The Mariner's Gift (6 page)

His hand moved up the back of her sweater. In the distance, a fog horn blew, calling to all the vessels on the dark, open water beyond.
Here
, it seemed to say.
I’m right here.

Zola arched her back as his open hand splayed between her shoulder blades, where her bra clasp held the last of her hesitation together. He unhooked it and she felt her breasts fall with their newfound freedom.

Cupping one in his hand, he nuzzled behind her ear. “
God.
”

Her nipple pushed into his palm, begging to be teased, sucked, licked. Anything. She tilted her head back, giving him better access to her throat. He kissed it slowly, expertly. She ran her fingers through his hair, which was soft as rabbit’s fur, and closed her eyes. This,
this
was what she’d been daydreaming about since high school.

He nudged her until the backs of her legs were touching the bunk.

“Wanna get naked?” he asked, grinning.

“You first.”

Taking both of her hands in his, he placed them at the hem of his t-shirt. She hesitated for a second before raising it like a curtain.
Showtime.
She stared down at him unbelievingly. His abdomen was muscled and taut, a line of fine blond hair running all the way down it. She brought the shirt up over his chest where his caramel colored nipples hardened at her touch. Just the right amount of golden hair sprinkled his pecs and she leaned in to kiss first one, then the other.

Groaning, he peeled his shirt all the way off, leaving her slack-jawed.

“Seriously? Do you work out like twenty-three hours a day?”

He took her sweater in his fists and she raised her arms. He peeled it off and tossed it on the bed along with her bra, then cupped her breasts in both hands. His eyes had gone dark again. “I have to do something with all this pent-up sexual frustration.”

He was standing so close she could feel his erection through his jeans. She pushed into it and he caught his breath.

She kicked off her heels and was instantly two inches shorter. She looked down at the buttons of his fly and undid the top one. His stomach muscles tightened as she brushed her knuckles deliberately over his skin. She undid the next button, and the next, until the jeans sagged low on his hips and a pair of gray jockeys was the only thing between him and her hands. She rubbed her palm over him, feeling how hard he was through the cotton fabric.

Leaning down, he bit her earlobe gently. “Now yours,” he said, unzipping her slacks and working them over her hips.

Zola’s heart hammered in her throat. Why hadn’t she worn cuter panties? But he didn’t seem to mind. He lowered himself to one knee and eased the plain white bikinis down over her bottom. She felt the warmth of his breath between her legs. Then the heated flick of his tongue. She gasped, her knees trembling with the effort of keeping her upright.
Oh my God.

Oliver stood, rubbing himself slowly up her body. His erection pushed against her inner thighs, the area between her legs, her lower belly. Aching, she pressed her hips into his, needing to feel every inch. Wanting him inside her.

He guided her back on the bed and waited until she was lying down, staring up at him. The boat rocked, making the wood inside the cabin creak. The fog horn blew, the water lapped at the hull. All these things she could hear, but they sounded far away, like she was in some kind of tunnel. All she was truly aware of was the man standing over her, the look on his face tender and turbulent at the same time. She could see that he wanted her. His eyes roamed her body, lingering on her breasts, then came to rest on her face. She felt herself blush at the intensity in his expression. Those gray eyes, his most arresting feature, held her completely still.

When he lowered himself down, she found herself shaking like a leaf. He kissed her shoulder.

“Nervous?” he asked.

“A little.” No. That wasn’t completely true. She was actually beside herself. And wondering how it was that she was on this man’s boat, in his bed, after a kiss only a few short weeks before.

A cheesy, but plausible thought occurred to her then.
Could this be destiny?
She’d never given the idea much thought before. But this moment seemed so right. So
perfect
. Maybe she hadn’t been ready all those years ago. Maybe he hadn’t been either. Maybe to truly appreciate each other, there needed to be a little life stretched between them first.

When he touched her now, she was finally able to forget about her insecurities. The same ones which had followed her so relentlessly into adulthood. The ones that had contributed to more than one break up, not to mention enough self-esteem issues to last a lifetime.

