Born to be Wild

Reese tilted his head and glanced down at the sleeping woman in his arms. He’d been shaken to the core by her flat recital earlier. His problems, his issues with his family, seemed petty in comparison.

Not for the first time, he wondered if his parents were still living, if his siblings were all right. Some of them might be married now. For all he knew, he could be an uncle. He’d frozen them forever in his mind, but they’d moved on with their lives just as he had.

Although he really hadn’t. In more than a dozen years he’d done nothing of note besides win a few silly boat races here and there. He’d made plenty of money and given a lot of it away, but he couldn’t think of one single lasting thing of importance that he’d leave behind if he died tomorrow. Except Amalie, and he couldn’t take credit for her.

Celia must feel like that, too. Only it must be worse knowing that she had had something lasting and it was gone. A steady relationship and a child to carry on her genes—yes, it was much worse for her. He was sure her marriage had been good, just from the way she uttered her husband’s name, as if the mere speaking of it could evoke warm, fond feelings of affection. A ridiculous feeling of jealousy swept through him. She wasn’t his, hadn’t been his for years. She’d chosen another man. And yes, she’d definitely had something lasting…until it had been ripped away from her in one brutal moment.

Jealousy faded beneath compassion and pity. I wish I’d died, too. What would it be like to lose the people you loved most in the world? Particularly the child. God, losing someone close to you, a friend, was bad enough, as he well knew. And he had firsthand experience with a child who’d lost her parents. But to have your child go before you— He shivered, thinking of his adopted six-year-old daughter, Amalie, a bright butterfly flitting through his life, bringing radiant colors to his days. It wasn’t natural for any child to die and there was no way to accept it. He couldn’t even imagine what he would do if he ever lost Ammie.

And she wasn’t even his. Well, she was now, thanks to the adoption laws of the State of Florida. But her parents had been his best racing buddy, Kent, and his wife, Julie. They’d died at sea before Amalie’s second birthday and he’d been called on to honor his pledge to be Amalie’s godfather in a far more intimate way than any of them ever had expected.

He lifted one hand and wearily rubbed his temples. He needed to call down to the Keys where he’d made his home, to check in with Velva, his housekeeper, nanny and surrogate mother all rolled into one, to talk to Amalie. This was the first time he’d left her in the four years since her parents had died and he hadn’t been sure it was a good idea. But Velva and Amalie’s teacher both had urged him to take a few weeks for himself. He hadn’t sailed anywhere alone since Kent and Julie had died and he’d finally let himself be talked into this vacation. He’d decided to have one last carefree fling before selling the cruiser. He was a man who had responsibilities now. No more world-cruising for him.

One carefree fling? Ha. The minute you heard Celia was still around, you made plans to come back up here and see her for yourself.

He pulled his head back farther to look at Celia. Hard to believe she was lying here in his arms, even if it was only because she needed comfort. She’d wept silently, her slender body set in tense denial as huge tears rolled down her cheeks and soaked the fabric of both their shirts, until he’d told her to stop holding it in. And then she’d finally broken. She’d let him draw her against his chest and she’d sobbed and sobbed. Awful, desolate sounds that had made his own throat ache. How the hell long had it been since she’d let herself cry? Surely the woman had friends, if not family, around. She’d lived here all her life.

But there was something almost austere about Celia now that she hadn’t had when she was young. The woman she was now didn’t need people—or didn’t want to need them, he’d bet. The woman she’d been when he’d known her, a flower just in the first fresh moments of full bloom, had had no such boundaries. She’d been free with her hugs and her bright silvery laughter; her face had been open and alive, always smiling. And when she’d seen him coming, that smile had lit up the world.

As he thought of the girl he’d known, another memory floated through his head. It wasn’t of the first time they’d made love. Though he could remember that, too. She’d been a virgin and it hadn’t been particularly fun for her, he suspected, although she’d never told him so, and she’d made him feel like the king of the world.

No, the memory that haunted him was of an entirely different time….

“Reese! It’s the middle of summer a-and it’s broad daylight. There are tourists everywhere!”

He laughed, enjoying the way her eyes widened when he took her hand and pulled her down onto the deck of the catamaran, his purpose clear. It was a small boat with no cabin, but it did have a low railing around the deck. If they were careful… He’d fantasized about making love to Celia under the bright summer sun since the first time they’d been together more than two months ago.

“This little bay is fairly private, though.” He slid his hands over her bare, tanned torso, gently tugging at the strings that tied her bikini top into place until he could toss the scrap of cloth aside. “It’s an unwritten law of the sea. You never approach a moored boat if you’ve hailed them and nobody answers.”

Her finely arched eyebrows rose. “I can think of a dozen times I’ve broken that rule myself.”

But she wasn’t really arguing with him. Her small hands ran lightly up his arms, over the swell of his biceps and onto his shoulders, and she shivered, falling silent as he flicked his thumbs over her nipples, bringing them to beautiful taut points. He’d never seen her before in bright light and her skin was so satiny, her peaks and valleys so smoothly curved, that she literally stopped his breath.

“Celia.” He breathed her name as if it were a prayer, finding her mouth with easy familiarity, feeling the thrill that always shot through him at her instant response.

“I love you.” Her words were a whisper of sound, barely audible as he nibbled his way along her jaw, then slid his mouth down the tender column of her neck, pressing kisses to the delicate arch of her collarbone. He trailed his tongue along her skin, catching the faint scent that wasn’t perfume but merely the essence of her.

