Page 2

Lark

I push through the throng of sun-kissed bodies, listening to the sound of laughter and the smell of sweat, heat, and ocean air filling my lungs. A delicate hint of coconut sunscreen lingers in the little beachfront bar as I sit down on one of the stools.

Scanning the open room, I take in the bar that’s alive with the clatter of glasses, animated conversations, and the rhythmic thumping of a nearby volleyball game. A server weaves through the crowd, her tray held high like a sail catching the breeze.

“Another round!” someone shouts, and a cheer erupts from a table decked out with nearly empty colorful cocktail glasses.

I lean against the weathered wood of the bar, feeling lucky because the place is almost standing room only. My gaze meets one set of incredible blue eyes and freezes right there.

It's her, the woman from the plane, perched elegantly on the edge of a barstool, one long bare leg crossed over the other as her cute polka-dot sundress rides up her legs. Her laughter mingles with the rest, but all her attention is on her friend, until her gaze meets mine.

“Can I get you something?” The bartender nods at me, pulling me back into the moment.

“Whiskey, neat,” I say, turning back to her as he moves off to pour my drink. Her gaze meets mine, and that smile widens just a fraction, beckoning and cautious all at once. I knew there was something between us on the plane, but I can also sense her fighting against it. There’s something elegant and almost prickly about her. Like an adorable but damaged cactus.

I take my drink and thread through the crowd, making my way to her, because I’m not about to let her slip through my fingers without at least trying. She sips her drink through a straw, her gaze meeting mine as I close the distance between us.

“Mind if I join you?” I ask, gesturing to the seat beside her.

She shrugs lightly, the corners of her mouth twitching. “It's a free bar.”

Her friend glances at her, then at me, then speaks. “Lara, I’m going to go get another drink. Want one?”

Now I know her name, and I can’t help but feel that her friend is in my corner.

Lara nods as I take the seat next to her, assuming her words were an invitation – or at least permission.

I settle in, elbows propped on the table. I’m close enough to catch her scent—vanilla and sea breeze.

“Are you enjoying the view?” I nod toward the sun sinking low on the horizon.

“It's beautiful,” she says, without looking away from me. “Like a painting, but no one else seems to notice. I guess it’s just common for them.”

“First time?” I ask.

A slight smile crosses her beautifully-curved lips. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to a fellow traveler.” I raise my glass slightly, a silent toast to shared secrets.

“Ah.” She stirs her straw through her nearly-empty drink. “What brings you to the land of sun and surf, then?”

“Escape,” I say. It’s a half-truth that hides more than it reveals.

“Escape from…?” Her eyebrow arches a cautious and somehow inviting gesture.

“Life.” I can’t help but smirk with the word. “You?”

“Same. Escape from life.” There’s a note to her voice that I want to examine, but the guarded look in her eyes tells me that’s not going to happen. She’s intriguing, the way she clutches her glass, the slight tilt of her head, the way she uncrosses and recrosses those incredible legs.

“Found any adventures yet?” I ask, feeling playful. I like talking to her.

“Maybe.” That guarded smile is back on her lips, and I want to learn all her secrets.

“I think your friend got hung up,” I say, nodding at the woman who’s now talking with two men near the bar. She looks cornered but happy to be there, and I doubt she even made it over to order drinks. “I can get you a drink if you like.”

She’s watching her friend, humor shining in her eyes as if she’s not one bit surprised. “She marches to the beat of her own drum,” she says. “I’d love another drink.”

“What would you like?” I ask, finishing my whiskey.

She lifts a shoulder. “Surprise me.”

That sounds good to me. I make my way to the bar, thinking about her every step of the way. I know this is my vacation and I shouldn’t be looking for trouble, but she’s the kind of trouble I need. Something to get my mind off the events of this last week.

I head back with our two drinks, and we both glance at her friend as I sit. She’s still talking to the same guys, her laughter as she throws her head back making them glance at one another.

“She’s still having fun,” I say, taking a slow sip of my drink, the warmth of the liquor spreading through my body. We talk about nothing and everything—the weather, the music, the taste of freedom that comes with a vacation.

“Vacation's a good time to have fun,” I say, my words hanging between us, an unspoken invitation.

“Is that so?” Lara's glance flickers to mine, curious, her lips forming a perfect circle around her straw in a way that has my body responding.

“Absolutely. There’s no one here that’ll remember or judge, and we’ll never see these people again.” I leave the possibility open, letting it linger in the humid air between us.

Her laughter is soft, almost private, as if she's sharing a joke with herself only. It's a sound that stirs something within me, a heat I have no business feeling.

“Well, I like having fun,” she says, turning her glass in her hand.

“Doesn’t everyone?” My gaze holds hers, steady and unwavering as our deeply personal conversation’s double meaning leaves me wanting more of her.

“Sure.” Her dismissive response tells me she’s not making any promises, but I want her to know I’m serious.

