Beachcombing in the Bahamas (Once Again #11)

Chapter 20

20

T he following morning, Brock headed out with Yvette. Just the two of them.

“This isn’t the way to town,” she called over the Jeep’s engine, her voice turning into a squeak when they hit a pothole.

“No,” he said, reaching over to put his hand on her thigh. “I have a surprise for you.”

The jungle grew denser, almost swallowing the road, the canopy above obliterating all but the most persistent rays of sunshine. Brock even had to turn on the headlights.

“I’m not sure I’ll like this surprise.” Her trepidation came out in her voice. “It’s scary back here.”

He just laughed, squeezing her leg. “I guarantee you’ll love it. A lot more than the bird sanctuary with my mother.”

She had to laugh. “Anything would be better than spending a day in Adeline’s company.” She eyed him then. “This is something you and Trevor cooked up together.” She should have known when he told her to wear her swimsuit under her dress, just in case. And he’d worn his board shorts.

He glanced at her, his smile wide, his eyes hot. “I wanted a bit of alone time with you.”

Her blood froze despite the muggy heat beneath the canopy. “You didn’t tell Trevor anything about us?”

“I didn’t have to. He’s known about us for months.”

She was suddenly cold all over. “He couldn’t possibly know. We’ve been so careful.”

Brock shook his head, seemingly unperturbed that his brother had guessed their secret. “He has a keen eye, and he’s watched us interacting together, on the way to the office, at the office, on the way home...” He trailed off.

“Is he threatening to tell Adeline?” She wanted to throw up.

Brock snorted a laugh. “You’ve got to be joking. Of course not. He thinks we should get married.”

The flush didn’t just creep into her cheeks; it came in a rush, setting her skin on fire. “What?”

“He thinks we should just get it over with. Tell Adeline and get married.” He stroked her thigh, as if it were a promise of nights to come, so many married nights. “Which, you know, is exactly how I feel. You’re the only holdout.”

She thought of her daughters. She thought of the havoc Adeline could wield. And she was almost hyperventilating. “You told him not to say a damn thing to your mother, right?”

Brock scoffed from deep in his throat. “Trevor’s not stupid. He knows it’s up to you and me to tell her. But he’s okay with us getting married. Maybe Adeline will surprise you too.”

She shook her head, almost violently. Another pothole jammed her teeth together. It felt as if the jolt cracked open her heart too.

“I told you, the girls.” The words came out breathless and so fast she almost couldn’t finish the thought. “I don’t know how fast Adeline can react and try turning them against me.”

The canopy opened up before them, assaulting her with a gorgeous view of a wide expanse of white beach, the turquoise water beyond it, and waves lapping at the shore. It would have stolen her breath, if she’d had any left after Brock’s declarations.

He stopped the Jeep and cut off the engine, but the sounds went on. Bird song, parrots squawking, insects chirping, wildlife rustling in the jungle, her heart pounding against her ears.

“It’s a private beach. I’ve rented it for the whole day.” He climbed out of the Jeep, and coming round to her side, he held his hand out. “It’s all ours.”

She couldn’t help but put her hand in his and let him help her stand. Then he reached into the back and plucked out a picnic basket she hadn’t noticed.

“I had Olive fix a picnic.”

“How did you know about this place?” she asked, as breathless as when he’d said Trevor knew about them.

“A little research. It’s a private cove people can rent for the day, a group or a family.” He raised her hand to his lips, kissed her knuckles. “Or a couple.”

Two lounge chairs with thick cushions sat beneath a tent, the flaps pulled back to let the sea air pass through. “It looks amazing.” Awe-inspiring.

He kicked off his deck shoes and said, “We have a whole day of body surfing in the ocean—” He held up the picnic basket. “—eating amazing food and just relaxing together.”

When had she ever had a day with him? A whole day that wasn’t work, that wasn’t about opening Christmas presents while Adeline judged her, a whole day that wasn’t about meals with the family presided over by Adeline. And on business trips, meetings and evening meals with customers or vendors took all their time.

She’d never had him all to herself for a whole day.

All her worries about Trevor and what he would say to Adeline melted away.

