“By clearing the room,” he said, dragging his palm up between my br**sts and then back down again. His fingertips stopped just at the apex of my thighs, causing a thrill to precede them and land in my core like a bolt of lightning. On his next trip up and down, I found myself anticipating his arrival there, hoping he’d touch me like I wanted him to.
“Yes, how horrible of you to do what you want to do on your own ship. It was scandalous,” I teased, trying to be patient and wait for him to make the first move.
When his hand found its way to the bottom of my stomach again, I eased my legs open the tiniest bit in invitation, but still he stopped just short of the throb there.
“You don’t know how conflicted I was. This is my boat and these are my clients and that’s the kind of entertainment I promise them. But not you. Never you. I loved seeing you up there, but knowing that they were watching you…” He trailed off, his touch growing rougher, more insistent as he trekked back up my stomach to cup my breast. “Knowing that they were watching your ni**les get hard under that water…” He pinched my nipple then, tugging it as though the memory still aggravated him. I sucked in a breath and I waited, fighting the urge to arch my back and press my butt into his groin. “Knowing that they were wishing they could put their hands on you,” he said, moving down to the ache that seems only to burn for him, “to put their fingers inside you. Their cocks.”
Suddenly, as though he was urgent to lay claim to me once more, Reese reached down and pulled my top leg over onto his, spreading my thighs wide for him. He dipped one finger inside me, thrusting hard and deep. His groan must’ve been from finding me soaking wet for him, for then he shifted behind me and entered me in one quick, sharp motion.
We both gasped and then exhaled at the same time, neither having grown accustomed to that incredible feeling. Conversation stopped at that point. Reese parted my folds with his fingers and rubbed my cl*tuntil I could do nothing but say his name over and over and over again. He came with me that time. I felt him stiffen behind me just as he poured heat deep into me, thrusting again and again until I lay boneless in his arms.
Afterward, he pulled out of me but he left my leg on top of his. As he kissed my shoulder and nuzzled my neck, he fingered me ever so gently, whispering wonderful things into my ear.
“I love the way you feel inside, so smooth, so wet with my come,” he said, stroking my walls with his finger. “I wish I could stay in you forever.”
I thought to myself that I wish he could, too.
Every morning since then has been spectacular like that. And every night has been even better.
Today marks our first port since Hawaii—the Marquesas Islands, which I know nothing about. It’s also the first morning I’ve awakened to an empty bed. But it’s not long until I hear the creak of the cabin door and I see Reese sneaking back in.
I feign sleep to see what he’s going to do. He has the most delicious ways of waking me up and I’d hate to miss one because I woke too early.
I feel his weight as he crawls across the bed toward me, my insides curling with anticipation. He first nuzzles my neck before he sucks the lobe of my ear into his mouth. “Rise and shine, beautiful,” he whispers, his hand rubbing gentle circles over my butt.
I stretch and give him a sleepy smile, pretending to wake. His eyes are bright and twinkling with excitement.
I tilt my head to get a better look at him. “You look awfully chipper this morning.”
“I’m anxious to get ashore, that’s all,” he says, giving me just enough of a kiss to make me want more.
Reese hops over me to land on the floor beside the bed then reaches for my hands and drags me into a sitting position. The sheet falls away from my na**d torso, drawing his eye. His pupils dilate, his eyes taking on that dark, hungry look that I’m becoming so familiar with.
I don’t bother to cover myself, mainly because I’m already missing our morning romp. With his appreciative gaze settled on my chest, my ni**les pucker prettily as if trying their best to lure him back to bed.
“Damn,” he says on a sigh, shaking his head. “You should probably be illegal in at least thirty countries. You’re addictive.”
I laugh. “Wanna come get your fix then?” I ask, leaning back on my elbows, an obvious invitation.
Reese doesn’t give me his usual cute comeback. He doesn’t jump my bones either. Instead, he walks slowly toward the bed and takes one strand of hair that’s lying over my heart. His eyes never leaving mine, he says, “One more fix will never be enough, I’m afraid.” His voice is quiet, sincere. A bit cryptic even.
