I touched his shoulder.
He tensed. “Just give me a minute,” he said.
I quickly lifted my hand. “Well, I—”
“I’ve been dreaming of that kiss for months. Holding you like that.” He paused. “In my dream, we didn’t stop. I just need a minute to…you know.”
“Of course.” I stepped away. I felt a little damp between my legs, and my nipples were still tight. It would be so easy to just get naked, find satisfaction and make use of that damn fine erection I’d just felt.
But I wasn’t ready to go down that road.
Not yet.
But, damn, it was a temptation that was intensifying by the minute.
* * * *
We finished the bread and cheese at the small table on deck. I drank my tea. Sullivan had a black coffee. We named our little harbor Dolphin Bay, and I took photographs to remind me of the idyllic spot.
“How about we catch some of this wind?” Sullivan said after we’d cleared away. “Get the sails up again. I’ll show you how.”
“Well, I’m a bit wary of that thing,” I said, pointing at the boom.
“Yeah, you have to watch out for that, but I’ll keep you safe.”
I didn’t doubt it for a second. “Okay then. Where will we go?”
He grinned. It was one of his easy, quick smiles that I was coming to adore. He switched between desperately intense to light and breezy in a heartbeat.
“There’s a small place northwest of here called Spiglia.”
“Oh, back on Cephalonia?”
“No, it’s on Meganisi. It’s one of my favorite ports in the area.”
“What’s special about it?”
“It’s so off the beaten track. It only caters for summer visitors on boats, and it has some strict rules because of the turtles that lay their eggs on the beaches nearby. There’s this one place—a taverna, they do the best lamb
kleftico
in the world. Sweet and tender and cooked in one of their ceramic ovens. They serve it up with salad, feta and olives all sprinkled with toasted almonds.”
“Now you’re making me hungry, and I’ve just eaten.”
He chuckled. “It’s not five-star dining, but it’s five-star food. And…”
“What?”
He reached for a tube of sun protection and squirted a blob into his hand.
“What?” I asked again.
He half shrugged then slapped the cream onto his left arm and began to rub briskly. “I booked a room there. They only have two in the ports-only hotel. But I thought, well… I thought maybe you wouldn’t like the cramped conditions on the boat much, not being used to it and all.”
I watched the cream melt into his skin. “That was considerate.”
“Well, I did have some not altogether wholesome thoughts for what use we’d put the room to. But…” He paused. “I guess you still might as well have it tonight. Make the most of a proper shower and space to stretch out. I’ll sleep on the boat.”
“No, you have the room. I don’t mind the boat.”
He shook his head and started to apply cream to his other arm.
“Really, I don’t mind,” I said. “I’m smaller. I fit into those little cabins much easier than you do.”
“I insist,” he said. “Besides, I booked it for you. I’d like you to use it. Just do me the privilege of coming out to dinner with me before you disappear in there.”
“Of course. It’s a date.”
He stopped spreading the cream around and looked at me. His eyes sparkled, and he raised his eyebrows. “I’ll hold you to that.”
I laughed. “I’m sure you will. Do you want me to do your back?” I gestured toward the bottle of lotion.
He nodded then slipped his shades over his eyes and turned.
I moved next to him, took the bottle, flooded my hands, then set about rubbing the cream from left to right over his shoulders. The hair at his nape was long, the strands clumped together after our swim earlier. I wondered what he’d look like in a suit. How his hair would hang over his collar, the lightness clashing with dark material and making him look not quite the textbook executive.
My fingers tingled with my need to run my hands through his hair, but instead, I kept applying the lotion and learning the shape of his body. I tried to tell myself it was just a job, a necessary application of factor thirty to stop him from burning, but the more I slid my hands over his skin, the more I enjoyed myself.
Beneath the surface of his flesh, I could feel the tautness of his muscles and the hard planes of his shoulder blades. I ran my fingers down the gutter of his spine then fanned outward, taking the cream to his waist.
“Thanks,” he said, suddenly moving away.
I wasn’t quite done. A patch of cream sat just above the waistband of his swim shorts.
“No problem,” I said, rubbing my palms together.