If there was something to worry about, she’d worry about it later.

He saw the change in her, the softening in her features, the fear washing away. Brock took Yvette’s hand, leading her across the sand to their cabana.

The empty beach beckoned them. He’d paid for privacy. No families with kids building sand castles, no teenagers splashing in the water. No one but them.

The champagne bucket stood at the foot of the lounge chairs, the ice cubes still fully intact, as if it had only just been filled. He set the picnic basket on the nearby table, and opening it, he fished out the champagne he’d had chilling in a thermos cover. Two flutes sat on a small table next to the ice bucket, and he made quick work of popping the cork.

Pouring two glasses, not losing a drop, he handed one to her, then held up his own. “Here is to the most amazing day together.”

He wanted to show her what life could be like if they were open about their relationship. If they could spend their days and nights together without worrying what anyone saw.

She tapped her glass to his, the tinkle of crystal wafting through the ocean air. “I can’t believe you did this. That’s what you and Trevor were talking about, how to get Adeline off to the bird sanctuary so you and I could come here.”

“There are advantages to Trevor knowing about us. And this is one of them.”

He’d been searching online for a venue to take her to. After Trevor had made his proclamation, he’d enlisted his brother in helping him plan everything. It almost went awry when Adeline decided she’d go shopping too. But Trevor hadn’t let her get away with it.

Did she suspect something? His mother wasn’t stupid, but she couldn’t know for sure.

And maybe her suspicion was exactly what he needed to galvanize Yvette into finally realizing they had to come clean and tell the family so they marry.

He wasn’t stupid either. He knew his mother would put up a fight. But she couldn’t win.

And Yvette wouldn’t lose her daughters either. He would make sure of that.

He wished now that he’d asked Yvette to bring the ruby necklace she’d hidden away after their Christmas night together. Here, she could wear it without fear. Of course, she would have been suspicious, and he’d wanted the day to be a complete surprise.

“What would you like first? A swim? Enjoy your champagne? Sunbathing?” Or making love on the beach? He could have said it aloud, but the thought went without saying.

She took another long swallow of her champagne. “A swim.” She reached down to the hem of her sundress, pulled it over her head.

And stole his breath. Her body was slim in the one-piece, her breasts pert. His mouth watered for her.

“Last one in is a rotten egg,” she called as she sprinted across the sand.

He tore off his shirt and raced after her. Then they were splashing into the warm sea-blue water. She swam hard and fast, coming up breathless several meters out. “Oh my God, this water is glorious.”

Reaching her, he wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her in, kissing her until they were both breathless.

Then she pushed him away, swimming along the shoreline with strong, sure strokes.

He let her go for now. After all, they had the whole day.

And he had so many plans for her.

The warm Caribbean waters caressed her, buoyed her. Yvette could have stayed in the sea all day.

She and Brock body-surfed, tumbling in the waves when they hit the shore. She had sand up her bathing suit, down between her breasts, in her hair, but she didn’t care. It was too much fun. Out in the water, waiting for the next big wave—they seemed to come in threes—Brock grabbed her to him, and she felt his rock hardness against her backside. He dropped a kiss on the tender skin between her neck and shoulder. Then he bit down lightly, sending a shiver racing through her body.

“I want to take you out here. In the water. Fill you up.” His hands closed over her breasts, squeezing until her nipples peaked against her suit’s bodice.

She turned, wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging on like a limpet, while she curled her legs around his waist as they bobbed. “But we’d lose our bathing suits in the water,” she said, hiding a smile.

He laughed. “Who cares? We’re all alone out here. We don’t even need to wear suits.”

He was already stripping the straps off her shoulders, until his lips latched on to her breast, and she arched against him.

The sensations were glorious, the warm water lapping at her body, his mouth on her, his erection rubbing between her thighs.

“But this is my favorite suit,” she complained, not caring one whit if she lost it.

He treaded water, keeping them afloat, the waves bobbing them up and down, over her shoulders, over their heads, until he pushed them up and they could breathe again.

“I’ll buy you a new suit.”

