The Florida Fish & Wildlife Conservation Commission reports that a preliminary estimate of vessels that are derelict, lost, or abandoned off Little Bridge Island stands at 506. If a boat is missing, the owner should file a report with the Sheriff’s Office so the vessel can be added to a database to make return easier if it is found.
And what a kiss. This was no platonic kiss between friends. It wasn’t even like the kiss I’d given him earlier in the day when I’d been so glad to see that he was alive.
This was the hunger-filled kiss of a lover who’d been waiting—and thinking about—doing this for a long time. This was the kiss of someone who was trying to be gentle but had held back long enough and couldn’t restrain himself any longer. This wasn’t like any of the kisses I’d received from dates in the past. Those had been the kisses of boys.
This was the kiss of a man.
His hands went from my shoulders to my waist, pulling me so close, I could feel every inch of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt . . . and his shorts. And what I felt there didn’t belong to a boy, either. It was thick and hard and insistent—just like his hands, slipping under my top. My nipples went instantly stiff beneath his work-roughened fingers.
“Drew,” I moaned, when he lifted his lips from mine for a moment. “Do you have any—”
He was breathing as hard as I was, his voice an unsteady rasp. “You bet I do.”
“Thank God.”
Then his hands went from my breasts to my waist as he hoisted me physically into the air, the dogs dancing around us, barking excitedly.
“Drew!” I threw my arms around his neck and my head back, laughing. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this happy. “What are you doing?”
“Taking you to my bed, of course.” As the dogs barked more feverishly, he shouted, “Down, Bobs! Down!”
This only made me laugh harder. I knew I shouldn’t. What if he was extremely serious about his lovemaking and got upset that I found anything about his technique—even his rambunctious dogs—amusing?
But it was impossible not to laugh when I was filled with so much joy, especially as he attempted to carry me romantically through his living area and down a hallway toward his bedroom—but nearly tripped several times over tools he’d left lying on the floor. Since the sun had sunk so low, and there was no electricity, the interior of his home was shrouded in semidarkness.
“Damn it,” he cursed each time his foot came in contact with a screwdriver or an awl.
“Drew.” I buried my head in his neck, trying to stifle a giggle. “I can walk. Put me down.”
“No.” His hold on me tightened. “I can do this!”
Finally we made it to the master bedroom, which was as sparsely furnished as the living room, save for a massive, gray-sheeted king-sized bed. This was where he deposited me.
“There,” he said when I was safely on the mattress. “Now wait here.”
What he wanted me to wait for, apparently, was for him to corral the dogs out of the bedroom. He closed every door leading back into the room, so they couldn’t follow him—though they tried to, desperately.
Fortunately there was still a cool breeze coming into the room from the ocean via a large overhead skylight that he’d left open just above the bed. Through it, I could see the last orange rays of the setting sun arcing across the lavender sky . . . and the far-off white light of the evening’s first star. I gazed at that white light, welcoming it like a beacon of hope . . . my hope for a chance to start again.
“Now,” Drew said as he turned from the door. “We finally have some privacy.”
My heart gave a lurch as he came toward me out of the darkness . . . but it wasn’t an unpleasant lurch. It was filled with anticipatory excitement about what was about to happen.
“Yeah,” I said. “Your roommates are cute, but a little demanding.”
“I know, right?” Drew sat down on the bed beside me, his large hand going to rest on top of my thigh as his lips sought mine. “I’m glad we got rid of them.”
It was hard to think of anything but him while he was kissing me. He seemed to fill all my senses, the woodsy scent of his overlong dark hair, the smoothness of his skin beneath my fingertips, the heavy masculine weight of him as he pressed me back against the pillows. As his heart thrummed hard against mine, all I could think was that I wanted to feel more of him against me. The fabric of his clothes was getting in the way, so I pulled at it, and as if by magic, his shirt disappeared, and the shorts soon followed. He seemed to find my clothes equally burdensome, and in what seemed like seconds, my T-shirt and shorts were gone as well, flung to the far side of the room.
Then his skin was hot against mine, all of his skin, his sex hard and demanding in my hand. He moaned at the contact. His calloused workman’s fingers undid the clasp to my bra with admirable dexterity, freeing my breasts from their silken cage to the onslaught of his lips and tongue. Now I was the one moaning, especially when he dipped one of those strong, powerful hands between my legs and began to stroke the already soaked area at the crotch of my panties.
