Taking their silence as agreement, he poured scotch into four tumblers. “Ice in the bucket, help yourselves.” Instead of taking a seat on the bench, Harry opted for the chair beside Thomas and took up a similar stance, nursing his liquor.
“And we thought we had it bad.” Terry exchanged a grimace with his twin. “What exactly do you have to do?”
Su-Lin took one sip of the alcohol and choked. It tasted awful, burned all the way down to her stomach, and took a long time getting there. She tipped the liquor into Terry’s glass.
He glanced at her but didn’t say anything.
“My potential bride has to submit to a physical before the wedding.” Harry gulped down the rest of his scotch. “Stepmama provides the physician and witnesses the test.”
“Daunting,” Thomas said. “Do they stand guard over the honeymoon suite?”
“Bull’s-eye.”
“I was being sarcastic.” Thomas steepled long, elegant fingers beneath his chin.
“Stepmama has the choice of honeymoon venue, independent security plus the same witnesses from before the test on guard during the night. Another exam the following day, and here’s the clincher, a DNA test on the sperm in her sweet little…” His gaze swept to Su-Lin. “Um, vagina.” He grimaced as he said the last word.
“I have an idea,” Su-Lin said. “Technically, I’m still a virgin. At least Terry’s pretty sure. He couldn’t get --”
Terry clamped his hand over her mouth. “Not another word, darlin’.” His jaw worked and typhoon clouds darkened his eyes to almost black, but his chin did an almost-imperceptible dip.
“You’re sweeter than a chewy pecan praline to even think of offering yourself as a sacrifice, kiddo, but from the look on Terry’s face, there’s no way you’re doing the deed.”
“Dead right on that point,” Terry said.
“Harry, place an ad in the classifieds, and if I were you, I’d get Geoff to handle all the details. You don’t want to get involved in a legal tangle. I’d offer, but time’s not on my side right now.” Thomas’s expression intrigued Su-Lin; she’d bet anything he solved puzzles, Sudoku, and crosswords when bored.
“I told Harry earlier that I’d help him choose someone.”
“Then why’d you feel compelled to offer?” Terry growled in her ear.
“I felt sorry for him,” she whispered.
Su-Lin noted the lines of worry bracketing Terry’s eyes and slipped onto the bench beside him. He draped an arm over her shoulder and tugged. She edged closer until they touched at almost every juncture.
Thomas stood and stretched, fists kneading the small of his back. “I’m way too old for staying up till the wee hours. Night all.”
Su-Lin waited until Harry grabbed the bottle of scotch and headed below deck.
“Your brother is very ill.”
His eyes narrowed, and though he met her gaze, Terry’s head moved away from hers. “Why do you think that?”
“His chi is shallow, and his movements are unbalanced.”
“Explain.” No emotion, no expression crossed his face, but he held himself too still, and that gave away his tension.
She placed her palm on his left pectoral, and her mouth curved when the muscles rippled under her hand. “Your lungs breathe deeply, from the stomach and diaphragm, like an athlete’s taught to do, or someone who practices yoga. Therefore, your skin is healthy, no broken capillaries, and your complexion is even, it glows. How we breathe affects how we live. Your brother’s complexion is uneven, and his skin has a yellowish tint. He takes short breaths.”
As she spoke, Terry’s Adam’s apple bobbed as if he had difficulty swallowing. Su-Lin could almost taste the fear he had for his brother.
“And the rest?”
“Each of us has a rhythm we walk to, and there’s a natural flow, a natural cadence. Your brother’s first and second steps are hesitant and very deliberate, as if his balance is off.”
Beneath her palm, his lungs expelled air, and tense muscles slackened. He covered her hand with his, thumb fingering her knuckles.
“Thomas has a brain tumor. Because they’ve caught it in the earliest stage, it’s operable. The prognosis is optimistic, but there is a chance he could lose some motor skills. Right now he’s having migraines often and suffers dizzy spells. The operation’s in New York in three weeks. I’m going with him and staying during his recovery.”
“I am so sorry. He’ll be fine, Terrence, and live a long and happy life. I feel it here.” She pointed to her aching heart.
“Chinese philosophy?” Doubt and cynicism pulled the corners of his mouth down more than gravity ever would even if he lived to a century.
“I’m too mixed up for one philosophy to do the trick.”
