The Ivy House (A Queensbay Novel) (14 page)

“Nothing beats a sail and a picnic lunch. Hard to do it, though.”

“Why?”

Chase shrugged. “Work, life. You get older, busier, seems like it gets harder and harder to take a couple of days off to go sailing.”

“What about your girlfriends?”

“Girlfriends?” One of Chase’s eyebrows quirked up.

“You know, the ones you’re always photographed with?” Phoebe asked pointedly.

“Ahh. Well, those. Somehow, I never seem to meet any who actually like to go sailing. They all say they do, but they think I mean on a motor boat. Once they realize that you have to do some work and that the cabin on any boat can be a bit cramped and that it’s not all that glamorous, they always seem to get out of sailing.”

“Guess you’ve been seeing the wrong ladies.”

“If that was your way of asking if I am seeing someone right now, the answer is no. And, you, of all people, should know that the media has a way of exaggerating things.”

“So you’re not quite the playboy you’ve been made out to be.”

Chase shrugged. “Let’s just say those pictures are pretty much the whole story. I go out, I get photographed, and then my companion and I part ways, the press to the benefit of the both of us, but no further strings attached.”

Embarrassed and relieved at the same time, Phoebe looked out at the water. She saw something swimming, a little head poking above the water, leaving a v-shaped wake. Once it got closer, she saw that it was a turtle. The little guy swam right past them, not even sparing them a glance.

“Ah, hell.” She looked up and saw that Chase was looking at the sky. The clouds they had noticed before had rolled in, piling up with dark gray underbellies.

“Is it going to rain?” The words were barely out of her mouth when one large, fat raindrop fell into the cockpit.

“Here, get this stuff below,” Chase said. “I’ll take care of the sail.”

Phoebe felt the wind getting kicky too, tossing the trees that ringed the cove, the light undersides of the leaves dancing in the wind.

She gathered up their lunch and brought it down to the table in the cabin below. She dashed back up, grabbed the bottle of wine and their water, and pulled down the hatch as soon as the rain began in earnest, a great sheet of soaking water.

Phoebe stood in the small galley, setting up their lunch again on the small table, while the boat rocked beneath her. Rain lashed against the portholes and she saw Chase’s feet flash by. Then, there was a movement and he was in the cabin with her, big and wet. He was soaked to the skin.

“Ahh, you saved the wine. Nothing to do but to ride this out. I thought we had a bit longer, but the faster it comes, the faster it will pass by, I suppose. There might be some thunder and lightning, but I think we’ll be safe here.”

“I’m not worried,” Phoebe said, though the boat gave a bit of a lurch, and she thought she heard a boom of thunder in the distance.

“Good. I’m going to find a dry shirt.” He pushed past her towards the rear cabin, where the main bunk was. He didn’t close the door and she could see him rummaging for a shirt, and then she got a glance of him as he crossed both arms over his back and hiked the shirt up. Muscles rippled in synchronicity, and she had a full glimpse of his flat stomach and the muscles that ringed it.

Phoebe felt her breath hitch and a tingle of lust shoot through her. No, she hadn’t forgotten just how hot Chase was; she just thought that she wouldn’t have to confront the shirtless proof of it.

Rain slammed against the porthole and then he was there, crowding into the small galley space. He reached behind her and poured a little more wine into their glasses. He was so close that she could feel the heat rising off him, smell his rain-slicked skin.

“We’ll be OK,” he said.

“I’m fine,” she answered automatically, but she wasn’t. Her heart was racing and her skin felt too warm. She half-turned, but found he had her trapped. She would have to push past him—touch him—if she wanted to get to the relatively open space of the cabin. Still, it was all so small, there was really no place to escape him.

“You’re shaking,” he said, his voice dangerously low, and she felt the reaction between her legs, aware she was thoroughly aroused by him. She made a study of him, taking in the dark, too long hair, his thick eyebrows, one of which had a faint scar under it; the tanned skin with the shadow of a beard on it and the way his shoulders stretched the fabric of his worn t-shirt.

“What are you nervous about?” he asked, and his hand moved closer to her. His hands were still on his hips, but now he moved them to either side of her, truly trapping her. She looked into his eyes and saw an answering need to her own in them. She had to look down and away, and her body shifted so she was against him, feeling his strong, lean legs brush against her thighs, and then the evidence that he was just as aroused as she was.

“This is a bad idea,” she said, automatically. His hand came up and stroked the side of her cheek, and she shivered at his touch.