I knew what he was trying to do, but it wasn’t helping the situation—unless he wanted things to end before they got started. I grabbed his hand, moved it up to my breasts—noting his expression of surprise—then wiggled out of my underwear.
“Where’s the, uh, thing you said you have?” I asked.
“Oh.” Desire had dulled his senses. It took a second for what I’d said to register. Then, when it did, he had to dig around beneath the bed in a box before he found the condom. “Right here.”
I heard rather than saw him put it on. The sun had set. Except for the stars twinkling through the skylight overhead, the room was in near total darkness.
But it didn’t matter. Even if I couldn’t see him, I could feel, hear, smell, and taste him. And he was mine. The second he turned back toward me, I lay my hands upon his chest, pressing him back upon the bed, skimming my nipples along his furred chest as I straddled him, tasting salt when I dropped my lips to his throat.
Then, before he could say a word, I lowered myself onto him, trying to take it as slowly as possible so I could savor every delicious inch of him.
But he had other ideas, gasping and reaching out to grab my hips, rising impatiently to thrust all of him inside me at once . . . again . . . and then again.
This was not what I’d planned, since there was a lot of him and not so much of me.
But fortunately after the initial shock it felt incredible, like being rocked by a cool ocean wave on a hot day, then rocked again . . . and again. I didn’t want it to stop. I rode the wave to what felt like the edge of the earth . . .
. . . until suddenly I was dropped off, into the most glorious sunset anyone had ever seen, all shimmering reds and golds and pinks, the colors washing all around and over and beneath and even through me, until I felt as if they were flying from my fingertips and toes like electric sparks . . .
I collapsed, sweaty and panting, on top of Drew’s bare chest, happy about the physical pleasure I’d received, but also relieved that I could still enjoy sex with a man . . . or anyone, for that matter. It had been a while.
It took a minute or two before I became aware that he was sweaty and panting, too.
“Jesus Christ,” he said, blowing away a few pink strands of my hair that had fallen across his face.
“Does that mean it was good for you, too?” I asked.
“I’m never calling you Fresh Water again,” he said. “You’re like an Olympic athlete of sex.”
I sat up and smiled down at him, even though in the dim lighting, I was pretty sure he couldn’t see me.
“Aw, thanks, Drew. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.” I patted him on the cheek. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
He was still panting. “I need a drink of water,” he rasped. “I think I’m suffering from dehydration.”
“I’ll get you one.”
I swung away from him and picked my way across his clothes-strewn bedroom floor to the master bathroom, where I found a water glass and, more important, a candle and some matches he’d left there from the storm the night before. After filling the water glass from the faucet in the sink, I used the lit candle to guide my way back to the bed, where I found Drew sitting up, looking a little dazed.
“Thanks,” he said, as I handed him the water glass. He drank from it thirstily.
“Should we let the dogs back in?” I could hear one or more of them whining softly outside the door.
“No,” he said. “They’re going to have to learn that when we have our adult time, dogs have to wait outside.”
I found this remark interesting. “Oh, really? Are we going to be having adult time together again in the future?”
He set aside the water glass and pulled me to him. “I don’t know about you, but I hope so. You see how I slyly caused you to miss curfew using the irresistible power of my sexuality?”
I pulled away from him, realizing he was right. “Damn it.” I hit him with the closest pillow. “Now I’m going to have to spend the night here! What about Gary?”
“I already told you, Nevaeh will look after him.”
“What about your aunt? She’s going to wonder where I am.”
His smile was cocky. “Trust me, Bree. No one’s going to wonder where you are. They all know exactly where you are.”
I could feel myself blushing in the candlelight. “I don’t need this entire island knowing my business.”
“Better get used to it,” he said, with an evil laugh. “It’s called living in a small town.”
I tried to hit him with the pillow again, but this time he ducked. “We didn’t even get any dinner,” I said. “We’re going to starve to death out here.”
“Would I let that happen to you?” He got up, found his shorts, and put them on, sans underwear. “I grabbed a couple of Ed’s steaks before we left. I’ll throw them on the grill right now, and we can finish up that bottle of wine I opened.”
I stared at him. “You what?”
“I grabbed a couple of steaks from one of Ed’s coolers today before we left. It will only take a few minutes for me to grill them. How do you like yours, medium, medium rare?”
I hardly knew how to respond. “You knew I’d be missing curfew and staying for dinner?”
“I didn’t know.” He opened the bedroom door, causing an eruption of dogs. “I hoped.”
