Missionary Position (13 page)

He laughed. “This will take a lot more time to get over, won’t it?”

“It throws off everything. I thought I knew you, or at least was beginning to get to know you. Now, you’re this whole other person. You dress differently.” I let my gaze wander down his wrinkled shirt and khakis to his sneakers. “You have a different name. I’m beginning to suspect you aren’t really a banker and maybe have dozens of secrets yet to be revealed.”

He gave me a little grin, his eyes searching my face. “I may be a spy and have a closet full of skeletons, but I’m still the same man you met in Amsterdam.”

I met his eyes.

“I can prove it.”

“How?” I asked, my voice breathy.

He stepped closer, close enough for me to inhale his spicy scent now mixed with sweat—not stinky sweat—good, man smelling, pheromone laden, salty sweat.

“This,” he said, leaning down.

He cupped my face with both hands before his lips met mine—soft, smooth, firm. The same sensation from when he kissed me before slid down my body, settling between my thighs. I closed my eyes and kissed him back in case he evaporated into my memory. When I opened my mouth, he deepened our kiss, moving one hand to my hip, pulling me against him. His other hand curled around my jaw, his fingers entwined through my hair while he proved his existence with his lips, tongue and teeth, hands, torso, and hips.

I moaned, and he smiled against my mouth. This type of kiss led to more. More required privacy, not a veranda restaurant in Ghana, a country that frowned on PDA, and this kiss was capital D display.

We broke apart, breathing heavy.

“Um, I don’t think Ama would appreciate us making out in her restaurant,” I said, catching my breath.

“She’d kill me.” He grinned, his own chest moving rapidly with his breath.

I affected him, too. This fact delighted me.

“Your place or mine?” he joked.

Tempting.

I gasped, pretending to be offended.

“I’m kidding!” He wrapped his arm around my shoulders. “We’ve only just met. I’m Kai, by the way.” He stopped and faced me, sticking out his hand to shake.

I laughed. “Hi, Kai. I’m Selah. But you can call me Dr. Elmore.”

We shook hands and snapped our fingers as we pulled apart.

“Aha!” I shouted at our success.

He laughed at me. “I see you’ve learned the Ghanaian handshake. Kofi must have taught you.”

“I’ve been practicing with him, but could never achieve a nice loud snap. How’d you guess?”

“Who do you think I learned it from?” He winked and grabbed my hand, pulling me outside to find Kofi.

I NEVER DID lie down and rest. Instead, Gerhard, Kai, and I sat in the sun hut at Ama’s house and talked for hours. I meant the two of us, not some other random man named Gerhard. Or Kai. It would take time to adjust to the new name. We chatted and held hands. His touch tethered me to the moment. I needed to prove he was real with constant contact.

“You’re tanner.”

“I flew to Kenya for a couple of days. I tan easily I guess.” He shrugged.

“That seems out of the way.”

“I needed to set-up the project and find someone to potentially take it over for me. You know, since I stalked you to Ghana instead.” His eyes met mine and twinkled.

“Did you really change everything to come hang out with me?”

“Crazy, right?” His hand went to his hair and rubbed the crown of his head, causing strands to stand up in every direction. I liked this new unbuttoned, disheveled man.

I’d like to unbutton and dishevel him.

I definitely felt better.

“A little. I mean, we only met and had dinner a few times. Who does that?”

He watched me carefully, playing with my fingers for a moment. “I do. I’m the kind of crazy man who meets a woman and trails after her to another continent.”

“Is this something you’ve done before?”

“I’ve never followed anyone to Africa. This is all new for me.”

Who was this man?
My heart flip-flopped in my chest. His word flattered me, but they also made me want to bolt. Maybe he was right to think I posed a flight risk.

“In my defense, I’d been asked to speak at the conference prior to meeting you. Months ago.”

“So you’re here for the week?”

“The week. A month. Maybe more.”

A month? More?

“Yes, a month. At the least. If I can find the support, maybe three.”

I hadn’t realized I’d spoken out loud. Typically, I kept my mental babbling internal.

“What are you thinking? Other than I’m a crazy fool.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be in Ghana when I was here?”

“Ah, right. That.” He picked at a string on the inseam of his pants. “I find it difficult to trust people when I first meet them. They hear my name or TNG and have preconceived notions about me.” He stared pointedly at me.

“Hey now. Your name meant nothing to me. I only recognized TNG from the exhibit. Should I search for you online?” The thought had frequently crossed my mind. Only before today, I’d have been searching for the wrong man.

“You might have hit me up for additional grant money. Or to fund your own perverse naked project.”

I arched an eyebrow at him. “Perverse?”

“You’re missing my point. I didn’t want us to be about business. My life is all about business now.”

“And escaping from women who stalk you, hoping to get into your bed,” I teased.

It was his turn to quirk an eyebrow at me.

“I didn’t stalk you. You stalked me.” I didn’t correct the second part of the statement.

“Yes, but you made all sorts of assumptions about me.”

This was true. “No, I didn’t.” I looked out into the sunlit garden.

“Then why aren’t you looking at me?”

“I thought I saw a lizard over there.”

He stared where I pointed. There wasn’t a lizard. Damn beasts. They always appeared out of nowhere, why couldn’t one have shown up on command?

“Okay, fine. I assumed things about you because you were Mr. Suit and named Gerhard. Most of them were good things, though.”

“What kind of things?”

