Chapter Six
Henna felt physically and mentally alive when they stepped from her room into the long corridor filled with anonymous doors. No one knew who she was, so she could be anyone. Who she wanted to be at that moment was the person she became when alone with Eduardo. She was herself but somehow enhanced. She'd gone from monochromatic to brilliant color. Showing up with a date for her sister's wedding might raise an eyebrow or two, but it was an idea she toyed with as they walked to the elevator, his hand was on the small of her back.
She liked him. She genuinely liked him, and not just what he could do to her body. Alone in the elevator, he took her in his arms and kissed her. With his hand on her jaw, his lips pressed against hers. The scent of him filled her nostrils as she inhaled deeply.
They came to a stop far too soon for the kiss to end. The doors opened onto the lobby, and Eduardo took her hand. How long had it been since she'd felt special? It was beyond hard to say. It was impossible to pinpoint the last time she'd been with a man who made her precious.
At the restaurant on the terrace, they were seated at a table that overlooked the moonlit bay. The Bermudian breeze whispered around them and a piano player seasoned the air with music. Somehow, without an ounce of effort on her part, she'd stumbled upon just the sort of perfect night she'd tried to create a hundred times.
“What will you have?” Eduardo asked like a waiter. He placed his closed menu on the table then flagged a waitress.
“I think the Wellington,” she hummed as she mulled over the selections. “But then again maybe the lobster ravioli.” When the waitress arrived, Henna asked four questions without coming to a decision. The sound of her own voice in her ears was both foreign and slightly annoying. Did she always sound so fussy? Possibly. Simon was constantly telling her to stop being a pain in the ass in restaurants. Was that what he meant?
“Ladies...” He raised a hand silencing both women. “Bring both with the seared tuna and the steak Diane rare.” He dismissed the waitress like someone used to telling others what to do. The waitress disappeared then he reached across the table and took one of her hands. “We can share.”
Under normal circumstances she would have let him know she was capable of ordering her own dinner, but normal had flown out the window somewhere back in San Francisco. It bewildered her that she actually liked the way he had taken over. She felt special and not a little womanly.
“So you really like being in charge,” she said. “That's who you are.”
Eduardo shrugged a little. “I'm Latin. We invented macho. What can I say?”
“I'm not used to having men order for me.” She wasn't angry. She was confused. Men of her generation didn't order for women in restaurants. They had been trained differently by a legion of mothers who had indulged them senselessly while telling them they were perfect just the way they were and fathers who had taught them no woman would ever truly appreciate a gentleman, so don't bother.
“I think you're used to men not doing a lot of things for you,” he quipped with a grin.
“Funny,” she said. “I mean ordering for me.”
“Are you complaining?”
Her eyes drifted from his face to the boats cruising around the bay. “People don't respect women who can't manage on their own. It's hard to explain.”
“You don't have to sacrifice being a woman to have my respect,” he said. “I am a man and I like being a man. It's not that I don't think you can speak for yourself in a restaurant. I just prefer tradition.”
“My mother is very traditional,” she said. “So is my father.” Her father ordered for her mother in restaurants. In her youth, she knew better about everything. Her mother's seeming complacency and her father's apparent dominance annoyed her. Like her mother refusing to buy green clothing because her father didn't like her in green. Or her mother leaving out empty flower vases instead of just telling her father to bring home a bouquet. Those sort of subtle hints drove the young Henna bananas.
Why her mother couldn't just tell her father to buy flowers, or better yet, just go out and get them herself, made her mother seem weak in her eyes. But as she grew older and wiser, it was obvious who really was in charge in the Hirsch household. Henna didn't understand their dynamic and had taken efforts not to involve herself in a relationship that even remotely resembled her parents’. If she wanted flowers, she went out and bought them herself.
“You think this is a bad thing?”
Every few moments, a breeze blew and with it came a floral scent that was tantalizingly familiar. The island was perfumed with it, and every breath she'd taken since arriving had been either full of that bouquet or the spicy lime and vanilla scent of Eduardo.
She paused for a moment to find the honest answer to Eduardo's question. “I used to,” she said. “It used to really annoy me that my mother took so much pride in caring for her home and her family and didn't have a career. Now...” She shrugged. “I don't know. I guess I understand why she chose to follow that path. My sister is just like her. It's her dream to get married, have babies, and buy throw pillows. It's just not very liberated.”
