he added, tilting her face up to his amused eyes, “I’ll teach you some more subtle forms of sensual torture.”
She laughed shyly. “Will you?”
He took a deep breath. “I’ve never known anyone like you,” he said, the words reluctant. He drew her up on her tiptoes and kissed her very softly. “Feel what’s happening already?”
“Yes,” she answered him.
“We’d better cool it, if you don’t mind. I hate cold showers.”
She laughed. “You’re terrific.” She sighed.
“So are you. Get on a bathing suit and let’s go swim.”
She started into the bathroom, met his mocking eyes, and stuck out her chin. “You’re my husband,” she said aloud, to remind both of them.
“Yes, I was wondering if you might remember that.” He chuckled.
She undressed and he watched, his eyes quiet and full of memories. When she started to pull on the bathing suit he moved in front of her and stayed her hands.
“Not yet,” he said quietly.
She looked up, hungry for him, and watched as he studied her body and saw for himself just how much she wanted him.
“How is it, for a woman?” he asked suddenly, and sounded genuinely curious. “How do you feel when you want me like this?”
“It’s frightening, a little,” she told him. “I get shaky and weak and I can’t quite control myself. I ache…”
“Does this…help the ache?” he asked as he bent to her breasts.
She moaned. It was impossible not to, when she felt the warm moistness of his lips eating her. She didn’t have a mind left after the first two seconds. She was hardly aware that he was lifting her onto the bed.
He made a meal of her body, tasting, touching, looking at it, broad daylight streaming in the windows, while she gloried in the luxury of being married and enjoyed his pleasure in her.
“I love looking at your body,” he said quietly, sitting beside her. His hands swept up and down, lingering on her soft curves. “I love touching it. Tasting it. I’ve never seen anything half so lovely.”
“My husband,” she whispered.
He looked up. “My wife.”
Her body ached, and she knew he must feel the same longing she did. Her eyes asked a question, but he slowly shook his head.
“I won’t do that to you,” he said curtly. “Not ever will I take my pleasure and not give a thought to yours.”
She ground her teeth together to stop the tears.
“And it isn’t pity,” he said, glaring at the look in her eyes. “I do nothing out of pity, least of all marry because of it. So you can stop looking at me that way. I want you and I’m getting irritable because I can’t have you. So suppose you put on the bathing suit and I’ll go have that damned cold shower and we’ll swim.”
He got up and she lay there, watching him as he discarded his clothing. Her lips parted as the last of the clothing came off, and she saw the urgency of his desire.
His body trembled as he looked at her, and she wanted to cry because of the torment she saw in his face.
“You said once…that there are…other ways,” she ventured to ask. “Are there?”
His face hardened; his eyes glittered wildly. “Yes.”
She held out her arms, her body throbbing, her blood running like a river in flood as she sensed that violence of his hunger. He hesitated only for a second before he came down beside her.
* * *
The days passed with miserable speed. They did everything together. They swam and talked, although always about general things rather than personal ones; they danced and sampled new delicacies at the dinner table. And at night he loved her. Sometimes in the early morning. Once on the bathroom floor because the strength of their desire hadn’t left them time to get to bed. Sometimes he remembered precautions, but mostly he didn’t, because his desire matched her own. She walked around in a sensual haze that blinded her to the future. But eventually, the day came when they had to look past Veracruz. It came suddenly, and too soon.
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