Then he stripped her, diving below the water to drag her suit down her legs until she was naked. He rose above the surface, the straps of her swimsuit looped over his arm. “There, you won’t lose it.”

A giant wave crashed over them, tumbling her away, and she came up sputtering, laughing. Brock was right there again. “We’ve got three more waves until the next big one. Come here. I want you.”

He pulled her to him, and she wrapped her legs around his body, splaying herself for him beneath the water. He held her with one arm banded across her back, and then he delved deep into the water, deep into her, touching all her private places, skimming back up to rub the sensitive nub between her legs.

“Oh my God.” It was excruciatingly good. She held on, not caring if her mouth and nose dipped beneath the water because they always came up again. Breathing deeply, she tipped her head back, and let sensation rocket through her body. She didn’t hold back as she cried out her pleasure, and the sounds seem to drive that pleasure on forever.

Then another wave crashed over them, tossing them into the shore. On the beach, as the water pummeled them, they rolled in the waves. He threw her suit onto dry sand, then wriggled out of his board shorts and tossed them too. They held each other, loved each other, like Deborah Kerr and Burt Lancaster kissing on the beach in From Here to Eternity .

Only this was so much more. His hands everywhere, she cried out again, the carnality of it overwhelming her.

Reaching between them, she curled her fist around him. “I’m getting sand in every crevice where it shouldn’t be,” she said through her laughter.

But she stroked him anyway, hot and hard in her hand.

Laughter laced his whisper. “I don’t want to get inside you with sand all over me.”

He rose, pulling her to her feet, and they dashed into the waves again, cleaning off, until finally, naked as the day they were born, he took her hand, and ran with her across the hot sand.

Throwing themselves on a lounge chair, it was a tight squeeze, but Yvette didn’t care about that any more than she cared about the sand on their feet. There was just Brock, his hard body, his steel erection, and then he was filling her.

One foot braced on the sand, he lifted her bottom to just the right angle, until it was perfect. He took her slowly, the way she loved, skimming over her G-spot and making her crazy. She clutched his arms, digging her nails into his skin, holding on as if she’d never let go. Until another wave of pleasure crashed through her, and her body clenched tight around him.

He drove deep then, taking her hard, taking her fast, taking her to the moon, to the stars, to the universe beyond.

They lay panting in each other’s arms for long moments, his body draped over hers, probably crushing her, but she didn’t seem to mind. Brock loved the feel of her beneath him, her body still milking him with an occasional clench that felt glorious around him.

Sex had never been as good as it was with her. Making love. That’s what they did. That’s why it was so goddamn special. Because of how he felt about her. And how she felt about him.

She pushed him, a laugh in her voice. “I need something to drink.”

He pulled off her, leaving his seed inside her. In their younger days, he would have hoped for a baby, their baby. But it was too late for that. They both loved the children they had with all their hearts, and that was enough.

Naked, he stepped away to grab the champagne bottle and the two glasses, holding them both as he poured. She lay deliciously splayed on the lounge chair, going up on her elbows to take the glass, thirstily slugging down half.

Reaching into the wicker basket, he pulled out two bottles of water, handing her one. She drank half of that too. And he powered half his bottle. He didn’t want them getting drunk or dehydrated from heat stroke.

As he stood over her, naked, she stroked a hand down his flank. “You are so beautiful,” she murmured. “I love your body. I love what you do to me with your body. I love the way you taste.” She licked her lips. “I love the way you feel inside me. I love the way you kiss me, the way you stroke me, the way you put your head between my legs and make me come.”

Her words brought him to life again, and he wagged a finger at her. “You better stop that talk or we won’t get anything to eat.”

She laughed and sat up, reaching down for her sundress and pulling it over her head.

“You don’t have to dress. We’re the only ones out here. No one will see.”

She shrugged. “Call me old-fashioned.” And there was the secrecy. She couldn’t let it go, not even out here. They did everything in the dark, so her lights wouldn’t shine in the middle of the night.

But he loved her nakedness. He missed it when the dress fell into place over her lap. When he felt her nerves and embarrassment taking over. So he ran down the beach, grabbed their suits off the sand and took them into the ocean to wash them out. He didn’t care if anyone saw his naked ass. Back at their cabana, he wrung the water out and hung her suit over a nearby tree limb.