Her attention was diverted to the beach beyond the terrace where a group of young people laughed loudly and made a great deal of effort to be the center of their group’s attention. Eden would have fit in well with the group. Henna wouldn't have. Not even when she was their age. Loud, energetic, attention-seeking, pure fun had never really had a place in her plans.
“I thought women’s liberation enabled women to be who and what they wanted to be, and not who society told them they had to be,” Eduardo said. “If a woman chooses to be a wife and a mother, who are you to scorn her for that choice? You have chosen your career over having a family. I don't judge you for this even though I find it an odd choice.”
The evening that had started out so perfectly was going the way most dates she went on tended to go. Henna lacked skill at salvaging a date that had started to turn on her. But she could always try. “Just so we're clear, I didn't choose a career over a family. That's just how it worked out. I never met the right person at the right time. I would have liked to have gotten married, had a family, but it just didn't happen.” She shifted slightly in her chair. “But I haven't given up. I think I have a lot to offer.”
Not bad. Instead of telling him off for assuming she'd made an erroneous choice, she was polite and not argumentative.
“My mother, who is a very wise woman as long as she's not trying to manage my life, says that a person meets the right person a dozen times and that it is the right time a dozen times, but it is only very rarely that we find the right person at the right time. This is where destiny comes into to play.” He squeezed her hand then leaned over to kiss her. “I've upset you. I'm sorry.”
“I'm not really upset. I've just had a very rocky day, and I'd prefer to concentrate on the positive rather than dwell on a past I can't change.” She silently congratulated herself on how very pleasant she was. In the real world of work and mortgage payments, she would have been fuming. In Bermuda, life was different. When the woman selling flowers glided past their table, Eduardo stopped her and purchased a small peace offering.
He offered her the flowers and an apology. “I'm sorry. I shouldn't have assumed you were single and childless by choice. I don't know enough about you to make assumptions. I just feel as if I already know you so well even when I don't.” That he felt a need to apologize revealed another level of his charm. He bought flowers and could admit he'd made a mistake rather than accusing her of being hypersensitive.
She took the flowers and smiled. “You're forgiven.” She lifted her bouquet and the scent in filled her nose. “What is that?” She held the bouquet to him and watched as he inhaled deeply.
“Lily.”
“It's very nice. Thank you.”
“You are beautiful and desirable, and I can't imagine you don't have a line of men waiting for a chance to get to know you.”
“Or maybe I do and destiny has just been keeping me conveniently available until you came around.” It was well within her right to tease him about destiny. “There you have it. You're divorced and I'm single. Destiny.”
His fingers wrapped around hers. “You assumed I was divorced, but I'm a widower,” he said.
“Uhh...” Henna wasn't sure how to respond to that. Part of her wanted to say Great! Fantastic! The other part of her knew that would be very inappropriate. She was happy he was single. Just not pleased with how he became single.
Eduardo reached across the table and took her hand. “It's fine. I know it's awkward for you to hear that. I didn't correct you because I hate that look people get in their eyes when I tell them the truth. Like they're supposed to pity me. I'm tired of being pitied. I want to get on with my life.”
Yet another thing they had in common. She wanted to reach across the table and hug him. Instead, she smiled and squeezed his hand. “I hate that look. I know what you mean. That oh poor you look. I get that look a lot, especially from women with babies. It really annoys me. Try being an obstetrician and a single woman in her late thirties. I get the pity look all the time. That's rough.”
Eduardo nodded and grinned. “You understand. My wife Pilar died two years ago. And today...” He looked at their joint hands. “Today, I too, had a very bad start. I rushed out of my hotel in Miami, and I left my wedding band in the bathroom. Perhaps it was destiny telling me to take it off. I know what I am talking about when I tell you that not everything in life can be planned for. Pilar was forty-two when she died. It was not in the plan.”
“I guess you might be right,” she said, forced to concede to his point. “Not everything can be planned for.”
“I loved my wife very much, and I will always miss her, but I am still alive and life does go on.” He squeezed her hand before releasing it and reaching for the wine bottle to fill their glasses. “Like you, I haven't given up. I also think I have a lot to offer. I know for me this is the right time.”