“You were successful and smart, and from an exceptional gene pool that bred strong, tall, beautiful, athletic people who might one day lead a race of super humans,” I babbled.

“Beautiful? Shouldn’t that be handsome?” His smile revealed a dimple in his right cheek.

How had I missed his dimple? Had I forgotten the dimple? Dutch dimples. I was doomed.

“Fine. Handsome.”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

There it was. The word every woman wanted to hear.

“Go on.”

He wrapped a thin strand of my hair around his fingers and tugged me closer. “I think you’re beautiful, and I’ve been thinking about kissing you for weeks.”

I gazed into his eyes, which were close enough to be slightly out of focus. His dark lashes framed his deep blue eyes, which had a ring of silver near the pupil. Tiny freckles dappled his nose. He released the strands of hair from his fingers to cup my jaw.

Instead of kissing my lips, he leaned in and kissed first one cheek, then the other with agonizingly slow movements. Our breaths mingled, but he didn’t kiss my mouth. He moved closer to my ear, his breath tickling my neck, torturing me, building up my desire to crash my mouth to his.

“Kiss me, then.” My voice trembled.

“I am kissing you.” He emphasized his words by pressing his lips against my forehead.

I groaned and shifted to meet his eyes again. Merriment and lust danced behind those dark lashes.

Fuck this.

I reached up to his neck, clutched his hair, and pulled his mouth to mine. He laughed before returning my kiss.

Our inappropriate for public kiss of earlier had nothing on this one. In the privacy of the screened sun hut, I unleashed my pent-up frustration. I moaned like a porn queen, grateful Ama wasn’t home.

His hands left my face, skimming down over my breasts, then settling on my hips, encouraging me to move closer to him. I obliged by straddling his thighs.

Bless long, full skirts.

Settling me on his lap, he took over, controlling the kiss and letting his hands roam my body. I gently pulled at his hair, cupped his face, and dragged my fingers along his scruff before venturing further south to explore his wide shoulders and biceps through the thin linen of his shirt. His body was El Dorado, and I sought his hidden treasure.

Full body contact in humid afternoon air created stickiness and wetness, which had nothing to do with arousal. I could feel sweat glistening on my neck and chest, pooling between my breasts, but didn’t want to stop kissing. Who needed air?

Kai’s broke the kiss as he worked his way down my neck, kissing and licking a path to my collarbone. “Mmm, salty,” he said.

I froze. We were making out like teenagers, and I was sweating like the proverbial whore in church. Sweat plus arousal equaled a sweaty pussy. Swussy.
Sexy? Not sexy.

“Sorry. It’s hot.”

North Sea blue flashed at me. “Why are you apologizing?”

“For being sweaty.”

“It’s Ghana. Everyone’s sweaty. Here, lick me.” He offered up his neck.

“Seriously?”

“Come on, you know you want to.”

“Are we doing body shots? Is this spring break?”

He laughed, then licked the corner of his mouth. “I love the way you taste.”

I blinked and my Kegel muscles involuntarily tightened at his words. This man could be my undoing.

I licked him—of course I licked him—on that magical place right below his ear where the corner of his strong jaw jutted out. I could cut steak with his jaw. Maybe I’d try later. For now, I traced my nose along his scruff, inhaling his good sweaty, man smell. When I reached the spot of soft skin below his ear, I darted my tongue out to taste him. He tasted salty, too. I wanted to lick him all over his body, starting at his ear and working my way down, much further down. He could be my personal salt lick.

Kai moaned and rolled his neck further to the side to increase my access. He obviously enjoyed it. I took his lobe between my teeth and lightly bit down. His hands tightened at my waist. I exhaled warm air near his ear as he rocked his hips against me.

Kai was hard. Ger hard. I snickered.

“What?” His eyes slowly opened and met mine.

No way would I tell him what made me laugh.

“Nothing. I giggle when I get excited.”

His side-long look told me he didn’t believe me. With a quickness that startled me, he tickled my sides.

Growing up with two brothers, I assumed I’d lost the receptors for tickling ages ago. Instead, I was more sensitive than typical people who hadn’t grown up being tortured by teasing siblings.

“Ack! Stop!” I laughed, trying to catch my breath while I squirmed and wriggled on his lap, attempting to block his hands with my arms tucked tight to my sides. “Enough!”

His laughter joined mine.

“Not sexy,” I squealed. Squealing wasn’t sexy either.

“Tell me.”

“Never.” I hopped off his lap, out of breath, my sides aching.

He crossed his arms and glared at me. “Laughing at me isn’t good for my delicate male ego.”

I let my gaze drop to where what had brushed against my thighs stood evident by the tenting of his pants.

“Appears to me your ego is in fine shape.” I raised an eyebrow and stared at him.

He didn’t move to adjust himself or hide it. “I’m a healthy man.”

“That you are. That you are indeed.” I found myself staring at the top of his thighs. I thought I saw his peen twitch.

Doomed.

APPARENTLY, EVEN AS adults it was possible to spend hours making out and not realize it. Kai and I arrived late for dinner that night, much to Ama’s and Ursula’s delight when they saw my flushed face and kiss swollen lips. Internally, I groaned, knowing no matter how old I was, or how old they were, they would still tease me about it when Kai was out of earshot. I owed Maggie an apology for my meddling last summer. Meddling was endlessly fun and better than being the center of attention when it came to potential romance.

Romance? We had a week. Maybe more. A month.

A week was enough. A month would be plenty. Kai and I could have a lot of sex in a month.