He put his hand down his swim shorts, appeared to adjust himself, then sprang onto the top section of the boat. “Come on, I’ll show you the ropes, literally.”
Chapter Eight
After motoring out of the newly named Dolphin Bay, Sullivan faced us upwind.
Out here in the open, I could feel the currents of air strengthening. My T-shirt was pressing against my body, and my hair caught around my cheeks. I put on my shades and re-applied sunscreen to my arms and legs. The day was hot, the sun a brilliant white orb above us, but the wind and the water and being out at sea made it bearable—more than bearable, perfect, in fact.
“Come over here,” Sullivan called, “and give me a hand.”
“Hang on.” I moved up to where he was standing by the mast. “What do you want me to do?”
He was gripping a rope, the tendons in his wrists and forearms tense. “You’re going to hoist the mainsail. Pull on this halyard.”
I felt a little daunted by the task but grabbed the rope anyway.
“That’s it, now pull, hard. The sail will flap like crazy, but that’s fine. Get it all the way up as quickly as you can.”
I started to heave and pull. He was right. The sail flicked and flacked as the wind grabbed and shook it. It was as though it wanted to rip the material from Dolly Bird.
Sullivan darted back down to the helm and turned the boat a little more into the wind.
On and on, I hoisted. The sail slid upward, billowing and puffing up. It was tough work, but soon I had it at full stretch.
“That’s it,” he called, “now cleat it off.”
“What?” I looked around, wondering what he wanted me to do. We were picking up speed, the wind already pushing us along.
“That metal hook,” he said, jumping up next to me again. “Wrap your rope around it in a figure eight. Make sure it’s good and tight.”
He reached for another rope. “This is the jib, the front sail. We need that up, too. Helps get our speed up.”
“We’re going pretty quick already.” I could hear the water splashing around the hull and creating waves as we sliced through the water.
“Nah, this is a snail’s pace.” He grinned and dragged the jib up in four hard pulls.
The boat shot forward.
I stumbled slightly and gripped the mast.
“You okay?” he asked, setting a hand on the small of my back.
“Yes, I think so.”
“Come on, back down to the wheel now. But watch out for the boom.”
“Okay.”
He stuck close by me—the boat was pitching to the right making the deck slope. Once past the boom, he held my hand to keep me steady as I made my way down beneath the Bimini.
“What do you think?” he asked, killing the engine, which had been rumbling away.
“It’s much faster than I thought.” I gripped the back rail. “And it leans more than I expected.”
“Yeah. I kept it steady earlier, didn’t want to wake you, but this…this is fun.” He reached for a red bandana that was tied to a chrome bar. After uncurling it, he placed it on his head then knotted it at his nape. “Don’t get too much sun on your head,” he said. “Easy to forget out here when the wind is cooling you.”
“I might sit under there,” I said, pointing to the seats in the shade.
“Go for it, put your feet up.”
Holding on to the table, I sat down. Instantly, I felt more secure and my racing heart steadied.
Sullivan was busy again. “Stay sitting,” he said. “I’m tacking.”
“What?”
“Shifting our position, the boom will switch over the top here.”
I glanced nervously through the gap between Bimini and upper deck. “Okay.”
Sure enough, the length of metal slid overhead. Big and heavy, it came to a halt at the opposite side of the stern.
“That’s it,” he said. “We’re going in the right direction now.” He studied me. “Hey, you okay?”
“Yes, fine.”
“Sure?”
“Yes. I’m loving it.”
He grinned and looked out to sea.
He had his hands on the wheel, his bare feet placed hip width apart, and his swim shorts sat low on his hips, revealing a tantalizing strip of body hair that led from his navel to his waistband.
I recalled the feeling of being pressed up against him and feeling his arousal, his need for me. A shiver of longing went through me. He was right—he was all man, nothing boyish about him. Not from what I’d felt anyway.
“You could go sit at the bow,” he said, pointing to the front of the boat. “I’ll keep her steady while you get there. The boom won’t move anymore.”
“Will it be okay? Sitting there?”
“You’ll love it. That’s where I used to sit when my father took me sailing when I was a kid. Grip the rails and sit with your feet dangling over the edge.”