His intense stare and words didn't intimidate her as it might have coming from another man. The normal reflex to flee from a man who purposefully discussed anything more intense than the weather or the latest must read novel on a first date didn't send her running. They'd skipped the first few awkward dates and landed in a place where the sex was phenomenal and the conversation had substance. She was in uncharted water. Not even with Simon had she gotten this far into a relationship. He raised a hand and called over the waitress to order a second bottle of wine. How did he do that without seeming like a jerk? Hopefully, it was a learned skill and another aspect of his multifaceted charm.
“I think I'd like your mother. She sounds really smart, and I happen to agree with her. It is not a crime to refuse to settle.”
“Speaking for myself, I'm very happy you didn't. Otherwise, we wouldn't be enjoying each other’s company. So tell me about yourself. I want to know everything and not just what I'm assuming.”
Happy to move on in the conversation, Henna charged on, “I'm originally from New York, but I've been living in San Francisco for nearly fourteen years now. My mother is a homemaker, my father works for the police department, my brother works for the CIA, and my sister is....” she pauses for a moment. Eden. How to describe Eden. “Getting married.”
“Would this be your slutty sister who has carnal knowledge of your best friend Simon, forever closing the door on any future chance of developing a romantic relationship with him?”
“You do pay attention. I probably shouldn't have called her slutty. That was a bit unfair. I will say that she'd had a massive crush on Simon since she was about ten. Getting him in the sack, or more accurately on his back in my mother's game room, was more the fulfillment of a teenager's desire than it was anything else. Unfortunately, Simon is a thirty-five year old man who noticed my sister wasn't a child anymore a few years back.”
Eduardo refilled her glass then hers. “I'm not sure I want to know all of this,” he said with a grin.
“Anyhow, what was a quick and meaningless fling for my sister, pretty well crushed Simon. He was ready to leave his girlfriend for my sister. Needless to say, my loyalties are a bit split at the moment. I love my sister, but Simon is like a brother and I love him, too. This whole thing between them pretty well drove him to actually set a date with his girlfriend.”
What had gotten in to her? A few hours back, she didn't want Eduardo to know her full name. There she was, sitting across the table from him delving into personal matters as if he were her primary confidant.
“Honestly, I'm not dealing very well with my sister getting married. I always figured I'd get married before her.” She looked across the table at Eduardo who was polite enough not to appear bored. “I'm sorry. I'm monopolizing the conversation. Tell me about yourself.” She picked up her wineglass and brought it to her lips.
Before he could answer the waitress arrived with four plates of calorie-injected, butter-laced, and wine-doused French Caribbean fusion cuisine. “I don't know where to start. Are we sharing? How do we do this? Should we get another plate?”
“Henna,” Eduardo said her name.
“What?” A large lobster ravioli was forked between her teeth.
“Relax. It's just dinner. We've shared a fair amount as it is. I think we can share a few plates.”
“Oh, my god,” she sighed. “That's incredible.” She picked up her fork and knife and speared a ravioli. “Try.”
Eduardo took the ravioli and nodded. “That's nice.”
She reached for the steak with her fork and knife. “I never eat red meat or sugar. I especially never eat red meat covered in butter, cream, and wine, but I think I just might have to make an exception.”
“Religious reasons?”
“God no,” she said. “More like thigh and rear end reasons. I'm not religious at all, but I really can be pretty neurotic about the size of my ass.”
“You have a phenomenal ass,” he said.
“Thank you.” She winked at him. “You're not so bad yourself. I think there may be dessert in our future. I have no intention of choosing between the cheesecake and the crème brulee. You've unleashed a monster. One that likes food, booze, sex, and you. Be prepared to deal with the consequences. Or at least an hour of my chasing you around on the tennis court tomorrow. Or some incredibly vigorous sex when we get back to the room tonight. Or both.”
“I'm pretty tough,” he said. “I think I can handle both.”
“Tell me more about you.”
“I am Colombian,” he said. “From Colombia.”
She could hear her father telling her very clearly that Colombia had two main exports and both were highly addictive. She was fairly certain Eduardo was an honest man, but that didn't preclude her from having a little fun. He'd already been warned. Fun and playful Henna had been unleashed.
