The Education of Sebastian & the Education of Caroline(26)

I paid for the food, irritated with myself for recalling that the money came from the housekeeping David so grudgingly gave me. To hell with it! I earned every penny: cooking, cleaning, ironing his damn pants—even entertaining his colleagues.

The cashier loaded our purchases into a carrier which Sebastian tucked under one arm, with the briefest of smiles at her. Then he took my hand.

He took my hand!

David never held my hand. Well, perhaps once—the day of our marriage, when my father had given it to him. Not since then, not that I could remember.

It felt wonderful and terrifying, strolling along the beach, our fingers learning the lines and shapes of each other’s hands.

We found the perfect dune, a concave dip among the marram grass. It gave us some slight protection from the prevailing wind, although it was gentle today; but, more importantly, it gave us privacy from anyone watching from the beach.

Shyly, I pulled a copy of my surfing article out of my bag.

“This is it.”

He sank down to the sand and sat cross-legged. I watched his face anxiously as he read. It was the first time I’d shown anyone my writing. I badly wanted him to like it. I felt like I’d launched a baby out into the world and was waiting for someone to tell me whether or not I had an ugly child.

Once or twice Sebastian smiled as read through the pages, then he looked up.

“It’s really good.”

I looked at him, skeptically.

“It is! I really liked the joke about the Hawaiian Surfers Marine Corps storming up the beach to invade, but deciding to catch one more wave first.”

“You really liked it?

“It’s good, Caro.”

“You’d say that anyway.”

He smiled.

“Probably, but I happen to mean it. It gives people an insight into surfing and the Military way of doing things. It’s clever. There’s just one thing…”

I knew it.

“You’ve got a spelling mistake there: you’ve put ‘truster’ instead of ‘thruster’.”

“Where? Show me.”

He laughed. “Just kidding.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Hmm, imagine getting the thrusting wrong.”

He gaped at me as I lay back on the warm sand, basking in the sudden heat of his gaze.

“You are so beautiful, Caro,” he whispered, unwinding his long legs so he was stretched out next to me.

I grinned stupidly at him.

“You are!” he insisted.

He was leaning on one elbow, his head resting on his hand. Out here his eyes looked slate-green and his skin glowed gold in the sun.

“You’re the beautiful one, Sebastian. Beautiful inside and out.”

He blinked, surprised at my words, then smiled. Another chip of ice dropped from my heart.

“I think you should kiss me.”

The words were out before I knew what I’d said. I really meant them.

“I thought we weren’t going to … you know … until I was 18.”

“That’s right, but that doesn’t mean you can’t kiss me.”

“Really?” He looked delighted.

“Perhaps you’d prefer a written invitation?”

“Not necessarily,” he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled his head down toward me, stroking his short, silky hair. His gentle lips touched mine and desire exploded inside me, rushing through my veins like quicksilver. A soft, wordless sound escaped him, and my tongue was in his mouth, savoring his taste, tasting his own desire.

My hands ran down his back and greedily pulled up his t-shirt. My fingers turned to claws as I raked my nails down his back, making him gasp. He leaned away abruptly and tugged the material over his head; then his naked chest was pressing into me, forcing me into the sand. Against my belly, his erection was taut.

God! How I wanted him. To renew the sensation of him inside me, to understand, to feel that I was desired and loved and needed.

He forced one leg between mine and ran his hand along my bare skin, up my knee, my hip, teasing the material of my panties, before moving up to my waist and then running his hand over my breast and squeezing gently.

I was desperate to take it further but I was held back by the thin edge of reason, and the knowledge that one more step would tip me into the darkness.

“We have to stop,” I groaned against his lips.

“No,” he gasped.

His hand moved determinedly under the thin fabric of my strappy t-shirt, stroking and caressing my breasts.

My breathing was becoming ragged, as if I was running.

Summoning my final ounce of will power, I pushed feebly against his chest.

“No, Sebastian.”

He stopped instantly, and with a soft moan, rolled onto his back.

“I want you, Caro,” he breathed out. “I want to make love to you. I want to make love to you forever.”