“You’re so beautiful.” His palms cupped the sweet weight of her breasts and he drew back just far enough to feast his eyes on the soft, feminine flesh he’d uncovered. Her nipples were a glowing coppery color, begging him to taste them, and he leaned down again, touching her with his tongue, lightly at first, then tugging her fully into his mouth to suckle one tender tip until she arched against him, twisting and crying out.

Smiling against her skin, he released one tight nubbin and blew on it. Celia’s eyes flew open. “Reese…” Her hands had been clutching his shoulders. Dragging them down over his chest, she indulged in a little teasing of her own, running her fingers through the dark mat of hair that spread across his breastbone and arrowed downward. She touched his flat nipples, rubbing small circles, making his breath come faster as the sensation triggered an even more intense need within him.

As she trailed one finger down along the ribbon of hair to his navel and beyond, he stripped out of his bathing suit one-handed and kicked it away without leaving her. The mere act of freeing himself from the restrictions of clothing turned him on even more as he felt the warm air move over him, the sun hot on his back. All that lay between them now was one tiny piece of fabric. He stroked her ribs, her hips, her belly, moving slowly down her body, savoring her. He loved the feel of every smooth inch. His finger skimmed the delicate dip of her navel and farther, over her hipbone and down to where the elastic of her bathing suit bottom impeded his exploration.

With slow, deliberate motions, he slipped a finger beneath the elastic and ran it back and forth, then delved a bit deeper until his long fingers combed through the dense mat of curls between her legs. She was dewed and slippery, and she arched beneath him, one long silken leg curving up over his hip and pulling him hard against her. They both made small sounds of delight as their bodies reacted to the sweet pressure.

Gently, reluctantly, he slid away from her long enough to hook his fingers in the fabric and pull it down and off. Celia watched him, her breath rushing in and out, but as the sun poured over her gloriously naked body, she made a motion to cover herself with her hands. “This makes me feel…exposed.”

He chuckled, lowering himself to her, taking her wrists and pulling them up beside her shoulders as he covered her. He shifted, snuggling himself firmly into the cleft of her thighs, groaning a little at the exquisite pressure that resulted from sandwiching himself between them. “Is this better?”

She smiled up at him, her lips quivering slightly. “Yes. But what if someone—”

He covered her mouth with his own again, using his tongue to draw a response from her until she was fully engaged in the kiss. When he released her wrists she clasped his shoulders, clinging to him, pressing her bare flesh against his chest and making him growl with approval. He worked one hand between their bodies, bypassing his straining flesh in favor of the soft fleece that hid her feminine secrets. Slowly, slowly, he inched one finger down, until he felt the pouting bump beneath his finger. Equally slowly, he pressed and circled gently, ignoring his body’s urgent demands until she was writhing and frantic beneath him.

“Reese,” she begged him, tearing her mouth from his. “Reese…”

“What, baby?” He used the moment to push his hand farther between her thighs, loving the slick, moist heat and the fact that he’d been the one to make her respond that way. “Do you want me?”

She nodded, reaching one small hand down to encircle him. He groaned as an involuntary surge of excitement threatened his self-control. She’d only recently gotten brave enough to touch him but she was a fast learner and the mere thought of what she could do to him— Under the circumstances, he thought, it might not be such a good idea. As she traced one finger across the sensitive tip, he reared back, removing himself from her grasp. He set his hands on her inner thighs, pressing them apart and looking at the secret treasure they yielded.

Celia reached for him, her modesty all but forgotten. “Hurry…”

He was dragged from his reverie by Celia’s hand, which he held loosely in his, slowly rising to tuck her hair away from her face. It was only quick thinking that kept him from pulling her hand down to palm the hard ridge pushing at the front of his pants. Her eyelids fluttered as she stretched and he caught his breath, further aroused by both the memory and the soft slide of her body against his. Then her eyes opened and she blinked at him. “Reese.” She didn’t sound surprised, only cordial and a bit wary. “What time is it?”

He glanced at the old clock that had faithfully announced the hour as well as the half all night long. “Nearly six. Sleep well?”

“Nearly six?” She tried to shove herself upright. “Oh, no! You were here all night.”

“Yeah.” He held her easily in place though he was careful not to settle her too snugly into his lap. There was no way she could miss the evidence that would betray his thoughts if she lay against him any more closely. “Relax,” he said, stroking her back. “All we did was sleep. Literally.”

“Yes, but—”

“And you did make sure those folks down on the pier knew that I was coming home with you, remember? This will just make your story more convincing.”

She stopped pushing against him, but her body felt stiff. It made him realize just how much he’d liked having her draped bonelessly over him in slumber. They’d never slept together all night way back when…and he was reminded of his daydream before she woke.

Without giving himself time to think, he asked, “Do you remember the first time we did it on the boat? We fell asleep afterward and my butt got sunburned.”

“Reese!” A startled half laugh burst out of her and she sat up again, pushing herself away from him as he reluctantly let her go. “What brought that on?”

He shrugged, wishing he’d kept his mouth shut. “I was thinking about that summer.” He didn’t need to clarify. “So do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Remember.”

She was avoiding his eyes. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I remember.”

“That was the first time we ever made love on a boat.” He was gratified to see that she was breathing fast, her breasts rising and falling rapidly beneath her soft T-shirt. Oh, yeah. She remembered.

“I don’t want to talk about this.” She shot off the couch and stood over him, rubbing her arms briskly as if she were cold and her velvety-brown eyes held a determined look. “Are you leaving?”

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