“Really?” Her eyebrows twitched up. “Are you a drug czar? Like Pablo Escobar or Manuel Noriega? He was Colombian, wasn't he?”
His face became a battleground between expressions of shock and horror. “Noriega was Panamanian and a criminal. I am not a drug czar.”
“Part of the cartel? Let's be honest. You lay down a fair amount of cash on clothes from what I've seen, and you were ready to pay top dollar for what I've given you for free. Not that I'm judging. I'm just curious.”
“What— I—”he stared at her.
Henna couldn't help but to feel pleased with herself as she swallowed more steak. “You look both annoyed and pretty darn insulted.”
“That's because I am.” His eyes had darkened and his mouth slashed a firm line across his face.
“Good,” she said. “We're even for the prostitute thing. You do believe me now, right?”
Eduardo stared at her for a moment then laughed. “Henna...” He took her hand and lifted it to her lips then turned her hand and brought her inner wrist to his mouth for a kiss. His lips lingered for a moment as her pulse thumped beneath his light touch. “I deserved that. I'm sorry I insulted you earlier. We are even.”
“So what do you really do?”
“I told you. I'm a farmer. I have a coffee plantation in the Andean highlands, which has been in my family for two hundred years. I am a widower, as you know, and I have two grown children. What are you doing in Bermuda? Other than fulfilling the fantasies of lonely widowers?”
The sommelier arrived with the second bottle of wine and uncorked it. “I'm here for my sister's wedding. She's marrying some guy she's only known for three months. Don't get me wrong, I love my sister and he's seems very nice from what I know so far, but come on...” She rolled her eyes as she often did when talking about Eden's wedding. “Everyone loves my sister, and he just seems crazy about her. Which, by the way, crazy is the word of the day when it comes to the wedding. But it's just like my sister to do something like this.”
Eduardo picked up the wine bottle and filled their glasses as a smile spread across his face. “Tell me more about your sister. And this incredibly charming, handsome, and intelligent young Colombian who is probably not the son of a drug czar, she's marrying.” It was almost like he was laughing at her, but she wasn't in on the joke.
The little Henna in her head that tried to give her advice and tips she usually ignored in favor of common sense, hummed and hooted at her. The problem with that little voice was that she'd ignored it so many times she barely heard it anymore. She'd listened to it earlier when it told her to be a vixen, but at that moment, she didn't pay much attention to what it was trying to say. “You'd love my sister. The two of you could talk about destiny for hours.”
“I imagine we could. I suspect she's also a deadly tennis player and speaks excellent Spanish. So, tennis tomorrow?”
“Yes,” she said. “Especially after dessert. But I'm more of a golfer. Please no jokes about doctors who play golf. My father has already made every joke that can be made. But let me tell you about Eden. She's passionate, spontaneous, the life of every party, never plans anything, and wholly believes in destiny. She moved to Italy because a psychic told our Aunt Midge that Eden would meet the love of her life at the Trevi Fountain. And by god she did. Right at the Trevi Fountain.” She slapped her hand on the table for emphasis. “Only Eden! There's a nauseatingly romantic tale that involves a broken heel, a group of Japanese tourists―”
Eduardo lifted a finger silencing her. “And a nun on a Vespa
“Uhh…yeah…? How did you know that?”
“Your sister's name is Eden?” He leaned in slightly and smiled as if they shared a joke. “We are here for the same purpose. It is destiny. I knew it from the moment I first saw you.”
Little Henna in her head just snickered and called her a dumb-dumb. She really needed to start listening to her inner voice. “You're here for the wedding?”
She wasn't shocked. The last clear and rational thought that passed through her brain had been when she'd gotten out of bed that morning and remembered to turn off the hot water heater before she left the house. Simon had no hot water. Oh well. He'd figure it out eventually. Proof she still wasn't wholly with it after her journey from hell, her initiation into the mile-high club, followed up by the ride in the limo and then their conscience-altering tumble into bed. It was no wonder the obvious connections were missed.
“I am,” he said warmly. “Our meeting was clearly destiny.”
“Or maybe just a series of coincidences?” The voice in her head just chuckled then told her that maybe she should pay more attention to her inner voice in the future.
“Or destiny?” he pressed.
“Let's just say I'm a bit more pragmatic than that. You may have convinced me I can't plan for everything, but I'm not ready to buy into destiny quite yet.”