Her voice wavered; she’d never shared these thoughts with anyone, not since grade nine, and she could still hear the mocking laughter of her classmates if she closed her eyes. For long seconds, she hesitated, but the rightness of this man, the absolute conviction they were bonded, fated, gave Su-Lin the impetus to continue.
“My mother was a Catholic who adopted many Taoist principles and lived by them. My father picked from Buddhism, Confucianism, and Taoism. I added in a bit of Christianity and came up with something that works for me.”
“And my brother’s fate -- where does that come from?”
Dawn streaked the dark sky and a golden hue rimmed the horizon.
“Here’s where it all breaks down -- intuition.”
“Women’s intuition?”
She’d never seen him so somber, and he fiddled with the pendant he always wore. If nerve endings made a noise, alarm bells would fill the air. Su-Lin had never had a best friend; her closest confidante as an adolescent had been her neighbor’s cat, Spartacus. Her mother had retreated into the past and a strange combination of Mandarin and Swedish before Su-Lin’s fourteenth birthday. She called on every ounce of learned courage.
“No, Su-Lin’s. Whenever I meet someone, I sort of know if my fate’s entwined with theirs. I knew you would be my first lover. And I know your brother will be happy.”
One eyebrow lifted and his lips twisted, and she knew he thought her naive, perhaps even foolish.
“What about Emma and James? Where do they fit?”
“It’s not that I can predict the future. I only know if someone will play a big part in my life or not. As strange as this may sound, I don’t see them in my future, and I wonder about that.” She tilted her head. “You don’t like Uncle James, do you?”
“He treats you like a child.”
“Aunt Emma says he feels guilty about not contacting me earlier. He’s settling a trust on me, Terrence. For the first time in my life, I won’t have to worry about money. I’m truly grateful to both of my relatives. Besides,” she said and lifted a shoulder, “they’re all I have.”
“So, according to Su-Lin’s intuition, your relatives won’t play a part in your life.” He traced the outline of her ear, and a delicious shiver-shudder chased the hairs at the nape of her neck. “And I’ll be your first lover. How long are we together?”
She tried to keep her face neutral but couldn’t make eye contact, instead studied the backs of her hands. “I can’t tell. The way you make me feel clouds things in my mind.”
“I begin to suspect you’ve what the Irish call an old soul.” He cradled her face, large, callused palms radiated heat and comfort, and she leaned into his hold.
“I know I’m not like other girls my age.” A smile curved her mouth, and she sought to distract him. “The sun’s coming up.”
“Let’s watch it from my balcony, shall we?” One arm crept around her waist, the other cradled her knees, and Terry stood, holding her high against his chest. Before she could blink three times, they were lying on his cabin’s balcony, their cheeks kissed by a playful Mediterranean breeze.
She loved the way he liked to watch dawn break.
“Like it?”
He’d unrobed both her and himself in record time. Dazzled by the rapid turnabout in his mood and their location, Su-Lin shook her head to clear it, realized when he frowned what she’d done and smiled. “You move so fast you make me dizzy.”
He shifted and dropped a kiss on her forehead and tightened the arm wrapped around her waist.
Resting her cheek on his chest, she traced the pattern of the gold medal he always wore. As the engraving came into focus, she lifted her head.
“Is this real?” She fingered the pendant.
“Hmm.”
“You competed in the Olympics? And won gold?”
His sensuous mouth pursed, but he didn’t open his eyes.
“Terrence,” she coaxed, tapping a finger on his breastbone. “Tell me. I can live the experience through you. What was it like? How did you deal with the pressure? I have a million questions.”
Lips curling at the corners, he said, in a perfect imitation of Harry’s sexy drawl, “Sugar, that’ll cost you a bunch of sweet kisses.”
She giggled and peppered light pecks and soft, openmouthed kisses all over his rib cage. His skin held the tang of sweet navel oranges, and she surrendered to temptation and licked him.
“You taste of oranges and smoke, and…” she said, sniffed, then continued, “cinnamon?”
“As Harry would say, bull’s-eye, darlin’, you should be in the perfume industry. How’d you get the cinnamon bit?”
“I can smell it. Is it some oil?”
“A family in the village where I grew up makes this special orange-cinnamon soap. I’ve always used it.”
The down comforter he’d wrapped both of them in slipped off one shoulder, and he tucked it into place.
“I’ve never been on the sea before this trip, and I never, ever imagined I’d be here on this luxurious yacht with a naked Norseman.”