We continue our small talk, offering details about ourselves that skirt who we are. Nothing serious. Nothing too personal. But even with our surface-deep talk, I’m enjoying her responses and thoughts.

Her friend comes back by, the two guys flanking her, and she says she’s going to go for a while. Lara nods, reminding her friend to be safe and gets up to give her a hug. When she’s gone, I see Lara staring off after her, a look on her face that has me wondering if her friend is the risk-taker and Lara is the responsible and safe one.

My fingers, cool from holding my drink, find the edge of the spare room key in my pocket. Pulling it out, I slide it across the space between Lara and me.

Her brows furrow as she looks at the key.

“I’m in room 102,” I say, my voice low and full of promises of how much she’ll enjoy herself if she agrees to join me.

Her hand pauses, hovering just a breath away from the key, her eyes locking on mine. There's a question in them, maybe even a challenge. She's guarded, but the way she tilts her head seems almost like she’s challenging herself. Slowly, deliberately, her fingers slide the key toward her body.

“Room 102,” she says almost thoughtfully as the key disappears into the clutch she’s holding.

I nod, trying to read her, but she's a mystery wrapped in polka-dots with a beautiful smile.

I’d considered a villa instead, but the beautiful hotel room had running water, which won my vote. The villas are beautiful, but I’m not interested in roughing it.

I walk out onto the balcony, staring out over the expanse of the ocean as the world below me ebbs and flows. People laugh, talk, dance. Entertainers dance with fire, and the beat of drums awakes some primal beast within me.

When I turn around, she’s there, in my room, a dream made real by my tired mind.

“Hello,” she says in a soft voice that tells me this is no dream.

“Hello,” I respond, my heart thumping as every inch of my body comes alive. She’d accepted my invitation. She’s here, in my room.

I walk toward her, no other words passing between us; none are needed.

Lara's arms wind around my neck as our lips crush together. It's fierce, a raging inferno of pent-up desire that rips through the careful distance we’d managed to maintain. Our kiss deepens, hungry, raw. Her tongue meets mine as I plunder her mouth, wanting to taste her sweetness as her body presses to mine like she was built for me.

My hands wrap around her, pulling her close as I press both palms to the sexy curve of her backside.

Her hands find the hem of my shirt, pulling it up before her hands glide from the crook of my elbows to my wrists. Her hands guide me to her sundress, and I unbutton her like she’s the best gift on Christmas Day. The look in her eyes is impatient, needy, and there’s an edge of fear there, too, as if this isn’t like her.

As we shed clothing, dropping them to the floor, we stand skin to skin. Our bodies are ready, I can smell her dampness, she can feel my hardness between us. Her soft skin nestles my aching cock perfectly, and I want to take her now.

Wordlessly, I pick her up and push her to the wall, sliding inside her like we’ve done this a million times. She gasps, her fingertips digging into my shoulders.

“Did I hurt you?” I ask, hoping I can control myself and stop if she says yes.

She shakes her head. “Don’t stop.” Her whimper is an order I wouldn’t dream of not following. She’s slick and hot, welcoming the length of me into her body as I grab her ass and lift, then lower her. Her head presses back to the wall, her perfect breasts bouncing against my chest as her body takes me again, again, again.

My lips meet her neck, the soft spot below her ear, then trail down. Taking a pebbled nipple between my lips, I suckle deeply and she cries out, her back arching into me.

The scent of her perfume mixes with the aroma of our bodies and sex, creating a heady and intoxicating scent that fills the room and my lungs. Her hands take my face and I release her nipple, my breath fanning the damp, red point.

She kisses me, her lips hungry, desperate, mirroring the need I feel clawing at my insides as our tongues dance and taste and battle for control. When she pulls away, our breath mingles, the flavor of sweet and sour alcohol and her own delicate taste invading my senses.

I carry her to the bed, lowering her down as I use the floor to add more power to my movements, and her legs wind around my hips. My pace seems to be perfect for her as her fingers grip my shoulders. Her nails dig into my back, scratching gently and sending fire along my body.

I feel her hips tilt into me, begging me to keep going, to give her more, to take her over the edge of pleasure, and I want to do just that.

The way her legs wrap around my waist, I can feel the clench of her thighs and know she wouldn’t let me go for anything right now. I pull all the way out, feeling her try to hold me in place with her legs and her warm softness, but I’m not going to stop just yet. I reach between us, pressing a thumb to the delicate bundle of nerves between her thighs.

She gasps, her gaze meeting mine as I work circles around the spot, feeling her body tighten up. With one hand, I guide myself back in her, the other hand pressed on the flesh between her hips, my thumb never leaving her button.

With a moan, a whimper, I watch her squeeze her eyes closed, her head pressing back into the bed. Working circles around that sensitive spot, I feel her tighten around me, her body on the brink of pleasure as I continue pushing in and pulling back, giving her a long, sliding sensation with every thrust and retreat.

