Catching Preeya (Paradise South Book 3) (16 page)

Preeya remembered how hard and fast and free she ran down and out to and through the vacant front yard around to the back, barefoot and uncaring of the
jagged-sharp
landscape rocks because—sun and stars!—she’d solved the puzzle. She’d find her mom—gorgeous, tender, and calm—in some floral flowing dress watering their garden of vibrant flowers. Whispering to them, singing to them.

Panting, she got to the garden, the lonely little flower bed…

Where a
ten-ton
train landed on Preeya’s heaving little chest.
No
Mommy.

She looked around to be sure her mom wasn’t crouching at the base of a needy morning glory or pruning the
low-lying
baby blue eyes she and her mom had planted together. Shallow breath led to another round of panic as Preeya spun around and around, hearing and seeing no one—not a soul at the pool, the lanai, the flower garden again. Around and around she spun. Dizzy. No one.
No
one.

She and Prana were officially all alone.

The memory blurred then in her head.

She gulped for air, now back in the hotel room. Alone.

She needed to call Gigi. Fast.
Now
.

No. No calls to anyone.
Keep looking. At yourself. In the closet doors.
Remember, goddamn
it.

Fuck you!
—she remembered. Everything. Running inside, to the kitchen, the fridge door, the emergency numbers. She’d called and paged her dad, the hospital, the office. The man had been in surgery.

She remembered
not
dialing 911. She’d get in trouble for dragging the police or an ambulance there.
Nobody’s bleeding. Everybody’s breathing—sort of.
The issue:
her mommy’s
gone!

“Mommmmmy!” she’d shrieked so loud. Prana’s cries became hiccups then, gasps for air. Preeya remembered taking the cordless phone and sprinting up the stairs for her sister. And on her way up, she’d hit the only labeled speed dial as she went.

Her Aunt Champa.

That’s right, yes, she’d called her aunt.

And then grabbed and comforted Prana, and wouldn’t let her go. Not for anything. Not until her dad came home so many hours later.

And God, those hours had felt like years.

*

Preeya willed her eyes to zoom out of the depths of the reflection in the white laminate closet doors of her hotel suite. She caught a breath, then four more, chest heaving. She was back to the present, though robotic and chilled with remnants of that childhood trepidation flooding through her from top to toe and back again.

With a long, stoic sigh, she slowly reached for the door’s handles and opened the glossy white closet.

Except for hangers swaying from the doors’ movement and the one plastic laundry bag, the closet was stark empty.

Empty
.

She treaded backward and hit the king size bed with a jolt, forcing her to sit.

Staring ahead, chest heaving, mouth
desert-dry
, mind blank, she waited.

Unsure for what.

She shut her eyes.
Slow your breathing, Pree.
Slow, calm…

Too calm.
Her father’s long ago explanation, spoken too calmly, too accepting, too
okay
.

Damn her father. He’d finally come home after work that day, and after overhearing him whisper to her aunt about some voice mail, Preeya remembered him kneeling at her feet—her baby sister still clutched tight to Preeya’s chest.

“You know how big Mommy’s heart and spirit are, Preeya,
bitay
. And how strong she knows you are. Well, Preeya”—he’d held her shoulders tight but did not look in her eyes; she remembered that part well—“your mother left us to be a mother to many, many little girls and boys who need her more than even you and your sister do. In India. Many, many children are starving. She left everything and everyone to follow her heart. We should be very proud.”

Why would she think I don’t need her? I do need her! We need
her!

Distraught fury and confusion had raged through her—she felt it now, the memory was so vivid—but Preeya nodded obediently while repeating her father’s words to herself:
Be strong like Mom says you are, Preeya. Be strong, be
proud.

And you still have Daddy. And
Prana.

Sometime during her mental processing, her heart’s processing, her father had taken the baby out of Preeya’s grasp, and then looking through her, he’d said, “Your mom is a tremendous soul. Leaving you girls was the hardest thing she ever had to do. Remember that, Preeya. Remember how hard it was for her.”

And no words about her mother were ever spoken again.

So in her
little-girl
logic, Preeya had become a humanitarian by proxy. She gave up her mom to children who needed her far more than she and Prana had.

But a week later, her father left Preeya, too. With Champa. And Prana went to SafeHaven.

Preeya scoffed through clenched teeth and slammed her fists on the plush white comforter. So instead of her father’s love, focus, attention—and maybe some
much-needed
therapy?—her doctor dad instead prescribed a healthy regimen of abandonment after abandonment.