“It doesn’t have to be.” One finger caught her under the chin and lifted it up so he could look at her.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his breath hoarse and he pressed in closer to her. She rose up to meet him and their mouths met. She found his lips and they took and tasted her, while one of his arms circled her and pulled her close. Phoebe moved her own arms up and around his shoulders, finding his neck and pulling in to him, the need to be close to him filling her desperately.

“Chase,” she murmured.

“Tell me to stop now,” he pulled back a moment and looked at her, his eyes deep, dark, filled with want, “while I can, and I will. I’ll go up on deck and get us back to shore. Or…”

Want and need were coursing through her, and she could feel her desire for him rising in her. She shook her head and said, “Don’t stop. We have a storm to ride out.”

He spoke no more, but his mouth assaulted her, his tongue taking, testing, teasing, while one hand traveled down her neck, skimming her skin, until it found her breast. He cupped it, teasing her nipple, which responded to his touch, puckering beneath it, growing to fullness. Phoebe felt herself give a small moan and heard Chase’s satisfied chuckle. Slowly, leisurely, his hand traveled over to her other breast, and he brought that one to arousal.

She kissed him harder, feeling him grow hard against her as his hand traveled down her shirt, to her waistband. His hand was as warm as fire on the bare flesh of her stomach. One of his knees pushed into her legs, spreading her open. His strong arms lifted her up so that she was balanced on the edge of the counter. He pushed in between her and slid a hand down inside her shorts, finding heat and her wetness. Phoebe moaned for him and wrapped her legs tightly around him.

She heard a small crash, realizing it was just the sound of a knife falling into the galley sink.

With a practiced, swift movement, Chase put both hands under her, pulling her close to him. She wrapped her legs around him and he pulled her back from the counter. In a few short strides, he had her in the cabin, throwing her gently down on the bunk.

Above her, she could see rain bubbling and dripping down the clear hatch cover, see that the world outside was gray. Inside, though, in the dim light, all she could see and smell was Chase, the mix of his soap and aftershave, as he pushed her back on the berth. He stood above her, and he took off his t-shirt, revealing the solid-muscled chest she had only glimpsed before. She sat up and ran one hand over his chest, the slight dusting of dark hair, tracing it down to the waistband of his pants.

Chase stopped her, took her hand and kissed it, then nibbled on her fingers. “Take off your shirt,” he said, and Phoebe, after the merest hesitation, peeled it off.

Before she could cover herself, he stopped her. “Let me look.” She felt emboldened under his scrutiny, and she reached behind her and unclasped her bra, throwing it off to the side.

Chase smiled at her and his hands skimmed across her breasts, bringing them to life, her nipples tightening further under his touch. His other hand found her shorts, and he undid them, pulling them off her, taking his time. Well, her body ached for him.

He was above her, knees on either side of her, dark and handsome. He caressed her breasts, kneading them so that her back arched. Her hands came up to reach for him, and he took them, pulled them over her head, pinioned her there, while his mouth found one nipple, then the other. One hand trailed down her body, finding the thin scrap of fabric between her legs. He moved there, and Phoebe knew he could feel her heat, her need. Slowly, teasing, he brought his hand inside her, and she bucked with pleasure.

He touched her then, finding her spot, while his mouth ravaged her body. His fingers kept pushing her to the peak, a wave building and building until she was there, her body writhing and twisting underneath him, his weight pinning her, until she reached it, reached the crest and let it wash over her.

She opened her eyes, saw him watching her, his hands lightly stroking her. She saw that he was ready for her, his pants straining. Phoebe sat up, her hair spilling across her shoulders and pulled him towards her, opening his zipper, pulling down his underwear, until he burst free.

She stroked him and his eyelids fluttered as he bent down to kiss her, his knees spreading her apart. His hands moved over her, bringing her back to arousal, as he slid himself into her, testing, gently, as she pulled him towards her, and he thrust into her, the two of them rocking together, the boat bobbing in the waves underneath them as he brought her again to the edge, their rhythm driving them both to the edge. This time Phoebe kept her eyes open, as Chase’s eyes gazed into hers, as they both went closer and closer. Her hands wrapped around his back and when he came, she went with him, both of them tumbling down the sweet sea of pleasure.

Chase opened his eyes. He was on his back, staring up at the roof of
Windsway
’s
 
cabin. Phoebe was half next to him, half on top of him, tangled around him. He could smell the flowery scent of her shampoo, the slightly spicy whiff of her perfume. She moved and one of her breasts grazed against his chest, and he felt himself grow hard again.