She sucks in a deep breath, her eyes flying open to meet mine as her lips quiver. “Lark, I…”

“Shhh,” I whisper, reaching up to brush a lock of sandy-colored hair – with just a hint of red when the sun hits it – away from her face. My thumb traces her lower lip, and her eyes roll back as she grips me tight, then begins to spasm deep inside.

I lose myself in her, in the way she tastes and feels, in the way she moans. It's like we were made for each other, our bodies fitting together perfectly, completing each other in ways I never thought possible.

The room is filled with the sound of our ragged breaths and the slapping of sex.

“Finally,” she whispers, hands roaming over my back, as my body swells and my orgasm threatens.

“Were you in a hurry?” I tease, feeling the rising tide of pleasure.

She shakes her head, and I suddenly realize she’s obviously used to much quicker encounters, even though this one didn’t last all that long.

“More,” she breathes the word, and it's all I need to hear as my body explodes. I spill deep within her, feeling her body still fluttering around me as I give her everything I am.

Dropping beside her on the bed, I breathe ragged breaths, my heart beating so hard I worry I might pass out. As we come down from our high, I gather her in my arms and hold her close, feeling her slowing heart beat against my skin and her breaths cooling my skin.

“You are amazing,” I whisper into her hair.

“You don’t have to sweet talk me, I already gave it up,” she says, a teasing note in her voice.

“Since you know I don’t have to sweet talk you, then you also have to know I have no reason to lie. You’re incredible.”

She lets out a soft sigh of pleasure.

We lay there for what feels like an eternity, our bodies relaxing, our fingers lacing together, our skin drying in a way we both know means we’ll have to peel ourselves apart… but I don’t give a damn. She feels so good right here, curled into my side, her head resting on my shoulder, her fingers tangling with mine.

Eventually I'll have to face the outside world again, but right now, she’s the escape I need and the one that’ll help get me through whatever comes next.

In the quiet aftermath, the reality of what we've shared and done sinks in. But somehow, she doesn’t feel like just another fling, another notch on the bedpost. This is different; she's different. I can’t quite put my finger on the difference, but I feel it and know it’s there.

Rolling onto my side, I prop myself up on one elbow, watching her. She opens her eyes, and there's a vulnerability there that punches me in the gut like I’m back in that back alley ring as a teenager, squaring up against guys that outweighed me by a hundred pounds or more.

I want to ask her to stay, but I don’t want to scare her off. One of the things I’d said to her was that we’d never see each other again, probably, once we went home. If she stays one or the other or both of us might get attached. And we can’t have both things be true.

“So serious,” she says, trailing a soft fingertip down the crease between my eyebrows. I lift my head and kiss her fingertip, bringing a smile to her lips.

I want her to stay. Obviously, I’m just hard up and need to blow off some steam – and her body’s a great way to do it – but this is strange for me. I don’t like strange. I don’t like unpredictable. I left that world behind a long time ago. But not long enough.

Still, while I know better than to ask her to stay, I know a way around that self-imposed rule. “I want you to keep my room key,” I say, capturing her hand and bringing her fingers back to my lips. Kissing them, I turn her hand and press my lips to the delicate skin of her wrist.

She seems to understand and nods, a slight hint of a smile on her lips. “Okay.” Her voice still sounds breathless and has my body waking up all over again.

Maybe I’m being stupid and making bad decisions, but isn’t this what my vacation is about? Forgetting everything else and just letting go for a while?

She stands up and I watch her go, tracing the curve of her legs with my eyes. The cute crease where her bottom meets her thighs brings a smile to my lips and I watch her move with an effortless grace that makes me want to touch her again.

My body is at attention, ready to go as she pulls on her sundress. With every button, she hides more of herself from view, and I want to ask her to stay more than ever. But I know better. That’s a mistake I can’t afford to make. I’ll enjoy my time with her, but that’s it. Once this vacation is over, we’ll never see each other again, and that’s what I want. There’s just some part of me that wants to make sure I don’t break her heart.

Why do I care? I’ve had plenty of one-night stands. Plenty of women whose feelings I didn’t take into account at all. So why am I worried about Lara?

Her gaze meets mine, a beautiful smile curving her lips. “Thank you,” she says, her voice almost shy. “I had a really good time.”

I nod. “Me, too,” I say.

She slips on her shoes and opens the door. When it clicks closed behind her, I sit up, ruffling my hair with one hand. I need a shower. Need to clear my mind. Maybe a cold shower and a walk on the beach. Or maybe a cold shower and sleep. I don’t know what I need, but I need something to get the thought of her under me, the way her lips looked when she came, the sparkle in her eyes as we laid there together out of my mind.

With quick steps, I move to the bathroom, glad, once again, that I hadn’t gone with the villa. A cold shower is the only thing that’ll help me get my head on straight right now.