The front of the boat looked steadier now. We were no longer leaning, just skimming along the surface of the water. “Okay, I’ll try anything once.”
“That’s what I like to hear,” he said then laughed. “And I’ll hold you to it.”
The sexy look he gave me sent a shimmy of lust over my skin. Damn, if just him looking at me like that was pleasurable, imagine if….
I peeled off my T-shirt, stood and made my way to the front of the boat. I held on to whatever was nearby, stepped past the skylight that opened into my room and sat.
A metal like rope circled the boat, and was slim and perfect to grip at chest height.
I let my legs dangle toward the water. The red of my toenail polish glinted in the sun.
Instantly, tiny splashes powered up, coating my soles and my ankles in sea spray.
“You didn’t tell me I’d get wet,” I called, smiling.
“It will cool you down.”
I reached for my hair tie, pulled it loose and let my hair fly out behind me. I felt a million miles away from the lecture hall. Business strategy and management belonged in a different lifetime. Right now was all about sea, spray and Sullivan.
And sex.
I turned to look at him.
He was watching me.
“Do you like it?” he asked.
“Love it.” I looked at the water again, splashing under my feet.
Sex.
Damn, I wanted some.
I could almost feel his gaze on me. He’d made no secret of the fact he found me as desirable in person as he had during our online relationship.
And there was no denying that I thought he was hot as hell—too hot, too gorgeous for me.
But maybe that was shallow. It was him as a person I’d fallen for, and that hadn’t changed. Even though he was model material—beautiful, the stuff of fantasies—it didn’t change who he was inside, just the way it wouldn’t have if he’d been older or physically less than perfect.
Sullivan was every bit as caring as I’d expected him to be and as kind and considerate in real life as he’d always been in emails and on the telephone. He was special, there was no doubt about it. An exceptional young man with a good heart.
Young
man.
I tightened my grip on the rail as my heart swelled. I’d believed, before I’d come to Greece, that I was in love with him.
Could that really switch off just because of our age gap?
Was I still in love with him?
“Dolphin,” he shouted suddenly. “Look, a whole pod.”
“Where?”
I scanned the horizon.
“No, right there, swimming on our bow wave.”
I looked down. My breath caught. Several sleek, gray dolphins were swimming with us, one just below my feet.
“Oh wow,” I said, tipping forward to get a better look. “They’re gorgeous.”
“Fun, eh?” There was excitement in his voice.
“Yes, fantastic.”
I’d never thought in my life I’d be sitting on a boat in Greece, skimming over the water with dolphins. There had been so many dark days and nights after Thomas. Times when blue skies, freedom and exhilaration were not something I wanted to think about. Not something I thought would be in my future.
Yet, here I was.
Free, excited and under a bluer than blue sky.
“Do you think it’s the ones we saw earlier? From the bay?” I called, not taking my gaze from them.
“Well, they’re common dolphins, so hard to know, but yes, likely to be.”
“Maybe they followed us.”
“Hoping for a ride on our waves. They love it.”
As Sullivan had spoken, the one right beneath me shot forward in the water, leaped in a graceful arc, then slid back under the waves.
I longed for my camera but didn’t dare risk missing them if I went to get it. Instead, I committed the image to memory. The stunning grace of the dolphins, the denseness of the dark blue sea, the vivid white splashes all around. It was almost an overload of beauty.
I sat in their company for a few more minutes, then as quickly as they’d appeared, they vanished. But still, I stayed at the front of Dolly Bird, enjoying the wind in my hair, the sun on my shoulders and the random splashes that landed on my feet.
A contented feeling washed over me. This was just where I’d needed to be, and somehow, Sullivan had known that. Understood that while I’d healed from my loss, I needed more. I needed memories, new experiences. I needed to come out of my comfort zone and be brave.
For that, I’d always be grateful.
* * * *
As the sun began to dip toward the horizon, Sullivan navigated in the direction of a small island with yet more sheer cliffs.
We’d pulled the sails in as we’d neared the rocks, and the motor was on, gently pushing us forward. I was sitting in the shade at the stern again.