He raises his hand to cup the side of my face. He stares at me for several long, intense seconds before his expression clears and he says with more of his earlier enthusiasm, “Put on your suit and some shorts. I’m taking you out.”
I smile and climb out of bed. “Okay,” I tell him, doing my best to hide both my disappointment and my worry over his statement. While that should be a good thing, Reese didn’t seem too thrilled with becoming addicted to me. I don’t know what to think about his reaction. So I’ll ignore it. Like I’ve been ignoring all unpleasant things of late. They’ll come back around soon enough and I’ll deal with them then.
Less than an hour later, Reese and I are hiking up the Marquises Rando on Nuku Hiva. Having been here numerous times, Reese tells me stories of local legend and tales of people he’s encountered on previous trips. He helps me up steep spots and holds my hand when we stop to enjoy the view.
At the top, as though by magic, awaits Sven, one of the male waiters that I met a couple of days ago. He’s holding a big basket over a pristine white blanket that’s spread out on the grass.
“Breakfast is served, m’lady,” Reese says, bowing formally and sweeping his arm toward the blanket.
I don’t even know what to say as I kneel on the soft material and Reese comes to lounge beside me. We are quiet as Sven unpacks a breakfast of gourmet egg-and-sausage burritos, fresh fruit, orange juice and sparkling water.
As we dig in, I don’t even notice Sven leaving. I only know that nearly an hour later, I look up and he’s nowhere to be found.
“He’ll be back to take all this to the yacht,” Reese explains like he read my mind.
“Do you treat all your…women this way?” I sip my orange juice as I consider him. He looks like Adonis bathed in tropical sunlight, more magnificent than any of the views I’ve seen.
“You’re not one of my ‘women’,” he says lightly, tilting his head to the side as he considers me right back. “And I don’t want you thinking you are.”
I don’t know what to say to that, so I say nothing.
“I want to show you everything. I want to buy you everything. I want you to have the kind of pleasures that someone like you deserves.”
“I appreciate that, Reese, but I don’t deserve any of this.”
He shrugs. “I think you do. I want you to have the best of everything.”
“But I don’t need it. I’m not that kind of a girl.”
“But you could be.”
“No, I’ll never be like that. This is who I am, Reese. Simple. Plain. Average.”
“There’s nothing simple or plain or average about you. I don’t know why you can’t see that.”
It’s my turn to shrug. “Because it’s just the way it is.”
“Well then maybe I can change all that,” he says, leaning over to peck my cheek before he rises to his feet and reaches for my hand. “Come on. We’ve got lots to see today.”
I assume that Sven cleans up our mess after we leave to head back down to sea level. Once there, Reese takes me back to the shore where a smaller boat is waiting.
We speed across a short stretch of ocean to a place Reese tells me is Hiva Oa. We tie the boat at a small dock there and he takes me to see the resting place of Gauguin, as well as a local museum dedicated to his art. We walk hand in hand along the street, talking like we’ve known each other all these years rather than like we’ve been separated all this time. It’s bittersweet because I know it will end at some point and we’ll soon be strangers again.
After an afternoon snack that was stashed in the cool storage of the boat, we head back out to sea to make another fairly short trip to Fatu Hiva, where we enter through what’s called the Bay of Virgins.
Reese guides the boat in between huge rock formations that rise up out of the water on three sides. The sun is shining brightly on the peaks and dappling the water with rays of gold. Reese stops the boat and drops anchor about twenty yards from where the rocks converge and there’s nothing around us but steep cliffs and a trickling waterfall.
“Care for an afternoon swim?” he asks, kicking off his shoes.
He doesn’t have to ask twice. It’s hot here and the water looks cool and refreshing. Reese strips down to his shorts and dives in, surfacing just in time to watch me dive in beside him. Together we swim to the apex of the rock formation. It’s there, without a single word said, that Reese pulls me into his arms, stares deeply into my eyes and makes love to me in the warm French Polynesian waters.
