her lobe.

Like her whole world was spinning into magic. “Really…” Amazing. “In need of help.”

“Guess what?”

“You can fix that?”

“It’s my specialty.” He rolled over and grabbed a condom he must have had in his wallet, sheathing himself before positioning himself over her.

“You like fixing things,” she said, watching every move. “That’s what turns you on.”

“You turn me on,” he murmured. “And you’re talking too much.”

“You better fix that.”

He did, kissing her mouth as he entered her body, stealing all her breath and doing a damn good job of shutting her up. And of making her forget how to speak, actually, because right then, all she could do was…feel.

And it scared her. Why?

She closed her eyes, tears stinging. All she could feel was pressure…on her head, over her ears. Darkness, heat, the smell of musty cotton and the muffled sound of…

Suffocation. “Oliver!”

He shot up from the kiss, blinking at her. “What?”

“Suffocation.” She barely mouthed the word but it hit her in the gut like a cannonball. “That’s what I’m scared of.”

The trapped feeling of a pillow over her head and the desperate, burning, panic because she needed to escape. The dark nights in that foster home when there was no way out. When that voice started demanding and demanding the same thing. Three different words, so different than the three Oliver wanted and needed to hear.

Run, Zoe, run.

As long as she could run, she could survive. But if she didn’t run this time, if she could stay right here with Oliver, no matter what, then she could beat the memories of that house and that man and even that voice.

“What are you scared of, Zoe?”

“Him. The foster father who Pasha saved me from. I can’t breathe when I think about…him. About how much I needed to escape him.” The sob trapped in her throat nearly strangled her. “I would put that pillow over my head and try to suffocate myself. It was my only escape.” Until Pasha was her real escape.

Oliver held her, kissing her forehead, her eyes, her mouth.

“He’s gone, Zoe. Long, long gone. You’re not going to suffocate if you stay.” He reached up and grabbed the pillow, holding it in the air. “You’re safe. With me, you will always, always be safe. You don’t have to escape. You don’t have to suffocate yourself just to hide.”

He tossed the pillow on the floor, where it landed with a soft thud.

For a long, quiet moment, she searched his face, memorizing every line, every lash, every cell. This man who was completely inside her head, heart, and body. This man who had so much patience and tenderness and ability.

This man she absolutely, positively… “Oliver,” she whispered, touching his face.

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

He smiled. “I know.”

“Then why all the work to make me say it?”

“So you know.” Very slowly, he began to move in and out of her again, deeper with each thrust, farther and closer and longer. They broke the kiss, their cheeks smashed together as the intensity sharpened every time he plunged into her.

All the feelings of suffocation were gone. He’d done that for her! Zoe could breathe. She could hold him and cry out his name and say those three words and breathe.

Was this what it was like to love? To be free?

A shimmer of sparks showered low and deep inside her, forcing her to rise up and meet each thrust and cling to his arms like she might fall off the edge of the world.

“I have to…” She struggled with the words, her throat weirdly closed and tight. “I have to…”

He slowed his movements, then stopped, and her eyes popped open in disbelief. “I have to,” she insisted.

Still, he didn’t move, holding her shoulders and his position inside her.

“Aren’t you going to fix that, doc? I need to come.”

“You need to love.”

She frowned, biting her lip, rocking into his immobile hips. “I…can’t…”

“You can.” He started to move again, taking her with him.

“I do, Oliver. I love you. I do.” Every muscle spasmed at the same time, twisting and turning with exquisite pleasure, fluttering first, then thundering to a complete release.

Oliver lost it, too, closing his eyes and gritting his teeth as he gave in and pounded deeper and harder into her, finally lifting her shoulders off the bed with unexpected might and grinding into her as he came.

They fell on the bed, hearts hammering, neither one really able to get a deep breath.

She finally turned her head to look at him and enjoy the way that made her heart swell. “You think that’s all it takes to fix me?”

“Absolutely not.”

“No?”

“You need this prescription regularly. Maybe every day. Maybe forever.”

“Forever?” She waited for the grip of terror, but none came.

“Don’t leave me, Zoe. No matter what, please stay with me. Promise me, Zoe.” He stroked her cheek. “Promise me.”

“ ’Kay.”

“ ’Kay? ” He let out a dry laugh. “What kind of promise is that?”

“That’s my kind of—”

On the floor the phone beeped, and not a soft ding of a call, but a high-pitched alarm that pierced her brain.

“F*ck.” He shot off the bed and grabbed the phone, stabbing the screen and angling it to read. Even in the darkness she could see the blood drain from his face and she knew exactly what that meant.

“Pasha?” She sat up, gathering sheets frantically.

“She’s had a heart attack.” He was already in motion, getting clothes, making a call, barking orders, but Zoe sat stone still in shock.

She’d just learned to love. Would she have to learn how to lose?