“Perhaps I can change your mind,” he said. “So you are Eden's sister. I am Romeo's father.”
“You're Romeo's father?” Henna looked at the strong lines of Eduardo's profile and at his hair that was black in the moonlight. At the most, he could be a very young-looking forty, but no way was he the father of a twenty-six-year-old lawyer working at the Colombian Embassy in Rome. She'd seen pictures of Romeo. She had chatted over the internet with Romeo. They were social networking friends. It could not be possible the man sitting across from her had a grown son. But then again, the hair, the eyes...she sighed. “You're Romeo's father.”
“Ro-may-oh.” Eduardo chuckled as he raised his finger and ordered another round with a flick of his wrist. “It is a family name. Both his grandfather and his great-grandfather were Romeos. I am Romeo also, but I've always been called Eduardo. And just so you know, my son is very much in love with Eden. You'll also be happy to know he is very firmly grounded, which is a good complement to her carefree nature. I'm very surprised he's getting married so suddenly, but he's in love and that I understand. Eden is a lovely young woman.”
“And a deadly tennis player. How did I not catch that?”
“It's been a long day.”
“How old are you?” She studied his face with its strong lines and slight wrinkles around the eyes that spoke of both wisdom and a touch of mischievousness.
“Forty-four.”
“Really?” She examined Eduardo in the gentle ambient light. “You don't look forty-four. What's your secret?”
“Sunshine, fresh air, and hard work,” he said. “My grandfather is ninety years old. Every day he still walks through the coffee groves inspecting the crops.”
“You're my sister's father-in-law.” She shook her head. It might actually be possible that cosmic forces completely out of her control were attempting to manipulate her fate. “Oh, my god. I told you about Eden and Simon!”
Eduardo laughed. “I really didn't want to know that. But never mind. It's not like my son was a virgin when they met. Not even remotely. I can say with confidence that he had his share of women before he met Eden.”
“Promise me you won't say a word.”
“I would never repeat anything you told me in confidence. What occurs between us is only between us.”
She smiled. “Good. Thank you.”
“Destiny.” Eduardo raised his glass to her before drinking.
“Destiny,” she said flatly. “I don't mean to be insulting, but you strike me as an educated man, yet you seem to think there are supernatural forces controlling the tide of your life. It just doesn't seem to fit.”
“I am educated,” he said. “I have a degree in agriculture from Universidad de Buenos Aires and an MBA from Georgetown. I also believe in destiny. Do you believe in nothing?”
“Not really,” she said.
“This is destiny, Henna. I know it. There is a bruja who lives on my plantation in a hut. She is very old and very wise. My father knew her to be an old woman when he was a boy. When my wife died, the bruja told me that I would meet a woman who was nothing and everything like me. A beautiful woman from a far off land. And here you are.”
“Are you telling me that an old woman who lives in a hut told you we would meet?” He looked so sane. So normal. So very handsome with his perfect teeth, his cafe au lait complexion, and his deep brown eyes.
“Yes.”
“Are you insane?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?”
“Henna, I'm perfectly sane. I know about the gypsy woman who told your aunt that Eden should go to Rome. The bruja told Romeo he would find his true love in Rome. Destiny brought them together just as we have been brought together.”
“The bruja told Romeo to go to Rome.”
“Yes. She told him that he would meet a girl with golden hair and green eyes. When he met that girl, she would fall for him.”
“And Eden twisted her ankle and fell when the nun on the scooter nearly ran her over.”
“And Romeo was there to catch her. If that isn't destiny, then I don't know what is.”
She narrowed her eyes a little bit as she stared at Eduardo. Her lips pressed together as she digested Eduardo's interpretation of the story of the first time Eden and Romeo met. Arguably, it was much more romantic than her version of the story. How she told it, her dippy sister was leading a group of Japanese tourists around Rome when she nearly got ran over by a nun on a Vespa, twisted her ankle, and Romeo just happened to be there to catch her before she fell on her ass.
“You want to believe.” His fingers brushed down her jaw. “You are dying to believe. I'm going to convince you.”
“Doubtful. But if it's any consolation, you have put a dent into my skepticism.”
“Open your heart to the possibility, Henna,” Eduardo said. “What do you have to lose?”