And she couldn’t believe she’d never made the connection. Her
day-and
-night terrors of being alone
of course
stemmed from that
life-altering
day, and the solitary days to follow.

But that’s in the past, Pree.

Now, to be whole. On her own—
whole
.

She could do this.

*

She looked around the room, willing herself to stay calm. Alone and calm. Shake it off and find something to distract, something to do. Because fuck her father!

She began biting her nails, a nervous start to a panic episode.
Relax.

Then Ben and his amber eyes flooded her mind. And soothed her.

Ben Trainer. A surprise. Not only wasn’t he a playboy or an adulterer, but he wasn’t the cocky, arrogant doctor playing
world-savior
she’d thought, either. He was sweet and real and somehow even empathetic to her life’s low. Without condescension.

And damn hotter every minute they’d been near each other, forget about the
out-of
-body sex from the night before. Which she couldn’t, even if she tried.

She closed her eyes to recall the ebb and flow of his movement over her. Then, with a pulsing in her core, she opened her eyes again. There, staring at her, was the grand Jacuzzi tub. In the loud silence of the empty room, it was practically calling her name.

Her clothes were bunched on the floor and her hair was down the next instant. She moved across the cool
terra-cotta
tile like an aimless cloud to the tub’s edge. Adjusting the water temperature, she found herself smiling without control. Ready to relax and pamper herself like a woman on her own in the movies—she’d soak and lather and just
be
.

CHAPTER 18

H
e couldn’t sleep.
Preeya.

Every time he shut his eyes, her violet gaze stared back at him, through him. Something in his veins, like oozing liquid heat. Mercury. Lava. Bliss.

And the thought of her made him
rock-hard
, ravenous.

But not an ounce of guilt surfaced—dare he think it.

The windows were open. Warm sea air from hundreds of feet below his sister’s hilltop home drifted in, meeting his face, his mouth, his nose. He inhaled deep and long, then threw his head back onto the feather pillow. He was sweating, burning up. He kicked off the bedsheets. His bare chest filled with flash floods of Preeya, images of her writhing, her
silken-smooth
body rocking above him. He worked to fill his lungs with the Vallarta trade winds as his hand slid down his torso to his
steel-hard
cock. God, what she did to him. What Preeya Patel did to him.

*

Yes, this was something positive to do alone.

She’d found the perfect temperature—just short of scalding—and too tempted by the
clear-liquid
heaven, she got in while the tub filled. Her body melted into the water while the parts of her that remained uncovered became chilled in comparison. She huddled closer to the faucet, needing the hot water, letting it hit her knees then run down her legs while splashing her face, her shoulders, her breasts, her pebbled nipples.

She focused on the waterline rising—slow, gradual, and even—helping her breath follow suit. When the water level reached her hip bone, she let her legs fold open, her calves, knees, and thighs now satiated by the liquid warmth. Another round of goose pimples dominoed over her upper body, still prey to the cool air currents of the room. While she waited for the large tub to fill, she hugged herself and rubbed her pruning fingers up and down her arms. Up and up the hot, placid pool crept until finally it covered her navel. She exhaled as she slid her body down and laid her head back into the welcoming water, her hair and scalp getting a subtle and seeping massage.

Her entire body was now encapsulated by
hot-fluid
comfort but her breasts. She marveled at the contrasting stimuli igniting her senses—scalding heat and breezy cool, the sound of rushing water into the tub’s silent stillness, tensed muscles above the water line and loose below, lips dry and toes wet.

And letting it all cancel out, she found herself floating in absolute peace.

Her focus had never been so keen, so sharp. Sharp like her nipples, the only part of her that hovered above the waterline, tight with the remnant chill moving over her and seemingly more sensitive than usual. Maybe from the detailed attention they’d received the night before.
Ben.

She inhaled deeply, his name on her lips, his amber eyes in her thoughts, his body over hers in her waking dream. She sank lower, her legs in lotus position at the very bottom of the bath, the faucet’s stream hammering down on her sensitive juncture, igniting her, arousing her deepest desires—her mental image of Ben fanning the flame.

She’d never in her life been alone by choice, and also had never, by choice, indulged in pleasuring herself.

She swallowed back against the tingling energy sprinting up her body. Her hips and ass shifted to keep the hot stream of water directed, focused. And her mind focused. Focused on being in Ben’s powerful arms. She moaned, an involuntary sound that shot fire to her cheeks.
But no one’s here, Preeya. Just you
. She inhaled, pleasure not panic, then exhaled, pure relief and calm, and sparks of sensational dynamite.