She
was
nervous. But lying there next to him in the glow of the Christmas lights, she also felt sexy and beautiful. Confident even.

She reached down and moved his jockeys over his hips. He lifted himself off the bed and after a second, he was as naked as she was. The coarse hair on his legs tickled, making her want to wrap herself around him like a ribbon. He leaned down and took a peaked nipple into his mouth. When he flicked his tongue over it, Zola arched her back and moaned.

Rolling toward him, she reached down and found his length, which was warm and hard, and wet at the tip. She moved her thumb over the velvety skin, feeling him tense next to her.

He opened the drawer of the small bedside table and produced a foil packet that he opened with his teeth. Leaning in, she kissed his chin, his throat, tasting the salt on his skin. As he rolled the condom down, she raised her knee and moved her hips against his hand.

He made a guttural sound and kissed her, while her pulse thumped wildly in her neck. She didn’t think a man had ever excited her this much.
Ever.

He rolled on top of her and she opened her legs, wrapping them around the backs of his. He was heavy and solid, and smelled so good that it made her dizzy for a second. She could feel his heart beating against her chest, a steady
thump, thump, thump,
which seemed to say more at that moment than words could.

When he slid inside her, it was slow and easy. She rocked her hips, wanting him closer, deeper. Then he pulled out, only to enter her again, more urgent this time. And this time he did go deeper, filling her all the way. They began a slow, mind-numbing rhythm—in, out, in, out—until Zola’s climax bloomed like a rose in the center of her belly. His breath was hot against her neck and she turned her face into his, finding his lips to kiss him again. The stubble on his jaw rubbed in a primal, delicious way against her skin.
In, out, in, out.
Zola’s toes curled as her climax built and radiated outward, touching every nerve ending with jolt after jolt of electricity.

And then she cried out at exactly the same time he breathed her name in her ear. And all the while, the boat rocked on the dark, December water.

Chapter 7

The fog outside was starting to break up. Dark patches of midnight sky were peeking through, boasting dozens of twinkling stars.

Oliver watched from the bunk as Zola leaned over to retrieve her sweater from the floor. Her pale breasts bounced, her dark nipples puckered and erect. She straightened and gave him a comical glance over her shoulder.

“This part’s always kind of awkward,” she said.

“Why?”

“I don’t think anyone ever looks very good putting their wrinkled clothes back on.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said. The mounting pressure at his groin seemed to emphasize the words. “I just wish you’d stay a little longer.”

She put her bra on and clasped it, and he watched as the tops of her barely contained breasts swelled over its lacy cups. “I haven’t wrapped any presents yet,” she said. “I’m the queen of procrastination.”

He smiled. “Don’t suppose I could send a few of mine with you while you’re at it?”

She put her hands on her hips. “I’m glad I’m not the only one. We could always use garbage bags and bows. It’s been known to work in a pinch.”

She looked beautiful standing there, her short hair going in every direction, her brows arched dramatically. The Christmas lights cast a warm glow over her skin and shadows behind every curve. Her belly button was a dark, mysterious place that all of a sudden he wanted to kiss.

She pulled the sweater over her head, and he sighed. “I’m not going to lie and say I haven’t used garbage bags before,” he said, sitting up. “I think when the gifter puts a ribbon on something, the rest of the presentation can suffer a little bit, and that’s usually okay with the giftee. At least that’s what I’ve found in Lauren’s case.”

Zola grinned as she zipped up her slacks. “I’d love to see her open her presents. She must be over-the-moon excited. I remember Christmas morning so well. My poor parents, I always woke them up at the crack of dawn.”

Oliver nodded. Suddenly, the thought of sharing their morning with Zola seemed to fit, like finding a missing puzzle piece that looked to be the right size, the right shape. But he was hesitant. It was early, and introducing her to Lauren was a big deal.

Zola bent to retrieve her heels from underneath the bed. She looked pensive, her eyes soft and a little far away. “What a gift she must be, Oliver. You’re lucky to have each other.”

He wrapped his arms around his knees, watching her. “We are.”

