What She Needs (35 page)

Just slipping on her bikini was a sensuous experience, the fabric hugging her most intimate body parts—she relished showing off her figure in a way she never had before. And rather than steal away to some secluded spot on the beach, she went to the main pool and found a lounge chair, which also provided a view of the ocean. She luxuriated in the fruity scent of her sunscreen, in the lush warmth of a sea breeze wafting past, in the sweet flavor of the erotic rum punch as it slid down her throat. She found herself stretching out in her chaise, one leg slightly bent, her arms stretching languorously up overhead, and she didn’t hide the small, dreamy smile she felt coming over her—instead just delighting in the full measure of her femininity. And if anyone wondered if her smile was the result of wild, uninhibited sex in a Hotel Erotique fantasy—unlike a few days ago, she didn’t care. In fact, she almost
wanted
people to know. A small, brazen-but-happy part of her wanted to climb to the thatched rooftop of the tiki bar and shout, “I discovered my G-spot last night!”

Each sexual experience here had changed her, moved her to a new place both mentally and physically—but somehow, last night, when it had been only her and Brent,
that
encounter had affected her more profoundly than any other.

Of course, Brent would probably tell her it was some sort of cumulative effect. And maybe he was right. But at the moment, she still felt just as pleasured, relaxed, and happy as she had after coming last night, and her thoughts kept returning there.

She let herself bake in the Caribbean rays, her tan skin making her feel all the more exotic and sexy, until she decided it was time for a dip. And even
that
felt sensual—the cool water on her warm skin, her body moving smoothly through it. And as she emerged up through the surface to feel the hot sun on her face again, as she pushed her hair back over her head and began gliding toward the steps leading back out of the pool, she remained utterly aware of her body, her sexuality. Her breasts felt plump and her pussy softly engorged with a pleasant level of desire that would build through the day and lead her into the evening with growing hunger.

It was as she climbed the stairs, water sluicing off her skin, that she saw Brent—he sat watching in the lounge chair next to hers in a pair of red swim trunks, hands comfortably behind his head. His sexy gaze roamed the length of her body as it came into view, adding to every other sensation already assaulting her.

“Well, if it isn’t Captain Powers,” she quipped, strolling toward him.

“You’d have been wasted on that planter, babe,” he said, adding with a wink, “Good thing you found
me
.”

“Speaking of finding—am I under surveillance or something?” She pushed the book in her chair toward the end of it and sat down on her towel, leaning back to dry in the sun.

Brent grinned in reply. “Believe it or not, this is a coincidence. It’s my day off, so I came to the pool—and when I saw a Civil War book, I knew it had to be you.”

She’d still managed to read very little, but she’d brought it with her just in case the urge struck. “You know me too well,” she said, thinking the words were all too true, in so many ways. How could she
not
be attached to a man who’d seemed so very concerned for her well-being from the very start, and who seemed to understand her so innately? “So you have
days off
?”

“I’m into my work, sunshine, but everybody needs some time to themselves.” It was then that she noticed a book
he’d
brought: A paperback copy of
Catch-22
by Joseph Heller lay on the ground between their chairs. And if she hadn’t been completely in love with him before that moment, she was
now
. The sex doctor with his life full of meaningless physical encounters cared about other things! He liked to read! She
loved
guys who liked to read. And a classic, too!

“Great book,” she said.

“Yeah—I’m going back through some I didn’t appreciate when I had to read them in school. They’re much better now.” Oh wow—she nearly swooned. And she’d thought the pirate outfit was sexy? For her,
this
was the ultimate turn-on.

“You look damn fine in that bikini, by the way,” he said, reminding her that he
was
still obsessed with sex.

But right now, she didn’t mind. The compliment warmed her pussy even as she pointed out, “You’ve seen me in much less and in ultimately more revealing positions.”

He cocked a slight grin in her direction. “Never underestimate the power of a rockin’ bikini, babe.”

Just then, a horrible thought hit her. “So . . . are you taking the
whole
day off?”

