later, she agreed, ignoring the grease left
on the plate of course. They sat on the sand as they ate, sipping the wine that
Freddie probably didn’t have a liquor license for since he handed it to them in
a paper bag for a hefty price. Not quite like the vintage she knew the Becketts
had in their Bransport wine cellar, but it was a nice white anyway. They sipped
from paper cups and when they were done, a trash can was conveniently near.
“See? No dishes,” Brendan said, wiping his hands on his
shorts. He sat back down next to her, seeming in no hurry to move on. It was
twilight now, and the waves were a study in dark blues and purples.
“This is beautiful,” she offered, knowing it wasn’t quite
eloquent enough, but it was heartfelt nonetheless.
“I love this place. It’s so mellow. It lets you think, you
know?”
Maybe the wine was getting to her, but right now, with his
golden hair falling on his forehead, his long, strong legs stretched out in
front of him, Brendan Beckett struck her as about the most beautiful man in the
world. Of course, she had thought that well before this, so probably it wasn’t
the wine. It was just the wine that was helping push her to do something about
it.
Arthur had taught Sophia to hold her liquor, cluing her in
early to the fact that loose lips sink ships. But Sophia didn’t want to think
about Arthur’s life lessons now. She wanted to be loose, free with this man.
She made a deal with herself.
One night. Just this one night to be herself, to feel what
she wanted to feel, and then she would get down to the task at hand.
She leaned over and kissed him softly. Holding her chin in
his fingers, he tilted her face a little and took a little more. She felt
deliciously titillated. He pulled away. “Let’s go back to the house.”
She nodded, holding his gaze.
They said little on the walk back, as it got darker and
darker and the sounds of other walkers on the beach drifted away.
The house was lit up when they got back.
“A timer.” He answered her unasked question as he unlocked
the door and gestured for her to precede him. “We’re all alone here.”
Once they were inside, she almost wished all the lights were
off. It might have made it easier. Even the mellow glow of the one light in the
front room illuminated his expression. Full from the dinner, he was hungry for
something else his face said. Standing in front of the door wall, he opened it
a little to let the sound of the ocean in.
“I’m not,” she said haltingly, “as experienced as you might
expect.”
One corner of his mouth tilted up. “I’m not expecting
anything, Sophia. We’ll go as slow as you want. Remember?”
“That’s the problem.” Her voice sounded breathy, as it often
did in this kind of situation. Only she wasn’t putting it on. It wasn’t an act.
“I don’t want to go slow.”
If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He took her hand.
“That’s good too. Let’s go upstairs.”
She had been so preoccupied, she hadn’t even checked his
room out yet, which was probably the place he would hide something if he were
hiding it here.
She didn’t care right now as he led her into it. The room
was bigger than the one he’d given her and had a balcony with a door wall he
opened.
“Shouldn’t you lock the one downstairs?” she asked,
surprising herself.
“Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t turn on the light and the
faint moonlight streamed in, enough for them to see what they were doing. He
came back to her and reached behind her head to unsnap the huge clip keeping
her hair up. The mass of it fell in damp curls all around her as he sifted his
fingers through the strands, causing her scalp to tingle. Then he cupped her
face with both hands. Tall as she was, even in her bare feet, he only had to
lean down a little to kiss her. And when he did, it was still so soft, so
restrained that she wondered where the jaded playboy really was.
She’d kissed guys, lots of guys, before.
on the plate of course. They sat on the sand as they ate, sipping the wine that
Freddie probably didn’t have a liquor license for since he handed it to them in
a paper bag for a hefty price. Not quite like the vintage she knew the Becketts
had in their Bransport wine cellar, but it was a nice white anyway. They sipped
from paper cups and when they were done, a trash can was conveniently near.
“See? No dishes,” Brendan said, wiping his hands on his
shorts. He sat back down next to her, seeming in no hurry to move on. It was
twilight now, and the waves were a study in dark blues and purples.
“This is beautiful,” she offered, knowing it wasn’t quite
eloquent enough, but it was heartfelt nonetheless.
“I love this place. It’s so mellow. It lets you think, you
know?”
Maybe the wine was getting to her, but right now, with his
golden hair falling on his forehead, his long, strong legs stretched out in
front of him, Brendan Beckett struck her as about the most beautiful man in the
world. Of course, she had thought that well before this, so probably it wasn’t
the wine. It was just the wine that was helping push her to do something about
it.
Arthur had taught Sophia to hold her liquor, cluing her in
early to the fact that loose lips sink ships. But Sophia didn’t want to think
about Arthur’s life lessons now. She wanted to be loose, free with this man.
She made a deal with herself.
One night. Just this one night to be herself, to feel what
she wanted to feel, and then she would get down to the task at hand.
She leaned over and kissed him softly. Holding her chin in
his fingers, he tilted her face a little and took a little more. She felt
deliciously titillated. He pulled away. “Let’s go back to the house.”
She nodded, holding his gaze.
They said little on the walk back, as it got darker and
darker and the sounds of other walkers on the beach drifted away.
The house was lit up when they got back.
“A timer.” He answered her unasked question as he unlocked
the door and gestured for her to precede him. “We’re all alone here.”
Once they were inside, she almost wished all the lights were
off. It might have made it easier. Even the mellow glow of the one light in the
front room illuminated his expression. Full from the dinner, he was hungry for
something else his face said. Standing in front of the door wall, he opened it
a little to let the sound of the ocean in.
“I’m not,” she said haltingly, “as experienced as you might
expect.”
One corner of his mouth tilted up. “I’m not expecting
anything, Sophia. We’ll go as slow as you want. Remember?”
“That’s the problem.” Her voice sounded breathy, as it often
did in this kind of situation. Only she wasn’t putting it on. It wasn’t an act.
“I don’t want to go slow.”
If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. He took her hand.
“That’s good too. Let’s go upstairs.”
She had been so preoccupied, she hadn’t even checked his
room out yet, which was probably the place he would hide something if he were
hiding it here.
She didn’t care right now as he led her into it. The room
was bigger than the one he’d given her and had a balcony with a door wall he
opened.
“Shouldn’t you lock the one downstairs?” she asked,
surprising herself.
“Don’t worry about it.” He didn’t turn on the light and the
faint moonlight streamed in, enough for them to see what they were doing. He
came back to her and reached behind her head to unsnap the huge clip keeping
her hair up. The mass of it fell in damp curls all around her as he sifted his
fingers through the strands, causing her scalp to tingle. Then he cupped her
face with both hands. Tall as she was, even in her bare feet, he only had to
lean down a little to kiss her. And when he did, it was still so soft, so
restrained that she wondered where the jaded playboy really was.
She’d kissed guys, lots of guys, before.
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