Something in Zola’s expression seemed lonely for a second. But almost as soon as he recognized it, it was gone, and she was slipping her feet into the black, strappy shoes.

For the first time, he thought about her age—almost thirty-nine—and the fact that she didn’t have a family of her own yet. Children of her own. He knew those things might weigh heavily on a woman like her.

“Zo.” Waiting for her to look him in the eye, he forced the remaining hesitation from his mind and focused instead on what he was feeling at that very moment. An intense desire to have this woman know him.
Really
know him, and see if she might be the kind to stick around afterward.

She caught sight of her reflection in the small mirror over the bed and laughed, ruffling her hair. “Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Zo.”

She looked over and the playful smiled faded. Stepping closer, she put a hand on his leg. “What is it?”

“What are you doing tomorrow morning?”

* * * *

A sea of blue. That’s what Zola saw when she looked out onto the room full of kids in her graduating class. Their robes were the color of the ocean, and moving together, they looked like the tide going out. Tassels dangled from caps, cameras flashed, parents beamed. She took a deep breath, trying to absorb what this meant. She was moving on, moving away, moving up. Hopefully. USC and four more years of journalism awaited. She just had to grab it all by the horns and not look back. Of one thing she was absolutely sure though. She wasn’t going to miss Awkward Teenage Zola. That Zola could stick it.

But she was definitely going to miss someone else. She turned to see Oliver making his way through the crowd toward her. He stood at least a head above all the other boys in the room. His smile was contagious, his eyes a comforting shade of beautiful. She smiled back, feeling the squeeze of a heart that was used to being overlooked for someone else. It was familiar. But that didn’t make it hurt any less.

He stepped close and put an easy arm around her shoulder. She was finding that something about graduation made it easier to express yourself. After all, this was the last day of high school, and that was empowering for everyone. Even Awkward Teenage Zola. Glaring at someone you’d always hated, but never had the courage to tell off, came effortlessly. Hugging someone else whom you’d always secretly loved with a terrible desperation was as easy as leaning down and picking the most tender spring flower.

And that’s exactly what she did. Smiling, she wrapped her arms around his waist and leaned in to feel his warmth and solid muscle through the robe. He bent to kiss the top of her head and she closed her eyes for a minute, soaking that in.

“So it’s off to SC, huh? Gonna keep in touch?”

“Of course!” She said this cheerfully, but wasn’t going to let herself think about what it really meant. She was young, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew that beyond a few reunions, she might never see any of these people again. She couldn’t bear the thought of that happening with Oliver. So she just hugged him tighter. “What about you?” she asked. “Excited about the Coast Guard?”

“As excited as I’ll ever be.”

She had a feeling he was on the verge of something very special. A life that would take him many places, show him a lot of things. She wondered if he’d ever come back home again. She wondered if either of them would.

“You’ll write?” she asked.

He looked down, pulling away enough that he could see her face, then tweaked her nose like a big brother would. “I’ll try. But you’re the writer in this relationship.”

She swallowed the sudden lump in her throat, surprised to be taken so off guard. Must be pre-menstrual. Natalie was headed to a small university on the East Coast and that was hitting her hard too. Life changed. Things didn’t stay the same. In her heart, she knew that was a good thing—it was the way it was supposed to be—but it was also a little sad. She’d never be this age again. And she wondered what the future would hold for a girl like her. One who had never really blossomed in high school. One who was afraid of the changes in front of her, almost as much as she welcomed them.

“I’m glad we met, Oliver.”

He squeezed her shoulder. He didn’t try to make light of the moment, and for that she was glad. He just stood there hugging her, while a steady stream of kids filed past. He smelled good. He felt good. And her heart swelled.

“Me too, Zo,” he said. “I’m glad too.”

* * * *

Zola stood on the doorstep and took a deep, even breath. She’d worn dark blue jeans and a bright red dress jacket, the collar of which was pulled high around her neck. She hadn’t wanted to dress up too much and appear stiff. That wasn’t any fun. But she hadn’t wanted to look frumpy either. The red jacket seemed Christmassy and cheerful, and she found herself wanting to look as approachable as possible.