“I’ll get towels.”
“Oh, yes, that would be lovely, too.”
He stepped from the shower and produced two towels, large towels, with sailing motifs. She wrapped hers around herself and stepped out into the bedroom. His private quarters were neat. He had books stacked on his bureau, most of them sea charts, or books on great sailing ships, some on diving, and one or two fiction. His furniture was solid mahogany without Victorian carving, more in an old west Mission style. It was a personal place, too, though. Not just bare. There were pictures of dive trips and sailing and foreign shores. On the dresser, too, sat a family photo: Katie and Sean, their mother and father. It was a wonderful room. Probably because she had just decided sex with Sean was wonderful, everything in the world about him was wonderful, as well.
“How’s the room?” he asked. “Am I passing muster?”
She laughed. “The room, let me see. Solid, manly furniture. Good photos. Good reading material. Sparse and neat—belongs to a man, most obviously, accustomed to tight spaces on a boat. It’s really unbelievable that he still messes up his laundry, but hey, in the list of could-be faults, that is quite a small one.”
“What about the bed?” he inquired.
“Oh, definitely macho. Studly, even. A lovely bed. Something I’d actually love to try out tonight.”
“Why wait for tonight?” he asked her.
Why wait?
Words coming from his lips were as arousing as the most provocative touch….
And it would be rather senseless at this point to argue the feeling…
She turned into his arms. Towels were lost. What was lost from the steam and spray of the shower was found in slow discovery, touch after touch, complete intimacy. There was the wonder of finding every little scar and wound upon his body, learning where it had come from—a dive into shallow water when he had been a kid; a cut from a catfish, oh, so dumb and he knew it; the only fight he’d gotten into in junior high, and, of course, she should have seen the other guy. There was so much laughter, so much sensuality as she kissed each little wound, as he returned the questionnaire, as they lay entwined until the touches and kisses became breathless and ever more predetermined and purposely provocative, hot and wet and aimed at erogenous zones. They melded together again, holding still for that perfect moment as he thrust deeply into her, then letting basic instinct come into play, the renewed desperation for fulfillment. The sheets became entangled and damp, and still they lay locked together, ever moving, writhing, arching, until the sweet moment of climax burst upon them, and they fell into one another’s arms, damp, depleted, sated and smiling breathlessly. Vanessa listened to the thunder of his heart as it slowed and felt her own, and they seemed to meld, as well.
She rolled away from him and jumped to her feet, heading for the door.
“Hey!” he called.
“We have to start the day,” she replied.
“So we do—but we could lie here a moment quietly, couldn’t we?” he asked.
She caught the door frame and looked back at him. “Maybe you could,” she said softly, and ran out, heading for the shower in Katie’s room.
When the water came down on her this time, it came with the memory of joining him, and she burned beneath the water, both amazed and glad for what she had done, and yet horrified. She wasn’t sure what had possessed her, but she was certain she had never done anything that had felt more perfect and right as it had progressed. It was new, it was magnificent, and all that she wanted to do was be with him, hear his voice and the laughter, and discover again and again how easy it was to lie with him, what an absolute wonder it was to get to know him.
It was crazy. She had just seduced the man who was more or less her employer, a good friend’s brother and someone with whom she was about to embark on a strange mission. Not good.
Oh, yes, good, very good, but…
He was showered again and dressed for the boat when she came down. Coffee had brewed and there was a cup waiting for her by where he sat at the counter, perusing the newspaper. He signaled to it as he saw her. “I just talked to David. He’s gotten hold of Jay, and we’re going to do some more footage at Pirate Cut. Are you a vegetarian?”
“What? Um, no.”
“Good. Bacon is in the microwave and I’m about to put the eggs on. We have about half an hour, then we meet them down at the docks.”
“Okay, sounds good,” Vanessa said.
He stood and walked around to the oven, tested his fry pan and poured the egg mixture into it, then added chopped onions, peppers, mushrooms and tomato.
“So, you are a cook,” she said.
He turned to her. “And you might pop that bread in the toaster, if you like.”
“Aye, aye, captain.”
“Ah, such a reply is necessary only on a boat!” he teased.