Oh, God.
The hot water’s steady, delicious pressure poured over her delicate bud, turning her innate sensory button to
on
—
so
on—and made her hips slowly rise and fall, as if she were meeting Ben’s body, pressing into his strength. His boundless manhood. And the waterfall kept sensitizing her
wide-open
flower which pulsed and clenched with each passing moment.
Oh God, Ben.

The water level rose, now threating to swallow up her pebbled nipples, like impending kisses. Ben’s kisses. She blew out a stream of more contrasting cool air which hit the tips of her hardened nipples, and it was almost too much. If only the warm, wet, firm pressure of Ben’s tongue was there to give and take the painful ecstasy of it, just like he had the night before.

She lifted her head to look at her tensed stomach muscles and curled toes and her hips lifting higher and higher to reach her image of Ben. Then she arched her back, increasing the length of her body so the impending dam of energy that waited at the gate of her heaven had longer and farther to travel. An infinite and limitless flood of pleasure just waiting to rush over her. Faster and higher her hips lifted, meeting the solid stream of water from the faucet…

Until she met her peak.
Ben. I’m coming, Ben. Oh God. I am. Coming.

CHAPTER 19

S
elf-induced
orgasm aside,
he hardly slept at all. He was too excited. When the sun rose, so did he, excited to be awake, and strangely not tired at all.

He laughed to himself.

After Jamie passed, he had to find ways to trick his brain just to get his two feet on the floor most mornings. Coffee, the paper, the news, a run—or a damn doughnut? While recouping at his sister’s after the funeral, not even a glorious Vallarta sunrise had enticed him. Because, Jesus, what could he tell his mind to look forward to if it wasn’t Jamie by his side, or in the kitchen making coffee, or in the shower, or in the car waiting for him? No, instead of his wife, his love, all he’d had was the emptiness, the shame, the logistical nightmare of his medical license surrounding him. That was what awaited him each and every day since Jamie left him.

It had been a few months of downward spiral when a colleague told him about Doctors Without Borders, and he jumped on it. He needed such an extreme to move him forward. To keep him going. With life. To see
raw reality
and
struggle
worse than his own, and to see a difference he could affect. It was the only thing that made his void manageable. Or the illusion of. But it didn’t fill it, not really. Not at all, in fact. It just kind of hid it from view. From his view.

But none of that mattered today. The clock showed 5:00 a.m.; his feet were firmly planted on the floor and there were only three more hours until he got to see Preeya again. Three hours before he got to talk to her. Laugh with her. Swim in her
near-violet
eyes. Hear more about her past and present. And what she wanted for her future. What did she really want in future? In life? He craved more direct knowledge of her being. What drove her on? The intrigue was almost killing him.

Just three more hours.

*

“Yes, I had a good night, Geej,” she said, blushing from three thousand miles away. Glad her friend saw only vague vibes of happenings, for the most part. “I relaxed, took a bath, watched some TV, and fell asleep. Alone,” she added, a little pride leaking through, knowing Gigi understood what a triumph that was for her.

“Well, I will tell you what, my friend, you had me awake all night for
somethin’
. I couldn’t get this crazy swirling sunshine image out of my damn brain. All night long! Finally I had to wake Rod just to get the energy out of my system. He wasn’t complaining any, but I am exhausted this morning, that’s for sure.”

Okay, so on a subconscious level, Gigi knew…but Preeya wasn’t going to dignify her best friend’s digging with any confirmation of her bathtub activity. She’d finally enjoyed herself—alone—and didn’t want to dilute its magic by speaking of it. Even to Gigi. But she would give her a tidbit of something to get her friend sated. “Well, I am going to a secret hidden beach today with Ben. The doctor.”

“The doctor? What doctor?”

“From the other night. From Boise.”

“Boise…wait,
wrong-name
guy?”

“Yeah, that one.”

“So…you’re going desperate on me now?”

“No, Gigi. Turns out that I’m the ass. He’s a widower. I was the first woman he’d been with since, you know, his wife died.”

“That’s a pretty heavy lie if it is one.” Gigi sighed, a huff of cynicism. “Seriously, Pree, that would be one sick fucker if it isn’t true.”

“It’s true, Geej. His sister had me over for dinner last night. It’s all legit. He lost his wife over a year ago.”

“Dinner at the sister’s? Okay.” Gigi paused to process. “How old is this guy, Preeya?”

“Early thirties. Look, his wife died of cancer and, well, he’s just a guy…a sweet,
super-intelligent
, and, God, so tall and…so sexy. But at the same time, an old soul, you know?” She paused and pictured him. “Not my type, really…but not like
Evan
not my type, more like…
out-of
-
my-league
not my type.”