In reply, he lowered his chin and flashed a knowing look. “The day, sunshine, not the night.” Then he shifted his gaze back toward the ocean, adding, “Don’t worry—I’ll be there. And not just watching.”

Thank God! Though rather than let him see her extreme relief, she instead said, quietly, “Thank you for that. Believe it or not, sometimes I really do know what’s best for me.”

“Fair enough,” he answered. “Besides, it’s not my goal to make you unhappy. Just the opposite. I only hope you agree by now that sometimes
I
know what’s best for you, too.”

Jenna pulled in her breath, then let it back out. She’d been doing a lot of thinking about that, and in addition to what she’d told him last night—about the events of her past—something more specific had hit her. “You know, you’ve made me revisit some memories I hadn’t for years, and . . . the truth is, maybe there are even more of them than I put in my questionnaires. Nothing huge, but just more little things that might have built up inside me.”

“I kinda knew that,” he said softly. “I could tell.”

“
And
. . . my experiences this week have forced me to realize something.” She lifted her eyes to his, glad no one else was in earshot. “You remember that incident with my cousin?”

He met her gaze. “Of course.”

She took another deep breath. “Well, I’m just now understanding that what he did made me feel ashamed, as if I’d done something bad—even though it wasn’t my fault. And the reason I’m just now seeing this is because—oddly enough—nothing I’ve done
here
has made me feel that same bad way. Here, I’ve . . . questioned my actions at times, worried about the morality of them or wondered if they made me a slut—but all that has been more about questions than actual feelings. I’ve just never felt bad inside, here, the way I did then.”

The warmth in his expression made her feel all the more close to him. “That’s because everyone here respects you, and one another, and sex. It’s all in how it’s approached, sunshine. It’s
people
who sometimes make sex bad—whether they misuse or abuse it to exert power over someone weaker than them, or whether they insert a double standard, or whether they simply send negative messages about it, forcing their own morality or fears on others. But there’s nothing inherently bad about sex on its own. It’s just pleasure.”

She found herself nodding as his words enlightened her. They lived in a culture that portrayed sex in extreme ways. Whether society was hammering into people that it was bad, wrong—or, more recently, overly glorifying it as something everyone should be seeking, all the time—it kept people from looking at sex with their own minds and forming their own opinions on it.

“But . . . I’m still not one hundred percent sure I agree on that last part,” she couldn’t help arguing.

“Why?”

She started to tell him sex couldn’t be “just pleasure” because she still felt a connection with people she fooled around with—yet, that quickly, she realized it wasn’t completely true. She’d felt a
temporary
connection—with the other pirates, the dungeon dwellers, the harem girls—but, in fact, the only
real
connection she’d experienced was with
him
. And she surely didn’t want to say
that
, even if they both knew it. So finally she replied, “I’m still not keeping the emotion entirely out of it.”

“Well, that’s okay,” Brent surprised her by saying. “I told you in the beginning, that’s how you’re wired—you can’t really change it. Most women are physiologically programmed that way. But you’re doing a great job of pushing that aside and finding what I wanted you to find here—how to free yourself, how to enjoy sex to the fullest.”

Only she
wasn’t
pushing it aside. With every liaison, she felt more and more tied to him. And, again, she
knew
he knew that. So was this Brent still trying to distance himself from that connection—one she knew he’d felt, too? She didn’t want to squabble—she wanted to keep basking in the afterglow of last night—so she simply responded, with a smile, “Well, I definitely
am
enjoying sex more than ever before.”

“That makes me happy, Jenna. You make me feel like my work here really matters. I mean, I’ve
always
felt that way, but given your hesitation at first, it’s been more gratifying than usual to see the changes in you. Thank you for that.”

Again, she felt him building that distance—wanting to claim their relationship was mostly about work for him and not the raw lust she’d witnessed in the dungeon, the fierce desire that had created last night’s pirate ship fantasy. But if he wanted to pretend, so be it—she suspected she’d see his real feelings for her again tonight at the masquerade.

