A Sip of You(29)

“No, Miss Kelly, I’m sorry. I don’t.” She smiled and shrugged as she set the tray down on the table next to me.

“Do you know where he is? I haven’t heard from him since this morning, and I’m getting worried.”

“Mr. Lambourne is a very busy man, Miss Kelly. I am sure he’s fine and will be back soon.” She was polite, but her look told me this sort of non-communication from William was not unusual. “Can I get you anything else, Miss Kelly?”

I quietly sighed in frustration as I looked at the beautiful meal set out for me. I wasn’t very hungry, but I didn’t want to offend Fernanda and maybe she really didn’t know where William was or when he’d be returning. “No, I’m fine. Thank you, Fernanda. This looks delicious.”

“Enjoy your dinner, Miss Kelly.” Then she turned and walked back toward the house.

I ate the warm chorizo and spinach salad I’d chosen for dinner—which was super fresh and delicious—and drank the entire carafe of white wine that came with it.

And I kept waiting.

***

I’d always loved swimming. I was on swim team when I was a kid and I surfed most of my life too. I spent hours in the water, I felt at home there and completely comfortable, which is how I started photographing surfers. I was a strong swimmer and a halfway decent surfer, but managing heavy camera equipment while out on a board in riotous surf required strength and confidence too.

I went back up to the empty master suite after dinner and sulked some more. When William walked in the door, I wanted him to know exactly how mad I was. But, surprise, surprise, I was too antsy to stay in the room. I needed to do something, and looking about, it dawned on me what. I found a skimpy red string bikini in my Narnia-like closet and pulled it on. I felt decadent wearing a bikini in January, so I texted Beckett a picture and typed, How’s the snow? before heading back down to the pool for a swim.

It had been a while since I’d worked out in a pool, but after a few laps, my body relaxed and I focused on the repetition of my movements. I must have been swimming for the better part of an hour when I surfaced and spotted William sitting in a chair just a few feet from the edge of the pool. Finally, I thought. I was relieved, and excited too.

I wiped my eyes, half expecting him to be a mirage. My heart was already pounding from exertion, but it beat even harder from seeing him in the flesh. He was sprawled in the lounge chair, wearing the same shirt and pinstriped trousers I last saw him in. The sleeves of his pressed shirt were rolled to the elbows, the top buttons undone, and his tie loosened. He held a highball in his hand, and his dark eyes watched me intently, like a hungry lion quietly watching his prey. I was more than ready to be caught.

He looked so good I had to remind myself to continue treading water. I could see the stress of the day on his face, but somehow it only made his chiseled features more handsome. His hair blew lightly in the breeze, and he sipped from the highball, his gaze hot on mine.

I didn’t know why he was keeping me at a distance or where he had been all day, but the way he looked at me, the yearning in his expression, pulled at me even more acutely than any words he might have spoken could have. He needed me.

And I needed him.

Without another thought, I swam to the side of the pool, hoisted myself up, and left a trail of water as I walked over to his chair. The air was cool, but the heaters kept the pool area warm, and I didn’t even grab a towel to dry off before I straddled him. I didn’t want to talk.

With a smile, he sipped from the highball. “Nice suit.”

I cocked my head. “Where’s yours?”

“I don’t really need one, now do I?” His free hand was splayed across my bare back, steadying me on his lap. Slowly, his fingers crawled up my slick flesh to the strings holding my bikini top in place, first the tie around my back and then the tie around my neck. Slowly he pulled at each one and the scrap of fabric fell away in a wet heap on the ground beside us.

My nipples puckered from both exposure and his hot gaze. Keeping that gaze on me, he raised the glass filled with amber liquid—bourbon, I guessed—and rubbed it across my hard nipple. I sucked in a shallow breath. The cold glass was a sharp contrast to my skin, which was still warm from the heated water, and my nipple pebbled painfully tighter.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Let me warm you up.”

My eyes never left his as he dipped two fingers in his drink then swirled them around my nipple until the amber liquid dripped onto my stomach. I could smell the heady aroma of the liquor and feel the warmth of it on my skin. William set the glass on the table, leaned forward, and lapped the bourbon from my breast and belly, heat blasting through me as his thick tongue burned a trail across my wet flesh. When he’d caught every drop, he took my now aching peak in his mouth and sucked long and hard. I moaned. “Oh God, William. Please.” My voice was deep and husky, and I felt a rush of heat between my legs.