Then he pulled on his board shorts even though they were wet. She would want it that way. And they would dry soon enough. Sitting on the edge of her lounger, he pulled the wicker basket closer. “Let’s see what we have here.”

The wicker disguised the cooler inside, and he pulled out the goodies Olive had prepared. Opening one package wrapped in wax paper, he found lightly fried chicken.

“I shouldn’t be hungry after that breakfast,” she said, grabbing a drumstick.

“But you are, after all that swimming.” And all the lovemaking, he thought. He would make her hungry again, for him, for his touches, his kisses, his mouth between her legs.

He pondered the myth of menopause, that a woman lost her libido. It was so not true for Yvette. Maybe it was just the two of them together. Maybe they were the spark that kept her desire alive. Maybe it was how often they made love, almost in desperation, afraid it would be the last time. Maybe it was the illicitness, hiding it from their families. Whatever the reason, he wanted her. He was already hard again. And she wanted him. He scented her arousal, her sensuality. And he tore into a chicken wing, tearing it with his teeth.

He’d never been so famished in his life, for food, but mostly for her. They’d been together every night since they’d arrived, and still he wanted more.

“What else is in Olive’s magic picnic basket?” she asked, sipping her champagne.

He delved deeper. “We’ve got fruit, cheese, cut vegetables, crackers, meats.”

She leaned forward. “What kind of meat?”

He opened the wax paper. “Salami, ham, roast beef.”

She groaned. “I’d love salami and cheese on a cracker. With a chaser of grapes.”

“Oh yeah.” He prepared the cracker for her, held it out, and she leaned close, taking the entire bite into her mouth, barely missing his fingers and laughing when she did. After she chewed and swallowed, he popped the grape chaser into her mouth. She tipped her head back to savor the sweetness.

“Any more grapes?” she asked.

“How about mango?”

She looked at him, groaned. “Oh my God, yes. Mango.”

He fed her the pieces, letting her take small bites until her lips kissed the tips of his fingers. Then she picked up a mango slice and fed him.

It was an orgy of food and touching and kissing and feeding each other. He licked the mango juice off her chin, drizzled champagne into her mouth, then kissed her throat as she tipped her head back. It was an erotic feast, of everything in the basket, of each other, of their lips, their skin, their bodies.

Pulling down the straps of her sundress, he rubbed mango juice over her breasts, licking them clean until she writhed beneath him. He pushed her back on the lounge chair, flipped up her skirt, and laid the mango between her legs, feasting on it, and on her sweet taste too. She cried out, and he fit two fingers inside her, forcing to her to ride the pleasure for long moments.

Until she collapsed on the lounger. “You are deliriously crazy.”

Then she yanked at his shorts, pushing them off until he kicked them aside, not caring about the sand. Her breath washed over him, turning him as hard as the stones scattered on the shore.

Reaching into the basket, she came out with another slice of mango. It was long enough to wrap around him, and she laughed. “This is how I want to eat you.”

His head fell back as she took his crown into her mouth, sucking on him, driving him closer to insanity. He wanted to throw her down on the chaise and fill her up. Yet he wanted this. She ate her way down the mango slice, down his hard shaft, swallowing and licking, grazing her teeth over him and the fruit, juice trickling down between his legs. When she’d eaten the fruit, she licked the juice from his thighs, off his balls, then sucked him again, all the way in, all the way out, then teasing just the crown the way he’d shown her he loved. They’d taught each other what they liked. She did it just the way he needed until he felt his mind explode. He filled her mouth, coming hard, and she drank every drop of him as if he were the sweetest champagne.

Collapsing beside her on the lounger, he laid his head in her lap while she stroked his hair. And finally, he opened his eyes, turning slightly to look up, her hair falling across his face. “You’re so damn amazing. How do you do that to me?” His words were a rough rasp.

And she smiled. “How do you do that to me?”

He stroked her bare thigh beneath the sundress. “Because we were made for each other.”

He knew that with every bone in his body, with every cell in his brain, with every beat of his heart.