He ran a hand through her hair, while his other hand trailed down her back. She shivered against him, the movement sending waves of desire over him.

“Wow, babe,” he said, and she turned to him, so he could see her eyes, which looked more green than blue in the light. Above them, he could see that the skylight was less wet and that the dark gray seemed to be giving way to a lighter sky.

Her hand lay on his stomach and he could feel it sliding, stroking.

“So that was good?” He thought he detected a note of satisfaction in her voice.

“Good doesn’t quite do it justice,” he said and was rewarded with a pleased smile. His heart jumped a little at that, and he realized that the thought that he had made her happy, made her feel pleasure, made him happy. It was a new sensation for him. No one had ever complained about his lovemaking. In fact, with most women, he was more concerned about how much he enjoyed himself. But he had a need to please Phoebe, to drink in every bit of her long, lean body, feel her move and cry out with pleasure underneath him, know that it was all because of him.

“The boat’s not moving as much,” Phoebe observed.

Chase squinted through the porthole. “Looks like the storm is passing by. We may even see some sun.” The water was calmer now, and the
Windsway
barely moved beneath them.

“I guess that means we could go home now,” she said. Her hands were still roaming over his stomach and then they dipped a little lower, and he felt himself ready again, ready to have her, this time to take her slowly, lazily, to watch her carefully, to see her enjoy every minute of it.

“We still have a few hours of daylight left,” he said, pulling her on top of him. He kissed her and she returned it, her hair falling down in a gold curtain around him. He rose up and pulled her closer to him, his hands teasing her breasts, lightly pulling her nipples until she threw back her head in pleasure, arching and bowing her back as he slid lower down, finding her sex again, urging her on, higher and higher, until she was almost at her peak. Then he slid into her, holding him tight to her, and thrust into her, watching her eyes fill with pleasure and heat.

She arched her back and grabbed his head. His lips raked down her neck and to her nipple, and he teased it and pulled it tight in his teeth as she called out his name in pleasure. Resting his hands on her hips, he held her tight as she rode him to the crest of a powerful orgasm. He waited and watched until he sensed she was near, could feel her closing like a hot velvet fist around him, see in her eyes as she came. Then, as she crested, he allowed himself to come, following her over the edge until she sagged into him, spent, and he fell back, dazed.

Dark was falling as they motored into the Queensbay Marina. The weather had broken, treating Chase and Phoebe to a magnificent sunset, the sun streaking the sky above the water a rainbow of purples and reds. They had fallen into a comfortable silence after they had finally decided it was time to return, Chase giving her directions as she guided the boat, while he took care of the sails and coiled lines.

Phoebe loved the feel of the wind ruffling her hair, the way her body felt relaxed, sated. The sex had been some of the best she’d ever had—nope, make that the best she’d ever had—and when Chase came down to stand next to her, one of his strong hands settling on her to help her steer the boat, she sunk into him, loving the feel of him, the presence of him comforting her.

They docked the boat together, with help from a friendly deckhand, and as Chase checked the lines, they heard a voice calling them.

“There you are,” Lynn said as she came up to them. “Nice boat.”

Something in her smile had Phoebe guessing that Lynn had a pretty fair idea of what they had been up to. Luckily, dusk was settling and it hid the flush that was spreading across her cheeks.

“My mom sent me down,” Lynn said, apologetically. “She wanted me to invite you both to dinner. I texted, but with the storm and everything, you know, she got a little concerned. Typical mom.”

Phoebe wouldn’t know, but she wasn’t upset. It was strangely nice to be worried about, even if she had been in capable hands. She sent a look to Chase and he answered with one of his own.

“So, dinner?” Lynn turned to Chase. “The Randalls are coming.”

Chase looked at her, then laughed. “Noah’s coming?”

“Yes. Noah and his wife are big donors to the hospital and the clinic, so my parents wanted to thank them. When Noah heard Phoebe was staying with us, he wanted to make sure you were back in time for dinner.”

“I’m sure he did,” Chase said drily.

“I don’t know,” Phoebe said, hesitating, feeling nervous. She wasn’t sure she was ready.

“My mom promised to be good,” Lynn whispered.

Chase jumped down lightly on the dock. “A home-cooked meal. Sounds great.” He held out a hand for Phoebe and she looked at him. He was standing there in his khakis and a fresh polo shirt, looking perfectly relaxed, like he hadn’t just spent the afternoon doing that with her.

With Lynn grinning at her and Chase offering her his hand, Phoebe had no choice but to take it.