Chapter 11

Richie sat on the deck in the late afternoon daylight, his notebook open on the little table next to him, his guitar in his lap. He idly strummed the guitar and glanced out across the water. He hadn’t played in days, hadn’t felt a need to even pick up the instrument. He looked to the door and beyond where he had left Stephanie asleep on the curtain shrouded bed.

Paddleboards had been the activity of choice that day. Stephanie had balked at first, she had never done it before, but he had convinced her to try it just once, promising her that if she didn’t like it they would do something else. A flash of his dimples had sealed the deal.

They had spent hours out on the water.

She had not only thoroughly enjoyed herself, she seemed to have had a knack for getting up on the board and keeping her balance too. Where he had toppled into the water more than once, she managed to stay upright and mostly dry. Until he had dragged her into the water with him. He snickered as he replayed the scene in his head. She had laughed at him the last time he fell in so he tipped her board and she joined him in the drink. She had tried to be mad at him, but he knew better. She, they were having too much fun and her laughter was all needed to hear to know there was nothing for him to worry about.

After their wrestling match in the water, they had come back to their bungalow for a wrestling match of another sort. And that would be why she was sleeping and he was out here with his guitar.

He strummed some more, picked up his pencil. The words floating around in his head landed on the paper. He noodled around a bit more and studied what he wrote. Could be something. He tested it out. Could be nothing. He scratched through it with his pencil, tossed it down on top of the notebook. Ignoring the paper and pencil, he sat back in the chair and played just for the pure enjoyment he got from playing.

His playing and low voice carried into the bungalow, rousing Stephanie from a light sleep. She rolled to sit up on the side of the bed, listening. Pulling on her silky robe, she tightened the belt and followed the music, pausing in the doorway to watch. A smile crept across her lips. He was slouched in the lounge chair, guitar across his lap, eyes closed and totally lost to the moment.

I missed you so much
That I begged you to fly and see me
You must've broke down
Coz you finally said that you would
But now that you're here
I just feel like I'm constantly dreaming

Coz something's gotta go wrong
Coz I'm feelin' way too damn good

For 48 hours I don't think that we left my hotel room
Should show you the sights
Coz I'm sure that I said that I would
We gotta make love just one last time in the shower

Well something's gotta go wrong
Coz I'm feelin' way too damn good

And it's like, every time I turn around
I fall in love and find my heart face down and
Where it lands is where it should
This time it's like
The two of us should probably start to fight
Coz something's gotta go wrong
Coz I'm feeling way too damn good, oh
Feelin' way too damn good

She recognized the Nickelback song and waited for him to finish. He stopped strumming and set the guitar aside, picking up the pencil again and flipping to a different page in his notebook. When he started writing she stepped out onto the deck.

“Rich?”

“Sweetheart” he dropped the pencil and closed the notebook. “I thought you were still sleeping.”

She took three short steps and was standing in front of him. “I heard you playing and singing, so I came out to see my own personal concert.”

He chuckled and took her hand, tugging her down on to the chair with him. “Wasn’t really a concert. I was just foolin’ around.”

She nodded toward the notebook on the table, “were you working on a new song?” Just the thought got her fangirl juices flowing.

“Nah, not really, just putting some ideas down so I don’t forget them.” He winced inwardly at the small fib he just told her. While he was writing ideas down, they weren’t for a song. Playing the guitar reminded him of the decision that was looming in his future. He danced his fingers up her thigh, sliding them under her robe to cup her hip and did his best to put those thoughts out of his head.

She maneuvered herself so she was straddling him on the chair. Eye to eye, she could see that something was troubling him. She thought back to their wedding night and remembered the pensiveness he had exhibited to her before he rocked her world on the balcony off their bedroom. “Are you all right? Do you want to talk about it?”

He loosened the sash on her robe and slipped his hand inside, cupping her breast. “I’m fine and not yet.” He knew he should, but he didn’t want anything to put a blemish on their honeymoon. Before she could say anything else he fastened his lips to hers, ending the conversation he wasn’t ready to have yet.

Easing back from the kiss, Stephanie took a steadying breath. “Why won’t you talk to me?” They had always been able to talk to each other. Why was he shutting her out now?

He skimmed his thumb back and forth lightly under an already tight nipple. “Not ready to yet, darlin’.” He leaned up, replacing his thumb with his tongue. “Do you really want to talk right now?” When they got home would be soon enough to talk about him ripping his life apart and starting all over again. He drew the taut nub into his mouth.

Her head dropped back, her hair cascading down her back, all thoughts of conversation scattering around her like grains of sand on the deck. “God Rich, don’t stop.” She rocked against him seeking that extra little bit of friction that would send her flying.

He let her nipple go with an audible “pop” and stood with her in his arms, “let’s go back inside.” He was no prude but he didn’t want the entire island to see his wife naked. Laying her on the bed he simply stood and stared at her. Her dark hair was spread in a dark fan on the white pillowcase and her robe was like a pink cape under her. Her skin was dusky, gold from the sun except where her bathing suit protected the most private parts of her.

Reaching behind his head, he pulled at the collar of his shirt, dropping it on the floor even as he unbuttoned his shorts. They had no sooner joined his shirt when he climbed up on the end of the bed. His mouth was butterfly light as he caressed her calves. His tongue lightly grazed the backs of her knees as he slid higher. He nibbled gently at the inside of her thighs.

She shifted restlessly beneath him, knowing what was coming. “Rich” she whispered hoarsely, nearly unable to stand the anticipation.

He ignored her plea, continuing to worship her body with his hands, his lips, his tongue. He kept her on a teetering edge, watching the rosy flush of arousal creep over her body before finally sending her soaring. Before she got her breath fully back, he flipped her onto her stomach and started all over again.

When she was on the brink a second time, he pulled her to her knees, plunging into her, glorying in the feeling of completeness he felt with her. It was like no other he’d had before. With every push, every thrust he could feel her gathering, tightening around him. A hand slipped from her hip; long, agile fingers slid to her clit, teasing her along. And with a last push, a final caress, he joined her in a free fall over the edge.