It’s like that at every group of islands we visit. He takes me to a handful of amazing locations, buys me beautiful things and makes love to me somewhere unusual, like he’s marking the spot. Whether that’s what he intends, it’s certainly what’s happening in my mind. And in my heart. I’ll never think of this half of the world the same way again, without an ache that will likely never go away.
At some ports, our stay is longer. Reese always has some stunning accommodations lined up. In Bora Bora, we stayed in a little cottage that overlooked the sea. We slept in a bed surrounded by netting and made love all night long while the flicker of the fire just outside the open doors bathed our skin in a warm, orange glow.
In Tahiti, we stayed in a bure, a private bungalow that sits at the end of a pier, perched high over the water. Our breakfast was delivered by a man in a canoe. We ate bagels and cream cheese and licked fresh coconut juice from each other until well into the afternoon.
Despite our earlier conversation, Reese still insists on showering me with everything from expensive clothes to sparkling jewelry to thousand-dollar-an-ounce perfume. I want for nothing, but all I really want is Reese.
After Tahiti, we got back on the yacht for a longer trek to Fiji. This morning Reese told me we would be in port later tonight and that he wanted to take me to the show upstairs for a change. It’s the last one for a few days since everyone will be on shore enjoying the island. This marks the last stop before the return journey home.
I’ve been excited all day. For some reason, it feels like a date. Even though we’ve spent every waking minute together for weeks, he’s kept me hidden away from everyone else on board and this feels like some kind of statement. I just don’t know what it says.
I’m still in my robe, putting on my makeup when I hear a knock at the door. I go to answer it, expecting to see Reese, but instead I find Karesh.
He does that tiny bow of his head that he always does before he smiles. “Ms. Moore.”
As always, I give him the same small bow and smile. “Mr. Karesh.” His grin always deepens. I have no idea what his last name is. Or if Karesh is his last name. Either way, it’s become a bit of a game between us over these weeks.
He hands me a plain white box with a big, gold ribbon wrapped around it and tied in a perfect bow. “A gift from Mr. Spencer. He asks that you wear it tonight. He’ll be waiting for you at the bow of the ship, on deck. Seven sharp.”
With that, he nods again and then turns to walk away. I lean out into the hall and call after him, “Thank you.”
I see his head tip back a bit and hear a faint, “My pleasure.” That makes me smile. He might, just might, be warming up a little.
I shut the door and scurry to the bed to open the box. Inside it, beneath a mountain of soft, white tissue paper, is a dress. A beautiful dress. One of a zillion nice things he’s bought me.
The color reminds me of an emerald—that rich, deep green. The material feels like velvet and it’s heavy as I hook my fingers under the straps and pull it out of the box.
The dress falls in a smooth drape all the way to the floor. The waistline is subtle as it runs into the puckers that will gather from beneath my br**sts to join at the jeweled medallion in the center. The plunging neckline is asymmetrical and the left strap is much wider than the right, giving the appearance that there is only one. I turn it around and find that the asymmetry is carried to the back. The line falls drastically from ribs-high on the left side to where it rejoins the green velvet at my right hip, leaving the majority of my back exposed.
It’s stunning. It’s daring. It’s elegant. And Reese bought it for me to wear. Tonight.
The tag is still in place, although the actual cost has been torn away. There is simply the name of a boutique, written in fancy script, as well as another name, one I assume belongs to the dress.
I drape it across the bed and take the matching shoes from the bottom of the box. They are open-toed heels covered in jewels that match the centerpiece of the dress. I’m not accustomed to extravagant gifts like this. The best I can hope for is that I will take Reese’s breath away when he sees me in it.
When I’m dressed and surveying myself in the mirror, I wonder what Reese will see. Will he see simply the wide sage eyes rimmed with dark lashes and ringed in smoky shadow? Will he see the sun-kissed cheeks and ruby-red lips? Or will he see the sparkle in my eye that says I never stopped loving him? That I’m already deeper in love with him than I ever was as a girl?