“Norseman?” He chucked her chin, and one corner of his mouth lifted.
“That’s what I thought when I first saw you, that you were a Norse god and I’d dreamed you up.”
“I am a fricking genius, darlin’.”
“You are. Only a genius could design such a perfect balcony. No one can see us, but we have this magnificent view of the endless, eternal Mediterranean. We can feel the cool dawn breeze on our faces and smell the mysteries the sea holds -- fish, salt, the tackiness. You are a genius.” Su-Lin admired the deft movements of Terry’s long fingers as he twisted the wire holding the champagne’s cork free.
“No, little aphrodisiac, I’m a genius because I drank a fifth of scotch, we’re about to drink Tattinger’s finest champagne, and I may just be able to resist pounding into that sweet glove of yours.”
“Is it going to feel as good as when you licked me? As when I did you there?”
“You mean my wondrous weapon?” He chuckled and rested the pad of his thumb on the pulse at her neck, which thumped faster. “Where on God’s green isle did you hear such a phrase?”
A white seagull waltzed around a smoky pelican flapping to the sea’s surface, and their squawks and calls drew attention to their elegant dance. As they watched, the sun’s rays captured the seagull’s pristine feathers, and with his outstretched wings and bent head, the bird morphed into a miniature angel radiating a supernatural light.
“Dad’s collection of books included an illustration of the sexual arts. When I came across it, I was teaching myself Mandarin, so I translated every word. The man’s penis was called a wondrous weapon.”
“Mmm, you speak Mandarin?” he asked and separated the comforter to expose her breasts. “I’ve dreamed about these nipples since that morning in the steam room.”
He used both hands, fingers circling the firm undersides of her breasts, and she melted and arched her neck when teeth grazed the curve of her shoulder. Lips and tongue trailed hot and moist up to her clavicle, scalding flesh and sending sparks to her curling toes.
Restless, energized, she rubbed her bottom against his arousal. How it excited her to see him hard and pulsing. Su-Lin opened her eyes, and there his cock stood, erect, ruby red, and proud, poking up between her thighs.
“I think we should name it,” she said and traced the slit with one forefinger.
“Mmmm, I have no objection. What’s wondrous weapon in Mandarin?” His voice vibrated against her flesh, adding another dimension to the combustible sensations sliding up her spine.
“Has anyone else named it before?” The notion stun-gunned her lungs, and she stopped breathing.
“Don’t go stiff on me, darlin’. No worries, you’re the first. Time to get rid of this.”
He tugged the comforter, and it fell to the padded balcony floor. “So much for alcohol as a sexual depressant.”
Terry’s hands surged and urged, and Su-Lin complied, falling onto her back, and the rising sun flared on skin overheated by rising passions. No limb, no muscle, no organ left untouched, unworshipped, by kneading hands, laving tongue, grazing teeth, suckling mouth.
Synapses snapped, electricity popped, and Su-Lin’s athletic body curled and stretched and morphed to his lead, to where contact fired intuitive, age-old responses. Legs curled around his waist, and her flexibility allowed her to keep his cock grinding against her pearl of heaven, and when he shifted, leaving that spot, she bit his chest, and said, “Stay.”
“My little Asian aphrodisiac, this time is mine, all mine. Darlin’, everything about you arouses me. Your button nipples.” He grunted, slipped sideways, and feathered his tongue around said button, met her gaze, and nipped the tip.
She gasped, tangled one hand in his long hair, and guided him to the other bereft, burning point. “More.”
“As milady wishes.” His muffled voice resonated across the whole breast.
He complied, and she held him there and moaned, “Don’t stop.”
Terry turned onto his side, used one knee to nudge her thighs wide apart, and let his leg rest in the space between, holding her in place. His right arm crept around her left side, and he bent his head to her breast and suckled, drawing the flesh tight into his mouth, tongue rough and hungry.
Shooting stars exploded, and she went on sensation overload, when he shared the wealth, his other hand responding to the unspoken pleas of a twin throbbing nipple. Magic fingers, ridged with delicious hardness, rolled, tugged, and pinched, tindering an inferno.
Her hands, feet, fingers fought to return the rockets exploding behind her eyelids. Body twisting and squirming, toes rubbing his calves, fingernails grazing his belly, tracing a figure eight from hip to hip. Lungs blistered to take a breath, all training forgotten, as primitive female subjugated any civilized response.