Too-good
-
for-me
not my
type.

She worked to catch a fuller breath. Ben’s lack of fear, his ability to adapt, move, risk, change, keep calm in the face of chaos—
life-or
-death chaos—it all hit her in the face and forced another hunt for air. “He’s actually a bit OCD, ultra cautious and serious, though he’s showing signs of loosening up.” Preeya snorted and her pulse began to race at the running thought of him: Ben casually waiting for her at the airport exit, sitting across from her at dinner, opening up in the kitchen, saying
good-bye
outside.
But then the sunscreen.
She laughed out.

Gigi ignored the outburst.
Talk about serious.
“A doctor, Pree. You hate doctors.”

Preeya cleared her throat rather than get defensive. Then consciously quiet, “He’s different, Geej.”

Then Gigi cleared her throat. No words followed.

“Yes, I can be wrong. Not
all
doctors suck…I guess I need to start being more specific. I hate greedy, superficial plastic surgeons who abandon their kids—that’s my revised criteria. Anyway, he’s an MD and a humanitarian. He travels the damn globe helping the devastated
third-world
, Geej…”

“Ahh, your
adventurous-man
check box can be, well, checked.”

Preeya sighed. “I like ’im, Geej.”

“Sounds too good to be—”

“I know, I know. Hell, I’m not marrying the guy, but God, he’s really…real. And sweet. And the sex was, well,
unbelievable
is an understatement. We clicked, we fit, and that’s what screwed with me most when I thought he’d just used me, that I had been so wrong about how
in-sync
we were. Because, God, it was like we’d been together before.”
Or forever.
“Geej, I can sense your eyes rolling. Maybe I don’t have your ‘magical intuition,’ but I think going with
this
is good. It feels right. So stop being so skeptical. I’m trusting my gut, and it does. It feels right.”

“Can’t help it. I love you. I’m protective.”

“Look, I missed the wedding, I’m here alone, so what have I got to lose? Shit, Geej, this is just a new path to explore, like you said when I left Evan: ‘Explore new paths!’” Gigi had hated Evan because she’d thought Preeya had totally settled. When Preeya rejected the ring, Gigi threw her a surprise party.

“Right, yes. I did say that. But a widower is some heavy shit. What’s his name? I’ve gotta try to tune in to this one.”

That
was
who Gigi had tuned into last night…Ben, Preeya’s masturbation muse. “Ben, his name is Ben Trainer, but Geej, really. I’m good. Don’t waste your energy. I’m just having a good time. An innocent time. He’s leaving in two days; I’m leaving in two days. It’s all fine.”

“Fine, Pree. If you say so. You just be careful. Seriously. You are
ultra-sensitive
and have your own special brand of daddy and mommy issues.”

God, how did I ever become best friends with such a psychoanalytical freak?
Who always happens to be right!

“Hey, I sensed that shit!” Gigi shot.

“What?”

“Something…not nice…about me.”

“Did you hear me think that you’re always right, which is the only thing I hate about you?” Preeya threw back in mock exasperation.

“Well, that’s true.” Gigi sighed hard into the phone. “Listen, just don’t get all defensive and closed up, Pree. I watch out for you ’cause no one else does.”

“Hey, I’m working on opening up and, you know, conquering my demons. Just last night I…I handled myself—all alone—so there!”

“What do you mean
handled
?”

“
Clitoris-ly
handled.”

“I knew it! The sexual energy was too
crazy-high
and
un-muddied
!”

“
Un-muddied
—not a word, Geej.”

“Whatever! You got yourself off! Good for you, Pree! So proud…welcome to womanhood!”

“You’re welcoming me to womanhood, Geej? You still sleep on a futon with that teddy bear, the one with the striped sleeping cap.”

“Hey, don’t rag on Sleepyhead. He still has my mom’s scent, and the futon mattress is good for my back. Anyway, bitch, I’m just excited for you, rockin’ the finger!”

“The bath faucet, actually.”

“Oooh, nice…so
spa-like
.” Gigi inhaled as if picturing herself in the same glorious state, then sighed herself back into seriousness. “Preeya, I just want you to be happy. And to stay happy. As long as you’re taking this doctor guy at face value, go and have an awesome day. And maybe just, you know, sleep tonight. Give me a break from all the sexual energy in the ethers, would ya?” She laughed, but Preeya knew she was dead serious.

“I can’t promise anything about tonight, Geej, but I will have an awesome day.” Of that she was certain.
In-her
-gut certain.