Page 61 of That Birthday in Barbados
She leans in and presses her lips against mine. Her touch is soft, feather-light, but it instantly erases all thoughts from my mind except the need to have her closer. I slip my arms around her waist and lift her onto my lap. She slides a leg on either side of me, wrapping her arms around my neck and kissing me now full on, her mouth letting me know I am welcome, that she wants me in the way every man wants to be wanted. With complete abandon and reckless need.
I take the lead now, kissing her full and long, pressing her back into the palms of my hands. I can feel her breasts through the thin material of my shirt, and all I know is that I want her against me, skin to skin, no barriers between us. She tightens her arms around my neck, opening her mouth to deepen the kiss. She leans back, pulling me into her, and all of a sudden, we are falling backwards, into the pool. I’m on top of her, the weight of my body pushing her deep into the water.
I panic now, reaching for her, pulling her up against me and kicking my way to the surface. When we break through, she immediately starts laughing. Relief floods through me. “I thought I’d drowned you,” I say instantly, anchoring an elbow against the wall of the pool and holding onto her.
She’s still laughing when she wraps her legs around my waist, and her arms are around my neck again, her breasts pressed to my chest. “I think we have a problem,” she says softly.
“Oh, yeah? What’s that?” Desire threads my voice, but I don’t see any point in trying to hide it now.
“I need to get you out of these wet clothes,” she says, starting to unbutton my shirt. “I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold. I mean, just think. You wouldn’t be able to teach spin. And you’d have all those disappointed ladies to contend with.”
“I certainly don’t like disappointing the ladies.”
By now, she’s reached the bottom button. She grazes the back of her hand against my skin, raking it up my abdomen while her gaze drinks me in. “How long did it take you to get that six-pack?”
“A while,” I admit.
“You’re a walking advertisement for your class.”
“You think?”
“I know.”
She slides the shirt from my shoulders and struggles for a moment to get my arms out. Once she wins the battle, she drops it on the tile floor of the pool.
“If you think that’s necessary for me,” I say, my gaze on her face, “I’d better get yours off too. A cold would ruin the rest of your vacation.”
“It would,” she agrees softly. “That would be a shame. Staying in my room eating soup with the sun shining outside.”
I smile at this and put my attention on the fact that she’s wearing some kind of fitted, sleeveless sweater, through which I can clearly see the outline of her lacy bra. I put a hand to the bottom of the sweater, raise one side, then the other. She lifts her arms straight up in assistance andtakes it from me.
“Catherine,” I say, her name a hoarse plea in my throat. I can’t take my eyes off her.
She reaches one hand around to the back of her bra, unhooks it and sends it off into the night.
I swallow once. Hard. “You are so. Incredibly. Beautiful.”
She slides her arms around me again, and hides herself against my chest, as if she is having second thoughts about her brazenness. “It’s been a very long time since I felt beautiful.”
I tip her face up, forcing her to look at me. “You have no idea what you do to me, do you?”
“Well, I might have a bit of an idea,” she says, laughing softly. “But then I am half naked and throwing myself at you.”
“Is that how you see it? Throwing yourself at me?”
“A bit, I guess. I mean, I’m older, and you’re not. And-”
I don’t let her finish, slipping an arm under her legs and lifting her fully up against me. We’re at the shallow end of the pool, and I stride through the water as if it’s the only thing between me and having this woman I want so much.
Up the steps, across the travertine floor to the glass door that opens to my bedroom. It isn’t locked, and I slide it open with one hand, stepping through and leaving it open behind us. I don’t stop until we’re at the bed. I fling back the thick comforter and lower her slowly to the thick cotton sheets I’m suddenly glad I splurged on, kissing her now with none of the reserve I’ve shown her so far. I drive my tongue deep into her mouth, letting her know in no uncertain terms what else I want to do to her.
She moans softly and pulls me to her. And when I aim to slide in beside her, she steers me on top of her, one hand on each of my hips, letting me know now what she would like for me to do to her.
We kiss for a long time, wild and out of control, like two people starved for physical contact, but not just with anyone. The kind of contact that has meaning behind it. And I feel that it does. This isn’t casual. It isn’t thoughtless. And more than anything else, that scares the hell out of me.
I roll off her, stare at the ceiling, breathing hard, one arm thrown above my head on the pillow.
She moves onto her side, places a tentative hand on my stomach. “Hey,” she says. “What is it?”
