“This is bad,” Michaela whispered.
“Yes, it is.” Without his trunks on, the sensation of the water was mildly erotic. He pulled her up him, slicking his hands beneath her bottom and along her legs so that she wrapped them around his waist. “You’re great,” he said and smiled.
Nibbling at his throat, she whispered, “You’re not too bad yourself, Mr. Johns,” in his ear as she moved to lick and kiss his lobe.
All too quickly, he was hard for her.
“Again?” she asked.
“I think it’s my turn in the driver’s seat.”
Slipping his hands beneath her thighs, he felt for the wet groove of her. She was slick, the warm water against her naked skin obviously adding to her arousal as much as it did his. Without ceremony this time, he slipped a finger inside her, then two. “Don’t fight it,” he said as she went to unwrap her legs from his waist. Moving into a steady rhythm he added a thumb to circle her clitoris.
“No,” she gasped.
“Oh, yes,” Dylan said, continuing to work her with his fingers. But as her tension built, he wanted more.
Michaela must have sensed it. “I want you inside me again.”
“I haven’t got a condom, and anyway it’d be useless in the water.”
“Well, then.” She flicked her eyes up toward their room.
Too greedy to ignore her request, he strode out of the water and up the steps at the side of their bungalow with her still wrapped around him.
Quickly sheathing himself, he pushed her against the wall, not bothering to towel the seawater off them. He hooked her leg up around his waist while she balanced on the other and then drove himself into her without hesitation.
She sighed, pressing forward into him, lifting her leg higher and allowing him more access as he thrust into her.
Smart, driven, independent, values family, trusting, and a fox in bed. But the best thing about her was how open she was about wanting him. As if echoing his thoughts, she cried, “Harder. Lift me up, harder.”
Pulling her other leg up off the floor, Dylan pushed his weight against her, holding her up against the wall. Her legs now fully splayed, Dylan pumped into her until he felt the thrill of his climax ripple through his body just at the same time her muscles clenched and she yelled out his name.
Her cry filled the room, and he held her in place as it echoed into silence.
Breathing hard, he gently, gently let her down, withdrew, and then pressed his body against hers, both of them leaning on the wall.
“Wow,” she said.
Dylan didn’t quite have it in him to speak.
“You win,” she said, and he looked down into her dazzled eyes. Win? It felt like he was about to lose himself completely—and for a change he was happy to lose, as long as it meant keeping her.
By the time five o’clock came around and the sun started its descent over the ocean, Dylan felt like a cat, well stroked and purring.
Michaela snapped him out of it. “I guess we should go back,” she said. “You have a show to do.”
Shit, he’d almost forgotten. “In a second,” he said, pushing her gently back into the cushions. “So.” He trailed his fingers lazily over her face. “What are we going to say when we get back?”
Michaela’s eyes widened. “What should we say?”
He smiled. “Nothing, unless someone asks. Then we probably just bumped into each other on our day off.”
“Oh, right.” Was that disappointment clouding her features? What had she thought he’d meant?
“I mean, you have a position to maintain,” he told her. “We don’t want people talking any more than they have to. I’m not sure the captain will make your life any easier if you rub his nose in it.”
Michaela nodded, but her smile lost some of its warmth.
Damn. “Or maybe the sneaking around part of this is what gets you hot? You like the thrill of it, don’t you? Does the danger make you excited?” He pulled her to him, trying to raise a laugh.
She pushed him off, playfully slapping at his hands as he continued to stroke her, then giving him a final shove and standing. “We really should go.”
Dylan nodded and stood, scooping up his bag and heading for the door. “I’ll see you later on tonight?”
She nodded, and he felt her eyes on his back as he left to catch a separate ferry.
…
That night they met surreptitiously in Michaela’s stateroom. She had tidied every corner, plumping the pillows and folding the towels just so. “You sure get better treatment than we do. These towels are amazing,” he said.
“I begged the fluffiest ones from housekeeping. Said I was sunburned,” she told him with a smirk.
“It even smells better up here.”
“Essential oil.”
“Pulling out all the stops, eh?” He didn’t think he’d have anything left in him after their long day of lovemaking and the two performances, but as she wrapped her arms around him, he felt a stirring below his waist. Maybe he was the insatiable one. The two of them fell back onto her bed.
Out of the blue, Dylan wondered what touches she’d add to his apartment.
None, you dope. She wouldn’t add anything because she’d never see it.
He kissed her to distract himself.
“I didn’t think you’d have the energy,” she said.
“I didn’t either. But who can stand in the way off all this fun?”
There it was again—that look. Dylan hoped there wasn’t something she hadn’t told him, some deep hurt that he might be tapping into by insisting they keep their affair light.
We discussed this. She knows I’m leaving in three months.
“Okay?” he asked, just to check. He tweaked one of her breasts and grinned cheekily to try and remove the tension.
She slapped playfully at him, and the smile on her face wasn’t forced, so he grabbed her hands and pulled them over her head, pinning her to the bed.
“Careful,” she said, but he could tell her struggles were only for show.
Their lovemaking was delicious that night, and over the next days and weeks they grew to know each other’s bodies intimately. He let her know about the spot on his wrist where he would melt if she put her mouth to it and nibbled her way up his arm, and he discovered the soft skin just beneath her ear where he could blow hot air and make her his instantly.
On the rare nights that Dylan slept in his own stateroom, he flicked through his time with Michaela in his mind. His picture of her was growing clearer and clearer, and now when he slept she wasn’t far from his dreams. Her face appeared as it had in Vanuatu their first time together: free of makeup, glistening with seawater and with that smile—a smile that threatened to destroy his usual commitment-phobia.