Again she looked out at the bay and the vessels drifting past. “Nothing,” she said. “I have nothing to lose.” As the evening wound to a close, Eduardo knew what he wanted and hoped Henna wanted the same. Telling her that destiny had brought them together and that the bruja had predicted he would meet a woman who would make his life complete once again might have been a risk, but he had to be himself. If she had run away or found his thinking too obtuse for her liking, then he needed to know sooner rather than when it was too late. She hadn't run. She'd given him a look that let him know she thought he was a bit odd, but she had stayed.
“What now?” Henna asked after he signed the check and passed it back to the waitress. “I want to spend the night with you, but both of us have family arriving. I'm not sure I want my parents to know I hooked up with my sister's father-in-law in a bar at the Miami airport. I don't mind that they know we clicked, but maybe not immediately. What do you think?”
This was what he liked about her. One of the things. If she wanted him, she let him know. “We're across the hall from each other. We owe it to Eden and Romeo to be discreet for a few days. Besides, my parents are due to arrive sometime this evening from London.”
“So, sneaking around like a couple of teenagers? Wear a path in the carpet between our rooms?”
“Sounds like fun.” He pulled out his phone. “Give me your number just in case we need to coordinate.” He handed over his phone ready for her to enter her contact details.
“Put yours in mine.” She passed her phone to him.
As he typed in his name, a text popped up at the top of the screen. “Simon is annoyed you have no hot water. Do you live together?”
His phone was passed back to him. “He's staying at my place.” Her hand hovered over the table, waiting for her phone.
Reluctantly, he passed it back. He sat and watched as she responded to the text. Jealousy, like he hadn't felt since before Pilar had died, made another sudden reappearance. The feeling startled and amused him. It was the third time Henna had generated that feeling in him. He had no place to feel jealous. He didn't even know the circumstances behind this man being in Henna's home. But, friend or no, he didn't like the fact they were so intimate.
“Done.” Her phone was dropped in her bag. “So?” She smiled at him in anticipation. “My room or yours?”
“Yours.” He picked up her hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. Without a word, he rose from the table with her hand in his. They walked in from the terrace, and immediately he spotted six people he knew very well. “Henna.” He pulled her back quickly until they were out of sight of the bar hidden behind a pillar and a few potted plants. “Your choice. Do you want to meet my parents, my brother, my daughter, Romeo, and Eden now or sneak around the front of the hotel and try to avoid them at all costs?”
She peered around the pillar and through the potted plants. “Cripes. They're all there. Let's sneak around the front of the hotel and try to avoid them at all costs. We'll have enough family to contend with starting tomorrow. Besides, there are things I want to do to you now and not after an hour of cocktails and conversation with family.”
“We were meant for each other.” He kissed her quickly on the cheek. “You can deny the existence of destiny all you want, but I know the truth.”
“How do we get out of here?”
He took her hand and started to walk back the way they had come. They walked down a flight of stairs to a pathway along the beach. They were in the clear. “I truly hope you don't think less of me because I don't want to see my family at this moment.”
“Not at all.” Her hand gave his a squeeze. “We're having a perfect night. Let's not tempt fate.”
“Tempt fate?”
“Did I really just say that? You are clearly having an effect on me.”
He stopped her with a tug of her hand then spun her towards him. He bent and kissed her as his free hand grasped her bare upper arm. “Am I having an effect on you?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me what you want. Don't be shy. Release that control you seem to love. Just tell me what you want without fear.”
Henna closed her eyes for a moment as she took a deep breath. He could feel the internal struggle in her energy as she fought against her natural instinct to keep him at a safe distance and to protect her secret self. “You promise you won't laugh at me?” She looked up at him with her large eyes.
“Never.”
“I want to just surrender,” she said. “I don't know how to explain. I don't want to be passive. I just want more of what you gave me earlier. It was like...” She looked away from him and out at the sea. “I didn't feel the pressure to have to simultaneously be a slut, porn-star, virgin, sex-kitten, and dominatrix when we were together.”
“That's a lot of pressure,” he agreed. “You don't have to be any of those things. Unless you want to of course, and personally, I'd prefer just one at a time. Dominatrix sounds interesting, but not tonight. Although sex-kitten-slut might be fun together. Tonight, we can just be ourselves. You can relax let me make love to you. No pressure to perform.”