“So,” she said, “how
did
you get into this line of work? And don’t tell me again that it’s just because you like sex.”

Her lover and guide cast a wolfish grin. “It is. That’s the truth. I came here the summer after graduation thinking it would be temporary, but I never got tired of it. It felt right to me to do this, long term.”

Hmm. His answer made her want to dig for more, just like when she’d been in his home, or last night, talking about his tattoo. Who
was
Brent Powers and what really made him tick? “How does your family feel about your job?” she asked, trying to make the question sound more casual than prying.

Yet his face changed instantly—becoming guarded, and he answered matter-of-factly, as if it were no big deal. “Well, that’s the one
bad
thing. My mother thinks I’m a gigolo, and I guess I kind of am. And my sister hasn’t let me see her kids since they were little. I have a nephew, Cody, who’s sixteen now, and my niece, Tiffany, just started her freshman year of high school. And it kinda sucks that my sister thought I wasn’t . . . any more than my job, that she thought I’d somehow corrupt them and not be a good uncle—but that was her choice, and that’s life.”

It took Jenna a second to catch her breath. It all made sense, she supposed, but she hadn’t imagined the ramifications—or the losses—a job like Brent’s might involve. “How long since you’ve seen them?”

When Brent sighed, she sensed him trying to decide how much emotion to show, how much of that mask of practicality to keep wearing. “Ten years now,” he said—and Jenna’s heart sank for him.

If he
was
still trying to hide his pain, it was leaking out through his eyes. “I ask my mother to send me pictures now and then, and even though she doesn’t like it, she sends them. I can’t believe how old they are and that I’ve missed out on most of their lives. Their dad took off after Tiff was born, so for a while, I was the closest thing they had to a father. I didn’t see them a
lot
—I was usually here working—but I flew home to Pittsburgh for a few weeks here and there and spent a lot of time with them when they were little.

“My mom and sister didn’t know then what I did for a living,” he went on, and Jenna could scarcely believe he was confiding so much. “My dad knew, though, and he didn’t like it—but he thought I’d outgrow it.”

“What did your mom and sister think you were doing?”

“They only knew I was working at a resort. They thought I was waiting tables, which I was, but they didn’t know about the rest. A couple of years after my dad died, though, my mom pinned me down and asked when I was gonna put my degree to use. I’d just decided to further my studies, specializing in sex, so I figured the time had come to tell her the truth and hope she understood. She didn’t. And neither did Kim, my sister, and that was that. Now I send the kids gifts at Christmas, but I’m sure they barely remember me and wonder why I’m not around anymore.”

Whoa. Jenna had never even imagined Brent sounding so . . . vulnerable. His voice stayed strong, sure—but she could feel his pain anyway. It was a side of him she’d never seen. “Is it worth it?” she asked quietly. “To lose your family—for
this
?” Her tone implied the Hotel Erotique was nothing worth sacrificing for, but she didn’t care.

“I must think it is,” he told her simply.

“Yet you sound so sad about it.”

He met her gaze squarely. “You can’t let anybody, not even your family, choose your life. And I know what I’ve chosen is controversial, so if they want to cut me out, I figure that’s their right. I don’t like it, but I respect it.”

She supposed he made a good point. Whereas
she’d
let
her
family’s negative views of sex color her perception of it, Brent had ultimately stood up and done what he believed was right for him. “Well,” she said softly, “I’m still sorry it has to hurt you.”

He tilted his head, gave her another insightful look. “Hey, no one’s life is perfect. And don’t worry about
me
, Little Mary Sunshine—at the end of the day, I’m doing just fine. Now let’s get in the pool,” he concluded with a grin.

“I just got out,” she reminded him.

“But looking at you in that leopard print got me all hot and bothered. Come help me cool down.”

And when Brent pushed to his feet and held his hand out to her, it was invitation Jenna couldn’t resist.

 

 

As Brent prepared for the elaborate fantasy that night, he couldn’t get Jenna off his mind.

Maybe that’s because you spent the whole damn day with her
.