Trusting Again by Peggy Bird

felt. It was like nothing she’d ever known before, like he’d perfected sex and everyone else was just trying to imitate him.
    He sighed in his sleep, interrupting her reverie, turning toward her. His handsome face was covered in dark stubble, stubble she’d felt the night before on the inside of her thighs, on her back and legs, the tender skin of her breasts, on her face. God, she probably looked like she’d been sandpapered every place, but it had felt so good when he did it.
    And if she didn’t stop thinking like this and get away from him, she was going to jump him to get him to sandpaper her again.
    Sliding carefully out of bed so she didn’t disturb him, she slipped on her shorts and a T-shirt, pulled her hair back in a low ponytail and went topside. It was a cool and beautiful morning, like many other mornings she remembered in places like this, but with a special glow to the day because of that amazing man asleep below in her bed. His bed. Their bed.
    Stop. She couldn’t let this take over her thinking. It was only one week. Well, ten days. But no matter the exact number of days — or nights — she knew she had to be prepared to give him up at some point. He said as much himself — they shared this special world, here on the boat, just the two of them. And it was the only world they shared. When they got back to Seattle, it wouldn’t be the same. She needed to tell him she understood, so he didn’t think …
    “
Mi amor,
it’s cold and lonely in bed without you. Why do you run away from me as soon as the sun comes up?” He was wearing cut-offs and a smug smile that said he knew she wasn’t running very fast or very far.
    “Don’t you want to sleep in? I thought I’d wait awhile before I started breakfast, since I’m the morning person and you’re not.”
    She was sitting with her side against the boat and he sat behind her, enclosing her with his legs, pulling her back against his chest. “There. That’s better. Here’s where you belong. And the answer to your question is, no, I don’t want to sleep in. Not when waking up means I get to do this.” He moved her ponytail over her shoulder, tightened his arms around her waist and nibbled on the nape of her neck. “I love the way you taste. You smell like peaches and I keep expecting you to taste like that but you don’t. You’re spicier than that.”
    She relaxed against him. “Did you sleep well?”
    “M-m-m. And you?” He nipped at her ears between words.
    “Of course. You’re comfortable to sleep with.”
    “Comfortable? Ouch. You wound me,
querida.
That’s what a teddy bear or a blankie is. Is that what I am?” She couldn’t see his face but the fake surprise in his voice amused her. And his continued ministrations to the back of her neck and ears excited her.
    “No, you’re a wonderful lover, but I assume I’m not the first woman to have pointed that out to you.”
    “It’s only because we have amazing chemistry, and you,
mi amor,
are such a responsive partner.” He illustrated his point by licking at the spot behind her ear and blowing softly on it.
    She stifled a moan. “Marius, don’t! There are a dozen boats around. And sound carries over water so easily.”
    “So it’ll be a little challenge for you. You can’t make those noises I love to hear. Which will be a disappointment for me, I admit.” He licked and kissed down her neck to her shoulder. “Of course, you can still call out my name but you’ll have to do it very, very quietly.” By now he was whispering and had his hands up under her shirt, massaging her ribs, moving slowly, inch by inch, to her breasts. “I knew it would be good to hear you say my name when you were in my bed.”
    “Since you share ownership of the boat with someone else, it’s really only half your bed, isn’t it? I mean, maybe we’ve been on your partner’s side of the bed for the last two nights.”
    His hands stilled, as if he was thinking about what she said. “Are you