She felt the two pools of lotion he squeezed on the tops of her breasts. Working first one side, then the other, he smoothed the emulsion over her chest with languid motions. Occasionally he whispered a compliment, but his hands said more than words. He worshiped her through touch. His fingers conveyed the message that she was a masterpiece worthy of his admiration.
When all of her had been covered, except what she yearned most for him to touch, he withdrew his hands. Her eyes pleaded with him when she opened them. She needn't have worried. He was pouring lotion into his palms and rubbing them together. When they were thoroughly creamed, he lay them on her breasts. She gave a long, low moan, and her knees came up involuntarily.
His hands rotated slowly over her breasts. Her nipples, rubbing against his palms, flowered with desire. He raked his lubricated thumbs over them. “Josh,” she sobbed.
“So delicate. So pretty.”
Gently he gathered her lush breasts in his palms and molded her upward into cones cupped in his hands. Her fists knotted at her sides and, senselessly, she rocked her head back and forth. Low noises vibrated in her throat, and she heard herself repeating his name in a loving litany.
When he lowered his head and took one dusky nipple in his mouth, her back arched off the blanket and her hands tore at his hair. “Yes, yes,” she urged.
But he refused to hurry. His lips fanned back and forth across the distended peak until she thought her veins would burst. His tongue dipped repeatedly to bathe the tender, swollen crest with the nectar of his mouth, until it shone wetly.
Her hips writhed with the fundamental beat of a pagan rite. The tempo increased with each squeezing movement of Josh's mouth on her breast, with each flicking lash of his tongue. When she thought she could bear no more, he covered the center of throbbing desire between her legs with his palm, pressed deeply and rhythmically, and drew her nipple into the hot, liquid cavern of his mouth.
Her world exploded with a shower of light.
“Why did you do that?”
She lay curled against him, their damp bodies glistening. His hand combed lazily through her hair as her head was pillowed on his chest. “Because you've never been aware of, or at least sure of, yourself as a sexual creature. One's sexuality is nothing to be ashamed of, Megan. Misusing it, yes. But we were designed to seek and find sensual pleasure with each other.”
She nuzzled her face against him shyly, and he chuckled softly. “One lesson at a time is enough,” he said, retying her top. “Come on. I'd better get you inside before you're burned to a crisp.”
He helped her gather her belongings; and they walked back to the bungalow arm in arm. At her terrace door he turned her toward him. “I'll give you an hour. Unless you'd like me to come in and wash your back when you shower.”
She shook her head. After what she'd just experienced, she needed time to think, time to sort things out. What Laura Wray had told her about Josh's being in love with a married woman hadn't begun to make sense to her before he'd come back and tripled her confusion about her feelings for him. Everything was in a muddle.
Things were getting out of hand, and she didn't know how to regain control. She only knew that right now she couldn't stand naked beneath a shower's spray with Josh and not beg him to touch her and kiss her the way he had on the beach. Time, space, distance—all were essential for her at this point.
“I'll see you in an hour. I assume the cookout is casual.”
He nodded, but she could tell his mind wasn't on either the upcoming party or what he would wear. He cupped her face between his palms. “I've tasted you now, Megan, and it only whetted my appetite. I want all of you.”
&nb
sp; Before she could utter a sound, he had gone into his own suite.
The cookout, held on one of the wide lawns, was casual, but in true Seascape fashion it was carried off with élan. Vast charcoal pits contained untold quantities of sizzling barbecued ribs and beef. Mounds of ice kept pink boiled shrimp ready to be peeled and dunked into spicy sauce. On long tables covered with red-and-white-checked tablecloths were platters of fried chicken, corn on the cob, steaming okra gumbo and seasoned rice, baked yams, juicy watermelon, relishes to appeal to every taste bud, biscuits, and corn bread. As if that weren't enough, hot peach cobbler and pecan pie were available to satisfy a sweet tooth.
After the meal, Josh suggested that they take a walk in Harbor Town. Megan agreed readily, and they set off in a car Josh borrowed from the resort.
Complete with its own lighthouse, Harbor Town was a commercially developed complex located on the harbor of Calibogue Sound. The man-made harbor had been designed as an imperfect circle, to preserve one of the island's massive oak trees. Acting as a sort of a mascot of the island, the tree was strung with tiny white lights. Entertainers performed nightly on a makeshift stage beneath its branches.
After window shopping along a row of exclusive boutiques, Josh and Megan paused to watch the show. A professional singer strummed his guitar in an attempt to keep time with two young boys he'd called up on stage. They were giggling and getting in about every third word of the ridiculous song, but the audience loved it. Adults and children alike shouted with laughter over the impromptu performance coaxed out of the two boys by the young singer.
“That one on the left is a real corker,” Josh said. “You can tell by the devilish glint in his eyes.” In unguarded moments like this one, he was a different man from the busy executive who was reputed to pull no punches in a business deal. His teeth shone in the dim light. His hair, stirred by the breeze when they had taken their walk along the marina, lay about his head in dark tousled strands that tempted Megan to touch them. The thought that came quietly to her rocked the very foundations of her soul, and she pushed it quickly aside.
“Takes one to know one,” she said, gouging him in the ribs. “I'll bet you were a regular hellion when you were seven.”
“When I had time to be,” he said pensively. He speared her with a look from his amber eyes that meant he demanded the truth about what he was about to ask. “Why didn't you and James have a baby?”
Startled, she floundered. “Well… there … there was hardly time. He … he died a Utile past our first anniversary.”
“Had you planned to have children?”
Why she didn't tell him it was none of his damned business she didn't know. She heard herself answer, “Yes, sometime in the future we planned to have a family.”
Josh's whole body seemed to sag with relief. Though he had draped an arm around her shoulders, she hadn't realized how tense he'd been until she felt the rigid muscles relax against her. “I wanted to have kids.” He wasn't looking at her now, but at the two youngsters hamming it up on the stage.