“That's it,” she said. “The pressure to perform. How can I possibly enjoy sex if I feel like I'm being graded on my enthusiasm, energy, flexibility, and creativity?”
“Henna...” He laughed as he put his arm around her and pulled her near. They began walking along the beach again, alone in their own private world. “In a way, I'm very happy you had a life full of selfish and immature lovers up to this point. If nothing else, I will never suffer from performance anxiety, trying to live up to previous expectations.”
The room was quiet and dark, except for the lights from the bay and the moonlight coming through the still open balcony doors when they entered together. Eduardo wondered if Henna felt as comfortable and at ease as he did, moving together through the moments of the day like it was perfectly normal for them to return to a single room at the end of an evening. Going to his room would have felt awkward and strange. Although he'd dropped his bags in the room across the hall, it didn't feel like his room.
Henna moved around, adjusting curtains, turning on lights, turning off lights, and pulling down the covers on the bed that had been freshly made after they'd left the room. She took the chocolates off the pillows and slipped one into her mouth. He envied the chocolate. Her actions didn't have the fussy, nervous energy they'd had the first time she'd inspected the room. He knew she was being her true self as she made the room just as she liked it before bed.
He made a mental note of the fact the room had no flowers. “Do you like flowers?”
“Of course I like flowers,” she said. “I'm taking your chocolate.” She popped his chocolate into her mouth on her way past him.
He reached for her arm, tugged her to him, bent her back, and placed his mouth against hers. He slipped his tongue into her mouth and captured what remained of his chocolate. He set her back on her feet. “I happen to be very fond of chocolate.” He gave her ass a smack. “And don't tolerate thievery.”
Henna yelped as she laughed. “Ouch!” She held her hands to her bottom.
“Did I hurt you?” he asked quickly. He'd given her a good swat, but he didn't think it had been too hard.
“No. Yes. But...” She gave him a wink. “That doesn't mean I deserve it. Too bad you don't have any more chocolate I can steal from you.”
He added large quantities of chocolate to the mental list of things the room was lacking.
His trousers were uncomfortably tight as he bent over her and pressed his mouth to hers. Her tongue sought his as her strong arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. Taking her hand in his, he pressed it against his aching cock through the fabric of his trousers. She took the initiative and started to explore. Since they'd left the room before dinner, he'd wanted her again. His balls ached and his cock throbbed. Her touch tortured him.
“Get your clothes off,” she told him. Her hand touched his face for a brief moment then trailed off as she moved away. “I'll be back in a moment.”
He grabbed her hand before she disappeared and kissed her fingers. After she'd slipped into the bathroom, he did as instructed and removed his clothing. He left his underwear on, purely because he wanted her to remove them.
The breeze coming through the open window brushed over his body like a caress. Laying on the bed, waiting for a lover, anticipating what would come—he'd found paradise again. As he fell into bed, landing on the cool sheets, his body ached with a longing he didn't know could ever be satiated. Sighing, he raised his head, throttled the pillow, and then let it drop again. Out the doors and past the balcony, the moon was milky, white, and pure in the night sky. Sounds of the night floated in along with the breeze off of the sea below.
As he lay there, his legs twitched restlessly. His body demanded he ease the ache that threatened to make him scream in frustration. Either purposefully or by accident, Henna forcing him to wait for her attention pushed him to a point that she could ask him for anything and he'd more than likely move a mountain to get it for her.
Closing his eyes, he stretched his legs down, then pulled up his knees, allowing his legs to fold comfortably open. He bent one arm behind his head, then let his fingers crawl down his stomach until he reached the band of his underwear and his cock was exposed to the night. He changed his mind about having her remove his underwear. It was gone with a quick tug and a toss to the side.
He stretched his nude body, working, moving, and pulling his muscles. His stiff cock pointed straight to the ceiling. It wanted Henna to get out of the bathroom as much as the rest of him did. The bed moving from the pressure of her joining him made his cock twitch and him smile.
“You weren't starting without me, were you?” Her nightie was pale and colorless in the moonlight. A wicked smile brushed her lips.
“No,” he said. “Never.”
