“You were the one looking at the pictures,” I guess.
“Yeah. Trying to remember what it used to be like.” He pushes the button and a fire comes to life in the white fireplace. A faux fur rug is arranged in front of it.
“A good place to dry off,” Cruise indicates the warmth of the fire, and the softness of the rug, his voice husky. “No,” he says, when I make a move toward the place he’s indicated. “No clothes allowed.”
He sheds his shorts and lays on the rug, motioning me toward him.
“Now for you,” he purrs, and he sits up, pulling me in front of him, to unhook my bikini top and let it fall to the floor, and then he slowly pulls my bikini bottoms down. The warmth of the fire is almost as glorious as Cruise’s hands as he pulls me down beside him, caressing me, teasing me.
His capacity for foreplay seems to have been spent in the hotel room before the encounter with Adrian. Now, he’s all need, pulling me to him. Even after all the stress of the encounter with Adrian, even after the swim, I realize I’m still aroused.
I realize that as much as I enjoy every moment with him, that I’m ready, and we both need release.
I pull him into me, but he finds the will to resist.
“Tell me what you want.”
“I want you,” I breathe, but he’s grinning, and I know this is going to be another test, maybe one I can’t pass.
“Tell me what you want.”
“You.” I wrap my fist around him, pulling him closer, and he shudders, but doesn’t relent.
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes?” It’s ridiculous that I’m blushing, but I know I am.
“Then say it.”
I bury my face in his neck, mortified, but also incredibly turned on.
“I can’t—”
“Say it,” he growls in the voice that’s pure sex, and I know I can’t do anything else, because if he isn’t in me soon, I’m going to die, so I have to let the last of my inhibitions go.
“I want you to fuck me.” I hear myself, and don’t blush again.
“Please?” Cruise prompts.
“Please. Oh God,” I moan, and he doesn’t pull away as he guides his hard cock into me. He’s on top again, and I’m downing in the softness of the white fluffy rug, marveling at the contrast as I sink into it, forced down by his body, which is all hard angles.
He bites at my neck, and I throw my head back. No one is nearby, I can allow myself to scream and moan, if I want, and I do.
I pull at his hips, because no matter how deep he is, he always pulls back away, only to lunge into me again. I’m greedy for every inch of him.
Afterwards, we lie together and. I watch the way the firelight plays across his long muscular legs.
“So, you were in jail.” I’ve put this much together from the hints and omissions in our conversations.
“Not just jail. Prison.”
The idea of him, in prison, makes me feel ill. It must have been terrible.
“How long?”
“A year. Only a year. It felt like forever.”
“Do you want to tell me about it?”
“My dad pressed charges for something I didn’t do.”
“Not about the crime. About the experience.” I interrupt his confession. I don’t want to hear what a terrible person he is. I don’t believe it. I want to know how this thing shaped him. I want to know who he was, and who he is.
His face changes, from angry to contemplative. He raises himself on one arm and looks down at me. I curl into him, showing him that I still trust him. Nothing has changed.
“I'd never been bored before,” he tells me. “Maybe in school, but never truly bored. There was always the ocean, or the beach for running, or a book to read. All we had were some battered paperbacks, a television that was always on the shittiest channel, and hours of time to fill. I never knew how much the beauty my mom surrounded me with affected me, until I was in a place that was only ugly. White walls, cinder blocks, orange jumpsuits, blankets that weren’t long enough to cover my feet. It was always cold in there, like they were trying to keep us from being aggressive by making us sluggish with the cold. But more than the discomfort, I hated the ugliness, and the boredom.”
“How long have you been out.”
He sighs. “Ten days. I got out three days before you arrived at Seascape Villas. No one came for me, and my credit cards were all cancelled. I had ten dollars in my wallet, which they gave back to me when I was released. Had to take the bus to get to the village, and walk up to the hotel. I needed a permanent address for the parole officer, and coming home was all I could think to do. I’d spent an entire year longing for the beach. For home.”
He clears his throat and stares out the window for a moment.
“Dad said I could have the villa until I got on my feet, but somehow I couldn’t get past the anger. I’d lost a year of my life. Everyone else had moved on. I couldn’t stand being alone because I hadn’t been alone for even a moment in jail. I couldn’t stand the silence.”