frustrated.
It had been a real bonehead move, taking her to bed. Forget the fact that she had been the aggressor. He was more experienced, he was the one who should have known better. But Julie was so pretty, so sweet, and he’d wanted her for so long. Making love with her—and that was what it was, not doing, not nailing, not merely having sex with—had been one of the most incredible experiences of his life. He could remember everything about that night, the way she’d tasted, the way she smelled, every move of her beautiful body. Where all of his other lovers faded into an indistinct but pleasant blur, every moment with Julie stood out in brilliant, vivid clarity. Before, she’d existed vaguely in his subconscious, emerging to torment him through erotic dreams. Now memories of Julie invaded his consciousness like living things. Her sweet, salty taste, the buttery softness of the skin of her inner thighs, the hot little pants that burst between her lips when she came, all of it replaying incessantly in his head. Like an idiot, he’d thought one night with her could make up for all the years of unsatisfied lust. Instead, it had left him aching, hungry, and craving more.
But no matter how many times in the past ten days he’d considered calling her to invite her here or hopping a flight to San Francisco, he knew it was best to keep his distance. Nothing good could come of their being together, and he had too much going on right now to risk getting tangled up in Julie’s pretty little web.
Dragging his thoughts back to the guests he was supposed to be greeting, he looked down the dock, scanning the rest of the group. A group of four women, all young and attractive, was making its way to him, and Chris tried to conjure up a spark of interest. In the past he had enjoyed brief affairs with female guests—discreetly, of course. As far as he was concerned, if a single, beautiful woman was looking for an island fling, and the interest was mutual, who was he to say no?
Maybe that was what he needed, scanning each woman in turn. Someone new to get the taste of Julie out of his mouth. But as he looked the women over, he found he couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm.
Jesus, what was wrong with him? One night with a woman was not supposed to ruin him for life.
Admittedly, it was one wild, hot, insane night with the woman who embodied every adolescent and adult male fantasy he’d ever entertained, but still.
PrivateParty
He was politely greeting the group of women when his gaze lit on the last passenger making her way down the dock. He felt like he’d been sucker punched. It couldn’t be! It had to be an insomnia-induced hallucination. The petite blonde with the purple tinted Gucci glasses only looked like Julie. Her hair was loose and curly, falling an inch past her jaw. She wore a white cotton halter top and a matching, low slung skirt that gave him a nice view of her flat, tanned abdomen and a navel decorated with a tiny jewel.
Any more crazy fantasies that it might be Julie fled. Chris could claim intimate knowledge of Julie Driscoll’s navel, and it was most definitely unadorned.
Chris’s smile turned genuine as he felt the first stirrings of interest. He knew he couldn’t have Julie, but there was nothing wrong with having fun with her sexy look-alike.
Finally she reached him, and he felt all the air escape from his lungs when she slipped off her sunglasses.
Something like joy exploded in his belly, followed almost immediately by a hard, cold knot of dread. It was a miracle. It was a disaster. He was completely, irrevocably fucked.
“Hi, Chris,” she said, ignoring his outstretched hand and hugging him instead. “You have an amazing place here, and I know I’m going to have a great time.” Julie stepped back and tilted her head to look up at Chris’s face. It wasn’t easy. When she’d wrapped her arms around him it was all she could do not to nuzzle her face into the vee of skin exposed by his
It had been a real bonehead move, taking her to bed. Forget the fact that she had been the aggressor. He was more experienced, he was the one who should have known better. But Julie was so pretty, so sweet, and he’d wanted her for so long. Making love with her—and that was what it was, not doing, not nailing, not merely having sex with—had been one of the most incredible experiences of his life. He could remember everything about that night, the way she’d tasted, the way she smelled, every move of her beautiful body. Where all of his other lovers faded into an indistinct but pleasant blur, every moment with Julie stood out in brilliant, vivid clarity. Before, she’d existed vaguely in his subconscious, emerging to torment him through erotic dreams. Now memories of Julie invaded his consciousness like living things. Her sweet, salty taste, the buttery softness of the skin of her inner thighs, the hot little pants that burst between her lips when she came, all of it replaying incessantly in his head. Like an idiot, he’d thought one night with her could make up for all the years of unsatisfied lust. Instead, it had left him aching, hungry, and craving more.
But no matter how many times in the past ten days he’d considered calling her to invite her here or hopping a flight to San Francisco, he knew it was best to keep his distance. Nothing good could come of their being together, and he had too much going on right now to risk getting tangled up in Julie’s pretty little web.
Dragging his thoughts back to the guests he was supposed to be greeting, he looked down the dock, scanning the rest of the group. A group of four women, all young and attractive, was making its way to him, and Chris tried to conjure up a spark of interest. In the past he had enjoyed brief affairs with female guests—discreetly, of course. As far as he was concerned, if a single, beautiful woman was looking for an island fling, and the interest was mutual, who was he to say no?
Maybe that was what he needed, scanning each woman in turn. Someone new to get the taste of Julie out of his mouth. But as he looked the women over, he found he couldn’t muster up much enthusiasm.
Jesus, what was wrong with him? One night with a woman was not supposed to ruin him for life.
Admittedly, it was one wild, hot, insane night with the woman who embodied every adolescent and adult male fantasy he’d ever entertained, but still.
PrivateParty
He was politely greeting the group of women when his gaze lit on the last passenger making her way down the dock. He felt like he’d been sucker punched. It couldn’t be! It had to be an insomnia-induced hallucination. The petite blonde with the purple tinted Gucci glasses only looked like Julie. Her hair was loose and curly, falling an inch past her jaw. She wore a white cotton halter top and a matching, low slung skirt that gave him a nice view of her flat, tanned abdomen and a navel decorated with a tiny jewel.
Any more crazy fantasies that it might be Julie fled. Chris could claim intimate knowledge of Julie Driscoll’s navel, and it was most definitely unadorned.
Chris’s smile turned genuine as he felt the first stirrings of interest. He knew he couldn’t have Julie, but there was nothing wrong with having fun with her sexy look-alike.
Finally she reached him, and he felt all the air escape from his lungs when she slipped off her sunglasses.
Something like joy exploded in his belly, followed almost immediately by a hard, cold knot of dread. It was a miracle. It was a disaster. He was completely, irrevocably fucked.
“Hi, Chris,” she said, ignoring his outstretched hand and hugging him instead. “You have an amazing place here, and I know I’m going to have a great time.” Julie stepped back and tilted her head to look up at Chris’s face. It wasn’t easy. When she’d wrapped her arms around him it was all she could do not to nuzzle her face into the vee of skin exposed by his
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