She bent down to kiss him. When her mouth bypassed his and went for his cock, he nearly came. The tingle of pleasure her lips created as she toyed with the tip, and only the tip, sent a shock down his body equaled to the thrill he'd experienced the first time her mouth had taken him.
She pulled back, and he saw the tilt of her smile as she looked him fearlessly in his eyes. “I just don't know what I want to do to you yet,” she said. “Do I want to suck you off? Do I want to get on top of you and ride? Do I just want to lie on my back and let you have your way with me? What do I want?”
“Whatever you want you can have,” he said.
Her hand released him, then she fell on her back. “Ravage me like you're some undersexed horny sailor that hasn't seen a woman for four months. No. Make that six months.”
He bit his bottom lip to stop himself from laughing. “Am I allowed to laugh when you say things like that?”
“I wish you would,” she said. “I never say things like that. But with you, I don't know what comes over me. I say ridiculous things and I act like someone else. I don't recall hitting my head, but then maybe I did and I just don't remember.”
He leaned over her, partially covering her body with his. Her tongue sought his as her toned arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer. After a moment, he moved to his knees and found a place between her legs.
The flimsy piece of cotton she wore was pretty and unnecessary. He wanted to rip it off her. He also knew if he shredded another piece of her lingerie in a moment of passion, she very well might strangle him with it. Instead, he pushed it up and out of the way.
With her nightgown bunched around her waist, he went exploring. He placed his hands on her feet then walked his fingers upwards until he brushed the firmness of her thighs, the smoothness of her hips, and the pert roundness of her breasts, finishing with a flourish as he pulled her nightdress over her head letting it fly to the floor.
“You're very pretty,” he said. “Do you know how pretty you are?”
“No,” she said. “But I'm so much more than pretty.”
“That you are sweetheart.” He pushed her legs apart until they lay spread against the bed. His nose nuzzled the her pussy. “You smell like summer.” With his tongue, he ran a line from one end of her slit to the other. The involuntary twitch of her body with accompanying gasp made him grin. “And you taste like honey.”
He leaned back against his heels and gazed down at her. As he stroked one finger down her slit, inching deeper with each pass, her legs moved restlessly against the mattress. Her hips tilted upward, encouraging him to work harder and faster as her hand covered his, pressing it against her clit.
“Henna.” He smiled. There was nothing quite like an eager lover to make his work more pleasant. “Can you just let me be in charge right now? I know what I'm doing.”
Henna moaned but released his hand. To assure he would be able to proceed uninterrupted, he took her hands and placed them behind her head. Her pink tipped nipples thrust upward, tempting him to distraction from the task at hand.
He returned his finger to her sensitive flesh of her pussy, running it around the rim in smaller circles each pass until it slid effortlessly into her opening. She was snug and hot around him, her clenching muscles threatening to take his finger off. Her hips twitched involuntarily, encouraging him to stroke her. Henna was definitely not the woman for a man who was insecure in his own ability to please.
She growled with displeasure when he removed his finger then purred with delight when he inserted two. He slid them out then plunged them back inside as the pad of his thumb pressed against the hard nub of her clit. Her climax was growing. He could feel it in the movements of her body, the rapidness of her breath, and the speed of her blood coursing through her veins. Her passage closed around him, pulling him deeper. His own desire thudding inside him was tamped down, at least momentarily. Her pleasure was his primary goal—at least at that moment. In time, he would find his release, but not before he brought her to the climax she so wanted.
“More,” she whispered, moving against his fingers. He withdrew his fingers, widening then gently as they gradually slid out. Before she could protest, he lowered his mouth to her wet sex, breathing in the heady aroma of her desire. With his fingers, he parted her labia and slipped his tongue into the top of her cleft, drawing a line through the cream then returning to the bundle of nerves of her clit. Beginning gently, he swirled his tongue as one finger returned to her passage. When her fingers dove into his hair, he lashed at her with his tongue. She shuddered and trembled as she cried out, her first orgasm shuddering her body. While her body recovered, he cupped his hand against her sex squeezing as her muscles convulsed.
“Marvelous,” Henna sighed, lying back against the pillows. “What's next?”
He reached inside the nightstand and snatched up a condom. “Why do you have the giant bag of condoms?”
“My brother is a total slut,” she said. “They're for him. It's a joke. Never mind. There is a story I'll tell you some other time.”